Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The dorm room opens. Or it sounds like it because Wednesday has been stuck staring at her typewriter. Rereading on repeat the paper below it in her mind instead of physically.

Enid came back from her date so the passive avoidance worked. It’s past her appointment, so no need to get up to go talk to Weems. 

“Oh. Howdy roomie. Weren’t you supposed to be at the principal’s?”

“No, it’s already-” when Wednesday looks at the clock it is far earlier than Enid’s arrival should be”- weren’t you supposed to be on a date?”

“Yep. Shouldn’t you like, go?”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“I’m skipping it.”

At the sight of a confused stare Enid rolls her eyes. “I canceled it as per my human rights, don’t take out the nail gun, what’s going on with you?”

“The entire premise of the meeting is a sham.”

“How so?”

“I am forced to restart therapy.”

“Oh. The new therapist didn’t sign off on your anger management as done?”

“She did not.”

“Oof. Did she say the reason?”

“ The root of violence being the inability to express feelings or show care in a contemporary way. Somehow I doubt Weems’ gratitude over my fictitious inability not letting her school burn will stop her from blindly signing off on a normie’s assessment.”

Enid’s face pinched in some doubtful expression, as expected.

But she does not follow it up with agreement. Instead it rolls around her face as she iss clearly stopping herself from saying something, uncharacteristically.“What?” Wednesday snapped.

“Your amount of violence is fine, yep.”

“Say what you want to so badly.”

“Okay, tbf Weems did almost die so that probs cancels out the gratitude,” she deflects further.

“Enid.”

“So any plans besides just skipping going to the office?”

Tragically, no. Each attempt at processing solutions to the newest evaluation left her mind blank. Just rolling the words in the mind’s mill, stuck in the chair. Retribution, never anything but meeting violence with violence worked on bullies, that is a simple fact. Never before did any therapist walk back on their first impression. Nor is this another diagnosis that her parents can block from being formalized. 

Feelings and care, how would they even measure that-

Wednesday reinstates eye contact with Enid. “I have one now.”

“Alrighty, wanna share or?”

“I’ll just tell them we’re in a relationship.”

“Excuse me, what?!”

“You are excused.”

Enid waves her arms around. “Is this like a prank or what exactly?”

“No. The clearest solution.”

The wolf girl points between herself and the seer while coming closer. “Just to be extra clear, your therapist said something about repressing feelings and your, what, first thought to fix that is calling yourself my side chick?”

“I have no need for second thoughts- what's a side chick?”

“Concubine, mistress, an about to be homewrecker-”

“I’m not asking you to do anything to help my ruse.”

“Uh huh, you just gonna tell the principal that I’m cheating on my boyfriend.”

“And my therapist.”

“Ruining my reputation in school and then cutting me off from the only therapist in town, great plan.”

“Neither of them would ever be allowed to discuss the content or context of my therapy, it’s perfect this way, you won’t have to adjust in any way since an affair has to be hidden.”

Enid leans in with squinted eyes. "So, just wanna make sure, lying about being with me is the obvious solution to an accusation of repressing feelings and affection, that’s where your mind went instantly?”

“Yes. The woman started bugging me with questions about you already.”

Blonde head snaps to the door for a beat and back with one eye closed in thought. “And you expect me to just confirm when asked, yep?” she asks while taking out her phone.

“I doubt you’d be asked-”

Enid interrupts her while typing on her phone “Oh no, no, that’s not the question. Now why don’t you tell me how it would work proving that you’re successful at caring when we’re hiding the whole relationship?”

Wednesday swallows. “Clearly I would have to be succeeding if you’d be willing to risk a scandal.”

Enid hides her phone. “Maybe at first.” She points to Wednesday’s lap “May I sit here?”

“For what?”

“Making sure I wouldn’t be asked.”

Wednesday slowly nods, confused. 

Enid sits down, legs on either side, face to face and drapes her arms over the backrest. She tilts her head, smiling and Wednesday is suddenly only thinking of how close their torsos are. Of the weight on her thighs. The overwhelming smell of perfume.

Sparkly blue eyes scan her face, then look to the door, head slowly adjusting so that Wednesday’s face is in the way of the eyeline. 

When the door slams open Wednesday is suddenly aware she’s clutched onto the pink sweater.

“Miss Addams, do you must insist on racking up infractions-” the principal starts in an angry voice and stops abruptly.

“Wednesday, you said you already went!” Enid hastily steps away, making the clutched material even more prominent. Clawed hands free the sweater. “Just go,” she hisses before tightly smiling tightly at the stunned woman on the doorstep. She coyly brings a hand. “Sorry, are the no knock enters to be expected now?”

“No, no.” A pause with Weems clearing her throat. “That won’t happen again.” And with a stern voice “Miss Addams. My office.”

So Wednesday mechanically gets up. And mechanically walks. The route to the principal’s office being well familiar. 

The situation is not.

But Enid agreed. 

The plan has to work.

If she is asked once again what she’s feeling, psychiatric institutions will be the last of her problems. 

In the room lit by an impractical fireplace Weems paces shortly before she too sits down, on the opposite side of the desk. She rearranges the papers on it before speaking. “I know that resuming therapy isn’t ideal-”

“It's a useless waste of time.”

“-but it is a legal requirement for you to stay in this school.”

“You didn’t find a hook on the new normie yet?”

The principal pinched the bridge of her nose while deeply sighing. When she opens her eyes the smile is as always professionally threatening. “Even in the event of such methods being available I am not convinced of their validity in this situation.”

