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Picture this.
The forecast for the spring of their final year before graduation promised enough showers that it could flood the state. As the highest point of Ophelia dorms, the pelting that the droplets make is a band of soldiers shooting and reloading their shots, bullets crashing against roof tiling and window sills to become a puddle of its former selves. If there were no gutters and gaps between the stone balustrades, the water on their balcony would flow over the gaps of their swinging window.
The metallic clacks of a typewriter play in tandem to their auditory assault, a ding rings every so often to force a new line of ink onto the paper. The owner of said typewriter is sitting ramrod straight, posture complementing the speed of her typing.
Before she knows it, the hour ends. 20:01 glows on her lightbulb aesthetic clock.
Wednesday stretches, letting each crack invade her senses with a certain satisfaction similar to the rack at home, but unfortunately not enough to relieve.
Wednesday’s head turns her head to her right, catching the sight of her colorful pastel roommate laid comfortably on her black and white comforter. Said girl has her phone slipping out of her hand running through a roll of clips from her social media accounts. Her head is curled into Wednesday’s pillow like a kitten. She’s drooling though as the saliva catches on the fabric of her pillow.
If it was any other person, Wednesday would absolutely destroy the person in her bed. She would rip them to pieces, tear into them, and then make them eat torn fabric of which their drool had gathered.
But this is Enid. Precious, young Enid. Who is her roommate, her friend, her dream.
Wednesday isn’t sure how she got here. She supposes she just… got comfortable.
Lifting her chair, Wednesday pushes backwards and places it softly so as to not make a sound as she trails over to her roommate. A wave of hair cascaded across Enid’s face, eclipsing a makeshift cover against the dim lighting of her side of the room.
Gently, she lifts the strands and sees the entirety of Enid’s beauty, bringing them back behind her ear. Wednesday barely stops herself from caressing the ear on its way parting. Her hand hovers over the other girl’s scars, still in awe even after two and a half years of its power over her.
In those two and a half years, her self-discipline regarding the werewolf is on its last strings. While they’re strong, they’re not enough that Wednesday holds back from brushing her fingertips across the sharp jawline.
Thankfully, the werewolf doesn’t wake or fuss. Wednesday’s cold temperature does nothing to her. She still breathes an even rhythm, still does her satisfied sleeping sigh, still does her occasional nose twitch when she’s caught something in her dreams.
A terrible invasive thought takes over her brain. It tells her, ‘ Kiss her in secret and she may never know, you can become ignorant .’
But even if Wednesday’s discipline is on its last legs, the boundaries of the girl is not something she would dare to ever cross.
Kiss her. For a few seconds, she can be yours .
Wednesday frowns, but she comes close to the other girl.
“Enid, if you’re going to sleep, mine is not the place to do it.”
It takes a few shakes but the blonde eventually wakes, groaning. The blonde comments something about her book. At some point, Wednesday thinks she promises Enid would be the first to read it (besides the editor and publisher).
Regardless of her peace being broken, Enid gives Wednesday a sleepy smile at the promise, throwing her heart asunder.
Wednesday sleeps thinking about that smile.
–
Graduation is exactly as Wednesday expected it to be. Even though she can do without the pomp and circumstance, the sky still knows how to cry at least. The forecast has not let up just yet and Wednesday finds satisfaction in it even if the rest of the graduating student body doesn’t.
On the other hand, Enid doesn’t let a little rain get in her way of a celebration. A graduation is the end and beginning of many things, she says.
Wednesday is inclined to agree because it reminds her of what she knew she would miss had she opened a tiny window in her heart for it. The comfort. The stability. The (regrettable) relationships made. Most of all, Enid herself.
The new beginnings. The new places to explore. The new people they’ll meet. Wednesday doesn’t care about any of that.
But Enid doesn’t let the residual feeling sadden her, and definitely, not any physical manifestations of it as she pulls Wednesday out of the shelter of the halls and into the still pouring rain after their graduation ceremony. Their graduation gowns soak the longer they’re in it.
