Chapter Text
June 23rd - Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada
Queen Elizabeth Theater
That’s what you get when you let your heart win.
That’s the line from the song Enid had played that stuck with Wednesday the most. She hated how she had spent much too long looking into the lyrics and listening to it once she realized she wasn’t going to get any writing done.
She thinks about how Enid’s probably listened to that song hundreds of times before, how it might have been one of her favorites, and now Wednesday’s probably tainted that for her.
Wednesday sighs, glancing down at the phone on her desk like she’s expecting it to light up with Enid’s name any second now. She’s still thinking about the other day when Enid had been typing up a message, still wondering what she could have possibly wanted to say, figuring it wasn’t worth sending if she ended up deleting it.
Another email appears in her inbox, and Wednesday doesn’t feel like reading it, so she grabs her phone instead, opening it up and checking her messages again in case she’s missed something. But once again, just like the last time she had checked not that long ago, there’s nothing new. So she opens Instagram instead, expecting the same so she can have a reason to go back to work.
But of course, a post from the band is the first thing that appears, a photo of all of them downtown with grins on their faces. Enid’s nails are a faded black, eyes hiding behind a pair of sunglasses.
@bloodmoonband: vancouver we will BC-ing you tonight!
@enids.biceps: POST ANOTHER DRUM COVER PLEASE
@no1yokovinafan: maybe wednesday means they’ll release raven as a single on wednesday 👀
@barclaybabes: @no1yokovinafan wait ur mind
@real_person_notabot: i have an extra ticket for sale hmu
@typo365231: 💜💜💜
@wenid_truther: #WhoIsWednesday #WhatIsWednesday #WhenIsWednesday #WhereIsWendesday #WhyIsWednesday
@zoeyluvsramen: it’s my birthday can i get a shoutout tonight???
@canucksfan1995: enid is my fave sinclair sorry to christine the goat
Wednesday doesn’t know why she’s reading the comments, because now she’s seeing that she’s being roped into this now too. She curses at Agnes for starting this mess when it could have all been avoided so easily.
Of course, that’s when Wednesday glances up from her phone after hearing someone clear their throat, seeing Agnes standing sheepishly at her doorway.
It takes every fiber of Wednesday’s being to not jump over her desk and strangle her.
“What do you want?” Wednesday grumbles instead, glaring back at Agnes so hard she could turn her to dust.
“Your mailbox was full so I was told to clear it up for you,” Agnes mutters, glancing at the handful of papers she’s clutching to her chest. Wednesday doesn’t say anything, so Agnes takes a step towards her desk and lays the pile of mail down carefully with a nervous frown.
She doesn’t leave after that, though, and Wednesday's eyebrow twitches slightly, knowing that Agnes has something on her mind.
“That’s not all you’ve come here for, is it?” Wednesday asks, and Agnes takes a breath, staring down at the floor.
“I wanted to apologize for posting that thread,” she says, voice trembling. “I just wanted to go viral.”
“The only thing that I care about going viral are plagues,” Wednesday sneers, “Not worthless internet gossip about someone’s personal life.”
She’s still glaring hard at Agnes, who does look genuinely apologetic about what she’s done. But then, Wednesday can see a sly smile growing on her lips.
“But I know you were really upset about it because you like Enid.”
Wednesday’s eyes grow wide, a lump growing in her throat, wanting to snap back at Agnes for suggesting such a thing, but she can’t. She can’t because it’s true. If it were any other celebrity, she wouldn’t have batted an eye.
“Do you think I wouldn’t have figured that out too?” Agnes says, tilting her head. Wednesday’s still speechless.
“I saw you liking all of their band posts and only Enid’s,” she begins to explain, “And then Enid followed you. Instagram told me I had user vipderd123 in my contacts.”
Wednesday huffs, still mad about that, and Agnes continues listing her evidence before Wednesday can even prove her wrong.
“You’re on your phone way more than usual. And you were smiling at it, which is rarer than a blue moon. Almost missing meetings and not promptly responding to messages because you’re too busy talking to Enid or reading all of the gossip about her.”
Wednesday’s mouth hangs open, still searching for anything to defend herself, but Agnes keeps listing more things with a devious smile on her face.
“Oh, and don’t get me started on that voodoo doll and the matching nail polish. And the first verse of Raven spelling your name? It was so obvious.”
“That was only a coincidence,” Wednesday finally retorts, even if she knows it’s not. Agnes doesn’t look bothered at all, proud of herself that she’s figured Wednesday out.
“You have a rockstar absolutely smitten about you,” Agnes coos, “People would kill to be you, Wednesday.”
“And you know I’d enjoy that.”
Wednesday’s trying to act like the thought annoys her, that she could care less about it all, when in fact she’s flustered. And of course Agnes notices.
“I’ve never seen you sulk so much before,” Agnes says with a pout, “Even gala planning doesn’t make you as miserable as you are without Enid.”
Wednesday shakes her head, finally giving in because she knows Agnes is as persistent as she is. “She’s more famous than I’ll ever be,” Wednesday says, “She’ll get bored of me quickly.”
“She’s been talking to you willingly for over a month,” Agnes argues, “I couldn’t think of anyone else who would do that.”
Wednesday’s eyes fall to the ground, not even bothered by what Agnes has said, because her thought is that Enid would only talk to her because it was convenient. Not because she enjoyed it. She just needed a way to pass the time. A distraction. “I’m not enough for her,” Wednesday swallows hard, “She deserves better than me.”
“She wrote a whole song about you, Wednesday-”
“I didn’t ask for any of that.”
