Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Enid paces back and forth, each step more purposeful than the next as her bright shoes strike the hardwood beneath her. She’s upset. Angry. Furious.

Wednesday just stares at her.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor, Enid,” she eventually says, monotone as ever.

Enid stops in her tracks, looking up to meet unreadable brown eyes. Her girlfriend is just standing there—standing there like nothing is wrong with anything that has just transpired. Wednesday’s still got smudges of dirt on her face, and a rip in one sleeve of her shirt. Her bangs are askew, there’s a wrap on her left hand from the infirmary, and the elastic band holding one raven-black braid in place is just a minor disturbance away from completely giving out.

For nearly dying again today, maybe Enid is actually surprised that she doesn’t look even more worse for wear.

The situation could have gone far differently than it turned out to be, which is Enid’s reminder that, despite it all, they’re fortunate. Wednesday is here. Wednesday is safe, and for that, Enid is grateful.

But that fact of the matter still doesn’t change how upset Enid is about the whole ordeal happening in the first place. Wednesday’s rash decisions practically put Enid through hell today, and she feels more battered and beat up on the inside than the one who literally spent the better part of the past night and today on an investigation gone sideways.

It’s enough frustration for Enid to finally exclaim, “Well, what else do you expect from me, Wednesday? I can’t just keep going around in circles with you like this!”

Enid really does feel like she’s reaching her breaking point.

Prior words had been exchanged before everything escalated to here, and Enid knows herself well. If they carry on the way they are, she’ll say something that she truly ends up regretting, and she can’t do that. Because underneath all of the pain that she feels right now, she absolutely does still love Wednesday—so deeply that it hurts sometimes.

No one ever said it would be easy dating someone so reckless. Someone who so continually throws herself into the path of danger, and jumps at the chance to put her own life on the line.

It’s overwhelming, like it is right now. Too much.

Too fucking much.

Enid throws her empty red duffel bag onto her bed and begins to toss items in blindly. The Ophelia Hall dorm room is so silent, Enid swears she can hear the rustle of the wind in the trees outside, even with the window completely closed.

“You’re going, aren’t you.”

Wednesday says it like a statement. It’s not even a question, and yet there is no move to make Enid stay. She shows no sign of regret. Not even one ounce of emotion. Enid knows that Wednesday is stubborn to the bone, but this is leaving her truly floored.

“Somewhere else for the night. Yes, I am,” Enid snaps, her response punctuated by the sound of the zipper closing on her bag. She can’t keep the bitter tone out of her voice. “I guess your detective skills really are as sharp as you say they are.”

“I hardly see any reason that one should doubt the quality of my skills in the first place,” Wednesday argues. “I am not inept.”

“Unbelievable.” Enid shakes her head.

And of course—of course—Wednesday has already figured out where Enid is planning to stay before she even tells her—

“Give Yoko my regards.”

What hurts is that she just doesn’t seem to care.

“Fine.” Enid grits her teeth, blinking back the tears. “At least you’ll know where to find me.”

She swings her bag over her shoulder and brushes past Wednesday, who doesn’t even turn around as Enid reaches for the door’s handle.

It’s just like the horrible fight they’d had last semester all over again. Enid pulls the door open without even looking back herself, steps through, and winces as it shuts behind her with a soft, unopposed click.

Of everything that has happened today, that uninterrupted sound is what nearly cracks her for good, and Enid almost breaks down right then and there. Almost.

Her bag feels heavy even though it’s light, having been packed in an unfocused haste. Enid doesn’t even know if she’s remembered her phone charger. But it feels like she’s glued to the spot by a ton of cement bricks. She wants to allow them to let gravity take hold. Sink down to the hallway floor and just let herself let it out, because there is so much weighing on her mind.

There’s the fact that Wednesday has not acknowledged in the slightest how upset Enid is, for one, and the fact that Wednesday had specifically told Enid that something like this wouldn’t happen, for another. And to make matters worse, Enid is still aching as if she were actually living in every possible, terrible outcome that her worry-riddled brain had conjured up the second she had realized that her girlfriend was actually missing this morning.

Distressing barely even begins to scratch the surface of describing it all, which is why Enid needs space right now.

Space from this room.

Space from her.

Wednesday Friday Addams.

She is the single most incredible and confusing person to ever grace Enid’s life, and Enid wouldn’t change their relationship for the world—wouldn’t change Wednesday even if she could. She just wishes that Wednesday would account more for safety in her grand schemes. She wishes that her girlfriend’s methods would be more failsafe, so that she’ll always return unharmed.

Enid just wants to put layers and layers of bubble wrap around her. She wants to shield Wednesday from all of the inevitable danger she is sure to face. It’s ridiculous, Enid knows.

But her heart beats for Wednesday, and it falls to the ground at the very thought of any harm coming to her.

Enid’s wolf is restless, too. It paces, paces, paces when it’s tucked away inside, desperate to be able to shift to protect Wednesday at even the slightest hint of danger. It’s all bottled up within her, and Enid just can’t take it anymore, and so right now…

Right now Enid has to remove herself from confrontation, before the situation gets drastically out of control.

So she trudges on.

Yoko has replied to a text that Enid has sent on a whim. She doesn’t even ask for the school’s permission this time. Yoko’s roommate is away for the week, so it’s not like Enid will be encroaching on anyone’s space.

Well, except for Yoko’s, of course, but being one of Enid’s oldest friends at Nevermore, she’s quite used to Enid coming to her with her troubles. They both lean on each other when times get tough. Yoko is a fantastic listener, and she has the door open before Enid even makes it all the way to the end of her friend’s dorm hallway.

“Come here, you,” Yoko says, pulling Enid into a one-armed hug. “It was that bad, huh?”

Enid nods over Yoko’s shoulder, knowing she can feel it even if Enid says nothing.

