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Surprisingly, Enid prefers studying at Nevermore University’s on-campus library at night.
The uni’s library is nothing short of packed during the day, with students filling every nook and cranny of the place. They roam about as if mere zombies with the set aim of cramming and studying till the bags under their eyes turn blue.
Overall, too much of a depressing vibe for her. Enid would much prefer romanticizing her university experience, thank you very much.
Nowadays, as soon as the clock strikes eight, Enid ventures out and sets camp at a spot further down the library to do all her work. While the library at night is still fairly occupied with students, somehow, despite it being later, they all look much less dead-eyed and miserable. Enid greatly favors that over weary individuals who look like they want nothing more than to be put out of their misery.
It’s currently Friday night, and it’s been a particularly draining day for Enid, class after never-ending class.
Mentally, Enid thanks Yoko for the surprise coffee she delivered to her during her current, and last lecture of the day. She was dangerously close to pulling out hair follicles without the emergency caffeine fix.
University has its ups and downs, but there are some days when Enid just really does not want to be here. No one said a teaching degree would be easy, Enid guesses.
Despite all this, a psychology assignment due in four days that she’s yet to even start still awaits her, and after a short trip to her dorm room to freshen up and change into something more comfortable, Enid quickly makes her way down to the library.
At some point, Enid’s begun moving on autopilot. She’s had this routine to the library for so long now that she barely has to think about it on most days.
That’s why, when she finally does look up, Enid’s surprised to find herself only inches away from her usual spot. Except tonight, someone else is sitting there.
A girl.
And she is… pretty, hot, handsome. Any adjective of nice-looking to get across that she’s the most beautiful person Enid’s ever seen.
The girl looks up, and Enid immediately regrets existing. Dark eyes meet hers, pinning her in place. Her hair is parted into two twin braids, her fringe skimming just below her eyebrows, covering most of her forehead.
She’s dressed entirely in all black. A long zip-up hoodie that basically swallows her smaller frame whole, a skirt that stops just below her knees, and a pair of combat boots that look like they were designed for war.
If it wasn’t for the girl’s gaze keeping her in place, Enid would have fled long ago. Or exploded in place. Either one works for her.
The girl is the first to break the silence. “Yes?” she drawls, her tone flat and disinterested.
Oh my god, even her voice is hot, Enid thinks. It has a monotonous lilt to it with a kind of permanent annoyance etched in there, and unfortunately for her, it looks like Enid’s sort of into that now.
Enid panics. “Um, well,” she stammers. “Y-you’re pr– uh, I mean,” Enid mentally kicks herself. She awkwardly clears her throat. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but you’re kind of in my usual seat…”
The girl quirks an eyebrow. “Your seat?” she repeats, her voice dripping with something in between amusement and skepticism.
She leans slightly forward in her chair, crossing her arms as her dark eyes leisurely gaze at Enid, lingering just long enough to make her squirm. Enid doesn’t know if she’s scared or excited. “I did not realize the library operated on an assigned seating system.”
“Um, they don’t…” Enid responds, trailing off awkwardly, her eyes darting everywhere but at the girl in front of her. “It’s just… I normally sit here. Is all. And tonight’s the first time I’ve seen someone else… you know, here.” Enid says, wringing her hands together nervously.
The girl tilts her head to the side curiously, as though trying to make sense of the words Enid is spewing. “Hmm, well. Seeing as this seat does not have your name engraved on it, I find myself under no obligation to give it up to you,” she says.
Enid blinks. “Yes, I—yeah, okay, that’s… fair.” There’s an awkward lull in conversation after that where Enid sort of just hovers in place, debating whether to leave this intriguing yet intimidating person alone or to take a risk and most likely embarrass herself.
This time, it’s Enid who breaks the silence. “Do… do you mind if I sit with you anyway? It’s just, it’s more packed in here than it is normally at this time, and there’s not really anywhere else to sit, and usually if it’s this full before I get here I’ll sit with my friend Yoko, you know IF she is here. Ah, you probably don’t know her, but she normally ditches me to go on dates with her girlfriend Divina around this time, you probably don’t know her eith—“
Enid abruptly cuts herself off once she’s realized she’s started rambling. The girl now has an amused glint in her eyes, and Enid swears she sees a ghost of a smile on her lips. Seemingly deciding to have mercy on Enid’s soul, the girl glosses over Enid’s mortifying ramble and simply says, “If you must,” in response.