“But you like it.”
“I do not,” Wednesday lies, following it up with another, “It sounds like every other song on the radio.”
“Then why did I hear you listening to it in your office the other day?”
Agnes raises an eyebrow, and now Wednesday’s squinting back at her, trying to figure out how she knew that. She thought she had her earphones connected. There’s no way she was listening to it loud enough to hear from the hall or wherever Agnes would have been hiding.
“It’s simple. She makes you happy,” Agnes says, a little less harsh, “What’s wrong with being happy?”
And that makes Wednesday stop and think and wonder why she’s being so hesitant, why she’s so scared to let Enid in. She’s afraid of what happens when it doesn’t work out, when they realize they’re too different and Wednesday’s wasted her time opening up to someone only to be hurt. It scares her far too much to be vulnerable, to let someone know her so deeply, only for it to come to an end one day, and probably because of something she’ll do because this isn’t something she’s used to.
“I don’t have time for a relationship,” Wednesday mutters as her excuse, but that just gets Agnes riled up again.
“You have zero social life outside of this job. You go home and write your book and that’s it. You don’t want to admit that you’re not the brooding loner you want to be and that you’re capable of caring about someone.”
Once again, Agnes has said nothing but the truth, and once again Wednesday finds herself without a rebuttal.
“You have to go to her show. You have to tell her you’ll be there. And you have to tell her how you really feel.”
Wednesday almost chokes on her words. “I can’t.”
Agnes rolls her eyes. She knows Wednesday will come around eventually, but for now, she’s going to keep pushing her buttons until she finds the right combination to make her realize she can’t keep acting like she doesn’t care.
“Well, I can’t wait for when I get to write the story when you two are finally dating,” Agnes teases as she takes a step back towards the doorway.
“Get out,” Wednesday snaps, but she’s not intimidating at all with cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Agnes just skips away with a giggle.
Wednesday takes a moment to catch her breath, still reeling from everything Agnes had just dropped on her. She wants to be upset, but everything she had said was true. Her life was mundane before Enid came into it, repetitive and frustrating and going nowhere interesting even if she had insisted that was how she wanted it to be.
She remembers when she had told Enid that talking to her gave her a much needed change of pace, a conversation that seems like it was from another lifetime.
Wednesday has to focus. She has dozens of emails to respond to and a gala to run on her own in a few days and she can’t even begin to try and think about her feelings for Enid when there’s so much to do. But even she knows Enid is going to haunt her thoughts even when this is all done.
In the meantime, Wednesday goes to sift through her pile of mail, finding nothing of interest as she tosses them one by one into the trash. Until she gets to a postcard with ‘Greetings from Atlanta’ in bright letters, wondering who it could possibly be from.
Wednesday’s heart stops when she flips it over and sees the message scribbled on the other side.
hi wednesday!!! i told you i’d buy you a postcard as a thanks. this one is from our hotel gift shop in georgia. I hope it gets to you in a timely manner, who knows where it’ll end up. see ya!
- xo enid
It feels like ages ago when Enid had joked about sending her a postcard, words slurred, Wednesday thinking Enid was too drunk to remember. She wonders how long ago this postcard had arrived, if it was before or after they had stopped talking, if Enid even remembers that she had sent it. She wonders if things might be different if she actually checked her mail or if it wouldn't have mattered.
Wednesday stares at the postcard for far too long, taking in the smudged purple ink and heart over the i in Enid’s name, and then she tucks away in her desk so it doesn’t get lost.
- - -
Enid likes Vancouver. She thinks she’d live here in another life. It kind of reminds her of San Francisco, which she thinks is nice for a moment until she remembers they’re headed there next and that means her mom will of course be calling her and she’ll answer even though she knows she shouldn’t.
But Enid ignores that for now and focuses on the smell of the ocean and the sun on her skin and all of the cute souvenir shops she passes by. She thinks she should buy herself something to commemorate the fact that she’s finally made it here, maybe a little keychain or magnet for her and Yoko’s fridge, so she ducks into a shop and has a look around before anyone can spot her.
There’s all sorts of stuff in the shop, just as busy and cluttered as Enid’s own head. She had been doing a good job trying not to think about Wednesday until someone from the radio station interviewing them asked about their new song and Yoko had to step in and answer the question for her because she froze up.
So of course Enid wanted to spend the day out and about with her phone off like she had done in Portland, and for now, it’s working as she strolls through the shop to distract herself.
Enid finds a cute magnet of a moose and hockey stick keychain that she plans to put on her backpack. And then, Enid comes to a stop at a rack of postcards.
That’s when she’s suddenly thrown back to Miami and the night Wednesday had stayed on the phone with her to make sure she had gotten home safe, Enid remembering that street vendor and their colorful array of postcards and how she wanted to send one to Wednesday.
Enid had stayed up long after their call ended, cursing at herself for bothering Wednesday and making her deal with her irresponsibility.
Wednesday had assured her it was okay. But it wasn’t the last time Enid had bothered Wednesday with her issues, and Enid wonders if maybe that was the real reason why Wednesday wanted to stop talking to her. That when she said she wouldn’t be right for her, it was because she didn’t want to put up with all of Enid’s problems.
Enid feels herself growing anxious, thinking about how she’s never good enough in the way she wants to be, but then one of the store employees recognizes her and asks for a photo and she quickly puts on a smile like she’s so used to doing.
As Enid leaves the store, she wants to think that her postcard got lost in the mail or sent to the wrong address, but now she figures it’s probably at the bottom of a trash can, long forgotten, just like her conversations with Wednesday will eventually be.