Archive of Our Own

Enid was chewing on her glitter gel pen again.

It wasn't long since she decided to take up journaling, but she was already out of ideas to jot down. She felt ridiculous—she was only at page three and all of her stationery was strewn around her desk, but the page remained stubbornly blank.

Frustrated, she shut the offending book and locked it in her desk drawer. She swept up all the pens, markers, and various ephemera that she collected and dumped them all in a box on her shelf.

She was always like this with her hobbies. Knitting magazines were kicked haphazardly below her bed, along with containers of unused yarn. Crochet hooks mixed with Enid's pens on her desk, completely untouched for months. Of the plushies in her bed, only two were handmade by her, with the remaining materials stashed in a corner in her closet.

It was like Enid couldn't stay committed to anything she wanted to do. It was never as stimulating as that first time, so even if she wanted to continue some of the works she had in progress, she would have to be completely focused, which defeated the purpose of a hobby.

Just another way she was a disappointment to her family, she supposed. Not only did her mother disapprove of anything she picked up, but she felt completely vindicated when Enid would inevitably drop it shortly after.

She shook her head. No point in dwelling on that.

Maybe she should just give it time—she could come back to it with a fresher mind. She still had to give a tour to her incoming roommate, who was arriving later today according to Principal Weems.

Now there's a thought.

During her entire stay in Nevermore, she never really entertained the idea of a roommate. It didn't really bother her to have the room to herself, because it just meant that there was less pressure to keep everything organized.

Ah, but Enid could never turn down an opportunity to make friends. Maybe they'd be like her—same interests, loved to chat about anything, and hopefully someone she'd easily get along with.

Well, even if they didn't hit any of those criteria, Enid hoped they would warm up to her eventually.

It's not like she was inexperienced with having friends—she was friendly with most of everyone. There was Yoko from across the hall, and Ajax, that cute Gorgon boy she shared some classes with.

You don't get to run Nevermore's most famous gossip blog without rubbing a few elbows with everyone.

Still, things would be easier if her roommate was someone she could easily get along with.

Two knocks on her door startled Enid from her thoughts.

This was it.

Oh, God, she was everything Enid never imagined.

Wednesday Addams was an enigmatic nightmare.

If she ever heard that description, she'd think that was a compliment, but Enid couldn't have pictured a more unfit roommate for herself.

Wednesday's parents insisted that she was allergic to color, of which her room was completely plastered in. Now, Enid wouldn't have held that against her (some allergies were just weird and completely out of control for a lot of people). She would have made accommodations for Wednesday, but she came home that evening to find half her room already stripped of decorations.

She crossed boundaries as easily as she breathed, but got completely upset when Enid stepped onto her side of the room.

Fine. Okay. Maybe she's just protective of her stuff. Wednesday used duct-tape to mark out the boundaries for their room, after all.

Enid couldn't stay too mad at Wednesday after she effectively renovated the room. She could have done worse—from the (frankly exaggerated) rumors floating around, Wednesday could very well have just murdered Enid and gotten the whole room for herself.

And the contrast was actually a nice look. Over the days, she did grow fond of the split aesthetic of their shared dorm room.

If there was something especially fascinating about her roommate, it's how Wednesday somehow has a good grasp on her hobbies. She stuck to a rigid schedule outside of class hours, always devoting an hour of her time to tapping out a chapter or two on her typewriter.

She followed this up every other night with a cello session (still a mystery as to how the instrument had gotten there) up on the balcony.

These activities have filled Enid's evenings with the loud clacks and rings from Wednesday's typewriter and the haunting melodies that she chose to play.

Once again, these have initially caused ire in the normally bubbly werewolf—Wednesday preferred silence when she wrote and had threatened to throw her speakers off the balcony if Enid 'kept playing those infernal noises she called music'.

This forced Enid to either suffer through the constant tack-tack-tack-ding! that permeated the room or to use headphones, which weren't comfortable during long study periods.

Wednesday playing the cello didn't bother Enid as much, as the classical music (and the occasional tastefully-converted modern song) provided a window to Wednesday's mood.

Whichever piece of music she picks out and performs, Enid couldn't help but stop what she was doing and just let herself get carried away by the sheer emotion conveyed through the sound.

Of course, when the music stopped, Enid had but a few moments to go back to what she was doing and pretend she didn't just spend the past minutes listening to her performance.

With time, though, even the harsh sounds of the typewriter grew on her. They faded into the background, and Enid stopped wearing her headphones so often.

The sounds even reminded her to be productive, and the staccato rhythm of Wednesday's writing had been the perfect white noise to doing her own homework.

No, at some point, Wednesday's hobbies had just become fixtures in Enid's life.

But she sure was jealous of Wednesday.

She knew what she liked. There was rarely a pause in her writing hour—the words flowed out of her constantly enough that Enid was sure Wednesday was completing a chapter and a half for every session she took.

When Wednesday took to playing the cello, she just came to the balcony and started playing. There was no shuffling through pages of sheet music, nor moments of indecision on what to perform. Wednesday simply went and did it.

It wasn't even because Wednesday's routine dictated that she had to keep doing them—her passion never faltered, never wavered in the activities she did. She was just as sharp in her everyday life, and doubly so for the hobbies that she chose to do.

Enid wished that her own hobbies, whatever they may have been at the time, came just as easily to her.

Instead, she was left with all the half-finished, barely-started projects that she tried her best to come back to, but ultimately never did.

Maybe today..? Enid's journal was open again. This time, all she had was a plain black pen she reserved for formal writing homework.

She had nothing but time, anyway. Wednesday snuck out when she thought Enid was asleep, but as quiet Wednesday was, it wasn't enough for the werewolf's sensitive hearing.

At least she had some perks even without wolfing out.

As soon as Wednesday had shut the door, Enid jerked awake and set the Poe Cup down, suddenly completely restless.

There was a brief moment of hesitation as Enid decided whether to follow her, but she decided against it. Trouble followed Wednesday like a magnet, and she wanted to give the girl some space.

Besides, Wednesday would probably do something like get kidnapped at some point, and, against Enid's better judgment, she would greatly enjoy it. She had no doubts that Wednesday could take care of herself, though.

So instead, she sat at her desk and pulled her journal open.

She'd been putting it off since she last opened it (which was when Wednesday moved in), because she was so sure she'd meet the same problem as then.

But this time, Enid found words spilling out unconsciously, recounting events in a strangely straightforward manner, until she had already filled out three pages.

It was a start. She'd hoped to use more colored pens or some of the washi tape she'd been hoarding, but Enid supposed journaling wasn't always going to be pretty.

Sometimes it really was just letting your thoughts flow onto the page, and what a relief that was.

Enid wrote about her impressions of Wednesday ('she's weird as shit, but I think we'll be okay'), about her feelings on Ajax ('I don't know how much more obvious I can get, but maybe I can try again on Outreach Day!'), and even about the weird goings-on in the school ('Wednesday is completely convinced that Rowan died during the Festival. I don't know if I should believe her, but she's been right about a lot of things so far').