Enid hesitates for a moment, a bit surprised that the girl agreed. Honestly, Enid assumed she completely blew it after… all that. She half expected the girl to laugh in her face and tell her to get out of her sight.
“Thanks. I, I was honestly expecting you to tell me to go away. I’m told I can be… a lot,” Enid responds, offering the girl a sheepish smile before sliding into the seat across from her, unzipping her backpack to grab her laptop and leisurely jot down notes from inside.
The girl studies Enid for a moment. “I considered it. Normally, I don’t enjoy interacting with others if I can help it.”
Enid pauses, caught off guard, she’s trying to figure out if the girl is joking or not. Clearly, considering the entirely serious look on her face, she is not.
Enid laughs an unexpected and bright giggle. “You’re strange,” she says. Oddly endeared by the girl in front of her.
“So I’ve been told. By the way, you should take pride in the discomfort you cause. Your so-called excessiveness is merely a testament to how psychologically frail the people around you are.”
“Wow. That’s a really roundabout way to tell me to be myself.” Enid giggles, “Thank you,” she adds, giving her a soft, genuine smile. The girl simply stares at her for a moment before returning to her own work.
If Enid doesn’t get anything done at the library after that interaction because she’s completely distracted by the girl in front of her, well, she’ll just blame it on the coffee.
———
Enid sees Wednesday (Oh yeah, the mystery girl’s name is Wednesday Friday Addams, she’s now learned. Like, how is she not supposed to be completely charmed by her?) at the library almost every day after that, and Enid likes to think that they’re something like friends now, much to the chagrin of Wednesday herself.
After their first meeting, Enid sees Wednesday again only a day later, sitting in the same spot. Enid’s spot. And unlike last time, there are endless amounts of other seats available, and yet, Wednesday is still there. It isn’t even a spot Enid would think a person like Wednesday would want to sit at. There’s a big fat window right next to it, it’s bright, and you can hear everything going on outside. Enid imagines Wednesday much more akin to a vampire. Preferring the dark and quiet where no one is going to bother her.
Despite all this, much like before, Enid warily approaches Wednesday, half expecting to be shooed off with a flick of the wrist. But again, much to Enid’s surprise, Wednesday simply gazes up at her, dark eyes locking onto hers, and says, “You again.”
Enid giggles nervously despite herself. “Me again,” she echoes, a hesitant smile on her face. “May I sit?” she says, through a nervous grin.
Wednesday stares for a moment before shaking her head. “You are relentless. Like an annoying puppy,” she responds, then, after a beat adds, “You may,” lips twitching slightly.
After that second meeting, Wednesday and she warm up to each other rather quickly, and their library hangouts become a more regular and expected thing.
They’ll usually hang out in the library while also doing their university work, and if their schedules permit it, they’ll meet at a café or a park close to the university for a change of scenery. Enid is, of course, still down bad for the twin-braided girl throughout all this, and though Wednesday took a bit more time to fully warm up to Enid in the beginning, she doesn’t peer curiously up at her anymore when she plops down across from her, and if Enid gets there first, Wednesday will quickly stride over to their spot and take her seat without a word.
That has to mean she at least tolerates Enid, right? Not to mention, Enid now has the girl’s number—a privilege many have not been awarded. There was an instance where Enid could not make it to the library. The next time she saw Wednesday, there was a piece of paper being shoved into Enid’s face with a set of ten digits in perfect, almost robotic calligraphy written on it.
“Here. The number to my landline. I don’t own a phone, and I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation. Only my parents and my brother Pugsley have access to this number. Consider yourself special.”
Enid is slowly but surely becoming versed in Wednesday-speak and can sometimes make out the things Wednesday wants to convey but chooses to hide in confusing words and poetic phrases. A small twitch in her eyebrow here or a slight change in the tone of her voice there, and Enid is at times able to find the needle in the haystack.