They stay like that for a few moments, until Enid steps away to toss her bag aside. Yoko shuts the door, and Enid soundlessly makes her way over to the empty bed on the right side of the room. She tucks her knees to her chest, hugs her legs, and lets her chin rest on top of her pink leggings.

A sight painted in doom and gloom, Enid knows she must look utterly defeated, but Yoko has already done this with her before, and so she knows just what to expect. She strides back over to her desk, where it seems as though a school assignment has been left abandoned with a blue pen on top of paper. It’s possibly Algebra—they both share that subject. Having not gone to classes today, too worried about Wednesday’s whereabouts and well-being to focus, Enid realizes that she’s going to have quite a lot of catching up to do on top of everything else.

“Do you need space to think, or time to talk?” Yoko asks.

Enid considers the question.

“Space to think,” she answers.

Yoko gives a nod. She returns to her assignment, picking up the pen and leaving Enid to do just that.

But first…

Enid cries, and it’s long overdue.

Yoko continues to focus her attention on her work, likely to give Enid a bit of privacy, but Enid can tell even through her blurred vision that her friend isn’t making any progress. She never likes being an intrusion. Enid needs an outlet for her emotions, though, and Yoko respects that, and so, Enid lets the tears fall.

In all fairness, it ends up being for only a short time—especially in comparison to after her fight with Wednesday last semester, when Enid had practically been sobbing to Yoko inconsolably. It’s just the necessary first step in getting through this.

And then, after she’s let it all out, Enid can finally think (and Yoko actually is able to get some work done).

Enid’s thought process is more of a recount of everything that’s happened.

It serves as a means of sorting the events in her mind leading up to the fight, which had all gone a bit like this—

Two weeks ago, authorities received word that Tyler Galpin escaped his isolated confinement, claiming that it was unclear on if his breakout had been assisted or not.

And Wednesday did not take the information well.

The change in her girlfriend was subtle, but Enid most certainly noticed it. Wednesday grew a little more distant, claiming things like she would track him down, or go on some kind of stakeout, or would do to him what she should have done before the authorities had ever gotten to him in the first place.

Enid initially let it be, thinking Wednesday just had some emotions of her own to sort through. After all, Tyler was still practically Wednesday’s ex, as much as Enid hated to admit it. Although they hadn’t actually officially dated, it would only be rational to expect Wednesday to be upset in more ways than one (even if she didn’t really show it in a typical way), seeing as Tyler had not only tried to kill her, but betrayed her in one of the worst ways imaginable. Enid therefore decided that the best course of action would be to not overstep, and to let Wednesday figure things out on her own.

One week passed.

That was when Eugene confided to Enid that Wednesday had been spending a lot of extra time in the beekeeping shed, with the very same evidence board that she had used during her original plan to track the Hyde before they had known the monster’s identity to be Tyler. Enid became just a bit more concerned after that.

She spent hours deliberating whether or not she should bring up her worries to her girlfriend, ultimately deciding that it would be in both of their best interests to do so. She’d been nervous about it, sure. And she hated to make Eugene look guilty for even telling Enid about Wednesday’s planning in the first place, but Enid knew Wednesday could never actually stay mad at him for long.

So, Enid chose one quiet night after Wednesday’s usual writing hour to admit what she knew. And to do everything she could, if Wednesday absolutely insisted on continuing to keep an eye on this case, to at least try to convince her to approach it all cautiously.

“Just…promise me you won’t do something stupid, Wends?”

Wednesday had, surprisingly, sat through what Enid had to say with minimal protest up to that point. But the request earned Enid a light scowl.

“Please? Promise me you won’t.”

A beat.

A sharp intake of breath.

“Fine,” Wednesday conceded. “I will not do something stupid.”

She then turned abruptly back around in her desk chair, signaling that it was all she was willing to give on the matter—but Enid was actually surprised that it had even been so simple.

In hindsight, maybe it had been too simple, but in that moment, Enid was just so relieved to hear Wednesday’s agreement that she didn’t even think to doubt any of it. Her words had comforted Enid. They truly had.

Until the following Tuesday—today—when Wednesday wasn’t in their room in the morning.

The initial jolt of panic was the worst.

Finding Wednesday’s empty bed and missing backpack, without even a trace of a hint as to where she would have wandered off to, was a shock like no other. There was no note, no conversation the night before, nothing.

Enid tried to rationalize, first. Maybe Wednesday had left early for breakfast, or gone to the Nightshade library, or returned to the beekeeping shed to piece together more clues. Instead of giving in fully the looming worry, Enid instead searched those places on her own (Thing hadn’t been anywhere in sight, either), and she had already missed her first class of the day by the time she had done a thorough check of each location.

That was when Enid’s panic grew significantly.

Should she wait? Should she tell someone?

Considering that she didn’t truly know what had happened, the only decision she was certain of in that moment was that there was absolutely no way she would be attending classes until her girlfriend came back.

So her legs took her on autopilot back to the dorm room, where she was surprised to find Thing, looking both incredibly guilty and worried—as well as a hand could possibly visibly express emotion, anyway—as he tapped tentatively on Wednesday’s desk.

“Where is she, Thing!” Enid cried.

As it would turn out, Wednesday had done exactly the opposite of anything that Enid would deem smart, going off into the outskirts of Jericho, alone except for Thing, to follow a lead. In the middle of the night, no less. Enid silently cursed her werewolf senses for not picking up on her girlfriend just up and leaving while she had slept, but she also supposed that this was Wednesday they were talking about, and if she wanted to leave unnoticed, the girl most certainly knew how.

Wednesday hadn’t taken her phone (having practically refused to use it or even charge it all semester after the resolve of the situation with the stalker—which Enid had also heard about after the fact), and she had sworn Thing to secrecy prior to their departure, thinking they would be back before Enid had even woken up. Step one of absolutely no communication.