Enid cries out in joy, throwing her cap in the air and not caring when it lands with a wet plop and ruins the carefully decorated picture on its flat purple surface. She gestures Wednesday to do the same with a smile that she swears will cause the clouds to part if she asked.
Wednesday feels something at that, but instead of saying something, she lifts her hand up to her own cap and tosses it as well.
As if it was a sign, other students join them in the rain to throw their gowns and dance, to scream in jubilee, to sing, to run. This is the moment of freedom.
Despite the cacophony of sounds and joy, Wednesday’s eyes are only on one who has joined everyone else in their celebrations.
It’s hard to school her expression but she does it barely. Small little quirks on the corners still make their way there. They’re ones that she’ll say is a trick of sight from the rain when Enid eventually asks, who looks at her knowingly but doesn’t say another word as she holds her hand and nets their fingers.
Wednesday thinks about their warmth against the rain on her last ride home.
–
Life post-Nevermore isn’t like what Wednesday wanted. She knew that the moment she walked across the graduation stage. She knew that the moment Enid had pulled off the road and when Wednesday would eventually push herself into her own transportation with a rotting heart.
Even if that’s the case, Wednesday knows today is what she did want. Today would be the first in some time that she and Enid had agreed to meet.
Two seasons have passed. Half a year since she last saw the pastel werewolf as they all collectively enter winter. Going to higher education was not something Wednesday had an interest in doing. Having escaped from one forced institution, why would she willingly enroll in one herself if she had no ambition for it? Sometimes she wonders if going would increase her chances of seeing the werewolf, but knows their conflicting schedules would conclude in ‘No.’
Chill leaks through the windows of the pink and rainbow aesthetic cafe she sat in. She’s an anomaly in a place full of cute and colorful things, but it’s a place she knows Enid would like best.
Wednesday sips on her quad on ice, barely admiring the taste as she waits (eagerly but secretly). Enid’s order sits across from her, a warm latte with an overwhelmingly nauseating amount of sugar.
Wednesday thinks of her smile, thinks of her laugh, the warmth of Enid while she waits. She hopes her face does not betray her as she does and thumbs a small book in her grip; the first of many in her Viper book series.
Before she knows it, she subconsciously counts sixteen people coming and going. It’s when one that had come in at the same time as her and sat down to read a book that leaves when she realizes how much time has passed. She looks at her phone, an addition to her life that proved necessary if she wanted to keep a constant contact with Enid, and finds that an hour has passed since their agreed meeting time and her cup is empty.
Just under that is a message.
‘ Sorry!!! I have to cancel… I forgot i have a paper due tomorrow and it’s half my grade. can you believe it? who makes one essay half the grade!! I’ll make it up to you Willa!! promisepromisepromise!! ’
Wednesday swallows, uncomfortable with the ache that pricks under her cage.
She gets up, picking up the now cold drink and dropping it into the nearby trash.
‘ I see you have yet to outgrow your habits of procrastinating. It is fine, Enid. I would have to cancel as well. Pugsley forgot the most crucial step of kidnapping again and I would be remiss if I did not teach him a lesson .’
The message remains unread by the time she’s home.
She lets herself sigh.
–
February 10th was the first time Wednesday had seen Enid in nearly two years. The bookstore where her book signing event would take place is the last place she expected to see her, and it’s not at all what she expected it to be.
Contact with the other girl had become scarce after that last message, and basically nonexistent by the second year rolled in.
Wednesday tried not to be too personal about it. After all, Enid deserved a life outside of her, outside of Nevermore and its connections. She herself was the one that decided not to pursue higher education, or her. There was no sense in dragging her back to her all the time, to monopolize her time. She wants Enid to remain the free spirit she is without her to hold her down.
But Wednesday felt a deep-seated emotion at the way she was re-introduced to this version of Enid. Enid kept her eye-catching colors of pastel blue and bubblegum pink though the length of her hair grew long down just past her shoulders. Her scars remained, still barely concave into the dips of muscle, still holding Wednesday by the heart in her chest.