Next time you are unable to make it, call me—Wednesday wants to say. Enid just continues to fall harder.
It’s getting pathetic. The more Enid gets to know Wednesday, the more endeared by her she becomes. And although Wednesday is nothing short of breathtakingly beautiful, it’s far beyond looks at this point.
Enid likes the way Wednesday speaks as if she consumes dictionaries for food, she likes how intimidating she is (but is really a sweetheart once you get to know her), she likes the way Wednesday’s brows furrow cutely whenever Enid makes a pop culture reference she doesn’t understand, and she likes… liking Wednesday. Honestly, the girl makes it totally too easy.
And sometimes, just sometimes Wednesday will do things that make Enid second-guess herself. Things like remembering Enid’s long and unnecessarily complicated coffee order, then randomly purchasing said coffee for her and insisting, “You do not have to pay me back, Enid, just drink your diabetes in a cup,” or persisting that she walk Enid back to her dorm after every one of their library hangouts, even though Wednesday herself lives in an off-campus apartment further away from the university. Or making it unashamedly clear that Enid is special to her (the landline incident)—that Enid gets to be privy to the sides of Wednesday that most people could only dream of getting to bear witness to.
But, Enid can never let those thoughts linger, lest she starts thinking Wednesday could actually like her.
———
Enid does not get sick, ever, but when she does, it’s not pretty. She feels like death and everything horrid in the world, and all she wants to do is sleep.
Enid first feels it creeping up on her in the morning. She’s in the middle of a psychology lecture when her head starts pounding and her body feels like she was run over by a truck. Her pencil shakes in her grasp, and a sudden wave of dizziness makes her feel like she might faint right in the middle of this class. Enid feels like utter shit.
Thankfully, the lecture is mostly over, and as soon as class is dismissed, Enid is the first to start packing her bags and exiting the classroom. She begins making her way to her dorm, her stride lethargic and lazy. It feels like she has no control over her body and her clothes cling uncomfortably to her skin. The world around her is too bright, and all the lights and the muffled noise surrounding her only serves to make her feel worse.
Somehow, she manages to stumble her way to her dorm. The tremble in Enid’s hands makes it difficult for her to get her room key in on the first try, but after struggling for a moment, she’s finally able to get the door open and step inside.
Mustering the last bit of her energy to shoot Yoko a text that she’s skipping school for the rest of the day, Enid trips over herself to get to her room and promptly throws herself on the bed, where she starts the grueling process of peeling her jeans off her skin. Once Enid is adorned in only panties and her oversized t-shirt, she crawls her way under the covers and swiftly passes out.
———
Enid doesn’t know how long she’s been asleep when the sharp ringing of her phone drags her out of unconsciousness. She groans, her throat filled with cotton and her head heavy from the headache she’s been carrying all day. She lazily pats around her bed until her fingers wrap around her phone. She doesn’t even bother reading the caller ID before answering the call and tiredly bringing the phone up to her ear.
“Hello?” she says, her voice coming out hoarse and thick with sleep.
There’s a pause, then “Enid.”
And Enid, well. Enid would recognize that voice anywhere.
Enid’s lips involuntarily twitch up into an easy smile. “Willa,” she sighs, like the name itself is a comfort. And it is. Simply knowing Wednesday is on the other side of this phone has already made her feel better. Enid flops onto her back. “I missed you,” she mutters. “Missed you and your pretty voice.” Enid feels utterly dazed and disoriented; that must be the only reason she hears a hitch in Wednesday’s breath on the other end.
“You are not at the library,” Wednesday states. There’s something in her voice, she almost sounds pained. Is Wednesday concerned about her? Because if she is, Enid will begin coming up with ways to keep Wednesday concerned for her, worried about her.
Enid whines, turning onto her side. “M’sick,” she slurs, voice muffled. “Feels like I’m dying. And I didn’t even get to see you one last time. Boo.”
“You are not dying, mi sol. Cease your pouting. I would not let that happen,” Wednesday states, there’s amusement in her voice now.
“Where are you?” she questions.
“Dorm,” Enid mumbles.
“Your room number, Enid.”
