Work Text:
The summer was many days of agony and bliss, depends on who’s commenting.
Enid’s face pixelated into Wednesday’s phone every night, sunlit, overexposed, always smiling while Wednesday’s remained dim, usually angled beneath the covers, dark hair obscuring half her expression, often cutting off part of her face.
It caused many giggles from Enid, who couldn’t help but laugh at her girlfriend’s complete lack of skill when it came to anything involving a front-facing camera or basic video etiquette.
"You know the lens isn’t under your chin, right?" she'd tease, grinning through the screen.
Still, the fact that Wednesday made the effort - fumbling with lighting, holding the phone awkwardly just to see Enid’s face before bed - made it all the more endearing. It wasn’t polished or perfect, but it was intentional and Enid loved her all the more for it. They always showed up, without fail, even when Enid went camping with her cousins and the wi-fi was spotty, even when Wednesday had to postpone her writing hour because Enid couldn’t be there on time.
Their texts from that summer were a mix-up of small confessions, inside jokes and late-night thoughts they were too shy to say out loud:
Enid: be honest… how do u survive without me there? 🖤
Wednesday: sheer force of will.
Enid: pfft. u love me.
Wednesday: an unfortunate truth I’ve come to accept.
Enid: did u at least think about me today?
Wednesday: I thought of you when I saw a rainbow. it was excessive. but it reminded me of your wardrobe.
Enid: awww see?? u do think of me!!
Wednesday: unfortunately, yes. frequently.
Enid: 1-10 how much do u like me today?
Wednesday: 10.
Enid: omg really??
Wednesday: the day’s not over. you could still ruin it.
Enid: ugh ur so mean… i love it
And also caused Wednesday great amount of distress:
Wednesday: I found something in the cemetery I thought you’d appreciate.
An old headstone, cracked beautifully down the middle.
The inscription read: “Until we meet again, in shadow or flame.”
I attempted to photograph it for you. I thought it was… fitting.
[Image Attachment: accidental front camera shot - Wednesday’s chin, a bit of her black hoodie and dark strands of hair falling into the frame]
Enid: 😭😭😭 WEDNESDAY
BABE
you literally just sent me a portrait of your chin
this is the best thing ever omggg
I’m framing this
Wednesday:
...What?
Enid:
check the photo you just sent.
Wednesday:
...This is why I loathe technology.
Ignore the image, how do I delete it? I will speak with Thing shortly.
Enid:
noooo don't even try to delete it
this is now my lock screen
And that’s how their summer break went.
♡ ♠ ♡ ♠ ♡
Back at Nevermore, they kept their promise - quiet, unspoken, stitched together in midnight whispers and lingering glances that never quite crossed into public view.
The world didn’t know. Nevermore didn’t know.
There were no hand-holding strolls across the quad, no stolen kisses behind the walls near the next doors, no love-struck stares across the dueling floor during fencing class.
At least, that’s what they told themselves.
But anyone paying even the slightest bit of attention, anyone who had ever seen the way Enid lit up just walking beside Wednesday, or the way Wednesday's eyes followed Enid like a compass.The looks were there, no matter how carefully they avoided them. The soft smiles, the hovering hands, the magnetic pull that even the thickest denial couldn’t disguise. They were fooling themselves thinking they were subtle, as if the walls of Nevermore weren’t already gossiping on their behalf.
Behind doors of their dorm room - where the air smelled faintly of some fruity perfume and old parchment, and their mismatched sides of the room had somehow grown to overlap - they existed differently. Freely.
In that small, sacred space where the outside world melted away and no one was watching, they reached for each other like it was instinct, like it was breath.
It wasn’t loud or dramatic or even particularly romantic. It was just them, existing together in a space that no longer felt like two separate lives shoved into one room - but a quiet, chaotic harmony they had somehow built without ever meaning to.
Of course, the peace didn’t last.
Suddenly, they were twirled - yanked - into the chaos of classes, announcements echoing through halls, spellbooks thudding open, and a blur of schedules pulling them in opposite directions before they even had time to exhale.
The pack. That’s how it started.
Enid was being pulled in, not unwillingly per se. After the Hyde attacks, teachers trying to - basically - end every outcast there is and the school almost closing, there was a sense of unity among the werewolves that hadn’t existed before. She got invited to planning sessions, late-night moonlight runs, strategy meetings, sick parties.
And Wednesday, to her horror, got looped into one such meeting when Enid dragged her by the hand.
That’s where she met him.
