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A flash of pink was all it took for the knot in Wednesday’s chest to unravel.
Since she’d left Enid alone in the forest to face the Hyde, a gnawing sensation had been relentlessly contorting her intestines, twisting and tangling them together until her entire body had become wrought with worry.
Wednesday wasn’t used to worrying. Ever.
It frightened her, frankly. For lack of experience, Wednesday was ill-prepared when it came to dealing with stress of any kind—much less that over another person. The unprecedented anxiety left her unable to compartmentalize, and she was helplessly overcome by a burning need to see Enid alive.
And unharmed. Unharmed was important. In fact, it was the only thing currently keeping Wednesday on her feet—the thought of ensuring Enid’s safety.
So when the object of her thoughts came rushing at her from the crowd of Nevermore students outside the gates, Wednesday nearly collapsed.
Her knees twitched, almost buckling. But she refused to humiliate herself in front of so many witnesses—most of all Enid, who had just taken on a fully grown Hyde (on the night of her first turn, no less) and, evidently, come out victorious.
With valiant effort, Wednesday remained outwardly impassive. Inside, she was anything but.
Enid had fought Tyler and won. And now she was here. Here, alive. Safe.
In milliseconds, Wednesday’s intestines untied themselves, providing an ounce of relief to her battered body, but her organs were quickly jumpstarted again by an obscene amount of fluttering as the flash of pink overtook her—up close and much too personal—and she was being… hugged.
Enid was hugging her.
Her arms wound around Wednesday’s lower back, trapping her tightly against her.
Wednesday didn’t move for a moment—she couldn’t. She could only stand there, stiff and out of her depth until her instincts finally kicked in and she pushed back.
Then she saw Enid’s face.
It was marred. Three slashes cut across her forehead and down her cheek. There were sticks, leaves, and dirt matted to her hair and skin.
Worst of all, Enid was covered in blood.
Wednesday’s jaw ticked. She was going to tear him limb from limb.
Oh, yes. When the time came, she would make sure that his suffering lasted days, and that he would find no relief until death came for him. The end would be slow. Excruciating. And only long after he’d been reduced to a pathetic mess of splintered bone and shredded flesh.
That was a silent oath Wednesday made to herself. But even plotting revenge could not completely take her away from this moment with Enid, and she realized—the werewolf needed something else from her now. Something… softer.
So with eyes wide and jaw set, Wednesday pulled Enid back in.
From the slight jolt her body made, it was apparent Enid was surprised—shocked, maybe, that Wednesday would initiate any kind of physical contact, let alone a godforsaken hug. But Enid didn’t let it deter her from pulling the goth even closer than before, her fingers pressing into the fabric of her blazer as she let out a muffled sob.
Wednesday never wanted to let go.
It was an impractical thought, one she dismissed almost immediately, but not before her eyes slipped shut, not before she buried her nose in Enid’s shoulder, swaying her gently.
She allowed herself this relief, if only for a few moments. But soon, the throbbing ache in her shoulder became a persistent presence that she could ignore no longer. In her injured state, she let slip a quiet gasp when Enid’s embrace tightened further.
The werewolf, of course, missed nothing.
She lessened her grip in an instant, pulling back to scan Wednesday with obnoxious concern.
Strange, how the sight caused Wednesday’s chest to swell with warmth.
“You’re hurt,” Enid said, and it took most of Wednesday’s residual willpower not to roll her eyes.
“Regrettably, even I cannot escape an undead supremacist unscathed,” Wednesday said. Her voice was hoarse for reasons… inconclusive.
She was all too aware of how their bodies were still pressed together, Enid’s hands roaming her back slowly, almost reverently, as she kept their hips locked in place.
For someone who did not tolerate physical touch, Wednesday was exceptionally comfortable in Enid’s arms.
The seer’s gaze shifted to locate a distraction, which reminded her of the audience observing them with baited breath and delirious grins.
A single glare from her sent the majority of them scattering awkwardly.
With no more unwanted attention, Wednesday turned her attention back to the girl in her arms. Her blue eyes were vibrant and swimming in tears. The smaller girl felt a sharp tug in her chest and the nearly uncontrollable urge to frame her roommate’s face in her hands. The image startled her, and she abruptly longed for the privacy of their dorm room.
Perhaps that was why her body made the unconscious decision to turn on its heels and trek toward Ophelia Hall, tugging the werewolf behind her.
Enid went along without resistance, and even slid her wrist from Wednesday’s grasp to hold her hand, which made the goth’s stomach perform acrobatics.
Wednesday dragged them past the already swarming infirmary.
“Uh, shouldn’t we see a nurse first, you know—?” Enid started, but was cut off.
“I’m more than capable of accomplishing every meager service they provide and more. And by the looks of it, it would take eons for us to be seen to.”
They turned the corner into the hallway that led to their dormitory building. Wednesday was half-jogging now, a sense of urgency to be alone with Enid overriding any ounce of logical thinking left in her.
Enid must have picked up on this, because she matched Wednesday’s pace and didn’t say a word until they made it to their room.
Once inside, Wednesday let go of a breath she wasn’t aware she’d been holding since she had first seen Enid’s face. Her brain kicked into overdrive, and without giving it a second thought, she guided the taller girl to her bed.
(She’d think about the implications of that later.)