According to Thing, all had gone well at first, and Wednesday had actually found something helpful to the case. It had been on the way back that everything had gone unexpectedly wrong. They’d gotten ambushed by a rogue group of gorgons that had turned out to be under the influence of sirens, all tracking the Hyde’s whereabouts as well. It seemed as though the recently escaped monster was the target of quiet a few independent investigations, not all of which had been organized with justifiable intentions. Thing had gotten separated from Wednesday in the process, and he had rushed right back to Nevermore to tell Enid what had happened.

The rest of the day then became a dizzying haze for Enid, who was terrified at the thought of her girlfriend not returning.

There was the initial decision to notify the principal, the frustration at the information that it would take a few hours to properly conduct a search, the panic that had started to grip even more tightly, and the waiting.

The not knowing.

It nearly killed Enid—so much so that she almost did something entirely irrational by going after Wednesday on her own. But she knew, deep down, that anything happening to her would further complicate the situation. So, Yoko sat with her after her classes. Thing tried to help take her mind off the mater by suggesting they go on a walk, to quiet some of the thoughts in her head and get some fresh air.

It didn’t actually clear her mind, but she trudged on around the school grounds anyway with Thing on her shoulder. The late afternoon was bright and sunny—Wednesday’s least favorite.

What if she doesn’t come back?

Enid stood at the Nevermore gates with her deepest fear continuing to run through her mind, closing her eyes as the world had seemed to blur. This had been the place where Wednesday had come back to her after the battle with Crackstone; what Enid wouldn’t have given to ensure the same would happen again.

Breathe, Enid.

Just breathe.

She stood there rooted in place. Rooted in silence. Rooted in uncertainty. Rooted in fear.

And then Thing tapped on her shoulder.

And Enid opened her eyes.

And there, emerging from the hues of the slowly setting sun, was Wednesday—

Somehow having found her way back before any of those searching could locate her. Somehow still walking alright. Somehow still with her backpack, and with relatively minimal injuries, and with no protest to Enid throwing her arms around her with enough force to nearly tackle her to the ground.

“I’m fine, Enid. I’m fine.”

They were the most relieving words Enid had heard all day.

Then there was the notifying of the principal (again), the sitting in the infirmary while Wednesday’s hand was wrapped (to complaints about how unnecessary all of the medical attention was), the standing outside of the principal’s office while Wednesday was, no doubt, spoken to about how her actions violated the school’s code of conduct (was there ever a day where Wednesday’s actions actually aligned with those rules?), and the climbing up the stairs to their dorm room in Ophelia Hall as night fell.

There was the relief. There was the initial conversation, and Enid tried—tried so desperately to not let any of her frustration about it out. But the anxiety, and the panic, and the worry were weighing on her chest, poised on the tip of her tongue, threatening to escape. She just wasn’t able to hold it back.

And so there was the anger.

“I can’t believe how reckless you were.”

“I may have encountered some trouble, Enid, but I can assure you that it was well after I had followed every step of an intricately laid out plan. No one expects to be ambushed. And besides, it was only a few scrapes.”

“Only? Wednesday, a sprain is not just a few scrapes. You’re lucky that you even escaped!”

“Luck had nothing to do with it. I used logic, skill, and strength. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you, though? Do you have any idea how what you decide to do affects other people? And honestly, what the hell happened to not doing anything stupid?”

“It wasn’t something stupid. It was smart. It was calculated. I had a plan, and a lead, and I was following both.”

“You and I have very different ideas of what the word smart means, Wednesday.”

Everything escalated from there.

Thing ran off.

They hadn’t fought like this in a long time.

Enid was yelling, and Wednesday kept on answering with these snippy, infuriating remarks, and that was when Enid realized that, maybe, when they had originally discussed Wednesday’s intentions on the matter of following this new case two weeks ago, Enid should have said something more straightforward, like, “Promise me you won’t do something unsafe.”

Maybe she should have spelled it out for her, clear as day.

Maybe it really had been a detrimental oversight on Enid’s part, since apparently, her girlfriend had been too dense to see what Enid had truly meant. Surely, it was either that, or the fact that Wednesday simply couldn’t find it within herself to care—

Which is the reason, in all of its entirety, that Enid is currently in this miserable predicament, sitting on a vacant bed in Yoko’s room and trying to sort through her onslaught of emotions and thoughts.

“I’m sick of empty promises,” Enid eventually says, as she finally unclenches her arms from around her legs. She stretches them out, the muscles complaining from being so cramped, and she lays down, staring up at the ceiling.

“I see we’ve entered the talking through it stage,” Yoko says. “This is good.”

“It’s just that, half of the time, when someone promises me something, they never follow through,” Enid continues.

Then she’s quiet again as she thinks of the instances that stand out most.

Her father, promising he'll talk to her mother about being kinder to Enid—but it never happens.

Her brothers, promising they won’t leave her behind—when that’s all they ever do.

The pack leaders, telling her as she had grown up that she would be able to shift in no time—when it had already been years behind the others before she actually could.

Even Ajax, last semester, saying he would show up—but leaving her all alone. Enid is obviously over any feelings she’d ever had for him now, and they’re actually in a good place. They’re friends. But the memory still stings, even if it’s in the past.

And then there is of course the present.

Her girlfriend.

Wednesday Addams.

Her empty promise is what hurts the most, saying that she won’t do anything reckless—and then running off to track down the trail of an escaped monster who had nearly killed them both last semester, and leaving Enid to find out from Thing.

“So, obviously, what she did today was pretty shitty, but just playing devil’s advocate here,” Yoko says, “there have been times when Wednesday has followed through on the things she’s said to you, right?”

Enid reflects on this as well, and finds that she can think of quite a few times, actually.