Bruno. (or whatever)
He was exactly the kind of boy who’d end up on a Nevermore flyer for school spirit: tan skin, broad shoulders, jawline sharp enough to slice an apple. (Bleh) Fresh haircut, the kind of haircut ripped straight from a “Top 10 Looks to Make Her Howl” blog for teenagers. (Did he get that haircut in the dark, with garden shears??) He laughed easily, with canines that glinted. He called Enid E, and she called him Bro. (Disgusting).
Wednesday hated him.
She hated how her stomach twisted when Enid leaned her head against his arm during a group photo. She hated how Enid talked about his dumb impressions and how he could moonwalk on all fours. Like was it really that impressive? She hated that he existed with no clue how perfect Enid Sinclair was - that Wednesday had bled for her, kissed her until her lips went numb, took her time to get to know all of her, the Enid Sinclair.
And yet, none of that showed.
Not when Bruno laughed at her deadpan jokes and called her dark queen (Like???)
Not when Enid showed her the group chat from the pack, full of emojis and inside jokes.
Not even when Enid said, “Bruno’s gonna DJ at the full moon dance! He’s not terrible actually, you’d like it.”
Wednesday nodded silently, gripping the arm of her chair hard enough to hear the wood crack.
She, in fact, would not like it.
♡ ♠ ♡ ♠ ♡
The dorm was dim, only the amber desk lamp glowed, casting long shadows across maps, journals, and a cracked photograph Wednesday had found in the library archives. Her investigation had reached a dead end again- more questions, more contradictions. The file had been scorched and redacted, and the librarian had thrown her out when she tried to pick the lock on the restricted section.
She hadn’t realized how long she’d been sitting in the silence until Enid’s voice broke it:
“Okay, I’m ready!”
Wednesday’s pen stopped mid-scratch and she looked up.
Enid stood there, backlit by the warm glow of the window.
Her dress shimmered - silver thing that clung to her waist, dipped dangerously low at the back, and ended well above her knees. Her legs were long and bare. Her curls tumbled over her shoulders like lion’s mane. She was wearing heels, eyeshadow and lip gloss, the kind Wednesday had wiped off her mouth before when they kissed, saying, You don’t need it.
“Damn,” Enid muttered, biting her lip as she turned to face Wednesday fully. “I kinda killed this look, right?”
Wednesday stared. Her brain short-circuited.
“Yes,” she said before she could stop herself.
Enid beamed. “Yeah? It’s not too much?”
“No,” Wednesday said. “It’s... you look...”
Holy. Unreal. Like sin wrapped in sunshine.
She said none of that.
“Distracting,” she finally settled on. “For better or worse.”
Enid laughed, doing a slow turn. “Good. That’s kind of the point of a full moon dance, you know.”
The word dance brought Wednesday crashing back into herself. Right.
Enid had mentioned the dance earlier this week - in a text, maybe. No, it was during one of their evening walks. Passed comment that she remembered brushing it off. Too many things had been demanding her attention at the time. Her mind demanded full concentration, she hadn’t listened closely.
“You’re going to the club,” Wednesday said, not asked.
Enid paused. “Yeah, remember? I told you. It’s just wolfs anniversary kind of dance. Bruno’s DJing.”
Bruno.
The name was like poison in her mouth. And not the good kind. She stayed seated, clenching her jaw, so unnecessary.
“You forgot,” Enid said, reading her silence.
“I didn’t forget. I deprioritized it.”
Enid blinked. “Wow. Harsh.”
“You look… irresistible… and you’re dressed like that…” Wednesday said suddenly, too suddenly.
There was no good way to put this into words.
“But,” Wednesday added, tone shifting, “everyone will stare.”
Enid blinked. Then flushed.
“Wow. That’s. Not what I expected.”
“You said it yourself. The point is to be distracting.”
“Wednesday-”
“You’ll be surrounded by pack wolves. Bruno. I assume there’s dancing.”
“Yes,” Enid snapped. “It’s a dance. It’s in the name.”
“I’m not going.”
“I didn’t ask you to. I know how much you hate these and you never wanted to go.”
The silence rang, sharp and cold. Enid folded her arms, her entire posture shifting from excited to guarded.
“So what is this? You’re mad that I’m going? That I look like this?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re acting like it.”
“I’m stating facts.”
“No, you’re judging me for doing something normal… and it happened again.”
Her voice cracked. Wednesday stood now.
She couldn’t stay in that chair - couldn’t let Enid tower over her like she was the one who’d done something wrong.