Wordlessly, Enid sat down. The werewolf’s eyes were on her as the goth excavated a kit from a secluded area underneath her bed. Upon opening it, several surgical tools were revealed, some still stained with blood from her last dissection. (She had forgone cleaning the utensils in her haste to punish Pugsley for interrupting; he’d caused her impromptu open-heart experiment on an unsuspecting patient to go awry.)
The sight was probably what made Enid emit an uneasy squeak. Giving her a look, Wednesday opened the bottom compartment that held the more familiar components of a first-aid kit.
Enid’s sigh of relief was comical. Wednesday couldn’t resist having a little fun.
“These are for pre-op sterilization, you understand,” Wednesday said, using an anti-bacterial wipe to clean her hands before wetting some gauze with hydrogen peroxide. “The tools come later.”
Enid visibly paled, widened eyes glancing between her and the very unsanitary-looking utensils. The corners of Wednesday’s mouth lifted into a smirk.
“Wednesday, I don’t think—“
“I’m teasing, Enid,” the goth interrupted her, not wishing to have to fetch the smelling salts again.
The werewolf’s gaze shot to Wednesday’s, eyebrows raised.
“You—you don’t tease,” she said, still eyeing the kit warily, fingers fiddling in her lap.
Wednesday took a seat next to Enid on the edge of the bed. “It’s rare, yes. I was trying to bring some levity to the situation. I don’t intend to perform surgery on you tonight—unless you request it, of course. In that case, I would be eager to oblige.”
Enid’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh. Um, no. Thank you. I’m good.”
Enid made an O.K. gesture with her hands and flashed Wednesday a grin. She grimaced a second later, once again drawing Wednesday’s attention to the vicious slash marks.
“You might not require an operation, but you are not ‘good,’ Enid. The wounds on your face need immediate treatment,” Wednesday told her, moving to begin the cleaning process. Enid flinched away.
“What about you?” she asked suddenly.
“What about me?” Wednesday echoed, nonplussed.
“You got hurt, too. I felt it, when we—when I squeezed you too hard.”
Wednesday suppressed a blush, of all things, at the memory of their hug. She shook her head minutely, blatantly disregarding the shooting pain in her shoulder.
“It’s nothing to concern yourself with. Let me tend to your face,” Wednesday dismissed, reaching towards her again with gauze in hand, only for her wrist to be caught in Enid’s strong grip.
“Wednesday, I need to know what happened to you.” Tears hung from Enid’s lower eyelids. Wednesday’s chest twinged. She suppressed a sigh.
“I will tell you after I clean your wounds,” she said, an uncommon patience coloring her tone.
Carefully, Wednesday raised the gauze to Enid’s face again, brown eyes flicking between blue ones. The werewolf still didn’t look happy, but at least she let her continue this time.
It didn’t take long until Enid was recoiling again.
“Ah—that burns!“ she hissed, scrunching her face as her hands flew to her face. Wednesday attempted to pry them away, but Enid rose from the bed and started pacing.
“Fuck, that really, really burns, Wednesday…” She was hunched over, elbows between her knees as the heels of her hands pressed into her eyes.
“Of course it burns, Enid. It’s antiseptic on a flesh wound,” Wednesday replied evenly, not entirely sure what else to say.
“Yeah, but should it be this bad? It—god, it hurts really bad! Like, I’m—I can’t even—”
At the sound of Enid’s agitated breathing and pinched voice, Wednesday made her way to the werewolf in moments. Somehow, her hands found themselves gingerly perched atop her shoulders. A tentative touch.
“Water might take away some of the irritation. Perhaps we should rinse the lacerations first.”
Enid straightened up, squinting at Wednesday through a grimace as she nodded vigorously, clearly in pain. Guilt crawled up Wednesday’s throat before she could swallow it.
They made their way to the bathroom, and as Wednesday wet a washcloth with cold water, Enid’s breathing shook with suppressed tears. The sound grated against Wednesday’s heart like sandpaper.
“Stop crying, Enid,” Wednesday said in the gentlest voice she could muster as she wrung out the cloth.
“My skin is on fire!”
Without warning, Wednesday tugged away Enid’s hands from her face and replaced them with the cool cloth.
Enid immediately exhaled in relief. Wednesday’s insides did a strange swoop.
“Better?” Her voice was frighteningly soft.
“Yeah,” Enid sighed, shutting her eyes, and Wednesday got to work wiping away the blood and grime that caked Enid’s face.
She paid close attention to the way Enid winced when the washcloth strayed too close to the open cuts, and made a conscious effort to keep her touch gentle.
Gentleness with others was not a skill Wednesday ever thought she’d desire to master. But for Enid, she wanted to be perfect.
When Enid spoke next, Wednesday’s full attention was on her lips, where dried blood had seeped into the corners. The goth found her eyes lingering there even after the blood was gone.
She met the werewolf’s gaze, and immediately regretted it.
Her eyes were glossy and soft, blue irises practically glowing with what could only be affection, and Wednesday’s breath caught in her throat.
“Sorry?” Wednesday murmured, frozen in place, her hand with the washcloth still touching Enid’s bottom lip, palm resting against her chin.
“I said, you should let me clean your wounds, too,” Enid said, and Wednesday ignored the way her breathy tone sent her stomach soaring.
Then her words registered, and Wednesday pulled away.
