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Her feet are slow in taking her towards the darkness she yearns, for once in her life. She's frozen, not in fear, not in dramatic pause to get the last laugh, but in pure and absolute confusion. At how badly her body is shutting down, at how she cannot move, no matter how much she wills herself to.
Until she does, until her legs take a step forward, and back to the darkness that beckons her. She falls and doesn't know when she hits the ground. Wednesday has never been the type to care; to watch over her own words, making sure she doesn't trip on them and say the wrong thing. She has never cared about the morality of the situation. What she thought, what she thinks, what she always will, is right.
Cases, those are different. Searches of the unknown, investigations, mysteries, the allure of them is the adventure. Wrong assumptions to failed leads until something goes right and is picked up from there. Wednesday likes being wrong during cases, because the adventure continues and there is more to explore, exploit, enjoy.
Pitter-patter. Drizzling, pouring rain against the window where Wednesday lays her head, like a believer at their beloved and designated shrine, begging for forgiveness, comeuppance, judgement. Her knees are against her chest, the first she's ever felt the touch of the two. Her body is buzzing, and her heartbeat echoes in her ears, loud and clear.
Be alone , Enid had yelled. No. Not yelled. Seethed quietly, through gritted teeth, something that was forced out of the very depths of her soul, like it had been sitting there for a while, mewling, begging to be let out. Where her side of the room is usually awake, abuzz, alight with her presence, it is so very dark now. Wednesday should like it.
Wednesday should love it.
(Wednesday doesn't.)
Her head proceeds to rest against her knees without her permission, and her arms wrap around herself like a child curled up and afraid of the monster under their bed. (Except there is no monster. The hyde is no where near, and Wednesday can only see herself.)
Enid, someone so disgustingly happy all the time, had somehow worn a sour expression, somehow raised her voice, somehow had packed her bags out of the dorm she had once lived in, simply to get away from her.
Wednesday had almost gotten her killed. (She had almost gotten her killed.)
The thought makes her shudder violently, shivering with no warmth to keep her stable. There's no cold; the dorms are heated, she knows she is lying to herself. She imagines Enid with blood running down the side of her face, with gashes alongside her abdomen, choking and sputtering while hanging onto life.
(Wednesday almost did that to her.)
She shuts her eyes to get the image out, squeezes herself tightly and rocks back and forth until it forces its way to the exit.
-
Wednesday lays in bed that night and doesn't sleep. Staying up is no new occurrence, she usually likes the feeling of sleep deprivation, sometimes using it as a tool to help out with her novel or whatever's occupying her interest for the time being.
Wednesday does not sleep, but the difference this time is that she's trying. There's no booming voice, one that begs her to say 'goodnight' back, at least until she gets a pout and ends up caving. She turns to the other side instead of facing the wall, perhaps to torture herself more. Enid is not there, and no one is saying goodnight to her.
(Maybe it's why she doesn't sleep. Wracked with images of her dead roommate, and no clear proof that she's alive because she isn't even here.)
Or maybe it's because Enid did not wish her a goodnight, so she did not have a night at all.
-
"Where is Yoko's room?" she asks Mrs. Thornhill the next day, betraying herself. She does not care about Yoko , whoever she thinks she is, and she doesn't think about Enid wishing her a goodnight with that annoyingly high-pitched voice.
She gets a sympathetic smile in return. Wednesday is scowling. Thornhill points down the hall from where they're standing. "Just there. To the right."
Wednesday hums, acknowledging. She has class to get to.
(There is no one to walk with her.)
-
She sees them sitting together during their break, and something inside of her slithers and hisses. Drumbeats banging loudly against her ribcage, mouth dry and teeth clenched.
This is a new sensation. Enid is laughing at something Yoko says, and Wednesday's fork snaps in half.
Xavier slides into the seat next to her. Always uninvited, him, yet always thinking he's allowed to do whatever. "What's up with you?"
She doesn't spare him a glance, eyes boring into the back of Yoko's head and wishing her psychic visions came with telekinetic powers.
-
The week is hell. Wednesday loves hard weeks, she would feel herself getting challenged, contested, but this one is not loved. She can't figure out why. Every breath is agonising and every night is too dark and too cold.