Like when they first started dating three weeks into the new semester, and Wednesday agreed to watch a movie with Enid once a week (even the ridiculously cheesy ones)—

“I just thought that it might be something different we could do together? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Wends, I’d gladly go with you to search Uriah’s Heap for seance supplies again, or like, hang out in the library reading those ancient lore stories you like so much, but…I don’t know…I just thought maybe it could be a new thing we could try?”

Wednesday considered Enid’s words for a moment.

“I suppose that when you put it that way, it seems I’ve been a bit remiss in seeing that our activities included something you’d enjoy as well. If you’d like to watch a movie once a week, then that is what we will do.”

She didn’t even complain when the first one Enid selected was a romcom, which was how Enid then realized that her girlfriend greatly enjoyed picking apart every storyline by explaining how a jump scare would make each one better. Wednesday’s reimagining of Enid’s favorite movies quickly became their very own version of a weekly date.

And that’s not the only memory that stands out.

Enid remembers that there was also that one time Wednesday promised to let Enid paint her nails—

“But it will be black, Enid. If you try to put any ounce of color on my nails, I will be hiding your entire collection in a place you will never be able to find, starting with pink.”

Clearly able to distinguish a mock threat from a true one at that point, Enid laughed, and Wednesday smirked, and they spent the better part of the evening sitting on Enid’s bed while the nail polish dried.

Then it got later. Wednesday started to seem tired, and she did something completely unexpected by curling up on the bed next to Enid, who had never before seen her girlfriend look so entirely content.

“You could sleep here, you know. For the night. If you wanted.”

Wednesday gave her a look.

“But not like—not like sleep with me that way, or anything! I don’t mean it like that! Just like…you can stay here. Next to me. That’s all.”

A soft smile.

“I know what you mean.”

Right then and there, Enid told herself that it would be an evening she would never forget—and it still is, to this very day.

Plus, Enid figures that she can’t discount the time that Wednesday said she would wear the second snood Enid had knitted her—this time with a black and gold pattern. She may have worn it only in the dorm room, but she had worn it all the same.

And so…

In each of those cases, Wednesday had followed through.

Every single time.

“I mean, yeah,” Enid starts, turning back to Yoko. “I guess that’s true.”

“So I’m not going to say that those moments erase what happened today, because they don’t. But relationships are made up of the negative and the positive. They coexist,” Yoko says.

“Okay, but right now the negative just sucks a bit more than usual. I love Wednesday. But sometimes she just really, really drives me crazy.”

Yoko points the pen that is still in her hand in Enid’s general direction as she replies, “You do know that those words can be taken both negatively and positively, right?”

Enid glares. “Obviously right now I mean it negatively, Yoko. Seriously.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Yoko says, holding up her hands innocently. “Now isn’t the time for humor. Got it.”

Enid sighs, exasperated. “I guess it just all comes down to the fact that I don’t really want to be mad at her. Because I’m so thankful that she’s okay. And then I get mad at myself for getting mad at her. And for being here with you instead of being there with her. But I’m also mad at her for putting herself in danger in the first place, and also for not even telling me that she was going…and now I’m just…going in circles and not making any sense anymore, am I?”

“Honestly, you’re making perfect sense. Fights happen, Enid. It’s how you work through it that counts,” Yoko says. “You sort through your own thoughts, and then you communicate.”

“You sound like my therapist. She told me that about communication last week.”

“Maybe you should listen to her, then.”

Enid sighs again.

Maybe she should.

She should listen to her on both talking things out, and on not running away from her problems (because, yeah, that had come up on a few occasions as well). Enid hasn’t resorted to doing so in quite a while. But this…today…

It’s been a very long time since Enid has felt as scared as she had been this morning. And if she’s being entirely honest with herself? Not since last semester.

Not since she had seen Wednesday held in the grasp of the Hyde, and stood in the ear-splitting silence of the unknown for the very first time, when not a single student there that night had been able to tell her if the one person who mattered most to her in the world had returned or even survived.

“Where’s Wednesday?”

That’s why Enid lashed out tonight.

“Where’s Wednesday?”

That’s why the dread took hold hold when Wednesday wasn’t there in the morning, automatically making Enid believe the worst.

“Where’s Wednesday?”

That’s why Enid can’t let it go. And that’s on her, not Wednesday.

“Shit. Yoko, maybe this fight is all my fault. I spend all of this time worrying about her, and then when I try to tell her that I feel that way, I just go and make everything worse.”

“Your feelings are valid, too,” Yoko says. Devil’s advocate—she takes her job very seriously. “Both of you have a part in this. And so both of you are the only ones who can really fix this, right?”

Maybe it’s Yoko’s subtle hint to Enid that staying here for the night isn’t going to solve anything.

“You’re right,” Enid agrees.

“My family is known to have years of wisdom,” Yoko says, which is absolutely true. They really have been around for ages. “So, I usually am.”

Enid gives a small laugh, letting her friend have the win because she's finally feeling like she’s found some actual clarity on the matter. “You’re a life saver, you know that?”

Yoko flashes a smile. “Happy to help.”

Enid knows what she needs to do now as she gets to her feet.

“Let me know how it goes.”

“Yeah. Of course,” Enid replies. And then she spins on her heels, intent on starting her new mission. She has to get back to her own dorm, and she’ll have the entire walk back to fully refocus herself.

Enid crosses the room, reaches the door, and is about to turn the handle—

When there’s a knock from the other side.

It’s made up of three, even, solid beats, spaced out with only the most accurate of precision. Enid’s heart pounds in her chest all over again.

Wednesday.

She freezes in place at the sudden surprise she feels, nervousness beginning to swirl with all of the other emotions her fragile state has worked so hard to keep at bay.

This had not been part of the plan.

Wednesday coming after Enid had never been part of the plan, because Enid wouldn’t have even thought it to be possible. It hadn’t happened last semester, so why should Enid have thought it would be any different now?

