Chapter Text
Enid might be losing her mind, but she could hear thoughts—not her own or just anyone's, but specifically those of Wednesday Addams.
Since they became roommates at Nevermore following Wednesday's transfer, the goth girl had been consistently cold and mean. Enid's attempts at kindness were met with indifference or used as opportunities for Wednesday to mock Enid's preferences, which happened to be the opposite of Wednesday's.
This behavior grated on Enid's nerves, especially since she usually got along with everyone. Moreover, given that they were destined to share the same room for the entire semester, they had to find a way to get along. Ms. Thornhill, their dorm Mother, had already received too many noise complaints, and she certainly didn't need any more.
To avoid escalating their quarrels further, Enid began storming out of the room before things could get worse, seeking refuge in Yoko's space for the night. It was a move made out of necessity; after all, Wednesday was not one to back down easily.
"It's just so hard," Enid sighed in frustration during one of their impromptu girls' nights after an argument with Wednesday – a disagreement she had already forgotten. "I feel like I'm walking on eggshells. I can't even tell if she's thinking about lunch or plotting my death."
"What can we say?" Bianca scoffed. "When Addams was created, her face was set on a permanent default mode."
"But she does smile, right?" Yoko chimed in.
"Only when she sees someone get hurt," Enid muttered, slumping against the floor and gazing at the ceiling. "I just... I just wish I could read her mind, you know? To understand what she's really thinking."
"Murder," Bianca quipped. "She's always thinking about murder."
"Where have you been?" Wednesday inquired as Enid closed the door behind her upon returning to their room. 'I missed you.'
Enid immediately stopped, her hand frozen on the doorknob, wondering if she had heard correctly. "W–What did you say?"
Wednesday glared at her. "Have you gone deaf?" she retorted. "I asked where you've been. You would have been caught if I hadn't told Thornhill you were already resting."
"No," Enid replied, her curiosity piqued. "Thank you for covering, but what you said after that," she pressed, seeking clarification.
Wednesday narrowed her eyes. "I did not say anything after that," she stated firmly.
"O–Oh." Embarrassment crept up Enid's face. "Maybe I'm just tired."
"I can tell from the bags under your eyes," Wednesday remarked. 'They're still beautiful and remind me of sapphires.'
"W–What?" Enid stuttered.
"What?" Wednesday countered.
Enid sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose. "I think I'm gonna nap. I think I'm hearing things."
"The voice of the dead, I hope," Wednesday quipped.
"Far weirder," Enid muttered, walking to her bed and lying down.
Wednesday watched her roommate curl up on her bed before standing up. "I'll visit Eugene," she announced. 'Sleep soundly, Mon loup.'
"MhmThanks," Enid mumbled sleepily.
As Enid lay there, freshly awakened, Wednesday found herself inexplicably drawn to her roommate. She watched as Enid's eyes fluttered open. The setting sun's light filtered through the stained glass window, casting a soft, ethereal glow on Enid's face, accentuating the gentle curve of her lips and the way her hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her face like a dark halo.
'She looks ethereal,' Wednesday thought, 'like a living poem,' her gaze lingering on the subtle rise and fall of Enid's chest as she breathed.
As Enid slowly turned on her bed to face her, her blue eyes meeting Wednesday's dark ones, Wednesday found herself entranced, her mind painting Enid as a muse on the canvas of her imagination. 'In this moment, she is art, and I am the spectator, utterly captivated by her presence.'
In that quiet room, as the light gently caressed Enid's features, Wednesday allowed herself to indulge in the fleeting fantasy, silently romanticizing the ordinary yet extraordinary sight of a girl waking up, blissfully unaware of the adoration that had wrapped around her like an invisible thread.
"You're awake," Wednesday spoke flatly. "You've been productive," she added, her tone laced with sarcasm.
Unbeknownst to her, Enid heard it all and was now in a state of complete panic. She knew her face was already red despite her attempt to maintain a straight face. How could someone think about her in such a way and show not even a sliver of emotion? Was it really Wednesday's thoughts, or had Enid already gone mad? But Enid couldn't conjure up something romantic like that; she wasn't intricate with words like Wednesday.
In those silent moments, Wednesday had essentially confessed her feelings through her thoughts. She liked Enid. Wednesday Addams liked her and had entertained romantic thoughts about her.
It turned out Sleep did not help at all. It only made her situation clearer.
Oh, how she wished Wednesday's thoughts were about murder instead. It seemed some eccentric deity had chosen to grant her absurd wish.
Why, out of all the wishes she could have uttered aloud, did this one have to come true? Why couldn't it have been the concert tickets she had asked for? If it had been, she wouldn't be struggling to meet her roommate's gaze right now.
Maybe she was truly losing her mind.