(She knows why.)
-
Wednesday's heart jumps when she enters the room, and the immediate reason she tells herself is that it is from the satisfaction of catching the culprit. Xavier behind bars, the adventure to an end.
(Her heart was beating normally until she entered. She can feel the backflips in her heart building gradually as she swallows.)
"You're back," she says, voice attempting to keep any emotion at bay.
Enid smiles, and Wednesday's week is not hellish anymore.
-
( Thing said he missed you , she lies.
I missed him too, Enid says.)
-
"Why did you decide to come back?" she asks again from where she's mindlessly typing. She will have to get rid of the paper— this one is just random letters, making her seem busier than she actually is. (She is counting the footsteps that Enid has taken into the room.)
"Yoko and I don't work as well as me and you," Enid says proudly, and Wednesday still doesn’t know what that means. How should a pair work?
So, she decides to go for it. She is usually not nervous to ask questions. "What do you mean?"
There's a beat, and then a reply. "Opposites attract, or something. Yoko is happy to do anything I ask. You challenge me on stuff. I like it."
Wednesday's fingers freeze over the keys, and her hand trembles.
Oh.
-
Getting stabbed hurts a lot more than she expected, even with Goody's healing powers. Every step is pain, pain, and more pain— and the newly embedded arrow in her shoulder doesn't help. She can feel the agony rolling off her body in waves, and she tries to make it her motivation.
Is Enid okay?
Crackstone stands in front of her menacingly, waiting. Wednesday wants to run the opposite direction, back to the more important fight.
She chides herself for the line of thought almost immediately. Tyler is a pawn in this game, and she has played chess before; she knows exactly who to defeat. (Pawns are usually disposable, but they can do severe damage if forgotten about. Enid does not have practice fighting.)
Enid does not take fencing with her. Or boxing. Or any physical activity club that she knows of.
Wednesday begs the fight to finish faster, she moves quickly, tries to stab him at any cost, even if it costs her a nick in her skin. Bianca, who blessedly makes the fight end faster, had been right.
-
"Where is everyone?" she asks when Laurel is taken care of and Eugene shifts nervously. Where is Enid , she is asking.
"Outside," she says. "Come on."
Never in these past few months did Wednesday think she would be following orders from Bianca, but she follows. Wordlessly. Quietly. Obediently. Her heart is rattling against her chest familiarly.
-
The only reason Wednesday pulls away from the crushing embrace is to look at her face. Bloody, bruised, scratched and so, so beautiful. She's smiling. She's always smiling at her.
Wednesday's eyes shine, she doesn't know what from, but the newfound need for arms around her body overtakes all, and she pulls Enid back towards her.
Enid muffles a squeak, and Wednesday hears no one else. She closes her eyes and sighs in relief.
Enid and Wednesday are an odd duo, as a lot of Nevermore students would constantly remark, but right now there was utter silence as they hugged and did not let go of each other the whole way back to the school. Everyone is still on edge and no one is in the mood for stupid and silly words.
Ajax tries. "That was insane."
Enid doesn't even answer him, arm tightening around Wednesday's own. Something inside of her cackles maniacally at the lack of response, like she had just won something important. Help later arrives exactly when they don't need it anymore, when they themselves took control of the situation. Wednesday can't stop sneaking glances at her, at the blood and how wrong it looks on her face.
"Come on," Wednesday says. "You need to get cleaned up."
Enid looks at her and blinks once, as if processing the words slowly. She then nods, acquiescing. Wednesday grabs her hand and leads her away from the group, back to the once safe haven of their dorm room.
Enid sits on her bed as Wednesday wordlessly brings the first aid kit onto the same surface and pries it open. There had been talks of taking them to the infirmary, but Wednesday did not want to deal with all the questions and the noise that would come along.
"I'm sorry about Tyler," Enid says, and Wednesday almost says who? but she catches herself. Right.
"I'm not," she says roughly. "Look at what he did to you."