“The assessment is ridiculous and laughably false.” 

In what has to be a record short time span Wednesday receives yet another doubtful expression. “I received a simple one. With an uncomplicated way forward.”

“So easy to shut down, no send offs to psychiatric institutes to burrow.”

“I don’t see why you shouldn't try dispelling it yourself first then.”

Wednesday rolls her jaw. “I didn’t know… that not disclosing my relationship status would result in accusations of repression.”

Weem’s eyes twitch as she stares, long and hard in silence. For a few moments the stare seems to be going past her. “With Miss Sinclair?” she finally asks.

“I was sworn to secrecy. Which clearly resulted in the false judgment.”

After a split second flash of pain the woman passed a hand over her face slowly. When she finishes on her face is some tired expression devoid of a professional mask. Visibly hesitant to say something.

“If you make us switch dorms I will set this school on fire,” Wednesday quickly intercedes.

Weems tiredly closes her eyes again. “There’s no need for that Miss Addams. You’d see that there are no rules that would require that if you deigned to read them.”

Wednesday furrows her eyebrows. She did read before choosing to break them.

There is no explicit ruling but by the spirit of the outdated gender segregation it would be more of a loophole then an obvious-

“Your therapist is bound by patient confidentiality, so why don’t you first relay unfiltered information up for assessment and we’ll talk then.”

“Kinbott-”

“Had issues with abiding by it, I do know. But let’s try the uncomplicated solution first and resort to unsavory only if it turns out Doctor Brown is similar, shall we?” the woman proposes in a defeated manner. 

Wednesday nods, blanking on ways to push the defeat further, the exact reason for it unknown. 

Just before fully closing the door she hears a clink of a glass and a mutter of “she couldn’t fall further from the tree, really.”

Enid looks up from her magazine, pausing her feet kicking the air as she lays on her stomach. "How did it go?"

"Mildly successful."

Enid props her head on her elbow through a hand. "Mhm, so she believes that we're together?"

"Yes." 

"But?”

“Up to my therapist. Or will get me out if doctor patient confidentiality will be violated.”

Enid hums, nodding. Then she pats her own bed after throwing off the magazine. “Come here then.”

“Why?”

Enid flashes a smile. “We should come up with what exactly to tell your therapist, shouldn’t we?”

“We?”

“Do you have an idea on what to say beyond ‘I’m not single so check mate’?”

Wednesday blinks and then sits down. Enid angles her body to look at her easier while still laying. "What do you like about me?"

"Why do you ask?"

Enid rolls her eyes. "This is the type of thing you're gonna get asked. We wouldn't be together if the answer was nothing. So, whatcha like about moi ?"

"Certainly not your French." 

" Sacrebleu !" Enid exclaims and giggles at Wednesday’s expression. When she's done she pats black clothed knee in anticipation of a real answer, biting her lip with a fang poking out.

Wednesday remembers that talking about teeth was the type of thing that she used to deter therapists instead of winning them over.

"What should I say?"

Enid sighs, falling off her hand and laying as if she's dragged somewhere. "The most basic topic you could start with would be my looks."

"You are conventionally attractive."

Blue eyes narrow, as a colorfully clawed hand comes up to brush blonde hair away from scars and tuck it in behind an angular ear. "Sound more impersonal, why dontchya."

So stating the most objective precise facts is wrong apparently. Notions of beauty are subjective but the adjectives pertaining to it, the words of it taste empty in Wednesday’s mouth. Empty platitudes that never felt like anything. 

What does?

"Everytime I look at you I have to reconsider my hatred for colors."

Blue eyes sparkle as Enid smiles and twirls a colorful strand. "Aww, that's cute. For real?"

"Is that sufficiently personal?"

"It is very you. But you'll probably have to elaborate."

"I will?"

"Yep," Enid says, popping the p brightly.

"By the amount of colors I see daily that are connected to you I can't help but start having a non hostile reaction to them."

Enid squints, still twirling hair on her finger. "Can't help why?"

"Because the feelings I associate with you overpower and erase the disgust."

"Which are?"

"Threat."

"HM?"

"What?"

"Reword the last thing you said?"

"You're terrifying. I enjoy that."

"Uh huh, what are the symptoms for that exactly?"

"Blood pressure, heart beat and breath rate increase." 

Enid's eyebrows rise as her smile widens. “Yeah, that’s good, you should mention that exactly.”

Wednesday blinks. “I should?”

Enid nods, somehow scooting closer in her curved position. “Yep. What else?”

"I- I already talked about what else I like about you."

"Oh. Like what?"

"Do I have to tell you?"

"Pretty please?"

"Cunningness."

"You think I'm smart?"

"It is a fact."

Enid smiles this time and Wednesday is lost once more on the parameters of the statements. "Charmer."

Wednesday is not sure how she's gonna survive uncertainty of the goal's requirement without the chance of Enid's smile.

"Anything else I should know how to answer?"

"When did you first notice your feelings for me?"

Wednesday stares blankly.

Enid continues, "what moment of intense emotions made everything make sense for you, like a revelation or maybe when I did something small that made your heart skip a beat."

Enid covered in blood.

Enid scanning a crowd and then smiling brightly when they lock eyes.

Enid yelling, threatening to leave forever.

Enid's tongue peeking out from between fangs in focus.

Wolfed out Enid knocking her over and surrounding her in a cocoon of fur, ignoring the hunted trophy. 

Enid waves a hand and says "if there's too many choices I can help." Amused tone. Head almost over Wednesday’s lap.