“Hmm I don’t knooowww… what do you say?” Enid hums.
Wednesday takes a breath on the other end. Enid imagines she’s making that cute face she gets when she’s feeling chastised, “… Please, Enid,” she grumbles.
Enid, Enid, Enid. In every sentence, every phrase. Enid’s never loved her name more than she does now. She rattles off the request before her brain can fully process the implications of Wednesday asking for her room number. She doesn’t even register the call ending, and she promptly dozes off once more when she realizes Wednesday is no longer there.
———
The next time Enid wakes up, it’s to three abrupt knocks at her door. She still feels like absolute shit, and it takes every bit of effort her body can muster to drag herself out of bed and leave the warm, comforting space behind. Her legs feel like jelly, and she has to use the walls as support so her legs don’t give out from beneath her. Once there, Enid flings open the door unthinkingly, blinking several times in confusion when she sees the person in front of her.
Standing there in all her dark glory is Wednesday Addams.
Holding soup.
Wednesday stands before Enid, the direct antithesis to her pastel-filled and unorganized apartment. Enid thinks a little bit of color suits her dark ensemble, after all. Dazedly, she observes how much Wednesday fits right in her personal bubble, she can be the darkness to Enid’s light—or… something like that.
If Enid could, she’d keep Wednesday here forever, monopolize her time till everything in her home started reminding her of the goth. Wednesday’s eyes, her scent, the cute little grin she gets when Enid does something particularly amusing to her.
Enid stares, confused and with a pout plastered on her lips. “Are you real?” she asks, voice slurred and hoarse in exhaustion.
Wednesday blinks. “What?”
Before she can say anything else, Enid promptly steps forward, her body still staggering in place. Wednesday is quick to steady her so they don’t go tumbling down together, her free hand coming to rest low on Enid’s waist. Wednesday’s never touched her this much. Maybe Enid should get sick more often.
A delirious grin paints Enid’s lips as she places both her hands on Wednesday’s cheeks, adoringly gazing at her as if a mere figment of her imagination. She fits perfectly between Enid’s hands, soft and angelic. Enid gently brushes her thumbs over her eyebrows, down the bridge of her nose, and all the way to her cheeks, her touch so gentle it may as well be the ghost of one. She feels Wednesday’s shallow, almost nonexistent breathing under her thumb. “You can’t be my Wednesday, can you?” she whispers, voice feather-light.
The whole time she’s doing this, Wednesday stands perfectly still, her pupils dilated and the faintest of blushes coloring her cheeks.
Possibly for the first time in her life, Enid thinks, Wednesday sputters, “I—I assure you, Enid, I am indeed… your Wednesday.” She pauses, then for some reason gets oddly red in the face once more. Quickly, she adds, “Now, if you’ll let us inside, I brought you soup.”
Before Enid can say anything more, Wednesday carefully sets the soup on a nearby stand. Seeing Enid stumbling over her own two feet like a newly born puppy, she takes her hand and gently guides Enid back to her bedroom. Once there, she is quick to set Enid down on the bed, where she methodically begins fluffing up her pillows and arranging them more comfortably. Carefully, she then eases Enid down on the bed and pulls the covers right up to her chin, tucking them in with meticulous care. Enid’s never felt this… dare she say loved before.
Afterward, Wednesday stares at Enid for a moment, piercing brown eyes looking her up and down, as if searching for injury. “Stay put, I will be back in a moment.”
Enid instantly frees a hand from under the blanket so she can lightly tug on the bottom of Wednesday’s jacket, stopping her from leaving the room. Enid knows she must sound nothing short of pathetic when she says, “Don’t go,” eyebrows furrowed and lips downturned.
Wednesday dawns her a look she imagines an owner would give their pet doing something amusing. “I am only retrieving the soup, mi sol. I will return shortly,” Wednesday says, voice firm but soft.
Enid pouts but says nothing more as she watches Wednesday leave. She spends a short minute staring up at the ceiling, marveling at how lucky she is to have Wednesday Addams of all people taking care of her like this, but true to her word, Wednesday returns quickly, a steaming bowl of soup in her hands.