She still dressed the same. What else did Wednesday expect?
That, she did expect. But certainly not the girl by her side she had wrapped around her like how she used to with Wednesday. Her heart aches.
When Enid makes eye contact with Wednesday for the first time in nearly two years, her face breaks into a smile that Wednesday misses. Enid calls her name, making heads turn and she recognizes a few faces from their Nevermore years. The vampire girl, the siren girl, and oddly enough, Bianca. (She had been the only one that earned the respect of being remembered.)
An unexpected reunion occurs as Enid pulls her in and everyone attempts a conversation to catch up. They ask her why she’s here. She answers simply that she’s here for the book signing.
“ Me too ,” they all chime. “ We’re fans of the book .” She revels in the feeling knowing her pseudonym will soon surprise them.
But then Enid turns to introduce the girl next to her, the only one she doesn’t know in the group. Enid’s hand touches Wednesday's arm barely, fingers touching the bit of skin that’s exposed, as she holds the other girl’s hand the way she used to with Wednesday.
“This is my girlfriend, Phoebe. Be nice to her?”
Her heart aches again. This time, it doesn’t stop.
–
It takes nearly two years apparently, to be able to meet Enid again. Nearly two years and a canceled café meeting. Alone this time, because she knows that Wednesday does not like social crowds. And she knows that Wednesday used to tolerate the others at best.
This time, they take their time catching up. There’s no rush because of her book sign starting. There’s no rush to leave because they all have work to do, academic or not.
But where they meet is a strongly unconventional spot to meet, which is a mix between a karaoke place and a private women’s only club a few cities away. The karaoke part, Wednesday can do without and could care less for. Even the private women’s club part, Wednesday could understand, but she would have been happy to drive up to somewhere closer to Enid for her convenience.
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? You’ve changed,” Enid says, leaning into her palm as she eyes Wednesday particularly.
“Almost two years to be exact.”
“Two years!” Enid yells. “Two years and you didn’t tell me you got published! How long has it been since the first book was published? We could have celebrated!”
Wednesday pursed her lips. “I suppose we could have.”
From there, Enid breaks off into more conversation, commenting that she had changed somehow. In the small ways that she noticed. She was stronger, mature, more elegant, and a touch of something else Enid can’t place besides her image. There’s a lot of things they don’t talk about, mostly because the questions weren’t asked.
“You don’t keep your hair in braids anymore. So you’ve outgrown them?” Enid asks, taking a strand of Wednesday's curls and looping them around her fingers. “I miss them. That’s why I didn’t recognize you the first time.”
“So you’re saying this doesn’t suit me?”
“No! I’m not saying that!” Enid says, putting her drink down in a panic. When Wednesday gives her a certain look, Enid somehow gets it immediately and laughs. “You’re the worst.”
Wednesday quirks a smirk that time. “May I ask you a question?”
Enid giggles. “You don’t have to ask me a question to ask me a question, Willa.”
Wednesday does it anyway. “Why did we meet at a private women’s club so far away? You know I would have the resources for us to go somewhere closer to your city.”
Enid goes quiet, looking at her almost empty glass and then downs it until the ice clatters and the glass drops. Some of the alcohol falls over the corner of her lips as she wipes them away. What she answers makes Wednesday wish she never asked.
“Phoebe gets really possessive about me meeting anyone if it isn’t with the other girls or her. It could get out of hand if she found out about us.”
“Phoebe, your girlfriend? The normie?”
“Mhm, she always wants to know who I’m going out with, why, and where,” Enid says, playing with a stray piece of ice that fell out. “It’s kind of endearing.”
Jealousy and envy boils in the pit of Wednesday’s stomach. The feeling strikes her hard and heavy, completely new from past experiences. She didn’t feel this way even when Enid had dated Ajax.
“Sometimes, anyway. It gets annoying really quick a lot of the time though,” Enid stops as the ice melts into a puddle. She flashes the smile that Wednesday misses. She giggles the laugh that Wednesday has forgotten to remember. “She’s not like you though.”