Enid spins again, her expression saying everything her voice currently can’t as she looks to Yoko for reassurance. The vampire merely glances pointedly back at Enid from above her glasses. Then she waves her hand forward like she’s ushering Enid out of the room from a distance.

“Go on. Figure things out. You were ready to do it before, so you can definitely still do it now.”

Nodding, Enid scrapes up the rest of her courage as she turns back around.

She can do this.

She and Wednesday can do this, together.

Enid takes a breath, reaches out, and opens the door.

Chapter Text

When the door swings all the way open, there stands Wednesday.

She has her good hand raised, looking like she’s been about to knock again (no doubt thanks to the extra amount of time it has taken for Enid to actually answer), and with the way Wednesday just stays there like that for a beat, it almost seems as if she’s actually surprised that it’s Enid who is at the door. And not Yoko, telling her to leave.

She does, eventually, slowly lower her hand.

Enid notices that her braids are still a mess, and the dirt is still smudged on her face, and she hasn’t changed her clothes—which leads Enid to believe that Wednesday has likely done very little between when Enid had initially left, and now. Her brown eyes are a bit unreadable, still, but she does seem a touch uneasy. Like this isn’t something that she would normally do.

Because it’s not.

And yet, here she stands, against all of Enid’s expectations. If Wednesday’s presence here means that they might actually be on the same page as far as seeking out communication, then this is a very optimistic start.

Neither of them speak yet as Enid silently steps through the doorframe. Wednesday is standing fairly close, and she moves back a bit to make some more room. The only sound in the hallway is that of the faint click behind Enid.

There have been so many closed doors today.

Enid looks to her girlfriend, who has her lips pressed into a thin line and both arms at her sides—except that on the right, she’s doing this thing Enid’s never seen before where she’s clenching and unclenching her non-bandage hand. She looks stiff and uncomfortable, in a way that only Wednesday can, and that is when Enid truly knows. She knows that Wednesday has to feel at least something.

This is difficult for them both.

Just be honest with her.

The braver side of Enid encourages her to go on. They have to talk about this; there is no avoiding it if either of them want to move forward. Someone has to speak up first. Someone has to make the initial move.

Enid just isn’t expecting Wednesday to actually beat her to it.

“I have something that I would like to say.”

And so, that’s where the process begins.

Enid releases a breath she hasn’t even realized she’s been holding. Wednesday’s right hand stills. Even if it’s slight, they both begin to relax a bit.

“Okay,” Enid says, acknowledging her girlfriend’s words.

“I realize that I may have made a…mistake last night,” Wednesday admits. “I recognize that what I did, and what I said, hurt you.”

“It did, Wednesday,” Enid says. Because she has to be truthful. “And it still hurts.”

Brown eyes stray from the contact they’ve held with blue, looking to the ground instead. Vulnerability is always such a strange sight on Wednesday—but she’s trying, and that in of itself is everything to Enid. It doesn’t go unnoticed, and it certainly doesn’t go unappreciated. Maybe that’s something that Enid should actually tell her.

So she does.

“It means a lot to hear you say that, though.”

At Enid’s words, Wednesday does look up again. Her face has softened a bit, which draws Enid’s eye once more to the dark streaks of dirt that are present there. Even through all of her hurt, she still wants to reach out and wipe them away. She wants to brush them off, and reveal all of the freckles that she knows are hiding beneath, and wrap her girlfriend in her arms.

But they have important work to do, and that comes first.

“I hope this means that we might be able to come to some sort of reconciliation,” Wednesday says.

And Enid almost—almost—smiles at that. Wednesday and her expansive vocabulary have forever known no bounds.

“I’d like that, too,” Enid agrees.

And then it’s her own turn to say what is on her mind.

“It…may not have been the best decision on my end to walk out like I did before,” Enid admits. “Or to say what I said. I could have handled it better, but it really upset me that you not only left on your own last night, but didn’t even think it would be important to tell me that you were planning on going.”

“I had thought it would have been sufficient enough to have Thing with me,” Wednesday says.

“Until he wasn’t, Wednesday! Could you just, like, think for a minute about how fucking terrifying it is to wake up to your girlfriend having disappeared overnight, and then having to find out from someone else what had happened?” Enid’s voice cracks as she feels the sting of the tears return. “Why didn’t you just tell me where you were going?”

“If I had told you, would you have let me go?”

“No! Of course not!” Enid’s words come out more forcefully and hysterically than intended. Her heart pounds, and her vision blurs with unfallen tears, and her mind starts spinning again, and—

Dammit. No.

No.

Enid can’t screw this up for a second time. They’re talking—they’re actually talking—and Enid can’t let herself get so upset all over again. She closes her eyes. And she breathes. And she takes a moment to reset, letting the tension dissipate.

The silence, however, is enticing.

There’s no confrontation here, when she shuts it all out. An elusive kind of peace and quiet…

“Enid.”

She doesn’t yet trust herself to answer.

“Enid.”

The second time around, it’s still soft, but it’s purposeful. Wednesday isn’t giving up. She isn’t giving up on Enid.

She isn’t giving up on us.

“Yeah?” Enid finally opens her eyes again. She brings the heel of her hand up to wipe away a single stray tear.

“Tell me why you don’t want me following this case.”

The truth has never been harder to admit than it is right now. How this feels more raw and delicate than anything else Enid has ever said to Wednesday, she isn’t even sure. But she does it, because it matters.

“When you run directly into danger, it scares the shit out of me,” Enid says.

There. That’s not too difficult, right? One step at a time.

She takes another breath to steady herself, and continues on.

“When there are times when it seems like you might not even be coming back…I just…I spiral, okay? I start thinking about worst case scenarios. I start thinking ‘what if’ this and ‘what if’ that, and I know that my thoughts are something than only I can control, but…if I knew that you were at least trying to be a little safer, it would be easier on me. Because you mean everything to me, Wednesday. What’s really most important to me is that you’re okay. My worst fear is losing you.”