No sooner had she put down her pen than she heard the door creak open. Enid slammed her journal shut, whirling around to see Wednesday.

"You were asleep."

Wednesday was clutching some rope and a piece of paper. She barely looked ruffled. Her free hand was gripping her bag protectively.

"Howdy, roomie," Enid greeted tiredly. "I got woken up by the door."

Her jaw was set. Enid knew this meant that she was displeased. "I would have to be more careful in the future. It appears I am getting sloppy."

Enid was still eyeing the rope. "Did you, uh, strangle someone with that?"

She hoped not.

"A pitiful excuse for a kidnapping," Wednesday scoffed. "They didn't even check me for weapons."

That was on them. Enid always assumed Wednesday had at least three knives on her person at any point in time.

"Go back to sleep, Enid. I still have work to do."

Ah, as blunt as ever. It was starting to grow on her.

"As long as it's not on the typewriter," Enid conceded, putting her journal away and bouncing back to bed.

From the corner of her eye, Wednesday gave an imperceptible nod, then Enid was out like a light.

Enid winced and sucked on her finger.

Getting back to sewing was not the easy journey she thought it would be, as this was already the third time she poked herself with a needle.

It's not really that painful (werewolf perks, thank the gods), but it still annoyed her that she couldn't keep her hands still. If anything, her head was the one mainly bothering her.

The nurse cleared her of any concussions, but there was still a mild ache there, so he suggested that Enid take the rest of the day off. She wasn't about to protest the free pass to do anything she wanted in her room, but she knew it was less 'hitting her head on the floor' and more 'seeing police photographs of mangled bodies' that was causing her discomfort.

Thus, having been confined to their room with the offending corkboard, Enid decided to pursue other, cuter things to look at. Wednesday was in class, so she took the opportunity to quickly cover up the crime board with one of Wednesday's blankets.

(Trying to drape cloth over something she was actively avoiding looking at was definitely a challenge, but Enid managed.)

She decided on one more plushie, though she had to dig for the limited amount of black fabric that she had.

Enid was picturing making a black cat, with startling green eyes and, for some reason, a huge frown on its face. It felt adorable, in a 'Grumpy Cat' sort of way.

Thankfully, after quickly googling a simple pattern, the shapes for the fabric turned out to be easy enough to eyeball that Enid didn't need to print and trace, though it was hard finding the markings she made on the black fabric upon cutting.

It was long, quiet work, but Enid found that she didn't mind it for the moment. The gentle snip! of the scissors, the meticulous stitching on the seams, and finally stuffing it with cotton—Enid was completely lost in the process after a slow, rusty start.

She was on the finishing touches of the plushie (embroidering the cute little grimace on the cat) when the door slammed open. Wednesday stood in the doorway.

If Enid hadn't been used to Wednesday's quirks, she'd have thought that she was as stoic as ever, but it was the small tells—the way she raised her head infinitesimally, the twitch in her eyebrow—that said that Wednesday was surprised.

"You have class, do you not?"

Enid exhaled. Sometimes talking to Wednesday was like being interrogated, but she didn't really do anything wrong this time, so she set the plushie down and looked her in the eye. "Wednesday, hey, the nurse said I should get some bedrest."

Her gaze flickered to the covered up crime board, then back to Enid. "If anything is out of place on that board, I will gut you in your sleep."

"I was extra careful, no worries."

There were definitely worries. She hoped she didn't dislodge anything accidentally.

Wednesday was staring at Enid. It should have been unnerving, but Enid knew that was just how she was. If anything, there was an uncertain look in her eyes that gave Enid a touch of worry. If her Wednesday-reading skills were up to snuff, she'd say that Wednesday was deciding whether to tell her something.

Enid tilted her head invitingly, and not without an ounce of curiosity.

"I..." Wednesday worked her jaw, as if trying to get the words out forcefully. "...may have changed my mind about attending the dance."

"Oh?"

Enid didn't push too hard. Wednesday did not share willingly, especially if it would make her appear vulnerable, and Enid never wanted to scare Wednesday away when she's swallowing her reservations about something.

"I asked Xavier to... the Rave'n." Wednesday scrunched her nose up, finding the name of the dance distasteful.

Oh!

Wednesday Addams, the Wednesday Addams, who hated social gatherings and talking to other people, was going to the school dance!

With a date. The thought sent a twinge of pain through Enid, remembering how she was stood up the night before. That Wednesday, notoriously antisocial, had gotten a date before her.

But that shouldn't dampen her excitement. Her roommate—friend? Wednesday was definitely a friend, right?—had put herself out there and decided that maybe she wanted to have the experience of a teen in Nevermore.

Or, more likely, she had ulterior motives, but that didn't change the fact that she was attending the Rave'n, and it was her idea, so she couldn't have been that unwilling.

Enid started to gush about Wednesday's decision and getting her a dress, with her roommate responding accordingly—first with wishes of self-harm ("A swift blow to the head?"), so there were parts of her that definitely did not want to be there, and then with a defensive, "I already have a dress," to which Enid scoffed.

She could definitely do better than that.

A plan was already formulating in her head. Screw the bedrest and staying in her room, Enid felt fine! Besides, she already had a productive few hours sewing up that cute black cat.

What she wanted was to finally get out of the room and take Wednesday on a proper, honest-to-goodness roommate shopping spree. But more than that, the act of sewing the plush cat had rekindled a restlessness in her hands, and she was itching to make more things.

Enid knew just what to make. She just needed the materials.

The main hitch in her plan was, ironically enough, Wednesday herself.

See, Enid had done her due diligence. This was her roommate, and she was Nevermore's gossip queen, so she had to find as much details about her as possible, but with little luck. Considering she avoided everyone, there wasn't a lot of info to gather outside of the Nevermore rumor mill, and that was never a reliable source.

There were some obvious things: Wednesday's favorite color was black (duh, she was covered in it), and her hobbies were already known to Enid.

But with other, deeper things like her family, Enid only ever had a surface-level view. She knew about her parents, Morticia and Gomez Addams, who were both Nevermore alumni. She also knew about her brother, Pugsley, and she may have offhandedly mentioned another sibling.

She knew little until she was able to bond with Thing, who was the best source of insider information about Wednesday. Well, the ones he would be willing to gossip about, anyway. Wednesday still had a tight leash on him, and Enid couldn't blame Thing at all. Her threats were rarely empty.

It was how she now knew that Wednesday's birthday was coming up very soon, and Enid was scrambling for a gift until that day.

She would make Wednesday something. During the trip to Jericho, while looking for the perfect dress for Wednesday, she had to find a way to split off and visit the hobby store down the alley.

Enid was still chewing on this part of the plan as they walked into town, going through various excuses ranging from, "I forgot something real quick!" to, "I saw Ajax go over in that direction, don't wait for me!"