She places the soup on the bedside table and drags Enid’s work chair across the carpet so she can place it right beside Enid. Then, before Enid can react, cool fingers slip down to her back, helping her sit up. The touch sends a shiver down Enid’s spine, though she is too fever-brained to question it.
Wednesday adjusts the pillows behind her and helps Enid settle on top of them comfortably before sitting on her chair and reaching for the bowl of soup again. “You have to eat,” she says simply, a slight furrow to her eyebrows.
Wednesday dips the spoon into the bowl, scooping up the liquid before gently blowing on it. “Open,” she instructs, her own lips parting slightly as if unconsciously trying to show Enid how to open her mouth. Enid already knows how to open her mouth. All Wednesday opening her mouth like that is doing to her is causing her to imagine how Wednesday might part her lips if she were to ever kiss Enid. With a blush on her cheeks that is not because of her fever, she quickly shakes her head and wills the thought from her brain.
Enid obeys, parting her mouth open just as Wednesday brings the spoon up to her lips. Enid could not have conjured this fantasy up in the deepest depths of her lovesick brain. Wednesday feeding her while she’s sick and delirious. She thanks whatever deity is out there for this crazy stroke of luck. She doesn’t even get this lucky when she’s unboxing her kpop albums and praying for a Yves photo card.
“It’s yummy,” she croaks.
Wednesday gives her a small, barely-there smile, dipping the spoon in once more. “Good. I am pleased.”
Enid is fed much like this till the bowl is empty; she feels full with affection—like with every spoonful of soup fed to her, Wednesday is pouring her care for Enid into her. Enid loves Wednesday so much she wants to scream. She wants to scoop the girl into her arms and squeeze until they both end up dead from exhaustion. This is what she blames on everything her sick and disoriented brain decides to say next—
“I love you, Wednesday. I love you so much that I—I don’t know what to do with it all, and it’s like obvi you tots don’t feel the same but I just ca—”
Wednesday abruptly places a finger against her lips, muffling Enid’s words and successfully ending her ramble before it could ever really start. Wednesday looks only slightly caught off guard by the words Enid hurled at her, she slowly withdraws her finger before letting out a deep sigh, her eyes dark but softening if only a little when she looks into Enid’s own.
With the same finger that was just against her lips, Wednesday brushes a stray lock of hair away from Enid’s face, tenderly wrapping it around her ear.
“How could I possibly not feel the same, you utter fool?” she says, the words slipping out naturally, as if she didn’t just wreck Enid’s whole world with that one sentence.
Enid thinks she gives herself whiplash from the sheer speed she jerks her head in to fully face Wednesday, her blanket slipping off her chest and eyes going wide as she stammers, “You WHA—”
The damned finger is back on her lips once more, effectively cutting her off again. If Wednesday doesn’t stop tempting her, she’ll bite it off, or worse, she’ll kiss the pad of Wednesday’s finger till she takes the offending appendage back.
“Enid,” Wednesday starts, her tone demanding attention. “I will not take advantage of you when you are sick. You’re clearly not fully yourself, and although a part of me wants to be selfish, a bigger part of me wants—no, needs—to hear it when you are fully alert.”
Enid can’t help but let out a whine, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and her fever-clouded mind struggling to keep up. “But… Wednesday, I—”
“No,” Wednesday interrupts softly, her finger lightly tracing over Enid’s cheek. “You need to rest.”
Enid blinks several times, trying to process it all. Wednesday likes her too? But she wants to not do anything about it right now?
Wednesday interrupts her silent thinking, “Sleep, Enid,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll talk once you are well again.”
Enid’s lips part as if to argue, but her body betrays her. She feels her exhaustion getting the best of her, and her eyelids quickly grow heavy.
Enid’s breathing slows, and the last thing she feels before plunging into darkness is a ghost of a kiss placed upon her head before she hears soft footsteps retreating, her bedroom door clicking shut with a gentle finality.
———
Falling in love with Enid Sinclair was the easiest thing she’d ever done, far easier than it should have been for a person like Wednesday Addams to do. Although she’d try and fight it, she knew it right then the minute Enid sauntered up to her, an air of nervousness encircling her and dressed in more colors than Wednesday had ever seen; she was a goner. Call it an Addams’ intuition—there was no fighting it. Enid would turn Wednesday into a yearning, wanting thing.