“That won’t be necessary,” she said, busying herself with fresh gauze and antiseptic. When she turned back to Enid, she was wearing a petulant frown.
Wednesday moved to apply the gauze, but Enid turned her head.
“Enid.”
The blonde folded her arms and turned her entire body away.
“Not letting you clean mine if I can’t clean yours.”
Wednesday shut her eyes, trying her best not to roll them out of her skull.
“I don’t need for you to clean mine. I’m fine. Now turn around so I can—“
“You’re not fine, Wednesday!” Enid whipped around, and the fire in her eyes was almost enough to make Wednesday cower. “You have blood coming from your head, your hand has been cut open, your shirt is torn, and y-your shoulder—that looks like blood, too! And that’s only what I can see! Who knows what other life-threatening injuries you’re hiding?! And all because you’re too stubborn to admit you need help! Well, tough fucking luck, Wens, because I want to help and you’re going to let me, goddammit!”
Wednesday was used to Enid’s outbursts, but this one felt different. More charged somehow, but with what, the raven was unsure. Regardless, it unsettled her deeply.
“Enid,” she began, wetting her lips. But the frown on Enid’s face was causing her wounds to open further, making the tender flesh bleed again. It was distracting.
“Stop scowling.”
The muscles in Enid’s face relaxed. It was obvious she was in pain from the slight twitch around her eyes.
Wednesday picked up the washcloth again and was tenderly dabbing the fresh blood away before Enid could start another tirade.
“I can assure you, none of my injuries are life-threatening,” Wednesday spoke quietly. She avoided Enid’s eyes as an uncharacteristic shyness overcame her. “I am just accustomed to handling things on my own.”
“You were really just gonna take care of your wounds all by yourself?”
Wednesday blinked at her.
“Naturally.”
Enid let out a gust of air. It ruffled Wednesday’s fringe.
“Wens, that’s so sad.” Enid’s eyes were wide and teary. A familiar indignation rose within the smaller girl.
“It’s not sad. I’m perfectly capable—”
“You don’t let anyone take care of you, even when you need it,” Enid went on, and Wednesday bristled further.
“I don’t need to be taken care of, Enid. I’ve always—“
“—always taken care of yourself, yeah, I know. That’s the sad part.”
Wednesday pressed her lips into a firm line, tossing the washcloth onto the bathroom counter. She disregarded a rather intense twinge in her shoulder that made her vision blur.
“It’s how things have always been for me, Enid, and I prefer it that way. If you find it sad, so be it. There’s no point in making such a fuss about it.”
Once again, she attempted to start sterilizing Enid’s wounds, but the stupid wolf pulled away again.
“Enid, in the name of Caligula—“
“You still haven’t agreed to let me help you,” the blonde said, holding herself at arm’s length.
This time, Wednesday could not conceal her frustration. She huffed a sigh so loud it could have been a groan, tilting her head back to look up at the ceiling. After a moment, she leveled her roommate with a glare.
“Why must you be so difficult?”
“‘Difficult’ is my middle name, according to my mom,” Enid said, mouth twitching with the slightest smirk. Wednesday observed her, unamused, through her bangs.
“You won’t relent,” Wednesday stated, already accepting defeat.
“Nope,” Enid said, popping the ‘p.’ She was evidently very pleased with herself. Wednesday sighed again.
“Fine, then. If you’re so adamant, I will… allow you to assist me. After I tend to your wounds.”
Enid looked like she was holding back a huge grin. “Was that so hard, Wens?”
“Extremely,” the goth deadpanned, her glare never lessening. “Now come here.”
Even though she was thoroughly annoyed, Wednesday didn’t let it affect the gentleness of her touch as she carefully applied the antiseptic to Enid’s face. The burning didn’t seem to be as severe as before, and Enid was able to sit still until Wednesday finished.
After administering a few butterfly stitches to the worst areas, her work was done.
“Do you have any other injuries that require attention?” Wednesday asked, moving to the sink to wash her hands.
“Not really. A few scratches here and there, but it was my face that got the brunt of it,” Enid said with a dimmed smile. Her tone was melancholic.
As the goth observed her, she realized in full all that Enid had been through in a few hours’ time. What she had done, what she had risked—all for Wednesday.
A mixture between guilt and adoration brought the tightness from before back into the smaller girl’s chest.
She should say something. Anything.
“You’re quite massive,” was what she went with.
Enid’s brows crinkled, and Wednesday realized suddenly that she’d forgone context.
“In your wolf form. I wasn’t anticipating you to be so… large. It was impressive.”
Enid blinked at Wednesday, and the resulting silence made the goth long to be six feet under. Her tongue felt like lead in her mouth.
This wasn’t her strong-suit. When it came to insults, she was a master. But compliments? Wednesday wasn’t confident she had ever handed out such a blatantly positive remark before in her life.
Just when she was beginning to think she’d broken Enid, the werewolf let out what sounded like a nervous laugh. Then, inexplicably, she started to blush.
“Oh, uh, well. It kinda runs in the family, you know. The size thing. The Sinclairs are—we’re a lot bigger than—than a lot of the other packs.” Enid stumbled over her words, something like embarrassment apparent in the way she picked at her grime-caked fingernails.
It was, for lack of a better descriptor, cute.
Maybe she should get her vitals checked after all.