(“Affectionate gratitude after a near brush with death is hardly an argument disproving the violent streak, miss Addams.”)

"First hug."

(“Not gratitude. I certainly didn’t care when I was saved from a gargoyle to the head.”)

"Mhm, so not when I was wolfed out and threatening?"

"Why are you amused?"

"I like helping you," Enid responds, as if it's self-evident. Her head squarely on Wednesday’s thighs this time. Tilted smile beaming straight up. Brightness as safe as looking straight into the sun.

When the seer leans back from it she feels the knees against her back. And there’s one arm draped to connect to them. Circle around her. Familiar one.

Wolf donut Enid called it before. 

"It's a full moon tomorrow, isn’t it?" Wednesday asks and even before the answer comes the trap spring that holds her up in its jaws lets up.

"Oh yeah, can you read me Pride and Prejudice instead of reciting Poe this time?"

"We won't finish it in one night."

"So you'll have to keep going ar naur." Enid pouts dramatically, adjusting herself tighter and Wednesday tenses again, switching to breathing through the chest.

Full moon soon. Enid is touchier and more playful because of the moon cycle. Just hormones.

Enid presses claws to her abdomen "moths here."

Wednesday blinks. "What?"

"Attraction and excitement feels like moths in the stomach."

In Wednesday’s it's just rolling blades, as if Enid actually stabbed her, twisting around.

Enid takes away her hand and head, sitting up. "I really like your smell."

Wednesday blinks repeatedly as her brows furrow. "Do you want my perfume?"

"No. I mean I guess that's part of it but I like what is underneath it." Enid puts her head on Wednesday’s shoulder, innocuously, but the words make the touch heavier. "It's really important for wolves, you know. Nothing can work without it."

Wednesday tries to angle her head to look at her face, get a read on why she sounded so wistful saying it. If it's just sudden moonsickness.

The wolfgirl snaps herself away. "So, also gotta nail down how long we’re together, I think you could say the cheating was a misunderstanding that we just cleared up today when you told me you hid us."

"I can?"

"Yeah, it's not like me and Ajax were that serious so as long as we don't come out publicly saying we're together today it's fine, noone actually needs to know the timeline beyond your therapist, oh wanna be dramatic and count how long we're together to the minute? Also-"

Wednesday hears the details of the plan only faintly over the calculation of the span of Enid's obsession with Ajax with the chant of 'not serious' in the background as the inside blades turn awfully poisonous.

Chapter Text

Wednesday honestly expected Enid’s engagement in the whole affair to die down after the full moon period ended, her attention continually switching between whatever catches it as usual. Amusement to dim after a few days.

Weems clearly didn’t expect her to get into her car when she imposes a drive to therapy on Wednesday either. As Enid chats her up from the backseat, ever the socialite, there’s tension on the woman’s face mixed with cordiality, disconnected from the focus on driving. 

Reminding Wednesday of the tensions appearing around her mother so she swiftly abandoned analyzing it.

But it continues in the office hallway. "What's your business here again Miss Sinclair?"

"Making sure Wends won't run off. Right babycakes?" Enid brightly says leaning to Wednesday at the end, smiling blindingly.

Wednesday has to blink a few times. 

"Let's get tacos today," Enid continues.

The goth just nods, stiffly turning to her psychiatrist appointment, giggle behind her.

The doctor has a notebook prepared, pen in hand. Insufferably polite smile on face and Wednesday considers the escape route.

Why did Enid had to tag along?

"Before we start, do you have anything you want to say?"

"I wasn't truthful when speaking about my roommate.”

The psychiatrist's eyebrows shoot up. "How so?"

"She's my girlfriend."

Doctor blinks, slightly throws the notebook, nodding, takes out a new one and starts writing. "Really?"

"Till now I presumed we were supposed to keep it secret-”

The psychiatrist rips a page out and takes the previous notebook again.

Wednesday stares blankly.

The polite smiliness intensifies. “Sorry. Do keep going. Do you have any reflection on why you were okay with the relationship being hidden?”

For a treacherous moment, reflexively Wednesday considers the question literally. Enid never dimmed her enthusiasm over seeing her, and withdrew affectionate touch only when asked, it depending on Wednesday’s comfort. Not the opposite. 

What would be the opposite?

What if movie nights replacing canceled dates weren’t to stop Wednesday from harming the inadequate idiot but scraps of underhanded affection?

How would she not go mad?

A scratch of a pen on paper takes her out of her stupor. “I’m a very private person,” Wednesday says, voice quieter than intended.

Doctor Brown hums, still writing and sticking to the prepared script only becomes more difficult.

“Howdy babes, did you win at therapy?”

“No.”

“Aw, here, your consolation.” Enid gives her a take out coffee cup.

Wednesday glares at the offering. “You expected me to lose ?”

Enid snorts, “no- well I got this cuz Weems was staring at me weirdly, and then it got worse when I told her that we’re going on a public date cause I feel bad for making you think I was keeping you a secret so when I asked her if something is wrong she looked hella guilty and offered to buy coffee before leaving. So. Any idea what was that about?”

Wednesday walks sipping the iced quad. The taste does make the not yet grasped victory easier to swallow. “I don’t know, she’s only strange around my mother.”

Enid matches her pace. “Oh. Do they know each other or something?”

“They were roommates in the same hall as us.”

Enid’s OMG sounds a bit far behind her. When Wednesday looks behind her on the blonde’s face is jaw dropped delight.

“What?”

Enid’s eyebrows flash as she closes her mouth into a smirk. “And your parents got together in Nevermore right?”