Enid's mouth drops slightly, but Wednesday is not deterred. She unzips the bag and grabs the equipment she needs, gauze and cotton swabs. She reaches on her tip-toes and hops to reach the antiseptic on the top shelf.
"You're allowed to be upset," Enid reasons, and her voice is cracked and tired.
"I am upset at your face," Wednesday says, and it's the first time the connotation is not sarcastic. She doesn't like the sight of blood on her, it's unnatural and wrong.
"I'm fine, Wednesday," Enid laughs. "But it's cute you're actually worried about me- unlike last time."
Wednesday flinches , that's the extent of it. She bristles uncomfortably and clutches the bottle tighter before spraying onto the cotton. It was a reminder that both of the times were her fault, that she had imagined the blood on Enid before and it became a reality.
She comes to stand in front of her, face contorted in concentration as she wipes away the blood. Enid winces and her hand comes up to grip Wednesday's shoulder bruisingly, sharp nails digging into her clothes and to her skin.
"You wolfed out," Wednesday notes.
"I wolfed out," she repeats giddily. Wednesday's mouth immediately quirks into a half smile, and she fights it back into place immediately, pursed lips a forever on her face. Enid’s fingers dig into her injured body painfully.
"Don't you go extending your claws now," Wednesday goes for a neutral expression rather than a frown, trying to brighten the mood for once in her life.
Enid snorts. "I'll try."
She nods her head and tilts her chin for better leverage. The blood is mostly gone but the cuts and bruises remain, making Wednesday grit her teeth at the sight. Enid didn’t deserve this.
"What is this ?" Enid laughs a few minutes later, pointing at the amount of crumpled up papers filling the trash can. She had been looking around the room boredly as Wednesday worked. They spill to the floor and are clearly not the room's everyday appearance.
"When you roomed with Yoko," Wednesday mumbles, putting the swab down and picking up the bandages. "I was feeling… unpleasant."
Enid perks up, excited. " Jealous ?"
Is that the word Wednesday had been looking for?
"No," she grumbles. "Certainly not."
Enid hums. "So you angrily typed on that old thing and what… didn't like the material?"
She wants to say yes, that would be less embarrassing. Wednesday doesn't answer.
"All done," she mutters, placing the last one at the gash on her forehead. She looks better, but Wednesday realizes she doesn't like the look of bandages on her either. There is silence as she holds back a wince from escaping, her stomach revolting with every movement. Her shoulder aches so badly she sees black spots dancing behind her eyelids.
"Thank you," Enid hugs her, and Wednesday instinctively shoves her away. She crinkles her nose once, and decides to sit on the spot next to her. "Right, no hugging."
Wednesday had never felt more at warmth until their embrace, so she wraps her arms around Enid's shoulder and indulges her in a half-hug. It's cold in the room.
Enid wordlessly wraps around her arm, and Wednesday finds herself sighing deeply. "I'm sorry."
"What?"
"I'm so sorry," she repeats louder. "This is all my fault."
Enid holds on tighter. "What? No! The school doesn't blame you for this."
"I don't care about the school, " Wednesday growls. "I care about you . You were hurt because of me."
Enid gasps, and Wednesday pries herself away. She doesn't deserve kindness or safety.
"I was hurt because of my own decisions," Enid stands similarly, on the defensive. " I decided to save you."
"I did not need saving ," Wednesday tries to come off as tough, but the hitch in her voice says it all. She had been terrified, the fear growing tenfold when Enid entered the battle.
"So I just let him kill you?"
"If it means you'd be safe, then yes."
"Are you insane?"
"You weren't involved at all," Wednesday states firmly. "I dragged you into this."
" No ," Enid speaks slowly. "They dragged us into this when they decided to attack our school."
"Your face-"
"Who cares?" Enid scoffs breathlessly. "Wednesday, it's just a few scratches."
"What about when I cared more about the case than your life? I'm not good for you."
"That's in the past."
"It was a few weeks ago, Enid."
Enid, apparently tired of the back and forth, huffs. "So, what? What's the purpose of this?
"Why are you so good to me? Why are you still here?" she asks brokenly, finally. She understands a lot in life, has taught herself a lot in life, mostly because the lack of knowledge causes a downward spiral into insanity. She does not understand Enid's interest in her, her care.
