Chapter Text
Wednesday sat at her typewriter. She had spent the entire break longing for utter silence to write her novel. Now she had it, and it felt…wrong. The half-colorful window in her periphery must be the reason. Or perhaps the lack of an equally colorful half of the room. Enid had yet to arrive at Nevermore. She attributed the strange sensation to her association of their dorm room being a shared space. She was accustomed to tolerating it. Nothing more.
She glared at her typewriter, standing up to put on a record. Music would help. She preferred writing to music, anyway. Her gaze drifted over to the barren side of the room. The only non-familial presence she was capable of tolerating. Her own personal hell embodied into a person. Color. Noise. Socialness. Happiness.
From her desk, Thing snapped his fingers, pulling her attention away.
“I do not,” she stated, crossing her arms and taking sharp steps back to her chair. She sat down without uncrossing her arms, staring at the appendage.
He was still for a few seconds before slowly backing away, dipping down in an apology.
“That’s better,” she said, nodding once in satisfaction.
She returned her attention to her typewriter, positioning her hands on the keys. Soon, the clacking of the keys filled the room, mingling with the music and soft crackle of vinyl. Now she was in the zone. Her fingers flew steadily over the keys, even after the record she had put on stopped playing.
It wasn’t until she heard the door close that she stopped, turning robotically in her chair to survey the intruder.
“Howdy, roomie!” Enid said, skipping forward with her arms open, unencumbered by her bags.
Wednesday stared at her, leaning away from the approaching werewolf.
“Still not a hugger,” she said, grin unfaltering as she dropped her stuff next to her bed, “How was your break? I missed it here so much. My mom was- ugh, nevermind, let’s just not even go there. Did you enjoy being away? What did you do?”
She stared, the chatter of her roommate filling some void inside of her that she promptly ignored. “It was adequate.”
Enid laughed a little, starting to unpack her bags. “Adequate. That sounds right for you. It’s good to see you back, I wasn’t sure if you would be here or not. I was not looking forward to having a solo room again, it gets so lonely.”
“Does it? I hadn’t noticed,” she bit out, turning back to her typewriter, “It’s my writing hour, Enid. Do try to keep the noise to a minimum.”
As if she hadn’t been writing for the past three hours without moving from her spot. She missed the brief flash of disappointment on her roommate’s face, already pounding away at the keys.
“Sure,” she mumbled, adding under her breath, “Why would things be any different?”
Wednesday knew she wasn’t meant to hear, but she did. Her jaw twitched ever so slightly, but she didn’t say anything. What could she say? She certainly wasn’t going to admit that she had noticed the emptiness of the dorm without the werewolf in it. She had noticed how wrong it felt. Just like it felt wrong when Enid had briefly moved out. She hadn’t admitted that, either. Why start now? Why did it feel so…weird…to be the cause of someone’s pain? She should be enjoying it.
Thing signed at her crossly, urging her to reconsider. She glared at him. He made his feelings known before joining Enid on her side of the room.
“Hey, Thing,” she whispered, hiding her sadness behind a smile.
He waved at her, gesturing to her bags.
“That would be great,” she said, trying to stay quiet so she didn’t bother Wednesday.
The psychic was listening anyway, her fingers typing nonsense onto the page just to keep up her air of indifference. She would not admit that she…cared. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything or anyone. Just herself. No one else. Certainly not the girl she had learned to cohabitate with. The girl that had wolfed out and saved her life. The girl that was the exact opposite of her in every single way that it was almost comical they could even coexist without destroying each other. Well. She was doing some destroying. Enid wasn’t like that. Cruel. Cold.
“It was okay,” she heard the werewolf whisper to Thing.
A pause.
“Well, it’s…complicated. My mom is…well, she’s the same.” Enid sighed heavily as she unpacked. “As soon as I got home, it was all, ‘oh, we’ll have to find you a mate,’ as if I’m not dating Ajax right now. ‘But he’s not a werewolf, sweetie, you can’t possibly marry him if you want to be part of the pack.’ Just…it’s stupid.”
Wednesday’s fingers almost faltered at the keys, a scowl on her face. The thought of Enid with anyone made her…unsettled. Particularly that idiot gorgon. Although thinking about her with another werewolf wasn’t much better. After the way they had treated her?
“You shouldn’t settle for someone you don’t want just because your mother tells you to,” she said sharply, yanking the paper out of her typewriter and pelting it into the trash can. “Who cares what she thinks?”
“I mean, I care,” Enid whispered timidly, wringing her hands together. The venom in Wednesday’s voice wasn’t lost on her, though she always spoke of parents with disdain, even her own.
“Why would you possibly care?” she scoffed, putting a fresh sheet of paper into her typewriter.
“She’s my mom, Wednesday,” was all the explanation she could give as she flung herself onto her now-made bed.