“It was truly horrifying. You should be proud,” Wednesday elaborated, finding it easier to continue now that she had started. She was transfixed on the pinkness that blossomed around the claw marks on Enid’s face; idly, she fantasized about ways to deepen it.
“Thanks,” Enid murmured, giving Wednesday a smile so shy it made the goth’s heart stutter. She turned to her reflection, eyeing the tangled mess that was her hair.
As Enid worked on cleaning the dirt, blood, and twigs out of her hair, Wednesday busied herself with folding the towel she was using to dry her hands.
After a long, comfortable silence, Wednesday cleared her throat, subtly rolling her shoulder. She suppressed a wince. An unfamiliar nervousness crept up her neck as she thought about what was going to happen next.
Wednesday’s eyes searched Enid’s in the mirror. It took the werewolf a moment to remember.
“Oh! Yeah, duh. Your turn.”
Enid went to scrub her hands in the sink. Her shoulder brushed against Wednesday’s; the contact was soft. Wednesday tried to focus on calming her suddenly pounding heart as she watched the dirt and blood circle the drain.
As soon as Enid finished, she turned to face Wednesday. She took a step closer.
“Okay. Um—here,” Enid’s voice was pitched lower than usual as her hands made gentle contact with Wednesday’s torso. “Let’s get this off first…”
Wednesday stood perfectly still as Enid carefully undid the buttons of her ruined blazer. When Enid’s hands made their way to the sleeves beneath the material, Wednesday’s breath hitched.
She met Enid’s eyes through her lashes, unintentionally communicating her discomfort, and Enid halted her movements.
“Your shoulder?” Enid’s voice was barely above a whisper. Before waiting for a reply, she took in the copious amounts of blood on Wednesday’s shirt.
“Oh shit, Wens,” the werewolf breathed, her eyes widening in alarm as she cautiously maneuvered Wednesday’s blazer sleeves down her arms until the smaller girl stood in only her vest and shirt.
“Shit,” Enid repeated, her hands hovering uncertainly over Wednesday. “Um, that’s—that’s a lot of blood. I…”
The more time that passed, the more Wednesday had trouble focusing on what Enid was saying. As loathe as she was to admit it, the pain in her shoulder from the arrow wound was worsening by the second now that the adrenaline had left her system. The added jostling of removing her blazer had unfortunately exacerbated the throbbing, and now her entire arm ached something fierce.
“Woah, hey,” Enid’s voice rang dull in Wednesday’s ears, and she felt an arm around her waist, pulling her upright and into a fluffy pink jacket.
Wednesday stiffened, then winced at the pressure it put on her shoulder. Her legs felt like gelatin, and her hands automatically clenched the soft material.
“We’re gonna move back to the room, okay? You need to sit down.”
The shorter girl could only nod as she swallowed past the sudden bout of nausea. With Enid’s arm securely around her waist, they made it back to her bed.
“There,” Enid sighed, sitting her gently on the edge of the bed. She quickly gathered the first aid supplies, and Wednesday just watched in silent observation, blinking to dispel the dizziness.
“Wednesday, I don’t think we can—I think I’m gonna have to cut your sweater vest open. Unless you wanna try getting it over your—“
The goth silenced her with a head shake. “It’s all right.”
Wednesday’s voice was low and oddly breathless. Enid chewed her bottom lip, and after a moment of hesitation, used a sharpened claw to remove the thick material.
“Uh, Wens? Y-your stomach…” Enid’s voice shook. Her blue eyes shone with fear and filled with moisture when they met Wednesday’s.
Something jumped in the smaller girl’s chest. She knew where Enid’s mind went before she even said anything.
“I’m fine—“
“Don’t fucking start. You’re—oh my god, that’s—you were—“
“Stabbed, yes. But—“
“Oh fuck. Oh shit, I’m not—Wednesday, we have to get help—“
“Enid.” Wednesday’s hands, which had been lying dormant in her lap since she sat down, encircled the werewolf’s wrists, stilling her frantic movements.
Enid was crying now, her face an ashen grey, and Wednesday hated it. She hated it even more knowing she was the source of it.
“Goody healed me. I’m okay. I swear.”
Enid blinked before heaving several relieved sighs. She nodded shakily, murmuring “okay” to herself repeatedly as she pulled her hands back to wipe away her tears. She winced when she forgot about the cuts on her face.
“Here,” Wednesday said softly, and in a rash motion was removing Enid’s hands from her face and carefully smoothing away the tears with the pads of her fingers. She only stopped because of the tremor in her hands.
“Wednesday, you’re in pain. You should take something before I start,” Enid said, sniffing. Her cheeks were a delicate rose color.
“I try to avoid pharmaceuticals,” she rebutted half-heartedly. The pain had weakened her resolve.
“Well, tonight, you can make an exception,” Enid said, rummaging through Wednesday’s first-aid kit before realizing it wouldn’t have what she needed. She huffed and crossed the room, looking through a drawer and coming up with a small pill bottle. Grabbing her hydro-flask, she made her way back to Wednesday’s bed.
The goth stared at the bottle that had been shoved in her hand.
“Advil is for weaklings.” Wednesday swallowed two of the capsules dry.
“Ugh. How do you do that? I literally brought you some water,” Enid said, holding out the neon green contraption decorated with equally bright stickers.
Wednesday felt her headache worsen.
“No need.”
“Fine. But you should drink something. And soon. You’ve lost, like, a lot of blood.”
