Work Text:
Enid saw it clearer than anyone else did. She saw the looks in other's eyes, the little snippets of their thoughts through a twitch of their brows. Enid had grown accustomed to reading the little tells that people gave, she practiced religiously in order to better understand them, to adapt to them, to survive.
She knew how to keep to herself, when to be honest, when to speak and how not to cry. It had all been a long learning process, one without much forgiveness. She had learned all of the steps, learned how to drop all the little things about herself at the door, and let a mask through in her stead. Carefully she had made it, tuned it to harmonize with other's voices, showed it how to sing the same songs. She nurtured its image, coexisting with it as it became friendly with her family. It nodded along to her mother, no matter how hard she tried to crack it. It played along with her brothers, no matter how scratched it became. It looked sweetly at her father, no matter how long he'd avoid its gaze.
After a long day of battering, Enid would set to work on fixing her mask up in her bed. The inside would reek of salty tears, but she would wipe them clean. The outside was patchy and damaged, but she'd mend what she could. She had never learned how to maintain it for longer than necessary, for it was always just one more week, one more day, one more hour.
She would let her mask rest when she returned to school. She would let herself breathe without paper maché clogging her nose. The dorms were dusty and old, but they were a breath of fresh air to Enid. Expectations were not nearly as high, she could put in what she wanted to, and she had put in a lot. Every extracurricular you could name had some sort of dealings with Enid Sinclair, even her aversion to bees hadn't kept her hand out of The Hummers' business. Though, she had tried to keep it brief, mostly observing from a distance before chickening out (a brief two minutes before chickening out).
If the need were to arise, she would dust off her mask, patch it up a bit, and put it on for a day or two. It helped when she was reminded of the real expectations on her head, it would lift her tongue when it felt heavy between her teeth. She could laugh on command, she could restate a question, and she could bide her time until her words returned to her. Enid was only helped by being one of the lucky few to have a room to herself in the dorms, she adored people, but found they were exhausting.
A roommate by the name of Wednesday Addams quickly swept it all away. Her own sanctum had been divided so quickly, and she hadn't ever felt so sick before. She swallowed it down, letting the nausea sink to her stomach instead of pooling in her mouth, as she tried to convince herself it wouldn't hurt. It was only one more person, after all. One person won't kill her.
She did her research, as always, and found that Wednesday very well could kill her. Piranhas and attempted murder were on her mind, as she tidied up her bed. Principal Weems laughed when she had asked about it, writing it off as a schoolyard rumor, as she dismissed her to her room. Enid hadn't relaxed any, but she could only hold onto hope that a roommate wasn't the end of the line for her.
She caught sight of Wednesday's small, monochrome frame, some of Enid's fear evaporating, as her eyes tittered along the colorful decorations of their room. Enid could feel her discomfort, even without the stiffness of her parents behind her, chattering along to waive off the clear surprise in their muscles. Enid was so familiar with their demeanor, it was just strange to see on parents that weren't her own.
She had offered a hug, hoping it would be the quickest way to make peace. Wednesday had stepped away, and Enid wasn't sure how she felt.
She gave the tour, was shot down several times by trying to lighten the mood, and had only managed to confirm the "schoolyard rumor" straight from the source. Wednesday never blinked, as she stared forward. Enid wasn't sure if she had even been listening, but it hadn't irritated her at all for some reason. Her responses were direct and honest, it had taken nearly no work at all to decipher how she felt about transferring to Nevermore.
Enid didn't know how she felt…
Wednesday had gone to say her goodbyes to her family, her expression never switching to anything less than grim. Enid stayed in their room, trying to settle her own nerves, and perhaps sort them as well. She let her thumbs rub at the frays on her favorite blanket, twisting them around her fingers, as the pressure comforted her. She laid back against her headboard, letting her neck crane to watch the ceiling.
Wednesday had given her some kind of emotion, some sort of feeling that she hadn't felt with anyone else… it wasn't irritation, it wasn't fear…
' Hmm… '
By the end of the day, Wednesday was already scraping the few pieces of color leftover from her side of the room. Enid had yelled, a knee jerk reaction, as Wednesday kicked the scraps of her labor away. A prickle settled in her throat as Wednesday maintained her careless stare. Wednesday insulted her, Enid pushed back. Wednesday got closer, Enid showed her claws. It was simple cause and effect, but as soon as Wednesday really looked at Enid's claws, Enid wasn't sure of herself anymore. Wednesday’s eyes had blown wide for just a moment, as if the threat were the only thing that would get her to listen.
Their argument was cut short, Ms. Thornhill’s welcome tearing them away from each other, their mannerisms syncing for a few brief moments as they avoided adult confrontation. Enid couldn’t help but think that it had been strange, how easy it was to show her discomfort, her anger, which she had once sworn to lock away.