“Yes.”

Enid skips closer giggling. “Oh this is just perf. Thanks for the tea babycakes.”

Wednesday blinks. “She bought you tea?”

“Oh no, it’s just the perfect goss to use in case-” she stops herself abruptly squinting at Wednesday.

“What is?”

Enid rolls her eyes in thought and slightly winces. “Yeah, you’re better off not knowing.”

“And why would you be the arbiter of that?”

The wolfgirl smiles softly, offering her hand up, “because you trust me?”

Wednesday’s eyebrow twitches.

Couples hold hands.

She looks firmly ahead when grasping it.

Enid’s fingers are warm and her touch instantly firmly slots into the midpalmar space, crowded by flexor tendons and lumbrical muscles. Full of delicate nerves.

Wednesday ponders on if the slash of a blade on there felt easier.

She stops when it gets squeezed.

"And they were roommates!" Enid says exaggeratedly, painfully stating the obvious without elaboration.

Wednesday rolls her eyes. “ Oh my god,” she mocks Enid’s signature exclamation “they were roommates,” the goth says sarcastically.

It makes Enid laugh way more than anticipated. The sound assaults Wednesday’s ribcage somehow. Making the connection through the arms pointed for some reason. And the sunny girl waves them together, obviously trying to stop herself from having the too much bounce in her step. “You’re paying for the tacos btw.”

“What a lousy reparation for being kept a secret then.”

Enid twirls to lean lower while walking backwards in front of Wednesday. “Oh baby, if I’m paying we’re getting one, singular, uno milkshake with two straws heart-stringed together.” 

Her face inaudibly laughs at Wednesday’s consternation at the idea. After looking back for safety she winks, biting her lip. “So, which is it gonna be sweets?”

For what reason would it be one milkshake with tied straws- drinking at the same time? Utter impracticality, forcing to be, what, four inches apart? That’s far too close to be near- 

Enid is still biting her lip.

Wednesday drops her gaze to the cold cup. “I’ll pay.”

Enid’s pleased squeak is as short as the squeeze when she spins out of walking step ahead of Wednesday.

Chapter Text

Wednesday’s chewing is very slow as she tiredly tries to think.

Movie nights, full moons, scouting out abandoned buildings for ghosts and more. All reframed as dates.

Eating tacos, with Enid prattling on animatedly as always, sitting close as always.

What exactly makes this a date?

A fake date.

Which part makes this a date and which part makes this fake?

Delightful burning does not negate the incessant sounds of just being outside.

What the hell is the sudden difference-

Enid moves closer fast and back again.

And then does a choked whine, face frozen mid chew.

On Wednesday’s taco.

The raven snorts unwillingly, making her own apparent headache worse, at the pained expression punishing Enid’s muscles for her own action. It gets worse, whipping across the reddening face as she swallows instead of spitting out the bite she took. It peaks with a tamed screech midway lunge for a drink. 

“Shit, shit, shit, what even is this?”

“Consequences for stealing,” Wednesday says, an amused tone escaping her entirely and dropping into hiss. Frustratingly.

“You never complained before!” Enid whines mid pant.

“You steal after forcing me to eat cafeteria food in the first place.” Another uncontrolled hiss, motivation to keep talking dying.

Tears welling Enid icily glares- stares? “I get you too much food on purpose.”

“I’m not at fault for your foolishness.”

“You were ignoring me.”

“That’s not my problem.”

The next pain streak synchronizes with a tear falling and Wednesday wants to add another jab as irritation of her first reaction swells up but Enid leans away from her, rummaging through her backpack.

And interrupts Wednesday seethe by plopping headphones on her, quieting surroundings. The goth loses the irritated train of thought, it slipping out of the tracks.

“Not snarky anymore?” Enid says smugly and the train is back on route.

“You-”

Enid taps her phone and Shostakovich plays in Wednesday's ears, intense strings of Allegro Molto part of the quartet pulling on her nerves. Her shoulders relax in a blink.

“Enjoying the musical suicide note?”

The cellist once again tries to open her mouth to retort that it’s at best a simplification, this string quartet was an autobiographical piece, personal and dedicated to himself and suicide notes are form of communication, following the form of letters. The four note motif spells out first letters of his names and it’s not even certain if he was attempting suicide after finishing it-

No words leave her lips as a cello concerto theme starts and her eyes close.

“Darn it, is there really no place in this town that sells mango lassi? This was so stupidly bitter. So not worth the masochism,” Enid whines over her phone.

Wednesday makes a sound instead of a real reply and Enid’s eyebrows furrow. Mouth still twitching from pain yet her tearful eyes fill worry.

As the music loops back again, Wednesday reflects on her early question. What makes this date fake? Enid would know the answer right away, but it remains frustratingly elusive to her. Enid knows. Between them two she’s the better actress. And she’s the more active one right now. The fact that she knows more about what to do in the performance is to be expected and- followed?

Enid is in pain and still worrying over the sadist that laughed at her.

Wednesday buys her a milkshake.

With singular straw.

Enid waves her head while drinking the sugary monstrosity, humming, happy, threatening to add full body movement to it after Wednesday clasps her reached out hand. It all seeming awfully impractical for consumption to the goth.

The wolfgirl intentionally coats her lips with the drink and then licks it away with a pleased mlem. 

Wednesday instantly looks away, ‘Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District’ playing in her ears.

Enid is happy.

Because of what Wednesday did.

And they’re holding hands.

Success.

The warmth inside she feels is satisfaction for a success. That she needed.