“I’m well aware.”
Enid rolled her eyes and started undoing the buttons on Wednesday’s shirt. “I know you are, smartass. I’m just trying to take care of you.”
The words reverberated inside Wednesday’s head like a sickening mantra. Along with nausea, a pervasive warmth blossomed in her stomach.
A fever, perhaps.
The room had gone quiet, all but for the soft rustling of Wednesday’s shirt as Enid worked her way down the buttons. Her hands stopped abruptly as they approached her midriff.
“Oh my god, I… I’m sorry,” Enid said, sounding breathless, her eyes darting away from Wednesday.
The goth furrowed her brow, glancing down before putting the pieces together.
“How else are you supposed to tend to the area?”
Warmth rolled off of Enid’s pink complexion in waves. Wednesday’s eyebrows creased.
“I’m—I know,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. “It’s just… I should’ve asked.”
The lines in Wednesday’s face disappeared. She clasped her hands together in her lap.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Manners are not my forte. I failed to recognize it as a problem until you brought it to my attention.”
“Well, I want your permission anyway.”
Wednesday eyed the werewolf, taking in her unusual solemnity and the way she fidgeted. She looked… flustered.
The smaller girl swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat.
“You have my permission, Enid.”
Her roommate gave her a small nod and hesitantly returned to her task of undoing the buttons. Wednesday was hyperaware of the newfound tension, though she couldn’t quite place what it was.
It must have been the loss of blood. Her brain was conjuring things from nothing.
Certainly, the rush of warmth to her face had nothing to do with the way Enid’s fingertips brushed her bare skin as she removed the shirt. And the prickle beneath her epidermis that scattered like spiders across her body had nothing to do with the touch of Enid’s thumb—no, Wednesday’s stomach did not turn when the digit swept twice over the phantom wound, a gentle caress intended only for comfort.
“Enid,” Wednesday blurted. Her voice was pinched.
The werewolf looked up from where she was inspecting the thick scar on Wednesday’s abdomen, her thumb hovering millimeters away from it, seemingly intending to move across it again.
When their eyes met, Wednesday felt like lightning had struck.
It was utterly terrifying. She couldn’t look away.
“Sorry,” Enid murmured, retracting her hands. She reached for the damp cloth. “I’m, um, just gonna clean the blood off your shoulder so I can see what we’re dealing with, okay?”
Wednesday nodded once. Her heart pulsed erratically; she was positive Enid noticed.
She needed to get a hold of herself. Now.
But then Enid’s hands were on her, tenderly wiping away the blood that coated her skin, her brow creased in concentration and her bottom lip trapped between her teeth—and suddenly Wednesday couldn’t think of anything else.
Thoughts flooded her mind—thoughts of Enid, most of them inane, but some incredibly obscene and completely inappropriate, especially considering their current position. Wednesday’s jaw tightened as she fought to curb the absurd images and contain the flush that was rapidly spreading across her neck and face. Her state of undress was only an added complication. She curled her shoulders.
Enid eyed her. “I’m really sorry, Wens. I promise I’ll be quick.”
Wednesday straightened slightly, opening her mouth to reply before she realized she didn’t know what to say. She knew she shouldn’t be embarrassed—they were roommates. They had changed in front of each other in the past, more than once. But now, Wednesday couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Her insides squirmed, her heart thumping at a rate that did nothing to abate her onset of vertigo, and her hands were restless. In the face of these odd symptoms, the goth opted for silence, her gaze trained on anything other than the blonde who was touching her softly and with so much care.
True to her word, Enid had her shoulder sufficiently cleaned, disinfected, and bandaged in a matter of minutes. As soon as she was finished, she retrieved one of Wednesday’s oversized tees and helped her put it on.
Once Wednesday was covered, it was easier for her to meet Enid’s eyes. Her blue irises were glowing with something warm.
“Thank you,” Wednesday heard herself say.
The werewolf grinned. “Of course, roomie.”
For the next several minutes, Wednesday allowed Enid to take care of her. She let herself relax, feeling safe in the other girl’s presence.
As she worked, Enid recounted the fascinating details of her transformation. Wednesday was riveted—both by the gruesome tale, and by… something else.
It took a while for Wednesday to figure out that it was Enid’s voice. It was quieter than usual.
The soft quality of Enid’s tone was affecting Wednesday in an unprecedented manner. Her voice brought forth a warmth in Wednesday’s chest that she could only describe as undying affection.
With an internal jolt, the goth realized she wasn’t repulsed by the feeling.
As Enid concentrated on cleaning the last of the blood from her face, Wednesday studied her. Maybe there, she would find an explanation for the unfamiliar emotion.
Enid’s hair was slightly wet, most of the filth having been washed out earlier in the sink. She was still wearing her fluffy pink coat. Her skin was a healthy rose color that turned darker around the three gashes across her face. Her ocean blue eyes were exceptionally bright, her top row of teeth digging into her bottom lip.
Enid was resplendent, and Wednesday knew she could shield her heart from her no longer.
A figurative dam broke inside of Wednesday, and her entire being was overcome by heat. The warmth in her chest now invaded every crevice of her body. Her soul.
It was horrifically poetic, just like her father had said it would be. The Addams’ curse. And to think, she had been foolish enough to believe she was immune.
“I think that’s most of it,” Enid said, bringing Wednesday out of her head. “How are you feeling?”