“I trust you,” Wednesday said tightly. “It’s everyone else I don’t trust.”
Enid stilled. The smile faded. “Wow. You really don’t hear how that sounds, do you?”
Wednesday already regretted it. “I didn’t mean-”
“No,” Enid said, backing toward the door. “I get it. It’s fine. I trust you, it’s everyone else I don’t trust.” Enid repeated it slowly, her voice cold and trembling.
“You make it sound like I’m some fragile thing, like I can’t choose what’s good for me. You don’t trust my friends, people who also see me.”
“I see you,” Wednesday said, almost desperate now.
“You see what you want. The parts you like.”
Enid turned, reaching for her clutch. “Sometimes I wonder if you trust me enough to let me be more than just what you can control.”
The words struck hard.
A slap made of syllables.
“I’m not trying to control you,” Wednesday said, but her voice was thinner now. “I just… I can’t protect you when I’m not there.”
“I don’t need protection from you.” Enid’s tone wasn’t cruel, but it was cold. “I needed your support.”
The conversation started to sound way more like something else, something more than it needed to be.
Wednesday’s chest tightened with regret as the weight of those words settled between them.
Enid exhaled slowly. Her voice softened, but the edge was still there.
“I’m gonna go. I need to cool off before I say something worse, something I would regret.”
Wednesday watched her reach the door. Enid turned halfway, her fingers gripping the frame. “Think about what you just said and why it hurt. We’ll talk later, okay? Just… don’t wait up for me.”
Then she was gone, silver dress flowing behind her.
And Wednesday?
She was left standing in the room full of half-burnt papers and cold coffee, with a heart pounding too fast and the unmistakable sting of knowing she’d made something beautiful feel small.
♡ ♠ ♡ ♠ ♡
The dorm was too quiet without Enid.
She sat on her bed with her spine painfully straight, one leg tucked beneath her like armor, the other swinging just barely above the floor in a rhythm she couldn’t identify - an unconscious tick, like her body was counting down to something she hadn’t agreed to.
She hadn’t moved much since Enid left. Once, briefly, to shut the window when a sudden gust of wind had tossed her neatly stacked papers into chaos.
The room still smelled faintly of Enid’s perfume - she’d used far too much before leaving. That familiar vanilla-and-citrus blend clung stubbornly to everything, just like it clung to her, even when she was stomping around in ripped hoodies with mud on her boots.
Who was she kidding? Enid always used too much. It was practically part of her aura.
Wednesday stared at the door for what felt like hours.
11:43.
12:16.
12:57.
1:21.
Enid never stayed out this late, not usually, and not after that kind of argument.
Wednesday didn’t even know what to call it. A mistake? A misfire?
She’d said the words because her investigation was spiraling, because the leads were garbage, because nothing was matching the vision, and her head was full of corrupted evidence that led nowhere.
She’d said them because her feelings for Enid were too big - untrained, rabid things clawing out from her chest.
But none of that was Enid’s fault. She hadn’t meant to look at her that way. She could still see the moment Enid’s face changed from flushed excitement to something else, something guarded and wounded. That look had gutted her more than any knife ever could. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the cold headboard. The pillow next to her still held the faint smell of Enid’s head from the night before, when she’d fallen asleep mid-sentence rambling about her pack’s new training routine. Wednesday had pretended to be annoyed, but she’d adjusted the blankets around her and kissed her knuckles while she slept.
It's been way too long, her mind was chaos and now it just - silence.
The door creaked open.
Wednesday didn’t move at first. She almost thought it was her mind playing tricks.
But then: soft footsteps, a hiccuped sigh, heels dropped by the threshold, a clutch tossed onto the desk.
Wednesday looked up.
Enid stood there, cheeks pink from the wind or the alcohol - probably both - and glitter still clinging to her collarbones. Her hair was a little messy, her eyeliner slightly smudged, her lips a soft sheen of faded gloss. She froze when she saw Wednesday upright.
“You’re still up?”
Wednesday nodded once. “Yes.”
“I told you not to wait.”
“I know.”
Enid exhaled, running a hand through her curls. “Did you… sleep at all?”
“No.” A beat. “Couldn’t.”
There was a long pause between them, heavy, but not hostile.
“You wanna talk now?” Enid asked, a little quieter now. “I’m not drunk, I promise. Just… warm and emotionally squishy.”
“I’d like to,” Wednesday continued. “If you allow me.”
