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“Are you fucking delusional?”
Enid had sat on that question - though, it really was more of an insult than anything else- for probably far too long. Because what the absolute fuck.
What the absolute fuck prompted Ajax, her-ex-and-best-friend Petropolus to traipse his way into the women’s dormitories at 2:45 am on a Thursday- practically having his eyes fall from their sockets as he struggled for words while Enid rubbed at her sleep-ridden eyes.
Enid eventually herded the boy- still mumbling to himself, slack jaw like an extra out of a fucking horror movie- to the beanbag sitting on her side of the room, with an enticing bottle of Rum- (no one’s favourite except Xavier’s- but it soothed Ajax, because everyone with fucking eyes knew he’d jump off a cliff if it interested Xavier.)
And so, Ajax began on his tangent- his volume levels lowering and upping every few seconds depending on when Enid’s hushes actually entered his thick skull). He’d rambled senselessly- until he finally managed to take a deep breath, (and a large swig of liquor).
“You fucked up Wednesday, Ends. So badly. I’ve never seen her hurt so fucking much from someone else. Sure, she’s kind of naturally this depressive and angry void, and she’s never been particularly kind; but this? Fuck, Ends. You did a number on her.”
Enid had shut her eyes, recalling the previous day’s events.
-
She’d waltzed into Sunrise Records like any other day- picking a movie for a flu-ridden Yoko after she’d practically clung on her leg like a whiny toddler before she agreed. God forbid her stupid best friend pay for Netflix, but of course that was feeding into the schemes of the ‘big man’. (It’s important to note, here, that Yoko is in a rebellious phase.)
Grumbling, she approached the register, staring at the bold cover of the DVD tape of The Towering Inferno. She was studying the nearly unrecognizable art on the cover, and hadn’t noticed the shorter girl watching her in amusement.
“Didn’t know you were into classics, let alone McQueen, Sinclair.”
Enid’s neck nearly snapped as she looked up to lock eyes with none other than Wednesday Bucktooth. Although, her teeth seemed pretty perfect, glaring at her under the fluorescents and sandwiched between two full lips.
It was a nickname that clung to the other girl since their time in middle school. Though Enid hadn’t ever personally ridiculed her, she hadn’t done anything to stop it either.
Enid rolled her eyes, forcing her (unwilling) gaze from that sinful mouth back to the cover, plucking it from its shelf to slide it along the newly waxed counter. “It’s for my friend.”
Wednesday snorted, shaking her head as if that was all that would be suspected of Enid. As if she couldn’t enjoy shitty, non-engaging films straight from the box just because she wanted to. It gritted beneath her skin, and along her bones. Thin fingers with way too many rings and skin red and raised around the nails from chewing scanned the code on the back, carefully putting it in a bag as if it were the most precious thing on earth.
God, Wednesday Addams was so weird.
The same weirdo looked up, her eyes so, so fucking heavy that it nearly had Enid collapsing at the knees under the vast waves of emotions she couldn’t quite pinpoint directed at her.
“4.35.” Wednesday smirked- infuriatingly beautiful and all Enid could do was nod, shifting through her change purse.
Wednesday clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, scooping the coins into her palm.
“It’s a twofer.”
She blinked, quirking a brow in question. Wednesday rolled her eyes good in nature, “It’s a two for one.”
Enid tried to shake the overwhelming heat clustering around her like a blanket, meeting Wednesday’s expectant gaze. It never, ever fucking lacked that annoyingly knowing look. And Enid, for the goddamn life of her, could not figure out what the fuck it was the smaller girl knew.
“Huh?”
Wednesday pulled a raspberry Twizzler from the packet beside her- biting into it around that perfectly bright, breathtaking grin. “Pick another movie, Sinclair.”
Enid dipped her head beneath her curls to hide the blush, for she couldn’t quite fathom its purpose, as it splotched deep beneath her turtle neck and climbed up to her scalp.