They all sounded weak in her head.

She need not have worried, though, as Wednesday had decided to split off on her own as soon as she laid her eyes on the store.

Enid spotted the panicked look on Wednesday's face, and though she wanted to bond with the girl, this was not the right place nor method to do it.

"You're a gazelle," she said, "I'm a wounded fawn. Cut me loose and run with the pack."

She definitely had a way with words, didn't she? It was sweet in a way that seemed so utterly Wednesday.

They bumped shoulders. For Wednesday to allow even that small act of contact was already completely warming Enid up. She thanked Enid before she left, leaving her a bit light-headed.

Back to the plan.

Enid still had to find the perfect dress for her, but now she could dip into the yarn section of the hobby shop without any worry of being spotted by Wednesday.

She wondered how to add some variety to the solid black piece she was planning to crochet. Maybe if she made a matching pair..?

The Rave'N was... completely unexpected.

No, actually, it was almost a complete disaster.

Enid had asked out Lucas Walker to make Ajax jealous, and they were actually bonding for a moment.

He greeted her as soon as he caught sight of her, all dressed up in silver. “Hey, Enid, looking good!”  

She grinned, twirling a little to show off the dress. “Thank you! I had such a blast finding the perfect dress for the Rave'n.”  

His eyes zeroed in on the small pin on her chest. “Oh, uh,” Lucas said uncertainly, “there's a… scorpion in your dress.”  

“What? Where?” Enid nearly screeched, inspecting her dress, but she remembered the pin. “Oh! No, no, I made that.”  

“Odd choice,” he commented.  

Enid just waved him off. “Nah, I made it as a tribute to a friend,” she explained, remembering the first heart-to-heart she shared with Wednesday.

It was almost smooth sailing from there, talking about life in Nevermore and life as a Normie. 

The night, however, got worse when during the last dance, red paint started raining from the ceiling. To make matters worse, she found out Lucas was part of the group behind the Carrie-inspired prank.

Despite his insistence that he tried to stop it at the last moment, she wasn't interested in hearing him out, because shortly after, Wednesday had gone still, back arched and eyes unseeing. It was terrifying. It just added to the confusion and chaos, and Enid didn't know what was happening to Wednesday.

When she came to, Enid had seen the most panic she'd ever seen on the young Addams's face.

The next thing she knew, Eugene had been attacked.

Wednesday was inconsolable. Despite Enid's best efforts to break the stony silence, all she could get out of Wednesday was a meek, "I never should have gone. It was my fault."

Enid had to give the poor girl her space. Wednesday had only spent these past few nights just listlessly watching the window, cello and typewriter forgotten.

God, was there a way Enid could cheer her up? And poor Eugene too, barely surviving an attack from that monster.

She wasn't in the best mood either. Enid was still reeling from the events of the Rave'n, and the upcoming Parent's Weekend—seeing her mother again—did not help matters at all.

Her hands were restless with nervous energy again. She debated coming over to Yoko's room, where she could work it out with her friend through gossip and nail polish, but there was just a dark blanket of melancholy permeating over the school.

It's just not what any of them needed at the moment.

Maybe it was time for a more tender gesture. Enid couldn't get through to Wednesday now, and she certainly wasn't going to be able to cure Eugene, but it would still be nice to provide some gestures of care.

Enid had found a quiet cubbyhole somewhere near the quad, further from the drones of the masses and from the eyes of the crowds. Rummaging through her backpack, she pulled out the snood that she was working on prior to the whole event.

She only ever got to work on it when she was away from Wednesday—during classes that both didn't require taking notes and she didn't share with Wednesday, when Wednesday was out in Jericho doing some investigations, and even late at night when Enid would quietly pretend to be asleep until she was sure her roommate was dead asleep (emphasis on dead ).

The snood was definitely not the easiest to make. Sure, it was the exact same pattern as hers, but in bright pink stripes, but black yarn was notoriously hard to crochet with. Enid couldn't crochet as fast as she normally could because she had to focus and make sure she was poking the hook in all the right places.

There were times when she'd give up crocheting at midnight because she couldn't risk using a brighter light source lest she rouse Wednesday and spoil the surprise, and some moments when Enid would balance her phone precariously on her shoulder just to get some proper lighting with the flashlight.

Normally she'd give up. It wasn't the first time she'd thrown in the towel on a particularly problematic hobby—Enid suppressed a shudder, remembering the mess in her side of the room—but this was different. It was the first time she'd poured serious effort into making a gift for somebody else.

She had made keychains, coasters, and trinkets, which don't take as much time and planning. They certainly weren't as challenging as blindly making her way through a stubborn crochet pattern. But she kept going.

Wednesday was worth the effort. She was every bit as perplexing, paradoxical, and sometimes even frustrating, yes, but Enid had seen the beauty, grace, and maybe even a heart that she carefully hid.

Enid always got moved by the soulful melodies on her cello, caught the almost-compliments that only Wednesday could ever manage, and even the small gestures—one could never make Wednesday do something she never wanted to do, so Enid appreciated when Wednesday obliged with small favors like moving her murder board and doing her best to come along to a shopping trip.

It was almost like her efforts with making the snood. At times Enid would be confused on what to do next, and sometimes Wednesday's acerbic attitude got to her and annoyed her, but she knew if she kept working at it, she would create something beautiful.

The pace was slow but steady. Enid didn't know how long she had been there, but the silence and the space felt calming enough. She found that she didn't mind having stayed there for longer than she anticipated.

As her hands moved to and fro, Enid's mind kept wandering. More plans kept popping up in her head—who to enlist for Wednesday's surprise birthday party, how to keep it a secret from her, how to survive the aftermath in the (very likely) case that she didn't like it.

Definitely more pleasant things to think about compared to the fact that she would be facing her mom in a few days' time.

Her claws popped out without warning, and Enid had to hurriedly (but carefully) pull her hands away before she ripped the fabric to strips. She forced herself to take deep, soothing breaths, trying to avoid snapping the plastic crochet hook in her hands.

Enid's mother would definitely nag at her relentlessly if she could see her then. She could almost hear it: "Enid, dear, when will you set aside those frivolous things and start doing the activities more befitting of a wolf? This is why you can't turn."

Even in her own head she couldn't escape the judgment of her mother.

She was dreading her arrival already, and Parent's Weekend wasn't even until a few days. Nevermore was her only respite from the pressures her mother kept putting on her, the only place where Enid could keep being Enid.

Nothing she did was enough for Esther Sinclair. Her fashion choices, favorite foods, her friends, and yes, her hobbies. She always had something to say about it, and always said with, "It's for your own good."

Enid ran her hands through the soft strands of her work. Enough bad thoughts for today. She wanted to steer towards lighter topics.

Like the recipient of this snood, ironically enough.

