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Enid had a crush.
Again.
It always started like this: with a spark that felt like fate, a sudden heat in her chest that she mistook for destiny. She’d fixate. Romanticize. Fall hard and fast for boys who didn’t even know her favorite color, and just as fast—fade. It was a cycle Yoko knew all too well—and one she was regularly subjected to during their infamous girls’ nights.
“His name is Maxim.” Enid said, eyes practically glowing with that familiar, dangerous kind of excitement. “He transferred last week from... somewhere. He hasn’t said. Which is so mysterious. Like he’s hiding a dark past.”
Yoko, sprawled across Enid’s bed with her head hanging upside down like a lazy little bat, didn’t even blink. “Yeah. Or like he just doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Enid gasped dramatically. “Yoko!”
Yoko shrugged. “I’m just saying. He gives off the same energy as a cryptid caught in a rainstorm.”
The wolf girl was pacing the dorm like she was trying to generate wind energy, her hands flying with every word. “He didn’t even look at me when I asked to borrow a pen. Just sort of... sighed. Like I was interrupting his internal monologue.”
“You’re about to fall in love with a boy because he refused to lend you a pen,” Yoko said flatly.
Enid whipped around, indignant. Then flopped dramatically onto her back, limbs sprawling like she’d just been struck down by love itself. “He’s so mysterious, Yoko. He wears all black. He never talks in class. He has these haunted eyes. Like he knows things. Like he’s suffered.”
“Are you sure he’s not just lactose intolerant?”
“No, Yoko. It’s vibes. Deep, sorrowful, emotionally layered vibes.”
“Let me guess. Tragic aura. Read gothic novel. Draws knives during lectures. Glares like it’s a competitive sport?”
Enid blinked. “...Maybe.”
Yoko picked up one of Enid’s stuffed animals and pointed it at her like a lawyer presenting a key piece of evidence. “You’re describing Wednesday. With a dick.”
Her friend bolted upright. “What?! No I’m not!”
Yoko sat up slowly, an unholy gleam in her eye. “Enid. That’s Wednesday. That is just Wednesday but with a worse skincare routine.”
Enid flailed. “It is not! Maxim and Wednesday are nothing alike!”
The vampire held up a finger. “Goth, moody, all black wardrobe, emotionally constipated, has probably written angsty poetry in the margins of his math homework, gives you the vague feeling you’re being silently judged? That’s Wednesday. That’s literally Wednesday but with worse posture and probably more Axe body spray.”
Enid made a sound like an overloaded printer. “Maxim is different. He’s mysterious and emotionally... complicated.”
“So is Wednesday,” Yoko deadpanned. “You didn’t even like that type until she showed up. Before her, you were into sweet boys with sticker-covered water bottles and emotional intelligence. What happened to Ajax?”
Enid winced.
“And you said he was ‘gentle and emotionally attuned.’ Now you're into emotionally unavailable cryptids who draw knives in their notebooks and probably own a cursed Ouija board.”
Enid crossed her arms, flustered. “Maxim is not emotionally unavailable. He’s just... guarded. It’s hot.”
Yoko leaned forward like she was about to break national news. “So it’s hot now. Because Wednesday made it hot.”
“I—” Enid opened her mouth. Closed it. “No! This has nothing to do with Wednesday!”
Yoko laughed. “Enid, your subconscious is in love with that creepy roommate of yours and trying to hetero-correct itself by projecting her entire personality onto a random sad boy.”
Enid hurled a pillow at her. Yoko caught it with one hand, smug as ever.
“I don’t have a crush on Wednesday,” Enid said, with the speed of someone who absolutely did.
“You do,” Yoko said. “But your poor straight-coded brain went into panic mode. ‘Oh no! A girl is making me feel things! Better find a dude who’s the exact same just with facial hair!’”
“Coincidence!” Enid cried.
“Girl. Please.” Yoko leaned forward, eyes glittering. “You used to like sweet boys with sticker-covered water bottles and emotional availability. Then Wednesday arrived and your type did a U-turn. You’re just projecting your feelings onto the nearest human shadow puppet with a jawline.”
Enid groaned and dropped dramatically onto the rug.
Yoko shrugged. “Or maybe the first time you felt something real, it was with someone you weren’t supposed to.”
Enid stiffened—barely. Just enough for Yoko to notice.
She didn’t push it.
Yoko leaned back, triumphant. “Look, I’m not saying you’re in love with Wednesday—”
“I’m not!”
“—but I am saying that your subconscious is building boy-shaped Wednesday clones and calling it attraction. And that, babe, is textbook compulsive heterosexuality.”
She rolled over, voice lighter. “You look like you’re having a sexuality crisis.”
“I am definitely not having a sexuality crisis.”
“I’m just saying,” Yoko continued casually, “that if your mom hadn’t spent your entire existence trying to turn you into a catalog for Straight™ Summer Camp, you might’ve figured this out a little sooner.”