Wednesday fully blames Morticia and Gomez. She had gotten so used to their nauseating displays of unashamed public affection and their poetic expressions of love toward one another that by the time she had caught sight of Enid slipping past her defenses and into her dark, caged heart, it was far too late. She already belonged to the retina-searing girl.
Last night, Enid told Wednesday she loved her. Disoriented and fever-brained as she was, she drew breath and purred the declaration into the universe. Now, Wednesday does not know what to do with herself except sit here and brood. Never did Wednesday think she would become so woeful as to brood over the girl.
Enid isn’t exactly subtle. Wednesday knows she at least has some sort of affection for her, perhaps even something like a crush on her, as Enid would so childishly put it. No, Wednesday doesn’t doubt that Enid at least likes her a little bit. Her uncertainty comes into play when she considers just how much she loves Enid. Does Enid understand that Wednesday would topple entire cities for her? Countries? Did Enid mean it when she told Wednesday she loved her, or was it all a simple mistake?
Wednesday lets out a deep, forlorn breath. It is currently 8 AM on a Saturday. She’s been sitting at her writing desk for one entire hour now, and she’s yet to write down a complete sentence. Her typewriter has been more or less untouched, and Viper is growing impatient. She ended the last chapter off on a deliciously agonizing cliffhanger—just as Viper drew the knife to her back, itching to complete the motion and plunge it into the wheezing beast before her, the chapter ends.
Now, it feels like Wednesday succeeded in agonizing only herself.
Typically, Enid will not wake up on a weekend until much later during the day, and considering the fever the girl was fighting just the night before, it will be a long while before she hears from her again. Wednesday will only admit this once, but she is wholly nervous for Enid’s eventual awakening. She wishes Enid would wake up so the pending conversation could be had already. All this anticipation may just consume Wednesday before she even gets to lay her eyes on Enid one last time.
———
Enid wakes up feeling like she just slept for a million years. There are sleep marks all over her, and she is barely actually wearing her sleep shirt.
And… oh.
Wednesday was here. And Enid told Wednesday she loved her. And Wednesday… didn’t reject her. At the very least, she suggested that she wants Enid too.
Her heart and her thoughts race in sync. Enid turns and slams her face into her pillow, letting out a high-pitched scream.
That was definitely not the way to confess to the girl she’s been obsessed with for months now. Enid hadn’t wanted to confess at all, and worst of all, she did it like that—threw it at Wednesday’s face while Enid was half-dead and delirious. Good going.
More importantly, Wednesday apparently wants her. Enid refuses to believe that part was anything except a figment of her own imagination, something she desperately wants but can’t have. Wednesday barely even tolerates her, much less wants her as anything more than a friend.
Enid turns on her back and groans into her hands. This was much easier when she thought she was pining over the dark-haired girl in the privacy of her own mind. Now, she has to actually explain herself to the very object of her affections. She’ll be lucky if Wednesday takes pity on her and still chooses to be a part of Enid’s life after all this.
She needs to see Wednesday, and Enid needs to see her soon before she loses her mind.
———
Enid is already standing in front of Wednesday’s apartment when she starts to rapidly regret her hasty decision. She shouldn’t have just shown up here. God, she should’ve at least called ahead.
Her heart beats erratically in her chest. Enid’s only seen Wednesday’s home once before, and even then, it wasn’t for leisure or anything of the sort—Wednesday was simply picking something up from her apartment while Enid opted to awkwardly hover at the door before they could head out once more. That’s why it’s even worse that Enid is now just standing here, sweating and regretting her decision with every second that passes.
She takes a deep breath and raises her fist up towards the door. It’s now or never, she supposes, rasping her knuckles against the door before planting three stiff knocks against it.
———
Wednesday was just about to begin her third reread of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart to distract herself from thinking of a certain someone before the sound of knocking against her door interrupts her.
Unless it is an impromptu visit from her family to ensure she’s still alive—“My beautiful raven, you so rarely call anymore, we’re bound to worry.”