Wednesday Addams may have compared her favorite colors to napalm, called her perfume repugnant and repulsive, and insisted that her music was 'enough to send her to an early grave', but she made it very clear that it was because of their differences in preferences, not a failing on Enid's part.

She didn't make Enid change herself. She never demanded that Enid accommodate her and suppress herself. She can make snide remarks and roll her eyes at Enid's antics, but with all the time she'd spent with the moody girl, Enid knew that Wednesday wasn't truly upset about it all.

Enid tugged at the ball of yarn, which was getting skinnier as she worked. 

Uh oh, better get more black yarn.

She was almost done with the snood, but getting a little extra wouldn't hurt, right?

Her hands moved on their own accord, ready to begin the round of stitches once more. It may have been slow, repetitive work, but it would be worth it to see Wednesday's reaction to receiving it in the end. 

Enid could feel it—they really were starting to work as roommates, as friends even, and she was excited to spend more time with Wednesday.

Nope.

Enid changed her mind. Wednesday was the worst.

She thought there was progress. Enid hoped that she hadn't misread the situation completely—that she and Wednesday had actually built some rapport.

Wednesday's reaction to the birthday surprise party was completely within expectation: she absolutely loathed it. That was fine, Enid completely expected that.

Something that was unexpected was the seizure-like trance that took over Wednesday amidst her completely ignoring everyone Enid invited. It lasted long enough that Enid was able to shoo everyone away after it started, ready to bring Wednesday to the school nurse.

But Wednesday refused to go whatsoever when she gained cognizance, and Enid knew better than to protest against the girl, so they marched their way back to their room in complete silence.

Enid could tell Wednesday was deep in thought, likely related to the things she read off the Nightshades library and the weird seizure thing.

She tried to make conversation, but Wednesday pointedly ignored every attempt. Once again, that was fine and expected. Enid figured she'd cool off in the morning and admit that she was able to properly trick and surprise her.

And, surprisingly, she did. Wednesday tried very hard to keep a cold shoulder, but she begrudgingly complimented Enid, which sent her heart fluttering.

After that, it was only a matter of presenting the completed project—Wednesday's new snood. Enid made sure to meticulously wrap the box of the snood with pitch black wrapping paper, and even topped it with a cute bow.

She didn't know how it would compare to a homemade taxidermy kit, though, but Wednesday was certainly... confused when she opened Enid's gift.

When Enid pulled out her matching set, though, she spotted the flash of horror on Wednesday's face, before being masked by a look of gratitude.

"Enid, this is far too unique to wear to class. We should wait for a special occasion. Like a funeral."

Wednesday said it with such earnestness, but Enid was second-guessing herself. That was a compliment in Wednesday-speak, right?

She wasn't deluding herself, right..?

Wednesday didn't look too thrilled when she received it, though, and after that, Enid had not seen hide nor hair of Wednesday for the rest of the day. It was not too fun of a feeling, having to ruminate about their interactions and wondering if she did anything wrong.

Her trepidation and doubts reached a fever pitch when Bianca Barclay sought her out between classes, clutching a familiar black snood.

"Your roommate," she said meaningfully, handing over the accessory to an agape Enid, "left this in the Weathervane."

That answered where she was, at least, but did she leave it there on purpose..? Enid wouldn't put it past her to 'conveniently' lose something she never wanted in the first place.

Enid had retreated to that secluded cubbyhole where she made the snood. She examined every stitch, every tassel, trying to find imperfections or glaring mistakes. Were her gifts disappointments too?

Might as well make her moping productive, she thought as she pulled out her current project (a small, stuffed crochet bee she was going to leave at Eugene's bedside) and started working on a few rounds.

As she fumbled between yarn balls, she kept wondering, did Wednesday see her as a friend? Was she just her roommate? Was Enid even someone she respected?

Eventually she got too agitated to even try for a few more single crochets, so she packed up and headed up to her room. Unsurprisingly, Wednesday still wasn't home.

She didn't know how long she lay in her bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone and trying to keep the bad thoughts at bay. Enid was only startled out of it when Wednesday finally walked in, as prim and proper as ever.

Enid should have realized something was amiss right there, but she was way too excited about the words that came tumbling out of Wednesday's mouth.

She opened up with an apology, and then she'd invited Enid to go out for a 'best friends only' evening excursion.

The alarm bells should have been ringing with the casual way Wednesday poked at the fact that the full moon was out. She should have realized it when Wednesday gave her yet another compliment. She really should have called it off when she found out Tyler was the one driving them, and he looked completely put out with Wednesday too.

But she willfully ignored it all, basking in the praise, stars in her eyes as she fixated on being Wednesday's 'best friend'.

Wednesday even let Enid fix the snood onto her. That amount of physical contact would not have flown past the girl, but she just let Enid do it.

How much of what Wednesday said that night was a lie?

That night was such a mess. Enid was a mess.

Of course Wednesday wasn't interested whatsoever about a do-over. She just roped Enid into another one of her investigations.

That part wasn't even that bad, if Wednesday had been more forthcoming. Enid was completely willing to help Wednesday out on her case.

She remembered Wednesday's words during the attempted shopping spree before the Rave'n: "We’ll find an appropriately compromising bonding activity one of these days."

Enid went through with it, because she thought this was going to be their bonding activity, nevermind Tyler. She even broke down the door to the Gates Mansion herself.

Everything fell apart when the monster found and attacked them. It went for Tyler first, and his scream was the only warning the two of them got before they had to scramble for a hiding place.

It was a life or death situation, Enid completely understood that, but her heart sank when Wednesday unwound the snood from her neck and asked for hers as well.

She watched as Wednesday unceremoniously used up a week's worth of work as a makeshift rope to keep the dumbwaiter closed.

All that planning gone in just that moment, but there were more pressing things to worry about as the monster kept up its onslaught.

The straw that broke the camel's back was the laundry room. Yes, it was filled with evidence and the missing parts of the victims. It might have been helpful with the case, but that didn't change the fact that a bloodthirsty monster was at that specific moment still chasing after them.

Wednesday, still transfixed at all the evidence, told her to go ahead. Enid wanted to scream in frustration—Wednesday frequently said she had a death wish, and she certainly was proving that point.

Her fears came true right when the monster broke in at the same time Enid was able to slip out the window.

Enid could have died right there. Tyler might be dead already. Wednesday could have died.

And even with all that, Wednesday wanted to go back. After she almost died. If Enid hadn't known the girl, she'd have thought Wednesday had no self-preservation.

But she had a point—if Tyler was still alive, they still had to go back for him. Enid was raring to leave already, but she wasn't going to leave him for dead, despite her reservations about this particular Normie.

Now Wednesday had the audacity to ask if Enid was okay, after everything that happened. After she tricked Enid into going, after almost getting both of them killed, after all of Enid's efforts during their stay at Nevermore, she chose now to start caring?

God, Enid didn't know what to do with her!

Why did she go with her? Why did she stay when she knew things weren't right?

Wednesday lied to her, had manipulated her into going along with her plans. Enid did it for Wednesday.