The shorter girl almost laughed. Her roommate had no idea how loaded that question was.
She settled for a partially honest reply. “Tired.”
Enid hummed, nodding, then began to fiddle with the fingers of Wednesday’s bandaged hand. Wednesday held her breath, heart pounding.
If she knew her organs could betray her desires like this, she would have had them removed a long time ago. It was exceedingly agitating.
Worst of all, Enid seemed to notice something was amiss. When her gaze met Wednesday’s, the goth’s lungs deflated noisily, and the werewolf cocked her head.
“You okay?” Enid asked, and her voice was gentle. It made Wednesday’s eyelids flutter pathetically.
“Yes,” she breathed, looking down at their hands. Enid twitched like she might pull away, but Wednesday’s fingers closed around her roommate’s, effectively stilling her.
Enid allowed her a moment of uncomfortable silence before breaking the tension.
“Wednesday?” she began, clearing her throat lightly. Her thumb was rhythmically sweeping across Wednesday’s white knuckles. “What happened tonight?”
Wednesday’s eyes must have betrayed something shocking, because Enid backtracked.
“I mean, you said you’d tell me, right? After you cleaned me up.” A worried crease appeared between Enid’s eyebrows.
It was like the contents of Wednesday’s skull had been replaced with sand. Images flashed through her mind of the Hyde’s claws constricting her airway, Crackstone’s disfigured face scowling at her as his blade twisted in her gut…
She couldn’t relive that right now. Any of it.
Wednesday swallowed tightly as the silence stretched on. Enid’s worry deepened her frown.
“Wens?”
The goth couldn’t respond, unable to free her tongue from the roof of her mouth. She clenched her jaw, giving her head a slight shake.
“Okay,” Enid breathed, removing her hand from Wednesday’s trembling one. “Okay, I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it right now.”
Instantly, Wednesday missed Enid’s touch with a fierceness that terrified her. She regarded her roommate with blinking eyes, owlish in the way they took in all of the taller girl at once. Enid’s gaze softened; she carefully lifted a hand to Wednesday’s face, intent on brushing away an errant strand of hair, when the smaller girl stiffened noticeably (not quite flinching, but close enough), causing the werewolf to retreat.
“God, I’m sorry, Wednesday. I keep—I wasn’t thinking. I’m—“
Wednesday’s palm was cold and clammy when it made contact with Enid’s hand, effectively silencing the garish girl.
“It’s fine,” she finally managed, gaze lowering to their hands, unwilling to believe her body had acted by itself. (It truly was a curse.)
Instead of bringing attention to Wednesday’s awkwardness, Enid simply intertwined their fingers, letting out a soft sigh as she settled back beside the shorter girl.
“We don’t have to talk about it right now, but I do wanna know eventually. It’s important to me.”
For some bewildering reason Wednesday could not fathom, Enid seemed worried about her. Even though she was here, in one piece, and they were both out of harm’s reach. Wednesday didn’t see the purpose of dredging up her recently inflicted trauma, especially when it would most likely only serve to further upset the werewolf. Nevertheless, she nodded, silently accepting that this conversation was not over, but simply put on hold.
She didn’t know why she did things for Enid that she wouldn’t consider doing for another soul. Perhaps it was another repercussion of her cursed heart—turning into a spineless softie. Utterly repulsive.
But when Enid’s expression softened, her features flooding with relief and a gentle smile pulling at her lips, Wednesday couldn’t ignore the way her chest swelled with warmth.
This wasn’t going away anytime soon, was it?
Enid’s palm against hers sent subtle shockwaves up Wednesday’s arm, and she couldn’t contain the nervous energy that propelled her thumb to jump across Enid’s knuckles, stiff in its foreign movement.
She didn’t know what she was doing. All she knew was that she never wanted to let go.
Unfiltered emotion abruptly broke across the seer’s face, and compelled by something outside of herself, Wednesday met Enid’s piercing gaze.
The werewolf let out a quiet gasp, and Wednesday blanched, suddenly desperate to reel herself back in, to escape the thick tension that festered between them like a gangrenous wound, but she couldn’t. She was imprisoned. Helplessly adhered to the girl before her—trapped in her mesmerizing presence, listless in what was surely her imminent demise.
“Enid…” Wednesday breathed her name like it was her saving grace, and everything exploded at once.
Her injured hand appeared at the side of Enid’s face, fingertips hovering over healing wounds as she took in the girl in front of her, drinking her in with flitting eyes that roamed her with an unprecedented openness. Enid gasped again, her breath hitching, and the noise elicited a spike of fluttering within Wednesday, starting in her stomach and invading her chest, where her heart pulsed louder than it ever had before.
Instinctively, Wednesday moved closer on the bed, her hand falling to Enid’s shoulder, fingers clenching the fluffy material, pulling at it, tugging the girl into her space.
“Wednesday,” Enid whined, eyes vibrant and wide. “What—is—are you all right?”
Wednesday could only tip forward, closing her eyes in blissful relief when their foreheads made gentle contact. She tried to breathe, tried to remember how to, but Enid was taking over her, flooding every last sense, leaving her body tingling and her head fuzzy.
She abhorred the feeling. She wanted more of it.