Enid went very still.
Yoko didn’t look at her. She just kept hanging upside down.
“She never liked it when I painted my nails,” Enid said finally, like she wasn’t even sure she meant to say it aloud.
“I know,” Yoko said, gently. “She never liked it when you weren’t... whatever she thought you were supposed to look like.”
Then Yoko added, almost too soft to hear: “Wednesday might not be the easiest person in the world. She’s about as cuddly as a haunted bookshelf. But she never asked you to be anyone else.”
Enid nodded, hugging her pillow tightly.
Yoko waited, unbothered. Then, gently, “Em.”
Enid peeked out from under the pillow.
“Can I tell you what I see?”
A smal nod.
“You’re not chasing Maxim. You’re chasing a feeling you don’t understand. And every time you try to bottle that feeling into a boy, it leaks. But with Wednesday? You light up. The real kind. The kind that sticks.”
Enid sat up. “What do you mean?”
“She’s the only person you never get tired of. The only one who makes you nervous and comfortable at the same time. And when she looks at you like she sees right through you? You forget how to talk.”
Enid opened her mouth, then closed it.
Yoko leaned closer, tone gentler now. “You get all fluttery with these boys until they look at you back. Then it feels wrong. Like the magic dies. But with Wednesday? You’ve been orbiting her for months. And you’re still here.”
Enid looked down at her hands. “Even if you’re right… what if it’s the same thing again? What if I lose interest?”
Yoko shook her head. “You fall for the potential. The mystery. But Wednesday isn’t a fantasy. She’s real. Messy. Sharp-edged. And still—you see her. And she sees you. That’s the difference. That’s why it’s scarier this time.”
“She’s so blunt. She says exactly what she thinks. Doesn’t care what anyone else does.”
“Yeah,” Yoko said. “You two are opposites, sure. She’s doom and gloom and existential dread in eyeliner. You’re hope and chaos in lip gloss. But you don’t cancel each other out. You balance each other. That’s why you two work.”
Yoko leaned back, her tone quieter now. “I’m not saying she’s the best person. But I know she’s your person. And that means something.”
Enid whispered, “She accepts what I show her of me.”
Yoko nodded. “Even the parts you still hide from yourself.”
Enid’s voice cracked. “Why would she like someone like me?”
“Because you stand up to her. You challenge her. You don’t back down when she’s being difficult. You keep showing up.” Yoko looked at her gently. “She pushes everyone away. But she hasn’t pushed you.”
Enid gave a watery smile. “I caught her humming my playlist yesterday.”
Yoko gasped in mock horror. “A crime against goth culture!”
Enid laughed, small and genuine. “I thought I was imagining it. But she knew the words.”
They sat in silence for a long moment.
After a while, Enid asked softly, “Do you think she sees me?”
“I think she sees the version of you no one else bothers to look for. The version that isn’t all smiles and sparkle. The real one.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready.”
“You don’t have to be.” Yoko smiled and brushed a piece of hair from her friend’s face. “She’ll wait. And so will I.”
Enid leaned forward and hugged her tightly. “Thanks, Yoko. I love you.”
“Love you too, dummy.” Yoko wrapped her arms around her. “And also, never fall for a guy named Maxim again. I have limits.”
Moments later, the door creaked open.
Wednesday stepped in, hood damp, eyeliner immaculate, carrying the air of someone who’d just walked through the apocalypse and didn’t care. She paused the second she saw Enid’s watery eyes—and immediately turned on Yoko, pulling one of her many hidden daggers from under her jacket.
“What did you do?! Why is Enid crying?! Be honest and I might spare your miserable life.”
Yoko lifted her hands, grinning. “Surprisingly? Not my fault this time.”
Enid scrambled to reassure her. “It’s fine. Yoko was helping me. With... stuff.”
Wednesday blinked. Her shoulders relaxed. “Oh.” She nodded. “Alright. I’ll leave you to your emotional unpacking. Also…”
She walked to her side of the room, pulled something out of her bag, and tossed it onto Enid’s lap without looking.
Enid blinked. It was her favorite hoodie. Clean. Folded.
“I washed it,” Wednesday said. “It smelled like peanut butter and a night full of wrong decisions.”
Enid clutched it like it was sacred. “You didn’t have to—”
“I didn’t want it stinking up the room,” Wednesday muttered. Her ears were slightly pink.
She sat down, opened a book probably titled How to Summon Your Dead Ancestor When They Ghost You or something equally dramatic, and vanished into her silence.
Enid stared at the hoodie.
Yoko leaned in and whispered, “So. How long before you admit it now?”
Enid said nothing. She just clutched the fabric like Wednesday had handed her all the answers.
Yoko lay back on the bed, arms behind her head, utterly smug. “My work here is done. I’ll let you two idiots figure out the rest.”