Enid kicked off her heels fully and walked over to the bed, settling on the edge of her mattress, across from Wednesday. Not next to her, not touching. A clear choice, but her body was tilted slightly inward - which was a sign she hadn’t completely shut the door.
The silence barely had a chance to settle. Wednesday spoke quickly, like the words had been clawing at her throat.
“I hated the way I spoke to you, the way I looked at you.” Her voice was flat, but her eyes weren’t. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Enid let the words settle before responding. “Then why did it feel like I had?”
“Because I let fear dictate how I spoke.”
Enid tilted her head. “Fear?”
“Yes. Of being the kind of person I swore I never would be.” Her fingers curled tightly over the comforter. “Possessive. Distrustful. Unfair. I saw you - glowing, free, beautiful - and I felt the absence of myself beside you.”
“That wasn’t my fault,” Enid said, not cruelly, just firmly. “I invited you.”
“I know.”
“I gave you the date. The time.”
“I remember. Just not until it was too late.”
Enid nodded, looking down at her hands.
“I forgot how to breathe,” Wednesday added, softly. “When I saw you. And then I forgot how to speak like someone who loves you.”
Enid blinked. “You forgot how to love me?”
“No. I never knew how to begin with.”
That made Enid laugh, just once, a little chuckle. Not mocking - almost fond. “You do fine, most days.”
“Tonight wasn’t one of them.”
“No.”
Silence again.
Then Enid said, more gently, “You don’t need to protect me from my own life, Wednesday.”
“I’m learning that.”
“It’s not always about control. Or trust. Or who’s at the party.”
“I know.”
“You hurt me.”
Wednesday flinched. Not dramatically - but visibly. Like the sentence had weight.
“I felt small. Like all the work I’ve done to be seen - even by you - just vanished.”
“I never meant-"
“I know,” Enid interrupted. Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t cry. “I know you didn’t. But I need you to say it out loud. I need to hear it, not just in apologies.”
Wednesday swallowed. “I saw you and I got scared. Because I knew - if you ever realized just how easily people love you, how freely they’re drawn to your light - you might forget what it’s like to love someone like me. Someone dark. Someone who only knows how to build love out of barbed wire and caution tape.”
Enid stared at her for a long time.
Then said, voice a little choked: “You really think I’d forget you?”
“No.” Wednesday blinked hard. “But I think I forgot how much I still don’t believe I deserve you.”
That broke something.
Enid stood up, crossed the small space between their beds, and knelt in front of her - looking up, taking both of Wednesday’s hands in hers.
“Don’t you ever say that again.”
“I-”
“I mean it.” Enid’s hands were warm, grounding. “You’re the most frustrating, cold-blooded, romantic girl I’ve ever met. I love you so much it physically hurts sometimes. But I need you to meet me there. I can’t keep tugging you out of the dark every time you decide to punish yourself for feeling things.”
“I’m trying,” Wednesday said. “I swear to you, I’m trying.”
“I know you are.” Enid squeezed her fingers. “I just need you to try with me. Not around me. Not in secret from me. With me.”
Wednesday nodded slowly. Then leaned forward until their foreheads touched.
“I’m sorry for what I said,” she whispered. “I hated hearing it come from my mouth.”
She pulled back half an inch and blinked, once. “Also, I’ve been thinking. Extensively. About something else you said.”
Enid tilted her head.
“That line,” Wednesday continued, “that part about whether I trust you enough to let you be more than what I can control. It’s been repeating in my brain like a metronome. Highly inconvenient. I tried to ignore it, but it was… persistent.”
She exhaled through her nose. “So I did what I do best: I ran an internal audit.”
Enid blinked, caught between concern and amusement. “You did what?”
“A relationship assessment. Retroactive behavioral analysis. I categorized every interaction I could recall in which I may have exhibited controlling tendencies. There were more than I anticipated.”
She shifted slightly, voice quieter now. “For example: intercepting your plans without consultation. Advising you against certain clothing choices under the pretense of logic. Withholding investigation details because I believed you’d be safer not knowing. Speaking for you when no one asked me to.”
Wednesday frowned. “At the time, these all felt like efficient or necessary choices. But upon review, I can understand how they might translate as ‘controlling.’”
Enid’s lips twitched, eyes softening.
She hesitated. “I don’t want you to feel like this. Even if I struggle to express it - I trust you. I trust your judgment. And if I’m going to be with you, I want to show that trust. Not just assume it counts because I feel it.”
Enid was silent for a moment, her eyes glossy. Then she laughed, a little breathlessly.