Enid thrust the cup in front of her face, chin sticking forward in a nod to drink it. Then rattling it annoyingly until Wednesday takes a sip.

Only narrowly forcing the swallow of the awful sugar, the goth makes a face that makes Enid giggle that fuels her skip forward back to their dorm.

After a nap Enid seems to regret asking about the appointment and Wednesday’s plan going forward.

“You mean hit on, right, like flirt with. Right?”

“No.”

“Oh my god, don’t tell your therapist that I’m hitting you!”

“No, that I allow you to hit me, Like knocking me over-”

“To cuddle you!”

“I suppose.”

“Then say that!”

“That didn’t work.”

“To do what?”

“Ward off questions how I manage to circumvent touch aversion for any intimacy .”

“Mhm.”

“What else could I say?”

“ Mhmmm. What else.” Enid mimes grabbing the dark lapels and shaking her. For some reason. Instead of suggesting anything helpful.

“What?”

“I mean, what else, really.” Enid speaks in a high pitched growl while doing jazz hands.

“You’re not helping.”

“Just think on your own first, what I could do to help, hm?” The wolfgirl smiles tightly.

Too tightly to see any teeth.

Wednesday blinks.

Her powers are tied to negative emotions and last time she kissed someone she had a violent vision. The most probable vision with Enid would involve him again-

“What is kissing supposed to feel like?”

Enid rolls her eyes in thought, clicking her tongue as whatever aggravated her leaves without an impression. “Not sure if I know the full thing personally,” she says carefully.

And confusingly. Wednesday’s eyebrows tense. “How could you not know? ”

Most muscles of Enid’s face focus around her left eye as she closes it tightly with a whince. “Welp, the thing was… that it was… quickly obvious that I’m into girls and as much kissing Ajax was, like, good, it still could be that I’m only into girls or that neither of us could ever have feelings for each other so it was whatever - okay so it’s supposed to feel good but it really depends with who and how good are they at it. Like, uhm, I definitely enjoy huggingyoumorethankissinghim. So, you know! I don’t really know .”

On Wednesday’s lips is a question relevant to her problem, precise, practical. “You like me more?” comes out instead, making her cringe.

Enid sighs, closing her eyes. “That is a true sentence.”

Wednesday blinks. “And there’s skill involved?”

Enid nods, almost putting her torso into the sudden movement. “Mhm. Yep.”

“Do I hug you correctly?”

The blonde instantly hides her screech into her hands.

“Enid.”

She still screeches her lungs out, falling back onto her bed.

“Enid.”

One hand goes up palm to Wednesday. “Just give me a minute!”

The goth turns to look at the nearest clock as Enid mumbles something to herself.

After fifty seconds her roommate breathes in deeply, sitting up. “Which answer would you prefer to hear?”

“The truth.”

“You- yeah, don’t overthink it, you hugs are a-okay, mhm.”

“But they could be better?”

“Oh my goddess, I said don’t overthink it.”

“But-”

“Nuh huh. No thinking about it further. Anygay. Anything else on your mind?”

Wednesday swallows. “So you can’t tell me how kissing feels.”

“Nope.”

“And there are criteria the failing of which could cause negative experience.”

Enid squints at her “You’ve kissed before? Who?”

Wednesday glares at her in silence. Not revealing anything. Nothing. Her eyes creep away from the blue irises up and to the right to the thin lines of silver only for a second-

Enid’s forehead relaxes, with a nervous lip lick and Wednesday looks up at the ceiling.

“Well, I can promise you that I will be better at it than, hypothetically… someone who wants you to die?”

“Will? When?”

“Oh my god, do you want me to kiss you or not?”

“It’s not- I just need data -”

There’s a sound of standing up.  “So I should go and find a girl to kiss to give you a report-”

“No.” Wednesday brings her head down to glare. Uselessly. It was an obvious bluff. Enid has been too serious about cheating rumors and-

The blonde is smiling smugly with a happy shoulder shake, pleased that her feint worked. “Then what do you want me to do?”

The goth swallows her pride. “It’d be useful to me if you’d kiss-”

The wolfgirl advances with a roll of eyes. “Oh wow, you sure know how to make a girl feel wanted babycakes.”

Wednesday grits her teeth. “I want you to kiss me.”

The werewolf trails forward on light feet, closer. “Where?”

“Stop that.”

Enid purses her lips. “Stop what?”

“You know where.”

The blonde leans in with arms behind her. “Do I?”

“ Enid.”

“Say please,” is said with a wolfish smile.

“Is irritating me first a necessary step?”

Enid leans back again and smooths the dark material, looking at her own hands. “Okie, okie. Sorry babes.” Her hands rest the closest they can to her throat while still on the clothes. “I’m so very sorry, bonita. But could you still say it? For me ?” Her head tilts while looking up with the last word.

“Please kiss-” the rest of the sentence gets lost somewhere inside Enid’s mouth, no other space to sound it other than against her lips. World tilts into one that’s only filled with Enid and touch and sweet perfume-

Wednesday is tilted back, hanging onto a colorful collar. Near fall. Enid looking panicked as she holds her by her back. “You okay? Too much? What-”

“I’m not having a vision,” Wednesday strangles out as no power flings her body back. Just her knees seem to agree with the gravity too much.

“No, you’re not- is that what happened- ohhh.”

Wednesday just grunts, straightening her posture. Hyperaware of hands bringing her closer to Enid.

“Sooo, no vision means I did better than your first- oh my god that’s such a low bar. I can for sure do better than that.”