Enid feels as if all of the air has left her lungs by the time she’s done talking. She can’t meet Wednesday’s slightly widened eyes as the apparent extent of her girlfriend’s realization starts to sink in. It’s overwhelming in a brand new way—so much so, that Enid maybe even begins to understand why Wednesday has such an aversion to allowing herself to be vulnerable.

“And I cannot even fathom the thought of losing you.”

The statement is spoken with the most intensity that Enid thinks Wednesday’s has ever displayed. She brings her gaze back up to Wednesday’s, finding brown eyes that now mirror the depth of the words that still echo in the air.

“When I think of that monster,” Wednesday uses the term with nothing short of wrath laced with venom, “unchained and running rampant outside of Jericho, I can't possibly just sit here and do nothing, knowing that he could very well return. Because my first thought, Enid, is you. And what he did to you.”

Wednesday’s gaze shifts, then, from Enid’s eyes, to the scars that still remain on the left side of her face. Enid knows that the marks there have faded a bit since the beginning of the semester, but there is still a difference in the texture of how they feel, and they are still visible. They are a constant reminder not only of just how dangerous the Hyde can be, but of the recognition that so much had nearly been sacrificed the night she had gotten them.

“My only intent in everything that I have done has been to keep you safe.” Wednesday’s voice is softer now as her eyes return to Enid’s. “Although I do see, now, that it doesn’t excuse how I approached the situation. I should have told you that I was planning on going. In trying to protect you, I did hurt you. And I truly never meant to upset you like this. Because you mean everything to me, too.”

At those words, Enid starts to feel more reassured and heard than she has at any point these past two weeks.

“But, Enid,” Wednesday continues on again before Enid can even reply. “I'm still my own person. And just because I will agree to be safer within reason, it does not mean that you can just keep me inside a box.”

It’s Wednesday’s way of setting boundaries.

And yeah, maybe Enid does kind of feel entirely called out by the statement, because that's exactly the train of thought that had gotten her into this whole predicament in the first place. She hasn’t meant to be overbearing, but there is a line between advocating for safety, and overstepping, and Enid has to make sure she doesn’t cross it.

Safer within reason.

It might be a bit difficult to hear, but Enid does recognize it, and she knows that her girlfriend is right. Even if they are together, Wednesday needs to be allowed to make her own choices, just like she’s said. She is her own person—a strong one at that—and, according to the classification of her psychic abilities, she’s a Raven as well.

How unfair would it be of Enid, then, to stand here and insist that Wednesday can’t choose the direction in which she can fly?

“I…I know that,” Enid eventually replies, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, since it’s still a bit hard to admit.

Wednesday, however, seems to be able to sense how down the guilt is making Enid feel. And so, she also seems to want to change that, in her very own, very peculiar way.

“Besides, the only acceptable box to be kept in is one that is buried in the ground.”

One would think that her dark humor would be entirely contradictory to everything they’ve just been talking about, but it’s Wednesday, and Enid can most certainly tell the difference in the intention of her words.

It’s strange, but it works.

Enid gives the faintest, little laugh. “You know that’s, like, literally everything we’re trying to avoid here, right?”

“I do,” Wednesday tells her. And then, with more ease than Enid would have ever suspected, she continues, “Which is why I have also come to the conclusion that I owe you a proper apology, Enid. I am sorry for leaving last night without telling you. I am sorry for making you worry. And I am sorry for not having spoken about all of this with you sooner.”

“I’m sorry, too, Wends,” Enid says, meaning every word. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t be honest with me. I’m sorry I got so upset. I’m sorry I ran here instead of staying and talking it out, and I’m glad we’re doing that now…”

That’s where she trails off, though, because there is still just one more thing on her mind.

Honesty, Enid.

They’ve come too far to leave anything clouded in doubt.

“What is it?” Wednesday asks.

Enid actually finds it a bit relieving to know that Wednesday can actually tell that something is still bothering her. It’s the initial talk they’d had that is still slightly weighing on her—the one they’d had last week, when Wednesday had first started following the case.

The one that had ended in an empty promise.

“I’m not trying to stand in your way. And I hear you about making your own choices,” Enid starts. “But when you say you’ll try to be safer, how do I know you really mean it this time? Cause last week…last week you kind of promised me something similar, and…”

“And I didn’t follow through,” Wednesday fills in where Enid leaves off again. “That was also, admittedly, not one of my better moments. Promises are meant to be kept, and I fully intend to make that up to you.”

“Yeah?” Enid says, unable to help smiling at the sincerity.

“Yes,” Wednesday confirms. She’s quiet for a moment as she seems to consider her words, before saying, “And I suppose if we were to do it my way, I would suggest reinstating this promise by means of a supernatural ritual, perhaps—”

“Uh, maybe that wouldn’t be the best solution,” Enid interjects, knowing that with Wednesday, ideas like that could swerve very off the rails, very quickly.

“Which is why,” Wednesday continues, clearly already understanding all too well how Enid would feel on the matter, “I have another proposition.”

She then proceeds to take Enid completely by surprise, holding up her right hand with her pinky finger raised.

“I’ve seen you and Thing do this before. I personally find it to be a bit trite, but—”

“No way!” Enid exclaims, any lingering unease that she has been feeling replaced immediately with animated excitement. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting? A pinky promise? That’s literally one of the sweetest things you've ever done for me, Wednesday!”

Wednesday gives her a look. It’s mild impatience, mixed with a touch of amusement.

“I can't finish a single sentence here, can I?”

“Right. Okay,” Enid says, bringing her energy down a level and composing herself once more. “I’m listening.”