“Uh- I don’t know what to watch.”
Wednesday hummed, hopping over the front desk with ease- just like Ajax when she’d come in to bother her ex on his shifts, Enid noted subliminally- looking up to meet those dark depths. “Follow me.”
Enid, like some fucking trained puppy, followed Wednesday through the store, customers lazily browsing the selections in the aisles as she passed, shockingly paying them no attention whatsoever as they reached the romance section.
But why would they? They were just two teen girls that had lived in the same, shitty small town and had gone to the same, shitty small schools all their lives. One that worked there, helping a customer.
And one with her heart in her throat.
Why did the simplicity and normalcy do nothing to soothe her racing heart?
Enid cocked a brow, finding whatever confidence she stupidly lost for no reason, to meet Wednesday’s gaze as they came to a standstill.
Dear god, her face had hundreds of freckles.
“You look like a romance kind of gal.”
Enid shrugged noncommittally- because she absolutely adored cheesy chick-flicks, but that was the last thing Wednesday-fucking-Addams needed to know.
Wednesday fingered through the tapes, the unworthy ones clacking together audibly as she passed through them. Enid watched curiously, as Wednesday’s tongue stuck out the side of her mouth in obvious concentration. It made Enid’s insides twinge.
“What are you looking for?”
Wednesday didn’t divert her attention, “A Sinclair worthy movie.”
Wednesday made a sound of triumph- plucking a yellow and black covered case from the stack. It was covered in dust- and Wednesday turned toward her with that same, antagonizing grin.
“Here.”
Enid tilted her head to the side, taking the film from eager hands. It had two women plastered on the front in a yellow tint, the name Lianna in that same bold yellow colour, encompassed by black. Enid turned it over, reading the limited description.
Her eyes nearly fell from their sockets; whatever moistness in her mouth drying to the level of a overly used up sponge. She dropped the film with shaking hands.
Wednesday kneeled down to pick up the tossed away film, a frown in her eyebrows and eyes full of concern. Most likely for the ‘83 film that had been probably cracked from impact, even in the heavy duty case.
“Uh, okay, if you aren’t into the theme that’s chill, no need to take it out on my poor DVD-“
Enid bristled, anger that she’d been subduing for years bubbling up. First, with Ajax breaking up with her in the most publicly embarrassing way (which, was not to ever be spoken about, even if she’d begrudgingly forgiven him)- and then with her mother practically drilling into her head what was right and wrong, and with everyone expecting perfection from her when she wasn’t ever going to be that.
“Of course I don’t fucking like the theme, Wednesday, I’m not some kind of…” she lowered her voice, eyes scathing as they looked the other girl up and down. “Some kind of.. freak.”
As soon as the words left her, something cold and sharp like the claws of death grappled at her heart. Her blood ran thin, as she forced herself to look at Wednesday.
But Wednesday, for once, was not looking at her.
Because she was staring at the DVD she had in shaking hands, tears streaming down her cheeks and eyebrows furrowed in a way that looked like the little dots of colour on a pound puppy’s brows in an infomercial.
Of course Enid knew the rumours. Had been privy to them for years. And even if they weren’t true- no one deserved to be spoken to like that. She wasn’t a bigot like Tyler Thorpe, or someone with outdated, religion-shaming ideals like Alex Carver.
“Wednesday, I-“
“Dont!” Wednesday spoke. Her voice wavered from the heaviness of tears, but it was as jarring as the sudden feeling of Enid’s stomach dropping out.
“Dont. I-“ Wednesday chuckled mirthlessly, looking around the aisle like she were seeing every hateful face she’d been tormented by floating around. “I’ve always known you were a bit of a bitch, but I never thought that you’d… not everyone can be little Miss. Perfect, like you. So just… leave me alone.”