“You can,” Wednesday mutters dumbly.

“Great!”

There’s pressure on Wednesday’s lips again. And on her waist. Pulling her closer and closer and not close enough. Pulling on the back of Enid’s head still doesn’t get her close enough. Movement- there was supposed to be technique to this? It’s impossible to think. Impossible to focus. 

Impossible to breathe.

Air.

Enid is saying something.

Wednesday tries to blink- to blink she has to open her eyes in the first place. She finally blinks. And blink again. 

“Wends?”

“What?”

“Are you freaking out? It’s hard to say without uhhh-” she stops to lick her own lips ”are you okay?”

“Do you have to do this?”

“Hm?”

“Start saying something and not going through with it.”

“Uhhh, well I doubt you’d want, hmmm, my tongue in your mouth this fast.”

Wednesday stares blankly and the arms dig into her back again.

Gravity is a bitch today.

“Nooo, Wends, forget that tongue is an option.”

The goth grunts grasping Enid’s lapels.

“Hey, Earth to Wednesday, you good?”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I don’t know if it’s good.”

“You-” Enid giggles”oh, you mean kissing?”

“Yes.”

“Need more data, don’t we?” Enid’s voice is made of laughter.

“Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not! I’m not. Just happy to help.”

“You are?”

“Sure am.”

“I’m not bad at this?”

“Oh don’t worry about it babycakes, just focus on how it feels, hm?”

She breathes mechanically. The previous kiss ended when she lost air.“If you say so.”

“Mhm. I am also saying that you should close your eyes, relax, and feel free to fall.”

Chapter Text

“Wednesday, you’re absolutely not writing at 2am.” Enid wrenches paper out of the typewriter.

“My writing hour-”

“It’s past midnight! And I wanna sleep! You can’t punish me for your own mistakes.”

“You-”

“I am innocent, you’re the idiot that said no to any of my asks about breaks from kissing. Not my fault you shut down earlier so to bed you go.”

Wednesday just glares back.

Enid groans, throwing her head back. Then she sighs with the defeatedness of someone brought to a brink. “If you’ll go to sleep right now I’ll listen to an infodump about your favorite unsolved murder case.”

Wednesday instantly finds herself in bed.

Just to get up and loom over laying Enid. “When?”

The werewolf flinches before mumbling “tomorrow.”

“It’s past midnight.”

“Fine, today.”

“How long?”

“I’ll try an hour.”

“Just try?”

“I promise to try an hour.”

Wednesday keeps looming in silence.

“I pinky promise.” Enid offers a hooked finger.

Wednesday stares at their intertwined pinkies.

Sparkly blue eyes gaze up at her. “Wanna sleep together?”

There’s a giggle behind the seer when she stalks back to her own bed. 

Wednesday quickly feels invigorated as she talks, forgetting about missing a writing hour. Enid nods and looks engaged through disgust from the start.

And then she faints against a wall of plush she seems to have prepared specifically for that.

The goth balls up her fists, noting the exact timing of it before picking up a bottle of water and painkillers. 

Enid said she’ll tan her hide if she uses smelling salts again. Which at first thought was more inviting than deterring. How would she do it? After tearing it off first with her claws? Teeth?

What would she do with it? 

It becomes a working rebuff when Wednesday realizes that she might become a colorful accessory post death. So Wednesday retired her salts to use only personally when near passing out from exercise.

Wolfgirl opens her eyes blearily in under a minute. It takes her a moment to figure out how to keep them open. She hums when offered water and brings up a finger to signal for more time, wincing with closed eyes while cradling the water as if it's her newborn. 

After drinking the pills she reclines for two minutes. “Kay, where were we with the-  Liz. Short Beth. Ye. Mhm. Where?”

“No.”

“Hm?”

“You fainted.”

“Yeah, after- ten minutes?”

“Seven.”

Groan. “Mhm, fifty more minutes on the clock, keep going.” Enid waves her hand.

Wednesday shifts on her feet. She could just continue. She wants to.

Technically Enid has a headache regardless if she faints again.

But it’s annoying to be interrupted again.

“No, close your eyes until you feel better.”

“It’ll mean more time for my brain to chew on the gross stuff, nooo.”

“You tried. That was the promise. I won’t punish you for failure.”

“No, I want you to keep going.”

“Stop lying and lay back down.”

Enid does lean back with eyes closed but continues “I dooo want you toooo, you look so happy when talking about iiit.”

Wednesday shifts on her feet, face feeling a bit too warm. “We can- you can help me with what to think about kissing.”

Enid springs back up with a badly hidden smile. “Oh? What type of kissing this time?” she asks giddily, pulling Wednesday down to the colorful bed. No longer hiding her smile when Wednesday’s face is near, happy sparks in her crinkling eyes.

The sparks almost distract Wednesday again. “I didn’t mean with examples.”

“Hm?”

“I can’t think when we- I need you to come up with the answer for me.”

Enid blinks at her, pulled out of her excitement like a soon-to-be parent at the news of being forcibly conscripted. She falls back with a groan, covering her eyes in pain again and Wednesday feels an urge to go back on what she said, deserting the idea instantly. She almost expresses it, distaste for the military included, leaning over the pouty werewolf but Enid opens her eyes and adjusts the dark bangs with horrifically affectionate touch despite the grouchiness so Wednesday is hit with the memory of chasing Enid’s happiness the previous night. Despite rising discomfort. Pain. 

Like Enid tried right now.

What makes their kissing fake again?

“Why oh why would I kiss my girlfriend if I were touch averse hmmm…”

“I don’t know.”