“You ran a relationship audit.”
“I made a spreadsheet. If you’d like to see it I can show you,” Wednesday deadpanned.
“Oh my god,” Enid said, smiling now. “That’s the most you thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I’ve taken steps to adjust the behavior patterns,” Wednesday added, almost stiffly. “It’s… a work in progress. I just need time.”
Enid leaned in, pressing her nose to Wednesday’s. “I didn’t mean what I said, you know. That line about control. I was angry, and I said something sharp because I wanted to hurt you back.”
“It worked,” Wednesday said dryly. “Congratulations.”
Enid laughed, then kissed her. “I can’t believe you made an audit of our relationship. You have no idea how much I love you.”
Wednesday’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I love you too.”
Neither of them moved, not for several long moments. The room was dim, the warmth of their breath shared between them. Wednesday's head rested lightly against Enid’s shoulder, and Enid’s chin nestled into her hair.
Apology had become silence.
Silence had become something like safety.
Then, finally - voice low and cautious - Wednesday broke the stillness.
“…How was the dance?”
Enid huffed a tiny laugh, one hand tracing idle shapes across Wednesday’s back. “You asking as my girlfriend or as a suspicious interrogation officer?”
“I’m asking because I want to know,” Wednesday replied, barely above a whisper. “and also a little because I was suspicious.”
Enid pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes still soft. “It was fun and loud with a little too many flashing lights. I danced for like two hours straight.”
Wednesday nodded once, lips pressed tight. “I see.”
“Bruno DJ’d,” Enid added, smiling. “He’s actually not bad. Like, he has taste. Played old-hits with modern twist, that made Yoko scream.”
“Charming,” Wednesday said, dryly.
“And he dances.”
“Does he.”
Enid grinned wider, her teeth catching the lamplight. “Oh yeah. Like dances. I didn’t know werewolves could salsa.”
Wednesday’s spine straightened almost imperceptibly.
Enid caught it instantly.
“I mean, I didn’t know he could,” she clarified, dragging the syllables with playful innocence. “He spun me like five times during one song. Full twirls. Had to hold my waist for balance and-”
“Fascinating,” Wednesday cut in.
“-and then dipped me.”
Wednesday blinked. “He dipped you.”
“Twice.”
“I see.”
“You already said that.”
“I’m working on not saying something less civil.”
Enid couldn’t help it. She broke into a giggle soft, giddy, delighted.
“You’re doing so bad at pretending you’re fine.”
“I am fine.”
Wednesday lifted her chin, expression unbothered - or, rather, trying to be. Her fingers, however, were clenched where they touched Enid’s waist. She was failing her mission of stoicism gloriously.
Enid leaned in close. “You’re being so cute right now.”
“I am not.”
“You are. Your face is twitching.”
“My face doesn’t twitch.”
“Jealousy is a good look on you, Wends.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Oh really?”
“I’m simply observing that you seem particularly impressed with his repertoire of flamboyant footwork.”
Enid snorted. “God. You are jealous.”
Wednesday crossed her arms.
Enid nudged her knee. “It’s okay. You’re allowed.”
“I just think it’s unnecessary to twirl someone five times when once would suffice. It’s inefficient, disorienting, and frankly, a poor cover for lack of actual talent”
“I mean, for a guy who’s very gay-”
Wednesday’s eyes snapped open.
“…He’s gay?”
“Like, sparkly-nails-and-glitter gay.”
Silence.
Wednesday blinked.
“…He is?”
“And he’s dating another wolf named Maxim. They danced harder than anyone there. The guy literally brought a fan to make his hair blow in slow motion.”
Wednesday stared.
And then, very quietly, “…I feel I may have miscalculated.”
Enid burst into laughter.
“Oh my god. You were jealous of Bruno, babe.”
“I am surrounded by deception.”
Enid fell onto her back, still giggling. “This is the best thing that’s happened all week.”
“I hate this timeline.”
“You love me in it though.”
Wednesday glanced at her, exasperated, a little flushed.
“…Yes,” she murmured. “Unfortunately for me I do.”
Enid reached for her hand, tugged her gently down until they were eye-level again.
“Then come to the next dance,” she said, softer now. “No more being left behind with your suspicions and theories.”
Wednesday hesitated.
“I’ll think about it,” she said. “But no moonwalking.”
“Deal,” Enid whispered, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I only twirl for you anyway.”
And this time, when they held each other, there was nothing left to untangle.
♡ ♠ ♡ ♠ ♡