Wednesday seldom gets anyone knocking at her door, so she vaguely wonders who could be interrupting her now.
She turns in her chair, rising smoothly and walking towards the door, her footsteps silent against the floor.
Once there, Wednesday opens the door without much hesitation and promptly freezes as her gaze lands on the person standing in front of her.
Right in front of her is the cause of her most humiliating moment to date—and the person she desires most in this world. Enid is breathtaking, even against the harsh, fluorescent lighting of her hallway.
For a moment, the world seems to stand still.
“Enid,” she says, voice low, a breath of relief more than anything.
Enid’s blue eyes lock onto her own. “Wednesday, I—”
Enid cuts herself off, running a hand nervously through her hair.
Wednesday steps back, opening the door wider, silently inviting the girl in.
“I’m sorry,” Enid blurts, her voice trembling as she steps inside.
“You’re sorry?”
Enid nods, her bottom lip caught between a canine. Wednesday briefly wants to reach out and set the girl’s lip free, lest Enid leaves it raw and bleeding.
Wednesday’s heart sinks for a brief moment when Enid’s words reach her. So, it was truly a mistake, then? Why else would she be apologizing? Simply a distorted and confused confession. Enid may like Wednesday, but she does not love her. No matter, Wednesday will take the rejection like an Addams. An Addams’ love is not a selfish one; she will love no one other than Enid for the rest of her life. Wednesday will simply learn to become content with loving Enid from afar.
Before Wednesday can fully start imagining a future as cruel as one without Enid in it, the girl interrupts her train of thought. “I love you, like, a lot.” The words fly out of Enid’s mouth before Wednesday is given a chance to even begin digesting them.
“I’ve liked you since that first day I saw you in the library, and every day since then I’ve just continued to fall harder. And we’re so, so, so, so different, but god, willa, you just make it so easy. You’re kind and, and you’re funny, and you’re so beautiful both inside and out. And I’ve been holding it in for a while and—and trying to get over you, but I just—I can’t, Wednesday. And yesterday I practically threw it in your face, and you hinted that—that you wanted me, but that can’t be true. That—that has to be—”
Enid’s voice stumbles and cracks over itself, and there are now tears sitting delicately in her eyes. Her confession hangs in the air, and for a long moment, Wednesday says nothing as her own heart aches inside her chest.
“You… love me,” Wednesday whispers, as though testing the words in her mouth.
Enid gives a hesitant nod, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“You love me,” she repeats. “And you’re sorry, because you don’t think I feel the same way?”
Enid nods again.
Wednesday says nothing for a moment, but her mind races, and her chest tightens in itself.
“Oh, Enid,” she murmurs, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in this world.” She takes a step closer to the now crying girl. “More than I ever thought was possible for someone like me, more than I could ever truly verbalize.”
Enid stands frozen looking up at Wednesday, eyes wide and lips slightly parted.
“What,” she says, voice cracking at the end.
“Did you not hear me, mi sol? I love you. I’ve loved you since the first time I ever laid eyes on you and my retinas nearly burst.”
“Months? I—you’ve—for months?” Enid asks, stuttering over herself. Wednesday’s lips tick up near the edges as she reaches for Enid, wiping away the tears that have collected under her eyes with her thumb.
“Yes. Months, Enid. I’ve probably loved you for longer. I would not be surprised if my heart has always belonged to you, simply waiting for our eventual meeting.”
“Wednesday, what the actual fuck,”
“What, what have I done? I will rectify it immediately.” Wednesday replies, eyebrows furrowed and confusion etched in her voice.
Enid sighs. “You haven’t done anything. I just feel… stupid,” she says, a pout on her lips.
Wednesday should not find it as endearing as she does. “I’ve spent months pathetically pining over you thinking there wasn’t a chance in hell you would ever feel the same way.”
“I was not subtle, Enid. Did you really not realize I did not treat you like the others?”
Enid lets out a long breath before taking a step toward Wednesday’s dark leather couch and promptly throwing herself onto it. Wednesday joins her, sitting more elegantly beside the brooding girl.