When Enid ripped into her, calling her out for lying to her instead of being forthcoming about her true intentions, Wednesday never rebuked that statement. If anything, she still thought that it was right that she lied to Enid, because Wednesday was always better at asking for forgiveness than for permission.

And the worst part?

Wednesday could have told the truth, and Enid still would have come along. Despite knowing that they'll be attacked, despite her fears and reservations, despite her dislike of the Normie boy.

She'd still do it if Wednesday asked her, because she would never leave Wednesday alone to do something of this magnitude.

Yes, Wednesday preferred to be alone. Enid told her as much before she crashed into Yoko's room. But like she told Wednesday, Enid wanted to be a true friend to her.

Wednesday shouldn't have to ask and to do things alone, because Enid would do it anyway and make sure Wednesday was cared for. She didn't have to lie or conceal her true intentions—if Enid truly was her best friend, then she should be able to trust that Enid would provide support to her, in whatever she would do.

And... and Enid wanted that reciprocated. Wednesday was good with the small gestures, the tiny praises that sometimes felt backhanded unless you knew her well, but they just felt like crumbs that Enid had to scrounge up greedily.

The way Wednesday Addams showed care... did she show care? Enid liked to think so, until that night.

She knew not to expect anything grand from Wednesday, so no big glamorous gifts, nor going out of her way to do something 'tortuous' like listening to Enid's music. Her care came in the form of waking Enid up when she (frequently) missed her morning alarms, swapping assignments for Outreach Day, or even just stirring her back into consciousness after she fainted (which, to be fair, she also caused).

But again, was it that she cared, or was it that she was annoyed about Enid and being 'nice' about it was the easiest way to deal with her?

Enid didn't know anymore. She was so tired.

Her hands were just still. She had no urge to write about her experiences or pick up any of her works-in-progress, not even to distract herself.

Enid's blog also sat without updates since she posted about Wednesday's birthday.

Every time she tried to pick up her crochet hook to continue making the bee for Eugene, she just remembered that moment in the dumbwaiter. All that wasted effort wasn't filling her with inspiration to keep making more crochet pieces.

There just wasn't anything worth doing anymore. She felt too morose and betrayed.

Even Yoko couldn't rouse her out of her funk—most nights they spent in (mostly companionable) silence. No nails have been painted, no gossip exchanged, Enid just wasn't in the mood.

She hated Wednesday.

No, actually, she hated what Wednesday did, but she could never hate Wednesday herself. And that just felt unfair, how that girl wormed her way into Enid's heart.

She went back to the room, earlier that week, under the guise of looking for her nail polish. She found it easily, but didn't take it with her. Enid was just to see how Wednesday had been doing, at least to see if she's come to her senses.

On the contrary, she just kept adding fuel to the fire. But all her verbal attacks had little bite to them, all mostly about annoying habits. When Enid escalated the argument to make completely valid points, Wednesday had nothing to shoot back about it.

What a paradox. Wednesday knew she was wrong, but still acted like she was right.

And she didn't want Enid back, which stung. She had to let the sniffles out when she was out of the door, lest Wednesday see how much her words actually affected Enid.

Enid's sulking got bad enough that Yoko sat her down one evening.

"Enid..." she started gently, "you clearly want to be back to rooming with Miss Murder-y Vibes up there."

She wanted to deny it. She really did. But Yoko knew her far too well.

"Wednesday's not going to apologize for anything," Enid bit back instead.

Yoko shrugged. "Never struck me as the type. But," she continued, looking at Enid meaningfully, "neither do you. You just need to set some boundaries, girl."

Boundaries.

Maybe Enid could stop being a doormat, like her mother kept telling her. Maybe sometimes she could say 'no' to whatever Wednesday wanted her to do.

"If Wednesday doesn't like me..?"

With a scoff, Yoko shook her head. "If she doesn't, then she doesn't deserve you. You're worth more than that."

Enid steeled herself, letting out a sigh. "I'll try again tonight," she conceded.

However, when she climbed up to Ophelia Hall later that night, what greeted Enid was a completely empty and a completely trashed dorm room.

Everything was in disarray—neither side of their room was spared.

Wednesday's desk, usually tidy, had papers strewn all over. Her typewriter was uncovered, ribbon ink spilled across some of the keys.

Enid's bed and table were not spared either—her plushies were all over the floor, and her drawers, once filled with forgotten projects, have been emptied on the bed.

There was dried blood on one of the pillars.

What the hell happened?

Dear Diary,

Where do I even begin?

Crackstone attacked the school and we had to take him down before he killed everyone .

I finally wolfed out!

I'm going back to San Francisco tonight, and I kinda don't want to...

I'm gonna miss Wednesday.

Enid sighed in frustration. Nothing seemed to work. She thought as soon as she got the first sentence down, the rest would flow out, like that one night.

Their dorm was much too quiet, now that Wednesday had gone home.

She never thought she'd miss Wednesday this much—waiting for the typewriter sounds that would never come, no affectionately snide comments from across the room.

There was just too much to unpack.

Okay. One at a time.

Enid moved back into their room, and Wednesday, though she would never admit it, enjoyed having her back. Her small gestures ballooned into bigger, borderline caring ones—more compliments, asking Enid for song requests on the cello, and, one evening, even snuck her some cake from the school cafeteria.

"I will never understand how you can keep consuming ungodly amounts of sugar," Wednesday had said, wrinkling her nose at the smell of the devil's food cake she was offering to Enid. "And I thought canines were sensitive to the theobromine of chocolate."

"Only near the full moon," Enid explained, taking the plate from Wednesday and eating a forkful. It was a delightful cake, and Enid moaned with surprised pleasure. "This is a really good cake, Wednesday, thank you!"

Wednesday even walked her to class sometimes, even if they didn't share it.

Enid had joked that Wednesday had mellowed out, which the other girl obviously denied vehemently, but this was a nice change of pace that Enid really, really enjoyed.

And then there was the matter of Ajax.

He was able to explain his actions (he stoned himself by accident, and he was too ashamed to come clean about it), so Enid gave him a second chance.

It took until the fourth date with him for Enid to realize that this just wasn't working for either of them.

Don't get her wrong—Ajax was a complete gentleman. He was every bit as kind and as cute as Enid pictured him to be. But their dates mostly felt like going through the motions. There was something comforting in the routine and the usual, but it just wasn't what Enid was envisioning at all, nor was it something that Enid wanted in the long-term.

Thankfully, Ajax was thinking the same thing, so their breakup was completely mutual and amicable. He was still a good friend (when he wasn't unwittingly badmouthing Wednesday due to some of the rumors).

Then, of course, the big event. That fateful night...

Wednesday was attacked by the Hyde, who was actually Tyler. Enid barely made it to her and... she finally wolfed out.

She should've been thrilled—she's not broken, she wasn't a disappointment. Enid was a proper wolf, after all.