And with that, Wednesday put the film back on the shelf and moved around Enid like she’d carried the plague. It would have been better if Wednesday had knocked her over, because she deserved that. Or punched her or… anything, other than just cordially moving past her like a gust of twizzler-filled air.
Little miss perfect was not something she was. Because how could she be, when her chest felt like it was being waterboarded by black eyes and fat treks of mascara laden tears?
-
Enid shook her head, snapping herself from the reverie to see Ajax taking an incredibly big gulp from the bottle.
She couldn’t even find it within her to chastise him, her throat thick with her heart.
“I didn’t- Ajax you know I’d never mean that. You and Xave- and I… God, no.”
Ajax nodded, grimacing at the burning sensation settling in his stomach. “Yeah, I may know that Ends, but Wednesday doesn’t. And she’s Xavier’s friend and mine too now, and she’s super cool, so…” he shrugs the rest of the sentence off.
“I didn’t mean-“ she tugged at the roots of her hair, falling limply to the other beanbag close enough that she was half atop it. Decorum was a sorry excuse at this point, her narcissistic tendencies biting at her heels without the care of waving them away.
“I don’t know why I said- Ajax, why did I say that?”
Her voice was thick, pleading. Ajax looked down at her with sorrow; pity. A disgusting thing everyone offered despite not even knowing her beyond what she fed them for truth.
Because she was too pretty, too high up on the social ladder, or because when she was younger she was too fat and too unliked. Wednesday never looked at her like that. Not the dozen times she’d caught Enid crying in the school bathrooms, or had quietly offered her some of her slushee.
She swallowed thickly, the sound of her own throat sticking to her ears. She hadn’t ever been Wednesday’s friend, yet no matter how many times she’d force a laugh at her expense or ignored her in turn, Wednesday had always been hers.
“I don’t know, Enid. Why did you?”
She raked her mind- because she wasn’t homophobic. She loved Ajax, and Xavier, and their love. She loved Yoko and Bianca and loved Eugene and Divina, and everyone apparently around her way gay and she never batted an eyelash but-
Her eyelashes grew wet. “But none of them were me…” she finished her own thought, swallowing down the infernal need to scream until her throat was raw.
Because no one was Enid fucking Sinclair. No one would ever be as conceited and all the same, insecure as her. No one would set anyone else to the expectations she had unwillingly set herself from such an early age.
Top journalist. Husband. Two and a half kids. Picket fence. A golden retriever.
Never did she consider she could have the career, the kids, the house, the dog all with a wife. She hadn’t ever been told that was okay.
Fuck- she’d had her life planned out for her all the way down to her own funeral.
“Fuck, Ajax no one- I was so accepting of everyone else I couldn’t accept myself so I- I took it out on the bravest person I know and-“
Ajax didn’t have words. Just held out the quarter empty bottle with calloused hands and a sad smile on his lips. She took it. The burn of the liquor stuck to the roof of her mouth and she coughed; teary and painfully.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her. I never- she’s so good, Ajax.” She looked up at him from heavy eyes, and he, from her bleary perception, smiled back knowingly. “She’s so good and so beautiful and funny and kind and I- I fucked it up. All of it. I cant fix it.”
Ajax lowered himself to his knees, clasping clammy hands between his own with a wry grin. “Course ya can. You’re Enid Sinclair. You’re the only one who can fix anything around here.”
She nodded, more to herself than anything else. She took three more swigs (chugs) and a glass of water at Ajax’s insistence, before drunkenly stumbling her way to Wednesday’s house.
And if he followed several paces behind her with hands in his pocket and a gay-god complex, she didn’t mention it.
It started drizzling.
-
Ajax had branched off a block from Wednesday’s house, content and satiated from the liquor with a silent promise to check on her tomorrow.
Wednesday pulled her front door open, eyebrows knitting to her hairline at the sight of a completely drenched Enid Sinclair.
“Uh- Enid?”