The goth brought their intertwined hands to her face, pressing Enid’s palm to her cheek, unconsciously burrowing into the touch, barely resisting the urge to press lingering kisses to her wrist, her arm. In an extraordinarily clarifying moment, she finally understood her father and his penchant for amorous displays of affection.
She was thoroughly confused, exceedingly disgusted with herself, but ultimately, wholly apathetic about it all. It was madness.
“Forgive me, I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You’re just,” Wednesday stammered, trailing off as she pulled back to meet Enid’s gaze again, which turned out to be a mistake. All logical thought fled her mind, then, when she read the hopeful adoration in Enid’s expression, the way her cheeks colored with the most lively pink, how her eyebrows creased upward, a small smile pressing into the corners of her mouth.
“Enid,” she said again, swallowing dryly. Her gaze flitted to soft lips and lingered before she was forcing her eyes up again, and—oh.
Enid’s eyes were different. Darker. Their blue hue, usually resembling the sky, now smoldered in a tint more becoming of the deepest parts of the ocean—and Wednesday was entirely beholden.
Her name was on her lips again, ready to utter it with the utmost devotion, but Enid was quicker.
“Wednesday, I—“
She stopped herself, blinking rapidly and taking a subtle breath. Her free hand joined the other, and she was framing Wednesday’s face, so gently, shifting so that their thighs pressed closely together, and the goth felt a violent blush invade her neck and settle stubbornly in her cheeks.
“Yes?” Wednesday pushed, an uncommon desperation coloring her tone as her eyes fixated fully now on Enid’s mouth. Her heart pounded, racing in her rib-cage, her hands losing themselves in the thick material of her roommate’s coat.
“Can… I wanna kiss you, is that—can I…?”
Wednesday hardly gave her time to finish the question before she was leaning forward and their lips were meeting in a delicate kiss.
The seer’s muscles untwined and she went limp against Enid, sighing through her nose with a quiet hum. The werewolf tightened her hold on Wednesday’s face and tilted her head just slightly to readjust the kiss. Soft lips collided in a tender embrace, unbridled passion simmering dangerously just below the surface.
Wednesday’s heart stuttered, overcome with emotions so positive they should have sent her into cardiac arrest. She had never felt so light, her body filled to the brim with something much deeper than affection. It frightened her, the way her eyes burned, how she was suddenly able to feel so much all at once. Her hands made fists in the front of Enid’s jacket, her frame trembling uncontrollably as she pulled the girl further in.
Enid drew a breath in through her nose. She stroked Wednesday’s jaw with featherlight touches as she slowly ended the kiss.
As soon as they separated, Wednesday was chasing after her, unwilling to part so soon, her knuckles turning white around pink fleece as she refused Enid to vacate her space.
“Wens,” Enid laughed, her breath fanning across the shorter girl’s lips right before they connected again.
Wednesday almost whimpered at the sensation, the softness of their mouths against each other spurring her heart to kick up its reckless pace. She felt like she was falling, plummeting at the speed of light into uncharted territory. It was devastating. Every instinct told her to abort, to remove herself immediately from the werewolf who had so suddenly and inexplicably upended her world—but she was helpless. She could do nothing other than stay exactly where she was.
She didn’t realize she wasn’t breathing until Enid pulled back enough to catch her own breath. Her eyes opened, vision dark around the edges, focusing on nothing but the stunning creature before her.
It took her a moment to hear over the pounding in her chest, but Enid was speaking to her.
“…to breathe, Wednesday,” she was saying, eyes bleeding concern and lips frowning. “Just take a deep breath, okay?”
The pads of Enid’s fingers across her cheek were enough to open the seer’s lungs, shallow breaths making their way in only to be expelled in short huffs.
Wednesday said her name again, nearly forgetting how to say anything else, as she knocked their foreheads together, hands still tangled in Enid’s coat with a vice grip.
Enid continued to caress her face, soft and gentle in her movements. Her fingertips explored Wednesday’s jaw and the nape of her neck, sending spiders cascading down her spine.
“You okay?” her paramour asked, and Wednesday immediately chastised her heart for staking such a claim on Enid so readily, reminding herself that the wolf quite probably did not return any of her gut-wrenching sentiments.
“It seems,” Wednesday began quietly, clearing her throat as a fierce dread ripped through her at the very notion, “I have… succumbed to my family’s curse.”
Enid’s hands fell to Wednesday’s, carefully detangling them from her clothes and squeezing them before sweeping her thumbs across her knuckles.
“What do you mean? What curse?”
Wednesday swallowed past the perpetual lump in her throat. Forcibly, she wrenched herself away from Enid, steadily meeting her gaze. She would not cower now, not after everything they had endured tonight.
“It is the same curse that afflicts my parents. The very same that I swore to myself I would never fall victim to.”
Her eyes strayed to Enid’s lips, distracted by the now-constant pulse of ardor within her. Enid only observed her with a crease in her brow.
“Are you in danger?” she asked, her concern palpable in her pinched tone.
Wednesday gave a short nod, eyes still trained on Enid’s mouth. “Yes.”
“Are you sick?” she asked next, worrying her bottom lip, fidgeting with their fingers.
“Extremely.”
Wednesday met her eyes again, and was immediately enraptured by their shiny quality. Her lips quirked into a frown, the mere thought of Enid’s sadness tightening her throat.
“I will be all right,” she said softly, a tentative hand cupping the uninjured side of the werewolf’s face. Enid sniffled.