“As I had been attempting to explain,” Wednesday begins again, “I will partake in this ritual instead, even if it is nothing but a mere social construct that has no basis in anything even remotely related to a supernatural or spiritual vow, in order to show you that I do, in fact, promise to be more careful.”

Enid doesn’t think her girlfriend has ever spoken a string of words so endearing.

“Although I must say, I do appreciate the ruthless nature of the history of such a promise. It is my understanding that if I break it, you get to break my finger.”

And…

Yep, that’s Wednesday, alright.

So, very, Wednesday.

“No one is breaking anyone’s finger,” Enid quickly replies, entirely serious on the matter, even if Wednesday does just have that mischievous glint in her eye again.

It’s the one that shows Enid that her girlfriend is actually joking. The one that Enid knows will forever drive her crazy, and yet, she just can’t resist it because she loves it, and she loves her.

All of her.

“But I guess these promises kind of go both ways, though. So, um…If you’re making one, then I will, too,” Enid decides. She thinks about how she wants to word it for a moment, before stating, “I promise to trust you more with the decisions you make. And I won’t…I won’t be so overprotective.”

Wednesday gives Enid a small, hint of a smile. “Alright then. If that’s settled, then may I request we actually finalize it, so that I don’t have to stand like this in the middle of a dorm hall for the remainder of the evening?”

“Of course.” Enid grins. She slips her own finger around Wednesday’s, the pink polish on her nail easily intertwining with Wednesday’s signature black. “But even if anyone would walk out here and see, I think half the school already thinks that you’re incredibly odd, anyway.”

“Is that a compliment, Enid?”

Oh, it is so good to have Wednesday back.

“If you’d like it to be. But honestly, Wends, since when do you care what everyone else thinks of you?”

“I don’t,” Wednesday replies simply. “I was really just looking for an excuse to have my hand free again for a different purpose.”

At this, Wednesday’s grip looses as she lets her hand fall briefly. But it doesn’t remain lowered for long. She raises it to Enid’s face, tentatively brushing her thumb over Enid’s cheek. Over her scars.

Enid’s eyes almost flutter shut as she leans into her girlfriend’s touch.

“If we're in an adequate place,” Wednesday says, her voice the softest it has been all evening, “I would really like to kiss you right now.”

“Yeah,” Enid breaths out almost immediately in response, her heartbeat elevating. To live a life where she feels every emotion so deeply is both a curse and a blessing, she supposes. Because the love and adoration coursing through her right now? That makes everything else absolutely worth it. “Yeah, we are.”

Wednesday steps forward at the expression of Enid’s permission. She tilts her head upwards slightly, and begins to close the distance, and this…

This.

This is what Enid has truly been longing to do all evening, since she had first seen Wednesday appear out of that backdrop of orange and pink and purple when she had first returned—a vision in black and white against the colors of the sky. And yet, somehow, she had still been the most vivid sight of all.

She is the most vivid sight of all, which Enid is reminded of all over again as she finally wraps her arms around her girlfriend’s waist, bringing her even closer. Enid’s hands rest on the small of her back, gripping the black material of her shirt as Wednesday presses her lips to Enid’s.

It’s like a half hug, half kiss kind of a dance that they haven’t done quite like this before. Enid still wants to hold Wednesday tight, and Wednesday is still earnestly pushing forward. Her lips are soft on Enid’s, and she’s so purposeful with everything she does, tracing patterns gently along the side of Enid’s neck with her fingers even as she deepens the kiss. Every sensation that Enid feels is blissful.

Eventually, they do have to break for air, their noses brushing in the process. There’s a small voice in the back of Enid’s mind that tells her that maybe this isn’t the best place to keep this up, but right now, she just wants, and Wednesday does, too.

For a girl of such sort stature, Wednesday really does actually have an incredible amount of physical strength, and so when she leans in again, the force of the slight collision causes Enid’s back to hit the door behind her. It startles her a bit, but she barely has time to process it. Wednesday is kissing her again in a heartbeat, and with this kiss far more confident than the last, Enid lets herself get lost in it.

In fact, she gets so caught up in it—in the intensity, and in the fact that Wednesday’s hand is now making an absolute mess, Enid is certain, of her once neat hair—that she almost misses the sudden knocking coming from the other side of the door that she is leaning against. They’re two intent little taps that sound altogether impatient.

And they prove to eventually be enough for Enid to freeze slightly as she finally remembers where they are.

Wednesday also stills.

Then she gently untangles her hand from Enid’s hair, and Enid can actually feel the disgruntled frown against her lips as Wednesday reluctantly pulls away.

Standing at a slight distance now, Enid is met with her girlfriend’s dark brown eyes, focused solely on her. Wednesday’s shoulders rise and fall with a bit of an increased rhythm. She’s slightly out of breath, lips parted, and to Enid it’s a beautiful sight, knowing that it’s because of her.

There’s another knock.

Enid begrudgingly turns, opening the door and pushing it forward slightly, and then Yoko pulls it all the way open from the other side. She has Enid’s red duffel bag in her hand, which she drops at Enid's feet. She looks somewhat irritated, but not actually angry. Yoko is never one to be truly mad.

“If you two don’t remove yourselves from outside of my room within the next minute, I swear I—”

“Save the threat, Tanaka. We’re going,” Wednesday interrupts.

In a blur comparable to that of a small tornado (Enid has always wondered how she moves so quickly), Wednesday suddenly has the duffel bag over her shoulder, and her fingers intertwined with Enid’s before anyone else can say another word on the matter.

Yoko hides a laugh behind her hand.

Enid jokingly glares.

“You know,” Yoko says, “that look is a lot more natural on Wednesday than it is on you.”

Enid can already feel her face turning red. “Oh, shut up.”

“I'm the only one who gets to tease my girlfriend,” Wednesday insists, her statement following quick on the tail of Enid’s, and laced with more of a threat than Yoko’s original one ever was.