Enid waved around noncommittally, the vast darkness her presentation. “Wednesday Addams. I am a certified idiot. Because here I was!” She tossed her hands up empathetically, spinning around in the rain and chuckling.
Wednesday bit her fist to stop from smiling, at the very sincere and intense production.
Enid sobered (figuratively) her hands falling to her sides as she raised her chin to look at the taller girl- taller from the porch, “Here I was. Confused and annoyed and angry and- and there you were! This beautiful, unapologetically sweet human being that I completed ignored in favour of ignorance. But you- oh you, Wednesday Addams, are the most ravishing thing I’ve ever seen. And I’d marry you- in front of everyone if you stick around!”
Wednesday laughed heartily, head tilted back because the happy-hormone monster in her belly was too full and Enid fucking Sinclair was at her doorstep with a monologue.
Maybe she was dreaming.
A heavy droplet of cold water hit her forehead from the awning.
Not a dream.
Wednesday narrowed her eyes, smiling albeit herself at the girl that pulled the cap (from a bottle of rum?) fashioned with some tape to make a haphazard ring, on her knee.
Enid shivered, and Wednesday didn’t hesitate- because she was so goddamn kind no matter what- to strip the hoodie off herself and offer it to the shaking brunette.
Enid stood, and raised her own eyebrows, eying the soft Heather Grey material longingly.
“You really want me to strip on your doorstep, Addams?”
Wednesday shuffled backward, tripping over her own feet adorably. “R-right, I mean no! God, no. You’ll catch hypothermia if you did that and there would probably be a lot of creeps looking at you- not that there’s weirdos or whatever in this area just that, likely, there would be someone lurking nearby who probably had some way to communicate with said creeps an-“
“Wednesday?”
Wednesday swallowed thickly. “Yeah?”
Enid smiled softly. “I’d like you to kiss me, and then show me Lianna.”
Wednesday nodded dumbly, stumbling over limbs too heavy for their own good, as Enid’s entire body froze and heated up simultaneously as the shorter girl reached out to cup a frost-bitten cheek in a warm palm.
Their foreheads were touching, yet Wednesday seemed hesitant. Enid swallowed against her grating throat, “are you okay?”
Wednesday’s voice was barely above a whisper as she responded, “This isn’t like, a dare or prank, is it?”
The fear and dissapointment was thick in her voice and it made Enid’s heart feel a thousand times heavier then her water-soaked clothes, reaching up and silently apologizing for her cold palms. But when they met freckled cheeks, Wednesday didn’t even flinch away. Her eyes just slowly flickered up beneath blonde lashes; the only emotion Enid had ever been able to see in the other girl. Hope.
“No, Wednesday. It’s not a dare or a prank. I’m just an idiot who was too scared to tell you how I felt.”
It was a shitty response- she knew that. For someone who prided herself on her words and execution- one Wednesday Buckley seemed able to undermine that very natural asset like it was a light switch.
Wednesday didn’t care, her face breaking into that same, beautiful grin that threatened to split her skin in half. “Okay, cool.” Was all she had to say, before connecting their lips.
Enid never knew if heaven was certain- until she felt the lips of Xavier’s nerdy best friend pressed against hers.
All too soon- Wednesday broke away, shivering lightly.
“Ends?”
Enid couldn’t formulate words- probably wouldn’t be able to for days, so she settled on a hum of acknowledgment.
“Could you maybe get changed, so we can make out properly?”
Enid peeled her heavy clothes off right there in the entry way, leaving her clad in her volleyball shorts and a sports bra- not caring that the open door was blowing cold air against her back, because Wednesday’s heady and dark gaze was enough to set her on fire.
“Also- I accept your proposal. And also- told you so.”
Enid stopped in her tracks, hands on her rain-clammy hips. “What?”
Wednesday grinned, all perfect teeth sandwiched between perfect lips, “Told you, you were a rom-com kinda girl.”
Enid shut the door with her heel, latching onto Wednesday as if there was no tomorrow.