There's an answer in Enid's eyes, in her dilated pupils. If Wednesday is reading it right, then Enid is doomed. She doesn't want her to be doomed. Enid cups her cheeks and leans in, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead and resting her head against it. Wednesday doesn't move, or breathe, she thinks her body stops responding accordingly.
"You're good," Enid exhales. "You deserve good things."
I'm a monster, I do not care about others. I almost got you killed. Twice. I left you with him.
"I don't," she says. "I am dangerous."
"You wouldn't hurt me," Enid says. "Or anyone who doesn't deserve it."
Wednesday’s angry, because Enid’s making excuses and defending her when it's obvious she's the entire problem. Ever since she came here, she had been nothing but death and destruction to everyone, especially her roommate. When every mess that had to be cleaned up came from her hands.
"You almost died because of me," Wednesday pushes her back. "Twice. You shouldn't be near me."
"Guess what?" Enid crosses her arms, still playful and light in her tone. "I do what I want."
Enid isn't taking her seriously, because of course she wouldn't. Wednesday looks back at the door, takes a step towards it. She needs to get out. She needs to get out, for everyone's own good.
"You're just gonna leave?" Enid calls, tone teasing. “I still need to clean your face.”
Wednesday doesn't look back. She needs to be away from her.
She collapses on her way there.
-
Wednesday wakes up in the infirmary and she knows even before she opens her eyes. The smell is too intoxicating and filled to the brim with noise, too many students injured and in need of medical help.
She would just be taking up space.
Opening her eyes and without checking her surroundings, Wednesday swings herself off the bed and gets up before a hand shoves her back down.
"What the fuck , Addams?"
"Sinclair," she grunts back, hand coming to lay atop her stomach. It's wrapped with something heavy, and so is her shoulder.
"You didn't tell me you got stabbed!" Enid exclaims. "Or shot!"
She finally focuses in front of her, finds Enid with her hands behind Wednesday's shoulders, on the mattress. She flushes. Enid looks terrified, concern and something else she can't quite put a finger on lingering in her eyes.
"It's fine," Wednesday says, hand having a mind of its own and resting over Enid's extended arm. "Goody healed me."
"Your ancestor ?" Enid shakes her head. "Nevermind. How were you walking ?"
She doesn't know. Maybe the need to help her friend overtook all. Enid reads her immediately, and scowls. There's a light punch to her unwounded shoulder. Wednesday's eyes widen. "You idiot."
It's said fondly, although worriedly. Wednesday frowns at the exhaustion in her eyes. She reaches her fingers out to brush underneath her eyes, bags prominent and scarce. "You need sleep."
Enid shakes her head. "Not until you're okay."
"I am okay," Wednesday reassures. "I promise."
Enid isn't convinced, worrying her bottom lip between meticulous teeth. "Who shot you?"
"Crackstone. Arrow."
"I'll kill him," Enid growls roughly, and Wednesday's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the anger at her expense… cute. Enid then blinks. "Well, bring him back to life and kill him again."
Wednesday laughs. She giggles.
Enid freezes, and Wednesday is ready to bury herself under the remaining rubble on campus. She clears her throat, as if it will obscure the already emitted sound.
"Oh my god ," Enid shrieks. "That was so cute ."
"Enough," Wednesday grunts, but it lacks the authority or aggression she usually holds.
"I didn't know you could laugh," Enid cackles. "It was so adorable!"
"I will hurt you," Wednesday says, but it comes out softer than she had wanted it to. What is happening to her? She sits up slowly.
"Yes, yes," Enid waves a hand dismissively. "Kill me all you want. Do it again."
Wednesday shushes her, shuffles just enough so Enid can lay down. She follows eagerly. A few minutes go by without a word, and Wednesday finds herself comfortable.
"You're not bad for me," Enid whispers. "I don't care about whatever danger you'll encounter. I'll be here."
"You're not thinking straight."
"So be it," she shrugs. "And besides, I can protect you while you do your thing. I'm a werewolf now!"
Wednesday smiles, but she doesn't bother to conceal it this time.