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Her breath went out of her in a gasp as Enid pulled her closer.
She had pulled Wednesday into her lap. She could feel the solid muscle of Enid's thighs beneath her, the warmth radiating from her body.
She knew Enid was strong, in some distant part of her brain, but seeing it, feeling her lithe hands pull at her was stunning, she was stunning.
Enid was flushed, her hair wild around her head. Wednesday looked into her eyes, the iris' blown, the sky blue peeking around the edges of black.
She moved her hand to curl around Enid's jaw, skimmed her thumb over the edge of her full lips, and trailed it down a pale, faded scar.
In very few moments of her life had Wednesday been speechless, they usually pre-empted the threat of her imminent death, but this-
Wednesday pressed her hand into the nape of Enid's neck and curled her fingers into light hair.
"Enid," Her voice was hoarse, soft. She curled her fingers into a fist in Enid's hair, pressed her knuckles into the base of Enid's skull, pulled her closer, part revenge, part desperate need, "please."
Enid smiled, smirked, at her, and pressed one hand into Wednesday's hip, trailing the other lightly up her arm.
"I think that's the first time I've ever heard you say 'please'." Wednesday felt the vibration of her voice in her chest, listened to it like a distant call.
Wednesday almost wanted to push her away, to return fire and fight. If anyone else had said something so insulting she would have less-than politely shown them her knife collection.
But she didn't, she couldn't, she was rooted to this spot, this perfect spot, and Enid was-
Kissing her. Enid was kissing her, and it was worth it.
Her mouth was hot and open against hers, her tongue sweeping against her bottom lip.
It was like rekindling a blown out fire, the heat of previous actions returning full force.
Wednesday trailed her hands down, slid past Enid's toned stomach, and fumbled against the bottom of her shirt.
Enid chuckled against her mouth, Wednesday felt her smirk again.
"Say it again. Say 'please' for me."
It was less than a thought, at that point. She didn't want to pull away, but she would say it, because Enid asked. She felt her jaw move to form the words, her throat constrict-
It was almost sickening, waking so abruptly.
The warmth, the heat, leaving her so suddenly. It was akin to how she felt in Crackstone's crypt, with Thornhill, Laurel, skipping over her broken, bleeding body. The cold leaked in slowly, then all at once.
Wednesday pressed her hands into her own comforter, it was scratchy and thin, how she preferred it. Her room was dark, the canopy of her bed hanging over her in the quiet of her room.
She turned her head, felt her bangs stick to her sweaty forehead, and looked out the window of her bedroom.
The moon hung lowly in the sky, pinpricks of stars dotted around it.
She pulled in a deep breath and felt dust stick to the back of her throat.
This marked the third night this week she had awoken from this dream, this nightmare, and she was sick of it.
She was angry .
Not at Enid. But at something.
The universe, for pressing these thoughts into her when she wasn't capable of fighting them away.
She would use something sharp if she were able.
But Wednesday knew that was stupid, she couldn't fight away thoughts desires, no matter how much she wanted to.
She sat up, and let the covers pool around her waist.
It was so, so cold.
She felt exhaustion sneak in with the cold, twine with her bones and press heavily into her heart.
She trailed her eyes across her room, settled on the mess of her desk.
Wednesday had refused to use the phone Xavier had gotten her, despite Thing's comments.
"You could listen to music whenever you wanted to!"
Ridiculous, she barely left the manor when she was home and could listen to music whenever she wanted to on her phonograph.
"It would help with research, the internet has a lot of information."
The library was sufficient and had not failed her so far. What was the need to change?
Thing called her a few unsavoury names, culminating in "You're incapable of change, Wednesday."
Which was wrong, she was fully capable of change, when needed.
She had stopped arguing with Thing when he had said signed, "You can talk to your friends whenever you want to."
She had wanted to say, "I don't have any friends," but had found herself stuck.
Enid.
I could talk to Enid.
The stupid girl had told Wednesday she needed to visit San Francisco over the break, but failed to leave any sort of address.
And Wednesday had been content in that, looking forward to the moment at the beginning of next term, when Enid would have to acknowledge her mistake, and Wednesday could bask in her embarrassment.
She had been content.
Till she realised she would not see Enid till the beginning of the next term.
