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The first sign that something was wrong was the coat rack.
Enid opened the door to their shared dorm to find Wednesday standing in front of it, glaring as though it had personally insulted her. The offending object was entirely innocent, just a wooden structure holding their jackets and scarves. But Wednesday’s piercing glare could’ve set it on fire if she’d had pyrokinetic powers.
“Uh, Wens?” Enid ventured, shutting the door behind her. “You okay?”
“No,” Wednesday said flatly.
“Want to elaborate, or should I guess?” Enid asked, tossing her bag onto her bed.
“It is not symmetrical,” Wednesday hissed, gesturing to the coat rack. “Your scarf is leaning to the left, my jacket is unevenly hung, and that monstrosity of a pom-pom hat is throwing the entire balance into chaos.”
Enid blinked. “My pom-pom hat?”
“Yes. It’s… lopsided.” Wednesday’s voice dropped as though the mere admission pained her.
Enid bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. This wasn’t the first time Wednesday had fixated on something seemingly trivial, but it was definitely one of the funnier ones. “Okay, deep breaths. We’ll fix it. Want me to straighten everything out?”
Wednesday’s shoulders stiffened. “No. I will do it. If it is to be done correctly, it must be done by my hand.”
“Fair,” Enid said, sitting cross-legged on her bed to watch. She didn’t dare interfere; she’d learned that lesson the hard way during The Great Desk Organizer Incident. Wednesday had spent hours arranging her stationery just so, only for Enid to shift a pen half an inch by accident. The fallout had been… memorable.
Wednesday meticulously adjusted each item on the coat rack, muttering under her breath about the incompetence of modern furniture design. When she finally stepped back, her dark eyes scanned the rack with a critical intensity.
“Better?” Enid asked, genuinely curious.
Wednesday hesitated, her brow furrowing. “Marginally.”
“Progress!” Enid cheered, throwing her hands up.
Wednesday shot her a withering glare but didn’t protest when Enid hopped off the bed and wrapped her in a quick side-hug. “See? Crisis averted. You’re the master of coat rack symmetry.”
“Flattery is unnecessary,” Wednesday replied, though she didn’t pull away.
Enid grinned. “Come on, let’s sit down and relax. You’ve been standing there like a Gothic scarecrow for who-knows-how-long.”
They settled on the couch, and Enid flipped on a TV show—something colorful and loud that she knew Wednesday wouldn’t pay attention to. Sure enough, Wednesday sat stiffly beside her, her gaze distant, her shoulders still taut.
“What’s on your mind?” Enid asked, nudging her.
“The world is fundamentally disorganized,” Wednesday replied. “It is infuriating.”
“I mean, yeah, but that’s kind of the charm, right?” Enid said. “Like, if everything was perfect, we’d have nothing to fix. And fixing stuff is satisfying.”
Wednesday turned to her, an eyebrow raised. “That is a disturbingly optimistic perspective.”
“It’s called finding the silver lining,” Enid said, grinning. “You’re the yin to my yang. We balance each other out.”
Wednesday’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile. “Balance is overrated. But... tolerable, in small doses.”
Enid beamed. “I’ll take it! Now, how about we distract you with something fun? We could bake cookies! Or organize your bookshelf again. Or… oh! Do you want to do one of those logic puzzles you like? I’ve got a new app.”
Wednesday considered this. “The logic puzzle. Provided it does not involve childish animations or condescending hints.”
“Deal!” Enid grabbed her phone and loaded the app, scooting closer so Wednesday could see the screen.
As they worked through the puzzle together, Wednesday’s tension gradually melted away. Enid’s cheerful commentary was a constant background noise, and while Wednesday wouldn’t admit it, she found it… grounding. The puzzle’s neat logic and structure soothed her frayed nerves, and Enid’s presence was a surprisingly comforting constant.
At one point, Enid accidentally tapped the wrong answer. Wednesday’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the screen, then at Enid. “I trust that was a mistake and not an act of sabotage.”
Enid snorted. “Totally a mistake! I’m not here to wreck your precious logic streak.”
“See that it remains that way,” Wednesday said, but there was a faint glint of humor in her dark eyes.
After they’d completed three puzzles in record time, Enid leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “You’re a puzzle machine, you know that? I bet you could do these in your sleep.”
“Flattery is transparent and unnecessary,” Wednesday replied, though she didn’t entirely disagree.
“Come on, admit it,” Enid teased. “You had fun.”
“Fun is an inefficient use of time,” Wednesday said, but her tone lacked its usual venom.
Enid leaned her head on Wednesday’s shoulder with a contented sigh. “Well, whatever you want to call it, I’m glad we did this. You’re not entirely insufferable, Wens.”
“A dubious compliment at best,” Wednesday muttered, but she didn’t move away.
“Aww, thanks! Love you too,” Enid teased, snuggling a little closer.
Wednesday rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “If you tell anyone about this, I will unleash a plague upon your family.”
“Duly noted,” Enid said, grinning. “Now, let’s find another puzzle. Or maybe reorganize that coat rack again. For funsies.”
“Don’t push your luck,” Wednesday muttered, but there was a hint of amusement in her tone that Enid couldn’t miss.
When Enid settled in closer, her head resting more firmly against Wednesday’s shoulder, she felt Wednesday stiffen slightly. But instead of pulling away, Wednesday let out a resigned sigh, as if tolerating a great burden.
“If you intend to use me as a pillow, you could at least warn me,” Wednesday grumbled, her voice devoid of venom.
“Next time,” Enid said cheerfully, draping a soft blanket over both of them. “But you’re surprisingly comfy for someone who looks like they’re made of sharp edges.”
Wednesday rolled her eyes dramatically, but she didn’t protest when Enid shifted to wrap an arm loosely around her waist. The faintest hint of a blush crept up Wednesday’s pale cheeks, though she kept her gaze firmly fixed on the puzzle on Enid’s phone.
“This is purely for your benefit,” Wednesday muttered. “Do not mistake this for approval.”
“Of course not,” Enid said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “You’re just being charitable.”
“Precisely,” Wednesday deadpanned, though her posture softened just enough to suggest otherwise.
The warm glow of their shared moment lingered, settling into the corners of the room like a secret only they shared. By the time Enid’s breathing evened out into a gentle rhythm, Wednesday allowed herself to relax, her head leaning ever so slightly against Enid’s. If anyone asked, she’d deny it to her grave—but for now, she allowed herself this quiet reprieve.