The only thing she could think of was, "Why?"

Why then? Why not when she was being shunned by her family, when they would all run out as wolves while she stayed at home listlessly? Why not when she first entered Nevermore?

Why that night, and on a Blood Moon of all times?

At least, thank God Enid transformed when she did, because Wednesday was about to get ripped apart by the Hyde—by Tyler.

The moments before were hazy—she tripped as pain shot up her ankles, and she felt her face elongate and her claws extend. She barely had time to warn Thing about her transformation before everything became a blur.

Enid tapped on the journal impatiently with her pen. She wanted to get it in writing to sort out what happened that night, but it was hard to put into words.

Her memories were more like a snapshots with strong emotions. Running in the forest. Tackling the Hyde. Pain.

Wednesday.

She was the first thing on Enid's mind when she regained her sapience, immediately filling her with worry. Thing had been waiting by the side, carrying her coat, which Enid gratefully put on.

Enid frantically looked around, with neither Tyler nor Wednesday in sight. Did she get away? Were her efforts in vain?

The anxiety only skyrocketed after Enid stumbled through the thicket towards Nevermore, and she found an entire crowd of students.

Wednesday was not there.

She must have looked like a mess—covered in mud and blood, only wearing her pink coat, and stinging with various cuts and bruises—but Enid didn't care. She called out for Wednesday, nevermind calling attention to herself.

"Where is Wednesday?" Her voice quavered.

"Enid." The reply was quiet, but it cut through the crowd. Everything went silent and still as Enid focused on the source of the noise, finding the girl who said it.

Wednesday looked as battered as she felt.

Enid couldn't help it. She ran. She ran until she was right in front of Wednesday, enveloping her in a hug. Briefly, she had a flash of guilt as Enid had invaded Wednesday's space by physically engaging her, but it dissipated when Wednesday clung back to her just as tightly.

The world didn't matter then—as far as Enid was concerned, it was just the two of them.

The relief that soaked through Enid's shoulders, all the worry melting away, she poured into the hug. She couldn't quite manage words, so she hoped Wednesday understood all the things she wanted to say but couldn't.

I...

I'm glad you're safe.

We'll be okay.

Wednesday pulled Enid to their dorm, away from the prying eyes of all of Nevermore. She cleaned Enid's wounds, dressed them up in bandages, and dragged her to the shower.

Not a word was exchanged between them, but it wasn't needed. Enid could hear them loud and clear.

I was so worried you wouldn't make it.

...love...

We almost died again, and I wasn't even with you.

When the two of them had showered and changed out of their grimy clothes into comfier pajamas, neither of them headed for their beds.

They sat on the floor, still quiet. Thing scuttled past them, before returning with Enid's bag, still filled with various yarns and needles.

He must have noticed Enid was fidgeting again.

"Thank you, Thing," Enid said hoarsely, reaching for the bag. It was the first thing she'd said that night. Wednesday snapped upright at the sound of her voice.

"Enid." Wednesday's voice was weak as well, but she herself didn't waver. "You saved me from the Hyde."

She avoided looking at Wednesday's eyes as she rummaged through her bag. "I guess I did."

It was scary.

I'd do it again for you.

...you.

"Thank you," Wednesday whispered. "If you had not, Crackstone and Laurel would have burnt Nevermore down." Her voice dropped lower still. "And I would not be here with you."

She paused in her hunt for something to fiddle with, finally looking up at Wednesday. She, too, was not looking anywhere near Enid.

Enid had so many things she wanted to say, but she settled on the simplest one, and the truest one.

"I'm happy we're together again, Wednesday."

So how could Enid sum up everything in one journal entry? How could she ever find the words about everything she had experienced that night, and every day since?

Enid closed her journal with a huff. It seemed she was back to having writer's block for the time being.

As soon as she did, her phone buzzed.

"Unknown number?" Enid wondered aloud. She was instantly cautious—she had the number of just about everyone in Nevermore, so this text put her on guard.

Her heart skipped a beat when she read the text.

Enid. This is Wednesday Addams.

No way. Wednesday didn't have a phone. Who would even pretend to be her, and why?

Against her better judgment, she shot back a reply.

nice try, who is this ??

It took a long minute before her phone lit up with the reply.

Your grasp on grammar is as atrocious as ever. You may ask me a question so you may ascertain my identity.

The mystery person definitely texted like Wednesday talked, but Enid was taking no chances.

okay,,, when i gave you the snood, what special event did you want to wear it to ?

This time, the answer came much more swiftly, as if the other person on the line was much more prepared for it.

I did mention a funeral at the moment, but I could list a few more occasions if it would please you—a grave-digging, perhaps, or a séance.

Okay, this was definitely Wednesday, which gave her another shot of manic energy.

OMG WENDESDAY HEYYYYY HOW DID YOU GET MY NUMBER

WEDNESDAY*

SGIT SORRY I DIDNT MEAN TO MISSPELL IT PLS DONT KILL ME

SHIT**

Enid could already imagine the displeased grimace on Wednesday's face. She hoped she wouldn't stop replying because she fumbled the keyboard in her excitement.

I had your number memorized ever since you lent me your phone a month ago. Do not make the same mistake again.

Before Enid could think of a reply, her phone pinged again.

I will not be using this device often, but I promise to check it once a day. I merely wished to introduce the fact that I now have one. I must get back to my writing hour.

She hurried out a text upon reading Wednesday's message.

okay ! goodluck with your next book !!

Enid didn't receive a reply anymore, but that was completely expected. She just saved the number under 'Wednesday 🖤' and found a candid picture of Wednesday while she was writing to use as her cover photo.

She really hoped Wednesday wouldn't snoop through her phone, because Wednesday would force Enid to delete the picture and skewer her in her sleep, and Enid would prefer to stay whole (and keep the picture). Wednesday looked... cute, in a way, too engrossed in getting the words for her novel out to pay attention to her surroundings.

At least Wednesday did promise to check daily. If Enid could talk to her every day, even through text, then maybe San Francisco would be much more bearable.

Her mother nagged as always.

Enid had locked herself up in her room as soon as she got home. She didn't want the attention from her mom or her siblings, and she certainly didn't want them interrogating her about wolfing out.

She only ever stepped out to have dinner or to take walks when nobody was home, which Enid was sure infuriated her mother.

Was it miserable being cooped up in one room for most of the summer? Of course! But she would gladly take it over any fussing 'for her own good'.

Enid made the mistake of carrying one of her projects—a knitted blanket—to the living room without realizing that her mom was still around.

She tutted and she shook her head, going, "Enid, you've finally become a real wolf, so please start acting like it. No more of that delicate nonsense you keep busying yourself over."

There was no arguing with Esther Sinclair, so Enid just quietly deposited the work-in-progress blanket back to her room.

There was only one thing she looked forward to every day. As soon as it hits six o'clock on the dot, Enid, if she wasn't there already, would scramble back to her room and keep watching her phone.