Somewhere, deeply hidden in her side of the room, Enid’s mask began to crack.
The first night together was silent, Enid couldn’t think of anything to say, and Wednesday, predictably, didn’t want to talk. She slept in spurts, holding her legs to her chest as she cradled her restless thoughts. Enid didn’t want to intrude upon her roommate, but she had wanted to know what it was that kept drawing her closer. She was only a moth to a flame, she couldn’t betray her nature.
After a few hours of thought, she felt that kinship may have been the answer. She had felt something in common with Wednesday, something that she didn’t know how to define. All she had known was that Wednesday played by her own rules, ones that often went against the most common rules that others held dear. Enid admired her bravery, standing your ground was hard and unforgiving. Enid supposed her way of people pleasing was hard as well, but it never garnered respect quite like the rigidity of Wednesday’s rules.
Thinking of Wednesday only bred regret, it brought memories of times she shouldn’t have budged, times where she had conceded, only to feel its sting instead of relief. Enid wanted to learn from Wednesday. She wanted to be close to her, and either talk without worrying about if she was rambling, or sit in the silence as they both enjoyed each other’s company. She wanted to be friends, more than she had ever wanted anything in the world.
Time had passed, progress had been made and lost, and made all over again. Enid often wasn’t sure where she stood with Wednesday, as most of her attempts at getting closer had been rejected quite quickly. Her surprise party had been a flop, though she still felt that Wednesday appreciated the accidental help in her investigation. Her gift of a snood had been lost to the throes of the Hyde, but Wednesday seemed pleased that it had protected the two of them from harm. Enid had begun to believe that she had been doing something wrong, that she had always been going about it the wrong way. It frustrated her to tears, knowing that she and Wednesday had always spoken different languages, that they had always misunderstood one another, despite how clearly Enid saw that they were similar!
Enid blew up on Wednesday, yelled and screamed like she never had before. She had never cared so much, she had never wanted to be so completely understood before. She watched as every word stripped away at Wednesday’s resolve. Enid understood that Wednesday’s eyes were filled with panic and guilt, she understood that she was hurt, and she couldn’t stand to look at it any longer. She spent the night at Yoko’s dorm, crying into a pillow that wasn’t hers.
Somewhere, hidden underneath hundreds of stuffed animals in her old room, her mask had snapped in two.
Enid kept returning to Wednesday’s room, grabbing some new thing that meant nothing to her. She would explain herself out of habit, Wednesday would catch on quick, it was weirdly comforting, It felt like their understanding of each other may have been mutual, though it most certainly wasn’t.
But… even as both of their frustrations grew, the argument became more specific. Pet peeves were tossed back and fourth, none of them sounding like frustration anymore, more like a list of things they came to know about one another. Enid couldn’t take this barrier between them anymore, all of the signs that they work well together just weren’t enough to stop herself from acting on impulse. She just needed Wednesday to know the hurt that she felt, so she hurt her in return.
She stormed out again, having told her that there was someone better out there for her. Enid couldn’t see Wednesday’s face, but she knew it had been too harsh.
She always came back, whether bloodied, crying, or giggling, she always came back. Others have already called her stupid for it, but she already knew that she didn’t care enough to give them the light of day. Enid clutched Wednesday close, both of them covered in blood and shivering. She never thought she’d ever feel the encasing of Wednesday’s arms, the chill of her body as it finally caved to Enid’s affections. She wept into her shoulder, squeezing as Wednesday finally squeezed back.
She had wolfed out, all in devotion to Wednesday. She let her nature consume her just to show how far she’d go, just for her. They worked. They worked . Did Wednesday finally see that? Did she finally see how much she wanted this closeness? They understood one another.
As they patched each other up, Enid fretting over Wednesday’s shoulder that wasn’t just wet with tears, something shifted.
“Wednesday.” Enid called.
“Enid.” Wednesday always answered.
Enid fumbled for a moment, keeping her eyes around Wednesday’s wound, careful not to look too long or to drop the alcohol soaked rag. She collected her thoughts, stringing them together as best she could, Wednesday waited.
“We think the same way, I think.” She starts, “I don’t know if other people ever got how I talk, or how I act. I… I think we understand each other.”
Wednesday seems to chew on it for a moment, “Perhaps,” she spoke slowly, as if she were afraid to slip, “we are different, but not as if we are separate species.”
Enid nodded, “We are…” she paused, translating her speech, “We are both killers, just with different methods.”
Wednesday quieted, taking a moment to herself before she grabbed hold of Enid’s free hand.
Somewhere, deep within Enid’s room, a mask that was once hers, turned to ash.