Enid snorts, instantly flinching from pain. “Uh huh, you sure don’t.”

Wednesday blinks. Right, they’re not actually girlfriends.

Enid sighs. “How’s your empathy status?”

“Nonexistent.”

“So doing it for me is out of question-”

“Is it?”

“Is it?”

“I can still… care.”

“I know. Do you?” Enid's shoulder go up in a coy movement.

“I should?”

Enid sighs. “But whyyy- okay, how do you feel when we kiss?”

“Like… it replaces breathing.”

“Mhm. That’s pretty literal. Why are you fine with me invading your space?”

“It’s… you.” Enid raises her eyebrows at that so Wednesday continues. “You’re always ready to move back out.”

“I am. But how are you so sure of it?”

“You’ve proven it immensely so far.”

“With kissing too?”

“That’s- yes, you did.”

“So I can kiss you again?”

“Why would you?”

“Because I want to.”

“Why?”

“Because I enjoy it a lot. And because it seems to me like you do too.”

“You do.”

“Hm?”

“You do seem to be enjoying it.”

“Yeah?”

“So I’m succeeding at it.”

“You are Wends. Would you care to succeed with anyone else?”

“No.”

“What’s the difference?”

“It’s you.”

“How am I different Wends?”

“I said it already.”

“Okay. Success. I make you feel like a winner?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Wanna win at some other types of kissing?”

Wednesday can’t think of a reason to say no.

And then quickly forgets to even try anymore too lost in victories.

Wednesday can’t think of a sound reason to bring the topic up.

So she doesn’t. Mouth closed resolutely from the beginning of the appointment.

The psychiatrist speaks up after a far too short bout of silence for Wednesday’s liking. It wasn’t even her record either of forcing therapists into breaking their own resolve to make her speak her mind through the awkward boredom.

“If you don’t have anything to start with, I wanted to discuss with you your past diagnoses.” 

“I don’t.”

“There are none that you think fit you?”

“Yes.”

“Why? You talk extensively about no desire to get closer with people, did the term anti-social never occur to you?”

“I am not a psychopath.”

“Why not?”

“Why do I have to disprove an assumption made countless therapists ago that you read before meeting me?” 

“I only read your files between our last appointments and thought to address your feelings about them.”

“Negative.”

“Why?”

“I simply cannot have the traumagenic ones.”

“Hm. What about the other?”

“Moving on from calling me a psychopath to an autistic one doesn’t improve my feelings.”

“Pardon?”

“Autistic psychopathy from 1944’s 'Die Autistischen Psychopathen' im Kindesalter. "

“Ah. Aspergers.”

“Calling me something after a nazi is even worse.”

“The name bugs you?

“Hearing from the same psychiatrist that diagnosed my brother as autistic that by nazi metrics he should be murdered and I not because I’m less of a burden doesn’t inspire positive reaction.”

“You would accept Autistic Spectrum Disorder as a diagnosis then?”

“I was never offered one. BPD, bipolar, psychopathy, narcissism, machiavellian personality, my favorite to complete the so-called dark triad and oppositional defiant disorder when I dared to argue that I was in the right to push away a blond girl that kept touching me.”

“A blonde girl.”

“It’s not- Enid never- the point is that she was white and crying and I’m not so I was blamed.”

“Were there any worse incidents?”

“I’m not traumatized.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“I do not have trauma, I inflict it.”

“Like at the end of the semester?”

“Yes. I got rid of Crackstone and his idiotic followers and I enjoyed doing it.”

“There wasn’t any part of it that left a lasting impression beyond positive?”

“No.”

“No regrets?”

“None.”

Wednesday glares in the pause, muscles static, quickly chilling hand unmoving. The pen over the notes stills over the paper before it gets softly discarded. The woman brings her hands together, and softens her shoulders. Relaxes. Assumes a non threatening position. As Wednesday’s lungs screamed to let them expand more. Expand faster.

She doesn’t let them.

"Wednesday, can I be honest with you?"

 "I don't think I can stop you."

 "From what I can tell, it sounds like a lot of people have decided that they need to find out what's wrong with you so they can fix it, is that correct?"

Wednesday blinks. "An accurate summation."

 "I don't believe that is a productive path to continue and I would like to avoid repeating their mistakes. I would like to approach our sessions by seeking to understand."

A scoff would be a waste of air. "What is there to understand? Doctors have labeled me quite thoroughly in their files, for all the good it did them."

 "I want to understand why and where you clash so strongly with the day to day world. Not because I think you need to be fixed, but because I think your life will be better if you are not constantly at war with the world around you. You are different, and that has caused difficulties. So I would like to find out where the worst of these difficulties are and develop strategies to make your life easier."

“Sounds like it’s that other people should change.”

“When it rains an umbrella helps.”

 “Stormchasing is one of my favorite activities.” In Wednesday’s periphery a clock arm moves so she gets up, swirling stomach be damned. “The time is up.”

Walking is easy, it’s automatic. She’s in public, there are people around, the objective to get alone is simple. Just walk.

But sitting in the bus there’s nothing to focus on but the wrong feeling of clothes on her skin.

Especially on her stomach. Bunched up incorrectly. Wrong. There’s an itch above her left eyebrow. Her hand barely feels like it works. 

Too many layers of clothes. Impossible to feel what’s wrong exactly on her stomach. She lifts up her vest to be able to jam her fingers between the buttoned material. To touch where it’s so incorrect. 

Where the scar is.