Wednesday's texts always started the same: Hello, Enid.

It was endearing, though if Enid admitted this, Wednesday would probably skin her alive. Regardless, it always sent her giggling every time she read it, and she would always reply back with a coy, hello wednesday !

Wednesday would then proceed to sequentially react to every single one of Enid's texts for the day, with her signature clinical tone.

It is fortunate that you still maintain contact with some of your friends. Give Tanaka my regards. Or don't, it does not matter to me.

Your mother is a waste of the oxygen she breathes in. It would do you well not to listen to any of her inane ramblings.

I have thought about visiting you in San Francisco. However, my schedule for the summer is turbulent. I shall endeavor to provide you an update by next week.

She would only ever stay for an hour before leaving to continue to write her novel, but that hour would never fail to be the highlight of Enid's day.

On rare occasions, Wednesday would share some of the goings-on at her end.

My stay has been dreadfully quiet. Pugsley had almost hit me with a throwing knife this morning. Pity. His aim needs more work.

Mother and Father have been their usual amorous selves. It put me off my dinner, which was a shame as I was looking forward to the cyanide Pugsley keeps slipping into my plate.

Thing has been asking to 'text' with you. I told him he may if he was able to get a hold of this phone. He has told me it was unfair, but it is not my fault if he was unable to disarm the simplest bear trap I keep this phone in whenever I am not using it.

Poor Thing. Maybe Enid can charm Wednesday into handing the phone over to him for a short time, but she wouldn't hold her breath.

She texted Wednesday when she got inspired to work on things, when she got annoyed at her home situation, when she was feeling lonely and missed her roommate. Wednesday replied to all of them, without exception. She may have maintained a cool, aloof facade in the texts, but Enid just appreciated that she took the time to read everything she sent, however mundane it was.

Enid knew that socializing or texting like this wasn't Wednesday's strong suit, so the fact that she kept trying and even devoted an hour of her day just to talk to Enid... She had come a long way from her first day in Nevermore, and Enid loved it.

Her good mood fell apart somewhat when Wednesday sent a reply to a photo of Enid's work-in-progress project.

I am pleased to see that you have not been assaulting my eyes with a splash of clashing colors for a while now.

Enid was ready to deny it—she still used plenty of colors! Her clothes were still bright and vibrant, and her nails were always painted like a rainbow...

Well, she'd taken to painting one of her nails black, as an homage to Wednesday, but that couldn't mean anything, right?

What followed was the most frantic review of all of Enid's projects since Wednesday moved to Nevermore, and Enid was not pleased to see that Wednesday was right.

The cat? Black. The snood she made for Wednesday? Black. Her own snood didn't count, because she made it as a matching set to Wednesday's. The only other color she used was yellow for the stuffed bee she made for Eugene.

Even her journal entries stayed monochrome.

Project after project, Enid was forced to actually look at and see that, one way or another, all of her works have been inspired by Wednesday.

She should have noticed when she started buying black and purple yarn more, when she used darker fabrics, and even when the designs for her trinkets became more macabre, with spiders, scorpions, and cobwebs.

Her check (and internal panic) had gone for so long that Enid's phone had buzzed again, indicating that Wednesday had sent another text.

Are you still there, Enid?

She very nearly dropped her phone after tapping out a quick, yes sorry smth just came up hang on.

Almost immediately after hitting send, Wednesday texted back a, Are you okay? I assumed 'smth' stood for 'something'.

This was a disaster.

What could she even tell Wednesday? 'Oh, yes, I'm alright. I just realized that I only ever get inspired when you're around and have been making projects all about you.'

Way to sound like a creep.

It's not like Enid did it consciously. She didn't question it—she picked out the materials that felt right, and made the projects that resonated with her. Enid was just happy to be productive for once.

But it seemed like her hands were unconsciously pushing her in the direction of her best friend.

Her phone pinged again. If you do not reply soon, I will be forced to assume the worst and charter a flight straight to San Francisco.

God, she hoped to see Wednesday, but not in that context.

sorry wends i just had some realizations and

Enid tapped backspace, deleting everything. She took a deep breath.

Wednesday, I'm okay, but I just had some realizations. I'll need a bit of time to think about them, but I swear I'm okay.

For a long five minutes, Enid received no reply. She very nearly bit her claws in anticipation as she kept pacing around her room.

Bzzt!

I know that something is wrong, Enid. You never write in proper grammar unless you are in distress. My writing hour approaches, but do not think this is over.

Oh, shit.

Curse her for being observant.

Wednesday was on her case. She will not let something like this go, so Enid had to think of something fast.

i'll tell you only if you come visit me.

She didn't expect a reply, but to Enid's surprise...

Expect me in three days.

This was how Enid ended up in the airport, waiting expectantly for Wednesday's flight to land.

Butterflies formed in the pit of her stomach. She dressed as nicely as she could and made sure she was presentable to Wednesday.

Convincing her mother to let Wednesday stay with them for the week was a challenge in and of itself. She hemmed and she hawed as she usually did, worrying that Wednesday was a bad influence on Enid, but she shook her head and vocally rebuked that idea.

Her mother was taken aback by her adamant tone, so she begrudgingly agreed.

"But for no more than a week. That's plenty of time for the two of you."

Enid debated on whether to bring Wednesday's gift with her to give immediately, but decided that it would be best to give it along with her talk with Wednesday.

Truthfully, Enid didn't know what exactly to tell Wednesday. She'd gone over many different ways to say, 'I think I love you because all my projects have been about you and I can't stop thinking about you.' None of them worked in her head.

If Enid had her way, she wouldn't even be attempting to confess her feelings. It's the only way she could ensure that their friendship would remain intact, and Enid would have to be content with what she got.

But she was dealing with Wednesday Addams. As soon as she realized something was amiss with Enid, there was nothing she could do to dissuade the girl from pursuing it and investigating it until she finally got to the bottom of things.

It was easier if Enid just told her. She requested the visit only so Enid could spend time with Wednesday one last time.

Enid really couldn't see how it could end well for herself, but Wednesday deserved to know. It was heartbreaking when Wednesday had hidden things from Enid, so she wasn't about to do the same thing back to her.

A familiar set of boot clacks on the airport floor grabbed Enid's attention despite the hustle and bustle. Enid eagerly raised her hand, trying to get Wednesday's attention.

Wednesday's eyes widened marginally upon spotting Enid as she changed direction to meet her halfway.

When they were face-to-face, Enid opened her arms for a hug, to which Wednesday took an instinctive step back.

"Ah," Enid noted, "we're back to not hugging. Got it."

She clasped her hands instead. Enid was sure her face still had a completely goofy grin on it, but she couldn't help it—Wednesday was here!

Wednesday glared at Enid. "You promised to tell me if I visited, and here I am."

Enid's smile dropped, sending her crashing back to reality. "Oh, uhm, not here... I'll take you home first."

