Chapter Text
Imagine this.
The first night Enid spends on the top floor of her dorm in the first year of being here, she is alone.
Night time is dark. It’s freaky, and the wood creaks. She thinks she even hears whispers. To make things worse, it rains like the sky has never seen the sun in the summer which she wasn’t even aware was possible in Vermont.
It’s hard not to imagine the ghosts that must live in the place, or like, moving stuff around. Enid only remembers hiding under the covers for the entire first year because the sounds never stop. It makes her think of the horrors, the hauntings, everything bad in the world, and god, she hates scary movies. She hates to think of being the main character of one. They don’t survive in the ones she’s seen.
She lives her whole first year like this because she’s always the odd one out.
But then she also finds something tiny carved in the furthest corner of her side of the room, like a secret little thing that no one is supposed to know.
An “L + M” with jagged little hearts next to the letters that fade away in the dark. She doesn't know what kind of love it is but it reminds her that things can’t be all bad if love was found here.
Because Enid has always been told that she has too much love in her heart.
She was told this was a good thing. That love for the pack was good. Loyalty to the pack was faith. To be without it was to be lost. Enid wasn’t sure if they meant only the pack, but she knew her love was meant for more than that.
Enid has extremely fond memories of love. Like when her pet goldfish swam in circles when she gave it little pebbles of food. Like when her best friend at 9 years old held her hand. Like when her brothers would beat up the boy making fun of her in the neighborhood. Or when her mother had cradled her tightly after her brothers told her about the boogeyman in her closet. Or when her father had lifted her on his shoulders to give her the highest vantage to throw unpopped kernels at them during a movie.
Love was the embodiment of all things good, and all things positive. Love for a friend, love for a family, love for a pet, love for an object that simply has no thoughts but has everything to do with feeling.
Enid is accustomed to love. She has a home in it.
From then on, she sleeps knowing that love can still be found in bad places.
–
That night after they made up from their first fight, Wednesday had once told Enid that she could not love like normal people did, if she could love at all. Enid did not know what that meant. She was too afraid to ask.
Truth be told, she still is.
So she made a vow that night.
Wednesday was a stranger to the world, but she would be a welcome visitor in Enid’s. This time, always.
Right from the day they met, it was touch and go. It was like the girl was left here to fend for herself, to be imprisoned and laid down in a place that looked at her like she was the same yet different.
Enid knows how that feels as the outlier of her kind. To be estranged in a world they were raised in, to be “normal” but not “normal enough.” Life has never been kind to people like them and Enid has made a secret pact with herself to love the ones that can’t get it anywhere else.
So she put a lot of care into her friendship with Wednesday, giving just enough so that the girl would know what love was like, but would not be chased away. What Wednesday was willing to allow was what Enid was willing to give.
At some point, her efforts were found. Somewhere in their sophomore year after that incident, the girl had softened and opened up in the way she could.
Wednesday was still a caustic thing. She still hated to socialize or talk to others and liked to be by her lonesome a majority of the time. She still gave Xavier hell for being around, still gave Bianca a run for her money, and threatened Yoko and quite literally anyone else (minus Eugene) her knife at the first questioning glance. She suspects that aggression was just her love language.
But Wednesday made one exception.
When Enid delivers her a cupcake for her birthday, Wednesday eats it even though her nose crinkle at the sweet taste. When Enid plays her music in the room just soft enough, the other girl still subtly taps her fingers to the bass. When Wednesday brings out her cello to the top balcony, she brings out two chairs for Enid to be her audience. When Enid has trouble, Wednesday is the first one to stand next to her.
Wednesday made it clear that she would tolerate Enid and only Enid.
Enid feels all too grateful to be so special.
–
Tonight is the second anniversary of that incident .
Laying atop the darker girl’s bed, they remain in the silence together with their legs falling off the wide end.
Most times, Enid would have something to say or gossip about and Wednesday lays there listening. It’s one of Enid’s favorite pastimes. Because though the quiet is dead when it comes, it isn’t lonely.
Tonight, Enid truly has nothing to say. She just wants to exist against the trauma that builds inside of her and she appreciates that Wednesday doesn’t bring it up.
She closes her eyes and breathes in the air, reminding herself that it’s okay to sometimes just exist. Her turning was tougher than most. The fallout that almost happened after put more into her body than she was ready to take. She hardly has had time to breathe.