“But you’re sick? I don’t understand—“
“It’s not the kind of illness that can be diagnosed. And though many of my ancestors have tried to locate a cure, there is none.”
Enid was crying now, tears falling freely down her marred face.
“Wednesday, what—“
“Enid, I’m in love,” Wednesday interrupted her then, unable to beat around the bush any longer, longing to put an end to the unnecessary despondency that permeated the air between them.
Enid stopped breathing.
“What?”
Wednesday’s eyes searched Enid’s for a long moment. She shifted uncomfortably on the mattress, eventually lowering her gaze to the wolf’s shoulder.
“I’m in love with you,” she said, so softly that it was hardly louder than a whisper. Flexing her jaw, she met Enid’s eyes cautiously, peering through mussed bangs as an air of irrational anxiety coursed through her.
The warmth she was met with erased every last doubt and every single insecurity residing within her.
Then, bizarrely, she smiled.
It was brief, and incredibly soft, but it was enough to make her dimples show for a moment, a fact she was made aware of when Enid’s bright eyes locked directly on her cheeks with a surprised expression.
A warm blush blossomed beneath the attention, and Wednesday ducked her head.
“Don’t do that,” Enid whispered, her voice reverent as her hands framed Wednesday’s face and caught her eyes again. “Oh my god, you’re blushing. You’re so fucking adorable.”
Wednesday, red-faced and absurdly flustered, frowned at the description and opened her mouth to object.
Enid took her by complete surprise and silenced her with a kiss.
Well, several.
Wednesday was blinking slowly and breathing shallowly by the time Enid pulled away again.
“I know, I know, you’re not adorable,” Enid babbled, hands constant in their movement, plucking at Wednesday’s collar, tucking her bangs. “Totally un-adorable. And so not gorgeous, or beautiful, or secretly the sweetest person I’ve ever met, or—oh my god, and you’re in love with me!” She kissed her again, twice shortly, then once, long and languid, her mouth open. Wednesday could hardly think, could barely function. She was a mess of flesh and bone and pumping organs, nothing more.
“You’re—you just said you're—wait, wait. Wednesday. Oh my god, I can’t—you’re just—I’ve been in love with you since like forever! Ever since the Poe Cup, I think. Maybe even before that. I don’t know! But oh my god, you're—“
Once she had somewhat gathered herself, Wednesday shut Enid up with a very firm kiss.
The fluttering inside of her escalated to unknown heights in an instant as her mind mulled over Enid’s confession. Enid loved her. Enid was in love with her. They were in love.
The thought made her want to smile again. Wednesday had never wanted to smile before.
But Enid made her want to do all kinds of things she’d never wanted to do before. Like deepen the kiss, using her tongue to trace the outline of sharp fangs, pressing her body along the length of hers, wholly surrendered.
Enid let out a rumbling sound, and the vibration made the hairs on the back of Wednesday’s neck stand up. A wave of heat overcame her, setting her stomach alight with skittering creatures.
“Enid…” Wednesday pulled away, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of emotion coursing through her. Their foreheads knocked together as they shared the same air.
“It’s okay,” Enid said, taking a steadying breath. “We should probably slow down anyway, I know it’s a lot.”
Wednesday’s heart swelled with affection. She couldn’t help the way her frame deflated against Enid, her cheek landing on the werewolf’s shoulder and her arms wrapping loosely around her waist.
Enid let out a soft laugh before she was returning the embrace, leaning her own cheek against Wednesday’s head.
“Who knew you could be so soft?” she murmured, her smile evident in her voice. Wednesday almost groaned, her blush coming back in full. She only buried her face further into Enid’s coat.
The wolf laughed again, content to hold the smaller girl as tightly as possible.
After a few moments, Wednesday pulled back. She blinked up at Enid, hesitating only a second before closing the small gap between them and pressing several soft, slow kisses to her mouth.
“I want to court you,” Wednesday said, meeting her eyes only briefly before she was unable to resist kissing her again. Her hands cupped Enid’s face as she got lost in the kiss, the chasteness of it gradually bleeding away into something more amorous. “I want you to be mine,” she whispered between another longer, increasingly passionate kiss.
Enid hummed, her hands coming to land on top of Wednesday’s as she deepened the kiss.
“Wens,” Enid breathed when they finally separated again. Her eyes were wide with unfettered joy—it made Wednesday’s stomach turn. “I want that, too.”
“You want to be mine?” Wednesday asked, her heart pounding in her throat as she searched Enid’s face.
Enid bit her lip against a smile and nodded. “Yeah.”
Wednesday’s world tilted.
“Then you are. And I am yours.”
Enid let out a laugh so carefree and light Wednesday couldn’t fight the smile taking over her face. The werewolf’s eyes lit up even more at the phenomenon, and she impulsively pressed her thumbs into the seer’s dimples, her own smile growing brighter than the sun.
“Oh, Wednesday,” she sighed, and the smaller girl felt like she would level an entire civilization just to hear her name spoken in such a way again. “Does this mean we’re girlfriends?”
“If that is what you want, mi sol,” Wednesday said, the term of endearment slipping out with abandon. She couldn’t find it in herself to regret it, not with how Enid’s eyes glittered with affection.
“Your sun?” she whispered, her hands falling to Wednesday’s collar and tugging her gently forward.
“Mine,” Wednesday mumbled against her lips.