The trek to the car was painfully silent. Wednesday mostly shadowed her, and Enid was deep in thought about how to broach the topic still.

When Wednesday climbed into the passenger seat, she unzipped her bag and Thing clambered out, settling on Enid's shoulder.

"Thing!" she greeted with a grin, "Oh, I missed you too, you goof."

Thing tapped comfortingly on her shoulder, mostly sensing the tension she had.

Enid cleared her throat nervously. "Yeah, I'll just take her home and we'll talk about it."

She put her hands on the steering wheel, forcing herself to start the car and drive home. Enid tried to make conversation, keeping her car playlist at a low volume, but Wednesday only seemed to be interested in answering every other statement of hers.

Enid chanced a look on her best friend. Wednesday seemed distracted by something as well.

"Are you okay..?" Enid asked gently.

"I believe we are here to discuss your predicament," Wednesday replied smoothly. "Whatever I am feeling is not the concern in the moment."

Enid sighed. "But I'm still concerned for you, Wednesday." And maybe after today she wouldn't see Wednesday again.

She didn't seem to have a response to that, though. Enid continued to drive in silence.

All too soon, Enid's home had come into view. Enid picked up Wednesday's luggage before she could protest and lugged it back into her house, tugging Wednesday along as quickly as she could.

If she could avoid Wednesday and her mother speaking, she might be able to prevent a murder from happening.

"Sorry for grabbing you," Enid quickly let go of Wednesday's comfortably cold hand. "I'm just, uh, excited to spend time with you!"

She gestured to another end of her room, where a makeshift bed had been set up. Enid looked for the darkest sheets and pillowcases in the house and set her newly-finished blanket (in black, of course) on top of it.

"We'll have to share a room, but it's no different than being in Nevermore, right?" Enid laughed nervously.

"Your room is more muted here," Wednesday noted.

It was true. Less pink, no window decorations, and at most three stuffed toys on her bed at any given moment. Her desk was far tidier than the one on Nevermore.

Enid shrugged. "It's not very 'lady-like' nor 'becoming of a wolf' for me to have my usual decor here."

"I told you before not to listen to the insipid comments of that woman that calls herself your mother."

"Hey, I rebel when I can." Enid's eyes twinkled. "I brought you here, didn't I?"

Wednesday gave a small, brief nod. There was a bit of hesitation before she spoke up again. "May we talk about what was bothering you?"

Right. Yeah.

Try as Enid might to push back the conversation, she was only delaying the inevitable. Time to face the music.

She opened her mouth, ready to spill her guts, but Wednesday interrupted her before any words could be said.

"If this was about my comment about the colors, I... apologize. That may have been thoughtless."

Oh.

"No, no, why are you sorry, Wednesday?" Enid had started rambling. "It makes sense, after all, you're allergic to color and I'm—"

"You should not have to avoid color for my sake, Enid."

"I'm... not." Enid sighed. Her fingers were getting restless again, aching to play with something, anything.

Wednesday tilted her head curiously. "No? What of the images you have sent me? The projects I find you working on at the crack of dawn?"

Enid squeaked. "You notice that?"

"You are not subtle. I also do not need many hours of sleep. Regardless, I assumed you made changes to your hobbies to accommodate my needs." Wednesday looked away from Enid.

Was Enid imagining a bit of color on her cheeks? Surely, she was.

She continued, "I have detested your color choices since I have stepped foot in Nevermore. They continue to be an assault on my senses every time I look in your general direction." Her eyes flicked back, meeting Enid's. "But they are most certainly 'you'. An Enid without that vibrancy is no Enid at all."

Enid could feel her own cheeks flushing. "Wow, Wednesday, I... holy shit. I don't know what to say..."

"Do not say anything, then," Wednesday said. "I merely wanted to make sure that you were not changing yourself for me, like your mother wishes you would change for her."

"I'm not changing myself for you," Enid replied reassuringly, shaking her head. "It's just..."

Enid stepped past Wednesday and grabbed her bag, pulling out her latest creation: a pair of black fingerless gloves that she knitted as a gift for her. She offered them up to Wednesday, who took them gingerly.

"I have a lot of hobbies," Enid began. "I crochet, I knit, I make jewelry and draw and sew plushies, and I journal. You definitely noticed that."

Wednesday gave no outward indication of agreement, but her eyes bore into Enid's, which implored her to keep going.

"And... I actually have a hard time committing to them. I'm not like you, Wednesday, and I have to admit that I'm jealous about how you can just do your hobbies like that. I wish I had a journaling hour. I wish I could just pick out one pattern and decide to make it one evening."

"I fail to see what this has to do with me," Wednesday said flatly, but there was something unreadable in her eyes.

"I'm getting there," Enid promised. "I had such a hard time getting back into my hobbies—you see the mess in my room, it's full of failed projects."

Enid took a deep breath. "It was hard until you moved in."

She registered a flicker of something in Wednesday's eyes. It gave her the strength to keep going. "It started small, right? I couldn't write in my journal until the Poe Cup, and I did my first entry in weeks without any fluff or design."

Filled with more nervous energy, Enid began pacing in her room. "I made that black cat plush, and I didn't even realize it meant to represent you until a few days ago! And I made you that snood..." Her voice cracked then. "That took me a week to make and then, like, you know..."

"It was the only way we could have survived that night." Wednesday's voice was quiet, but Enid could hear a hint of remorse.

"I know," Enid replied, her eyes getting watery. "It's just... it was my first big project in months, and... and it was for you."

She stopped pacing, finally facing Wednesday. They were only a few inches apart. Enid could feel Wednesday's cold breath on her.

"I could go on and on about every project I've made ever since you've moved in, and I'm sure I'll find some connection to you, but I'll spell it out so we don't stay here all day."

Enid spread her arms in surrender, a show of vulnerability.

"I am really inspired by you, Wednesday. I don't know how or why, but I only ever seem to make things when it's for you. When it's about you."

She leaned back and picked up something from her desk, handing it to Wednesday again.

"I made this yesterday. It only felt right. I don't know why, I really don't, but I just... I spent these past few days trying to ask myself questions I don't know all the answers to..."

Wednesday took a sharp intake of breath when she recognized what Enid gave her.

It was an origami bird—a raven, to be precise.

"Enid..." Wednesday sounded hoarse, but she pressed on. "Please do not work yourself up over this. I am... flattered. I would be perfectly content to be your muse."

"Maybe I want you to be more than my muse, " Enid spat out, some tears leaking out. "But I can't risk our friendship over that."

"You would not," Wednesday said simply. "You have said it yourself, have you not? We shouldn't work, yet we do."

She took a step closer to Enid. Wednesday was close. Tantalizingly close. 

Wednesday took Enid's hands. They were cold, but not chilling. Enid craved her touch.

"Perhaps this has always been how we should work."

Enid felt Wednesday's lips on hers.

And for the first time in Enid's life, everything finally made sense.