She doesn’t know she’s shaking until she feels fingers creep closer to hers. They tickle as they lay atop of hers, digit matching by digit. She feels the chill from Wednesday’s naturally cold fingertips as heat emits from hers, equalizing the space in the middle.
Grateful, Enid feels the peace from just laying there with Wednesday attempting to ease her thoughts with touch despite her reservations to it. She recognizes it as tranquility, as security.
With Wednesday, it’s just that.
Eventually, Enid tires of the frozen time. So she plays with her fingers, lifting and prodding them under Wednesday’s until the other girl gets tired of it and pulls away.
But she doesn’t.
Instead, Wednesday scoffs. Slowly, her fingers fall in between the gaps; their hands tighten. There’s a pause between them but a feeling cements.
Enid smiles looking at the ceiling, just slightly blurry.
They lose track of time.
Silently, the night ends.
They never talk about it but the feeling lasts and lasts and lasts.
–
The day after their graduation is bittersweet when the elation diminished.
They have until the end of the week before they’re all required to leave but their room is already bare.
All the little things that they’ve added along the years are empty except for its scars. Like the time she accidentally spilled glitter all over the floor or the time when Wednesday threw her dagger collection at the ceiling and waited for them to fall because she was bored.
Enid’s fairy lights no longer hang on with its worn out tape, her stuffed animals find a temporary home in her chest of desirables. Even their circular window filters morning light, bare without the rainbow colors.
Wednesday’s cleanliness usually means there’s not a lot of clutter to clear out and always makes it look bare, but now it looks like no one has ever lived on her side at all. The only thing left as proof of any living thing ever lived here are her cello that sits in its case and the music stand.
Enid brushes her hand on the wooden foundation on her side, as if to evoke a psychic memory from just a touch like Wednesday can.
Nothing as obtrusive comes to her but she doesn’t hear her smaller stormy friend come up from behind.
“Enid? What are you doing?”
Enid turns quickly at the call, finding Wednesday at the door of their almost-no-longer-theirs dorm. Enid doesn’t really like how that sounds but distracts herself by focusing on the other girl who moves in toward her instrument.
Wednesday’s bangs are unkempt from the weather outside, with little dews of rain clinging to them. Enid can’t help but feel bothered by how disheveled the other girl looks.
“Nothing,” Enid answers.
“I came up to tell you the nincompoops are here.”
Enid shakes her head fondly at the designated nickname Wednesday gave her family, but thanks her nonetheless knowing how they are. She steps closer to the other girl, who watches her, and meets her in the middle. “Are you gonna miss it?”
“Your family? Enid, I can hardly stand your friends.”
“No, silly, I mean this. And it’s our friends. For three years, this was home.” Enid reasons. “I think I’ll even miss the creaking and randomly moving objects.”
Wednesday lets herself scan the surroundings, as if piercing a thought into every crevice of the space as she heaves her cello case under her hand by its handle. Her eyes falter in the space where the tape used to be until she finishes the full turn. Her eyes land on Enid and they allow a few seconds to pass. “I suppose there are worse things to miss.”
“‘You suppose.’ I’m gonna take that as a ‘yes,’” Enid says.
“Isn’t that what I said?”
Enid rolls her eyes playfully at the other girl and fixes her sleeve to soak a bit of rainwater and fixes Wednesday’s bangs. When she’s satisfied, she smiles and tilts her head, sliding a hand down her braid.
Wednesday doesn’t say anything but stares while they linger. A warm and hot feeling that screams at her that this is the last spreads.
Gently, Enid smiles bitterly. “Look, I’ll be down in a moment. I just want a little more time. I’ll find you before you leave?”
Wednesday nods solemnly and exits, leaving Enid in her nostalgia again.
Her eyes drop on a little corner, remembering the hidden landmark. Enid gets close to the beam it hides behind and goes down on her stomach, tracing the etching there with fondness for getting her through her first year.
She must look stupid to be on the bare floor with nothing to look for, but for a moment, Enid contemplates, wondering what kind of love it is again and if it’s survived. She supposes it doesn’t matter because even if the feeling doesn’t last, their legacy will. She supposes that’s why it was there.
A claw pops out of her finger.
When she leaves, one landmark becomes two.