Jamrod spine, eyes behind her skull and when she can see again it’s the crackstone crypt. Cold ground. Freezing wall. Stale air. Sticky creek of blood down her face. Impaired hand.

And most importantly a knife sticking out of her body. Twisted. Coiled bleeding organs collapsing on themselves. Bleeding hand. Each painful breath, every exhale draining out warmth at a speed she can’t control.

No Goodie.

Just.

Impending.

Nothing.

The mundanity of the bus is surreal. Her eyes keep blinking, expecting darkness of the blood moon night. When she breathes she can smell blood that’s not there. Feel a blade that’s not there.

She’s not in the crypt. She’s not here. She’s nowhere.

She’s in the fucking bus. 

And her legs are shaky. 

On the floor. And then the ground. Her feet are cutting across grass in a rushed gait. Ankle almost twisted. Almost falling. Almost lying dead again. 

Her body is moving. There’s no way she can be upright while stabbed. No way. The dagger isn’t real. 

The pain is lying. 

She just needs to get back to the dorm. 

Wednesday was seeking to be alone. To retreat and hide while licking wounds regardless of how imaginary they may be. They are not.  They are not imaginary. 

There is no dagger. 

There is nothing stabbing her abdomen. 

She punches the spot to prove it, and almost falls over just before the dorm door. But that's punching recoil.

The dagger pulled out means she's bleeding out.

She was seeking solace and seeing Enid on her bed almost makes her chase it on the colorful side of their dorm if it weren't for the vampire sitting next to her looking at the same laptop on Enid’s thighs.

Wednesday straightens out too slowly for her own judgment but fortunately for her, they are more focused on whatever game they are playing than her struggles after a distracted greeting wave.

Neither a werewolf or a vampire is alerted to the smell of phantom blood so she’s fine. Wednesday is fine as she staggers to try and fall into her bed, disregarded enough to fixate on the wrong feeling of her airways in enough privacy to bleed out peacefully. Without jacket or vest obstructing palm strikes to the abs.

"I can fix her," Enid suddenly insists in the voice she uses when she defends Wednesday so the seer freezes painfully.

The vampire first responds with a short laugh. “Yeah that’s your type, alright.”

“What? No! There’s nothing to fix about Wednesday.”

“Suuure.”

“Weeends!” Enid calls for her so Wednesday resigns to stiffly walking.

Right into the outstretched hands beckoning her, finding a little piece of grounding reality in the face cradle after glaring shortly at Tanaka and noticing the gameplay from when Enid wanted to persuade and show her an example of singular braid weaved with chains in it. Being crushed by weight is really appealing at the moment.

Wednesday focuses on reading the smirking lips with the last reserves of attention, to hear better through ringing.

“Is there any deity you’d ever choose over me?” is the ridiculous question on them.

Wednesday blinks confused. But answer, she’s supposed to talk, just talk, anything that makes sense. “It'll be more probable that at your behest I joined a religion just to become its biggest heretic in your name, committing atrocities that would only be referenced by the date,” she says, looking at Enid, her Enid, maybe she'll win, get a beautiful smile and a kiss before death.

Happy sparks reappear in the blue eyes as Enid tries to school her features into something exaggeratedly dismissive. “You’d do it for fun.”

Wednesday swallows nothing, airways too dried out from breathing wrong to have saliva. The answer made Enid happy, it was right, but why not good enough? Her eyes fling around, briefly seeing Tanaka again.

 She grits her teeth. “ Yes, but if you asked I'd have a real reason. Is that all romantic posturing I must perform for your friend?”

Enid giggles, still holding her face. “Yep, thanks babes” warm fingers reorient to caress better as she addresses the vampire sitting next to her “see? Nothing to fix about her-” her nose scrunches as clawed fingers stray to pulse point on Wednesday’s neck. “-so why would I waste time when she’s already here? Thanks for helping with that battle.”

“Just drop the graphics to low so your laptop won’t be dying anytime you reload after death dumbass.”

“Shut up before I’ll make Wednesday kill you on the way out.”

Wednesday makes a questioning noise as to try to inquire if that’s a real command, a warm hand still around her throat, but the vampire is quickly gone before she gets a clarification.

“Wends, what’s wrong?” is the soft hit of a voice.

Wednesday repeats the questioning noise, eyes anxiously darting around for something out of place that could be an answer. 

Enid angles her face to look at her again, gaze tender like open wound that's in her guts.

“You were talking just a moment ago, your heart is racing and- did something happen?”

Wednesday tries speaking, first choking on too long a thought. “Stabbed.”

“What? Where?” 

She isn’t sure how but hot fingers end up on her skin, under her clothes, and the touch is right there where it hurts, discordant to if she were unhurt, so she's bleeding out and dying and-

"Wends, no, shhh, you're okay, you’re safe. I'm putting pressure, yeah? The bleeding will stop and you'll be okay, just breathe please." 

Sat back against cushions somehow, sucking air in isn't as easy as when standing but she does, following Enid's instructions and exhales when prompted, movement pressing against a strong hand. The other keeps changing targets, rubbing circles on different parts of Wednesday’s body. Thigh, hip, elbow, shoulder, forearm.

It's something to focus on when breathing gets tedious to force. Something to feel as pain bleeds away when Wednesday looks at scars, beautifully healed scars, studying them. Easier to take in than the worried eyes.

Enid squeezes her side before taking her hand from under the shirt and Wednesday’s eyes become difficult to stay open. 

"Hey, Wends, wanna talk about it now or sleep?"

Next thing she's aware of she's waking up on the colorful bed.