She scoffed again, her fingers resuming their hammering on the keys. Enid just sighed, rolling onto her stomach and continuing to talk to Thing. The psychic continued eavesdropping, a small frown on her face. Why did it even bother her? Enid could date who she wanted. She wasn’t interested in such banal things as relationships, anyway. Their friendship served a purpose, nothing more. So why was she thinking about the hug they had shared that night? Why was she thinking about how warm Enid was? How she was such a captivating sight covered in blood. How she had looked fully transformed for the first time, coming to her defence. The way her scars sharpened the soft lines of her face in what she could only describe as enthralling.
Wednesday pulled her focus back to the page in her typewriter, only to find that she had obsessively typed her roommate’s name on the page. She yanked it out, crumpling it into a ball and throwing it into the trash. She did not care. Not even a tiny bit.
She couldn’t stop herself from turning and asking, “What happened to your face?”
“What?” Enid asked, doing a double-take. She had the grace not to look offended by the question or the blunt delivery.
“Your face,” she said, providing no clarification at all.
“Umm, what about my face?” she asked, shifting awkwardly on the bed.
“Your scars. What happened to them?” Wednesday asked, scrutinizing her face for any sign of them. Surely they hadn’t disappeared.
“Oh.” Enid sat up, sitting cross-legged on her bed. She sagged back against the wall a little at the reminder. “I, um, I cover them with makeup.”
Her lips pinched ever so slightly. “Why?”
She shifted, crossing her arms over her chest in a loose hug. “Just…because.”
A person’s unwillingness to talk about a subject had never deterred her from asking intrusive questions before. She could see Enid’s discomfort with the subject, but couldn’t stop herself from repeating, “Why?”
The werewolf grimaced, looking away. “They ruin my face.”
Wednesday scowled. “Why would you say that?”
She let her hair cover her face, slightly grown out for exactly that purpose. “I can see the way people look at them. The way they pity me, because obviously, the reason they’re there is something horrible. They wonder, but they don’t ask. They just stare instead. That’s way worse than talking about it.”
“I see.”
She didn’t see, not at all. How could such a badge of honor be kept hidden? How could people look at her roommate and see anything but selflessness and bravery? They were clearly idiots, not that she expected more from people.
“Wednesday?” Enid asked, her face still hidden behind her hair.
She had been staring. Not at her, not really. She had been thinking, but she tended to look in one direction when she did that, and she had already been looking at her roommate because of their conversation.
“What?” she asked curtly.
“Do you think they ruin my face?” Her voice was small. Sad.
She should offer something comforting to her. A hug. A kind word or phrase. What passed her lips instead was, “Don’t be absurd.”
Abruptly, she stood up, effectively ending the conversation. Comfort had never been her thing. Caring had never been her thing. So why were her feet carrying her purposely across the room, into territory that was so colorful being in it was enough to make her skin crawl? Why was she sitting down on Enid’s patchwork blanket, tucking one leg under herself to stare at her? Why was she reaching out to touch the spot where she knew those scars were? Why did she know where they were, even after the entire break apart. It wasn’t because she cared.
Her hand stopped short, her fingers twitching with…want. She wanted to touch her. She wanted to trace the lines of her scars. To fall deep into their edges. Blue eyes were wide, staring at her with an expression that she couldn’t decipher.
Wednesday snatched her hand away, practically jumping from the bed to her side of the room. What was she thinking? She didn’t touch people. She didn’t want to touch people. She didn’t want to feel the warm, slightly raised skin of Enid’s scars. That was ridiculous.
The door to the bathroom slammed behind her. Her grip on the shower knob was tight, the metal yielding to her strength. Violently, she twisted it, starting the spray. She turned it as hot as it would go, undressing and stepping under the steaming water. She would burn away any vestige of desire for human contact. She didn’t want it. She didn’t need it. She didn’t care. Why would she care?
Wednesday undid her braids, using her fingers to comb out her hair and wash it. She scrubbed her scalp hard, trying to dislodge these strange sensations. She was above such silly things. Emotions were unbecoming. She didn’t care. It was quickly becoming her new mantra. If she said it enough times, she would believe it. She wasn’t capable of emotions. She didn’t feel. Such things were beyond her.
She scrubbed herself until her skin was raw, making the hot water burn even more. It felt incredible. The pain was exactly the distraction she’d needed. Her normal self was back. She dried off, doing her braids and putting on pajamas before emerging.
Enid was still on her bed, lying on her stomach and flipping through a magazine with Thing. Her blue eyes flicked up, and the second they met hers, Wednesday felt those strange sensations she had just banished rushing back at her. So much for that. She froze, like a deer in headlights, held captive by the werewolf’s gaze. A small smile was sent her way, and she stared impassively, her feet incapable of carrying her the rest of the way to her bed while those eyes were looking at her. Boring into her soul. That was ridiculous. Enid didn’t possess such powers.
That piercing gaze returned back to the magazine. Wednesday was free. Free to bury herself under her blanket and stay away from whatever she was experiencing. She heard Enid’s gentle whispers to Thing along with the occasional turning of pages. Her roommate’s noise was back. The room was how it should be. She crossed her arms over her chest, letting her body go limp as she descended into sleep.