“I—I dunno. I mean, I definitely noticed you treat me… differently sometimes, but how was I supposed to know that meant that you…”
“That I?” Wednesday echoes.
Enid looks up at her. “That you love me.”
Wednesday can’t help it; she well and truly smiles then. Enid is finally starting to get it. Wednesday loves the girl, and she will love no one else for the rest of her miserable existence.
“Don’t smile at me right now. You’re too cute, and I’m supposed to be mad at you.”
“Mad at me? What have I done?”
“Love me, apparently! Wednesday, I literally feel like none of this is real right now. You love me and somehow have for months, and I had no idea. It’s—it’s embarrassing.”
“You have no reason to feel embarrassed, Enid,” Wednesday says.
Enid raises an eyebrow. “Right… But I do have some questions for you.”
“Whatever you want.”
“First of all, who knew you were such a little romantic?”
Wednesday feels her ears heat up at that remark. “I—I have always thought these things, but now that you know the true depths of my feelings for you, it feels… freeing to verbalize my love for you and not have to hold anything back like I normally would. I can stop if you would li—”
Enid jumps up from her lazy position on the couch, her back now ram straight and arms reaching out as if Wednesday might run away. “No! Don’t. Um, I mean, no. That’s okay, you don’t have to… do that.”
Wednesday’s lips turn up at the corners. “If that is what you would like.”
Enid clears her throat, her gaze turning serious for a moment. “Why didn’t you say anything before? Why not tell me you love me first?”
Wednesday averts her eyes from Enid and stares pointedly at her own lap. “I knew you harbored some feelings for me, perhaps a crush, but I could never fully let myself think that you could possibly love me. I feared for what the true depths of my feelings may do to us and our… friendship. I would have rather had some of you than none at all.”
Enid giggles. “So we’re both idiots then?”
Wednesday smiles at her softly. “It would appear so.”
Suddenly, Enid’s hand that was sitting politely on her own lap finds Wednesday’s own open palm, lightly squeezing. It should bother Wednesday, the stark contrast between their body temperatures. Where Wednesday runs cold, Enid runs hot.
She thinks it’s perfect.
Enid breaks the small moment of silence. “And just so there’s no confusion. I love you so much, Wednesday. Honestly, I—I’ve never felt this way for someone before, and I—I dunno. I never would want you to think I don’t love you just as badly. That everything you feel isn’t reciprocated. I don’t know how to put my words together all sweet like you do, but you, you mean everything to me too.”
Wednesday shifts closer to Enid, her heart racing in her chest. Enid’s eyes are wide, full of want and unspoken questions. She’s not sure what compels her; perhaps it is the undeniable pull between the two, but in that moment, Wednesday knows she doesn’t need to respond with words to Enid’s heartfelt declaration.
Slowly, she leans toward the other girl, Enid’s hand that’s not already intertwined with Wednesday’s coming up to rest on her chest, right against her rapidly beating heart. Her own hand reaches gently toward Enid’s face, her thumbs gently brushing the girl’s tear-streaked cheek. Finally, finally, Enid leans in the rest of the way, her lips trembling against Wednesday’s.
The kiss is messy at first; she can taste the tears on Enid’s lips, and their teeth knock lightly against each other. But when they try again, Enid’s lips pressing softer, then harder against her own—there are no more thoughts swirling in a storm around her brain. It is only Enid and Wednesday.
Despite Wednesday’s above-average breath-holding time of 7 minutes, she ends their kiss short in fear that Enid may just faint in the midst of it. She pulls away from Enid, the girl immediately chasing her lips, pouting when Wednesday continues to draw farther back.
“You need to breathe, my love.”
Enid flushes red from the pet name. “I love you. I’m never gonna stop saying it now.”
“Enid,” Wednesday exhales, a smile threatening to break from her lips.
“No, I don’t care. I’ve had to suffer for months. I’m gonna tell you I love you every second of every day. Prepare yourself now ‘cause this is the only warning you’re getting.”
Wednesday gives the girl another short kiss that is quickly reciprocated. “Good,” she says, and then they’re kissing again.
And it is everything Wednesday has ever wanted.