Wednesday purses her lips, watching carefully while Enid orders another drink for the both of them and pulls her to the karaoke room.
–
Wednesday doesn’t know how she got here but she knows how she’s going to end it.
Tonight, the soldiers come back, this time with a death march as thunder roared with it.
For the life of her, even her status as a psychic could not save her from this fate. To be fair, there were a lot of warning signs she was willing to ignore before she realized she should turn herself away.
It was not more than a year after their first meeting after two years, a scattered number of suspicious affairs and text messages, and a lot of pushing and pulling from Enid before the biggest and last warning sign that blew her ignorance out of the water.
Wednesday turns her head towards Enid who slept soundly in her own bed—naked and blanket draped across her shoulders.
What she remembers is Enid calling her cellphone after a flurry of texts unresponded, a drunk speech about her cheating girlfriend-turned-fiancée and catching her in the act threw her by surprise. So, that was the reason why she came, but it wasn’t the reason why she ended up in bed with Enid.
Wednesday knew since that night she fell asleep thinking of Enid’s smile, and the nights before that, that she was weak to the girl who had carved such a large piece of her heart. She made a home there without even knowing it.
So when Enid had seen her at her doorstep, like a wet dog in the spring shower that graduation day, she pulled her in immediately.
Wednesday had instantly found herself whelmed with Enid’s smell, her bite, her alcohol-laded tongue that kissed Wednesday so intensely that she did not know how to stop it. She did not know if she wanted to. The ache in her little black heart did not give her much strength to resist.
It was this moment that Wednesday knew would be the ultimatum of all things, to be the end of it, or the beginning of something new. She had never seen Enid after a heavy drink before, she did not know how the night would end—if Enid would remember it all, or forget by the time night turned to day. She wasn’t sure which one she wanted more.
Wednesday remembers Enid’s aura being unmatched as she pressed Wednesday against the door, a taste of desperation that riddled both of them with sick excitement. Enid had left a mass of possessive and angry kisses across her body, teasing bites that excited her and elicited sounds that she did not know could come out of herself, decorating her physique with divine bruises along her neck and collarbone. She still feels the curve of Enid's nails digging into her thighs.
She remembers Enid whispering her love as jealousy spilled over her lips like the drink she barely finished that first night a few months ago. She remembers Enid pulling her hair, loving her, calling her, kissing her with abandon.
Her stomach flutters dangerously at the memory.
But what she remembers is not enough to justify this, the violation of her family’s life lesson of love being sacred and precious.
What they did felt precious, but it isn’t sacred. Enid is still another woman’s woman and even if Wednesday did not look like a common purveyor of love, she knows Love was never fated to be tainted like this.
She sits up a little after two in the morning, somehow being reminded of that night Enid fell asleep in her bed. She brushes strands away that cover her face again, surveying its beauty.
This time she kisses her atop the forehead. They say ignorance is bliss—a saying that Wednesday tries not to subscribe to—but she decides, just one last time, just for a few seconds, Enid is hers’.
Enid’s phone lights up on her side, showing the face of Enid’s fiancée in a silenced ring, no vibration.
Enid grumbles, groping for her hand to hold. Without thinking, their fingers link together as if it’s always meant to be. A drunken, sleepy whisper leaves Enid’s mouth, “I love you.”
A hesitant hold, “I love you too.”
Enid gives the same sleepy smile that Wednesday loves, another half giggle Wednesday will put to memory this time. But this time she will allow herself to forget her warmth.
So when Enid lets go to her dream land, Wednesday lets go of her own. She kisses the back of Enid’s palm and pulls from her hold.
Quick as she can, she throws on her clothes and fetches a glass of water and aspirin to leave by Enid’s bedside table.
At the last minute, she writes a note, “I can’t do this anymore.” Because she knows she won’t be the last pick. She isn’t the person Enid said yes to, will say yes to.
Her eyes go hot. She swallows and leaves, entering the spring shower again.