She had spent the next few days locked in her room, playing her cello until her fingers bled, adamantly ignoring the thoughts of missing Enid.
There had been an evil little thought in her head, one that had evaded all her attempts of ignoring, of messaging Xavier.
Not that she wanted to talk to Xavier. She had ignored his messages, filled with pitiful attempts of conversation, at friendship, until the phone had simply run out of battery. At least she did not have to listen to the annoying little notification sound.
Thing had told her, after she had let him know of her defeat of the phone and its anticlimactic death, that it had only run out of battery, and could be recharged. He also told her the sounds could be turned off if they were annoying her.
He had snuck into her bedroom that evening, to charge the stupid thing.
Xavier would have Enid's number. Or, at the very least, Ajax's number, who would have Enid's.
Wednesday, also, refused to think about Ajax.
Having to remember all the things she was ignoring was beginning to get tiring.
She felt the beginning of a headache starting to build, and knowing that she would not be able to sleep this night, Wednesday got out of bed.
The manor was quiet, as it would only be in the early hours of the morning.
Pugsley was banned from pyrotechnics after dinner and before breakfast, and even her parents would be tired from all the affection they rained on each other, and on their children.
So, in the light of the moon, and in the silence of the world around her, Wednesday found her phone.
It was laying on top of a thick leather-bound book, hanging dangerously over the edge of her desk. The long black wire connected to it twirled into the darkness of her room, disappearing somewhere near the wall.
Wednesday unplugged it and sat back down on the edge of her bed. She could see her reflection in the black screen. She looked tired.
She tapped the screen and winced at its brightness, blinding her for a moment. A commendable counter-attack, revenge for her letting it die, perhaps.
She tapped violently at it, hoping that the damn thing would just somehow break, and this temptation would be gone.
But no, Xavier answered at an almost frightening speed. "Yeah, sure. I'll send her number over to you. How are you, by the way?"
Wednesday ignored him, thinking about how long it would take for him to get the message.
Enid's number stared up at her innocently, ignorant of all its trouble.
She felt like Adam, for a moment. This was the apple, the root of knowledge and evil and what humankind was made of. This was the dark between stars, the light of the sun. This was everything she needed, in this moment, and the one thing that might destroy her, in the end.
With some less aggressive tapping, Wednesday added Enid to her contacts.
She knew, from her borrowing of Enid's phone, that perhaps the little pictures, "You mean emojis?" were customary to put with someone's information.
She refused to oblige.
She fell back into her bed, and let the phone rest on her chest.
She let the bout of adolescent drama take charge of her, too tired to fight it.
Was this the right thing to do? Message your best friend roommate in the middle of the night, to help quell the unwanted and vexing dreams nightmares you were having of her?
Wednesday knew she would not tell Enid of them, she would not tell anyone.
To tell someone would inevitably lead to thoughts of "What does it mean?", and that was not something had yet to, nor she planning to, put effort into pondering.
But perhaps speaking to her, listening to Enid ramble about some band, or this movie, or that actress would help. Maybe the monotony, the reminder of the annoyance she felt, would help. A reminder of who Enid really was, and not this imaginary version her subconscious had created, would stop this.
She had no other options. Ignoring it had wrought nothing, and that had been her only plan. This was a course of action unthought of in the light of day when was rested and not reeling from the ice that had set into her soul.
She pulled in another breath, felt something heavy settle on her heart, and typed out a message.
"Hello, Enid. With our upcoming return to Nevermore, I thought it best to get in contact with you. I hope your break is going well. WA."
It sounded too affectionate, too nice. Wednesday wanted to be angry. She wanted to hate Enid, blame her in some mystical way for doing this to her. But she couldn't, because that was illogical and stupid and it was not Enid's fault.
It was hers, or the universe.
But it was not Enid's, and she couldn't .
She looked out the window again and felt the pull of sleep dragging her down.
Maybe she could sleep.
Maybe this was enough.
A dark part of her mind, the part responsible for these thoughts when she slept, brought the feeling of Enid's soft hair into her fingers, the press of her lips against hers. The warmth, the solidity, and the want.
"OMG hey roomie! Since when did you have a phone?!!"
It would not be enough.