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It was a lovely Friday afternoon. Enid and Yoko were sprawled across a bench in the quad, both waiting for Divina and Bianca to finish their last class. The sun was doing that golden-hour thing that made even Nevermore's Gothic architecture look almost warm. It was nice, and Enid was enjoying the warmth, like an overgrown puppy.
Wednesday, of course, was nowhere to be seen, and Enid knew better than to ask...
She’d rather listen to Yoko spilling tea about a disaster date she had been on. "So then she pulls out this spirit board," Yoko was saying, gesturing dramatically with her hands, "like that's a normal second date activity. And I'm sitting there like, 'Chris, I'm literally a vampire, you think I'm scared of a little ghost action?'"
Enid snorted. "Did it work?"
"We contacted someone named Gerald who kept trying to sell us essential oils." Yoko's expression was deadpan. "Very scary and very romantic."
"I don't know," Enid teased, sitting up. "Nothing says 'I want a third date' like a multi-level marketing scheme from beyond the grave." She giggled.
Yoko flipped her off halfheartedly, sitting up as well. "Okay, Miss, 'My roommate is dark and creepy, and I think it's cute.' At least my disaster dates are normal disasters."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Enid questioned, tilting her head.
Yoko chuckled, "It means you live with a girl who's never blinked in her life and you call it 'quirky.'"
Enid opened her mouth to protest, but Yoko was already moving on. "Anyway, Divina thinks we should do a group thing this weekend. Movie night? Your room, since Wednesday's decor is the only thing scarier than Gerald the ghost oil guy."
Enid rolled her eyes, "She doesn't even have decor. She has a typewriter and a noose collection."
"See? Terrifying." Yoko teased.
"They're decorative nooses." Enid snickered.
Yoko stared at her.
Enid shrugged, grinning. "Okay, maybe not just decorative. But she's got taste!"
"Sure. Taste." Yoko took a long sip out of her forgotten coffee cup. "Speaking of taste, how’s the rooming situation, really? I keep waiting for you to snap and move into my coffin...again…"
"It's fine! It's great, actually." Enid's voice went softer without her meaning it to. "She's...I don't know. She's not what everyone thinks."
Yoko raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I mean, yeah, she's intense. And the nooses are a lot. But she's also…" Enid laughed, bright and sudden, remembering. "Okay, so last week we were watching that terrible chef show, right? The one with the slates?"
"The one everyone hates?" Yoko asked, curious.
"That one. And this contestant tries to plate soup on a slate, like soup, Yoko, and it just…" She demonstrated with her hands, soup spilling everywhere. "And Wednesday…" She broke off, eyes going distant and fond.
And then, mid-story, it slipped out.
"She laughed, and her dimples showed, and I..." She stopped herself too late, cheeks already flushing sunrise-pink. “I mean. Um.”
Yoko’s fangs glinted in the light. “Wait. Hold up. Addams has dimples?” Her voice cracked on the word as if she’d just been told the moon was made of glitter. “How did that even happen?”
Enid tucked a strand of pink-streaked hair behind her ear, suddenly sheepish. “Yes? Like I said, she laughed so… She’s always had them. Haven’t you noticed?”
Yoko stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “She never laughs.”
“She does!” Enid protested, louder than she meant to. A few werewolves at the next table flicked their ears in annoyance. “All the time.”
Yoko snorted, “I’ve never seen her smile. Not once.”
Enid’s expression softened into something fond and a little smug. “That’s because you’re not looking hard enough.”
Yoko smirked, leaning onto the table. “Or maybe she just doesn’t do it around me.” She wiggled her eyebrows in a teasing way, but then she choked on her coffee when she saw something behind Enid… It cast a shadow across the table.
“Enid.” Wednesday’s voice was low, flat, lethal in its calm. “A word.”
Enid’s whole face lit up before she could stop it. “Right now?”
“Now.” She repeated, turning abruptly and walking away.
“Right! Coming, roomie!” She scrambled up so fast the bench squeaked in protest.
They didn’t speak again until Wednesday had steered them into an empty classroom on the second floor. She opened it, standing aside to let Enid in and then closing the door shut behind her. Dust motes drifted lazily in the stripe of afternoon light cutting across the old desks.
Enid spun on her heel, already grinning. “What’s up, buttercup?”
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “You informed the bloodsucker that I possess a birth defect in my zygomaticus major muscles?”
Enid blinked once, then she snorted. “Really, Wends? I didn’t inform her. It just…came up.”
“In what context does my facial deformity ‘come up’?” Wednesday rebutted.
“They’re not a deformity.” Enid’s voice dropped, suddenly earnest. “They’re dimples. Cute little parenthesis. You have them. Accept it.”
Wednesday stared at her, unblinking.
Enid shifted her weight, her smile turning shy. “I was telling her about the time you laughed.”
Wednesday crossed her arms over her chest, “I do not laugh often.”
“I know.” Enid’s gaze flicked down, then up again, softer now. “That’s why I remember.”
Wednesday took one measured step forward. The air between them seemed to thin.
“You have been…” She let the sentence hang, testing its weight. “…cataloguing my expressions?”
Enid lifted one shoulder in a small, casual shrug. Her voice came out quieter than usual. “I notice things.”
Wednesday studied her for a moment, long enough that Enid’s heartbeat felt embarrassingly loud in her own ears.
At last Wednesday spoke again, each word clipped and careful. “You will refrain from announcing my anatomical peculiarities to the general population.”
Enid nodded quickly. “Okay, but…Can I still know about them?” Her lashes fluttered, hopeful. “Just me?”
Wednesday’s mouth pressed into a thin line. For a second, it looked like she might actually walk out without answering, but instead she rolled her eyes and replied, “That is…unavoidable.”
She turned toward the door.
Enid’s smile broke wide and bright behind her, unstoppable, like sunlight finally finding a crack in blackout curtains.
Wednesday paused with her hand on the knob. She didn’t look back, but the corner of her mouth twitched, just once, fleeting, deep enough to carve the smallest crescent into her cheek.
And Enid saw it, of course, she did. She always did.
Wednesday stepped into the hall, stoic face back, head held high, and shoulders straight.
Enid came behind her, skipping out of the room with a wide smile plastered on her face. Satisfied and happy to be Wednesday’s secret keeper…