That only makes Enid’s blush deepen.

“Duly noted,” Yoko answers. Then she starts to close the door. “Now please leave, so I can get back to my work in peace.”

It’s in that moment that Enid realizes—as the door is shut all the way, and Wednesday impatiently tugs on Enid’s hand to lead her down the hallway—that, in all of this time, Wednesday hasn’t once shown any kind of hesitation to speaking so freely about such a delicate topic in such an open space. It is so unlike her, but it tells Enid that the conversation they’ve had must have been so important to Wednesday that it could not wait.

Enid also supposes, upon further consideration, that they’re lucky that no one had actually walked by. But she figures that’s a benefit to having a room at the end of a hallway like Yoko’s is. Less traffic, more privacy.

“So I gather that you never did give Yoko my regards,” Wednesday says as they walk.

“Uh…” Enid starts, a bit confused. “No?”

“Perhaps it would have acted as some sort of social peace offering,” Wednesday replies. “I’m beginning to see why she doesn’t like being around us when we’re together.”

When we’re together.

The phrase makes Enid smile all over again. She is so glad that they’re both back on the same page.

Regarding her friend, however, Enid has to admit that Wednesday does have a point. The things they make Yoko put up with, sometimes…

Enid really will have to remember to thank her again tomorrow.

“She’ll survive, though.”

“Seeing as she is a vampire,” Wednesday says, “I’m not sure that she has a choice.”

It doesn’t take much longer before they reach their room. Wednesday opens the door for Enid, and when they’re inside, they find that Thing has returned.

“You’re back!” Enid exclaims.

Thing taps from his perch on Enid’s desk. I could say the same.

If he were actually speaking out loud, Enid imagines his tone would be slightly accusatory.

“We worked it all out,” Enid says, wanting to reassure him. “We’re all good now—as good as good can be. Right, Wends?”

She glances at her girlfriend, who places Enid’s bag down before she speaks.

“Typically, I would refrain from using the same descriptor three times in the same sentence, but I suppose that in this case, that explanation will suffice.”

Definitely sounds normal again in here to me, Thing approves.

And he’s right. It does. Enid has never been happier to have anyone scrutinize her choice of wording in her entire life.

From there, they slowly fall back into a typical routine for the night, although it does end up being slightly modified because it is fairly late, and instead of writing, Wednesday elects to use the time to take a shower.

“You could use it,” Enid jokes.

“I’m dating and living with a werewolf,” Wednesday says. As if that’s supposed to be some sort of rebuttal.

“Okay, first of all, what that statement suggests is a completely inaccurate stereotype. And second of all, I’m not the one with dirt on my face.”

“I do not have dirt on my face.”

Enid gives her a lopsided grin. “Yeah, you do.”

Wednesday actually seems to believe her this time.

She brings her right hand up to her face to try to remove what Enid claims is there, but she’s going for the wrong side. At first, Enid still finds the situation a tad humorous, but the more she actually thinks about it, the more it starts to make her feel guilty all over again. With everything that had happened earlier—with Enid practically losing it the minute they’d gotten back to the dorm room after the required stop at the principal’s office—Wednesday hadn’t had a single moment to really take care of herself.

She had followed right after Enid, doing nothing else for herself before making sure that the two of them had been able to sort everything out.

“Here,” Enid says, getting up from where she’s been sitting with Thing and walking over to Wednesday. “Let me.”

Even before feeling bad about it, Enid had wanted to do this earlier, after all…

Wednesday allows Enid to gently brush off the offending smudges, an array of faint freckles indeed revealed from beneath. It’s a silent action, and far softer than the kiss they had shared before, but Wednesday nearly sighs as Enid lets her fingertips trail one last time across the now smooth surface.

When she eventually lowers her hand, Wednesday says quietly, “I’ll be back.”

Enid knows that this time she can wholeheartedly believe her.

In the next half hour or so while she waits, Enid takes the opportunity to change, and when when Wednesday does return, she has to re-bandage her hand. It’s a very mild sprain, according to the infirmary’s diagnosis.

Wednesday, being Wednesday, insists that she can of course take care of it on her own—but it becomes apparent that she is incredibly tired at this point. Trying to securely place the wrap one-handed proves to be more difficult than even she first suspects. And so, Enid offers her assistance once more, which Wednesday eventually accepts.

They sit on Wednesday’s bed this time.

It’s a first, even if it seems as though it won’t be for long since the actual wrapping process doesn’t take much time at all. Wednesday hands over the elastic, Enid draws upon the brief first aid overview she had been required to learn as part of Nevermore’s orientation for new students (who knew Enid would actually be using the information so often?), and the bandage is applied in less than a few minutes.

“There,” Enid says. “All done.”

Then she makes a move to get up. She’s somewhere halfway between sitting and standing when Wednesday reaches out a hand that stops her. Enid tilts her head in a silent question as she sinks back down next to her girlfriend.

“Would you…” Wednesday starts. “Possibly consider staying?”

Enid blinks, almost unsure she’s heard right.

“Here. With me, for the night,” Wednesday clarifies. “But just to stay here next to me. Nothing more than that.”

It may be nothing more, but to Enid, it still means everything.

It means everything that Wednesday is asking, and everything that Wednesday wants her to be here.

“Sure,” Enid replies softly. “I’ll stay.”

She settles in quickly even though it’s new for her. New for them both.

Wednesday closes her eyes as she tucks her head into the space between Enid’s neck and shoulder. She fits like she’s meant to be there.

“Night, Wends,” Enid whispers against raven-black hair.

Wednesday hums something of an acknowledgement at the fact that Enid has spoken, but doesn’t otherwise stir. It’s peaceful, in a way. And in Enid’s mind, not even a shadow of a doubt remains.

This is where she belongs.

This is what matters.

Enid is absolutely certain of it.