Chapter Text
Enid was ecstatic. She had finally convinced Wednesday to have an actual sleepover, to spend time bonding and getting to know each other. This is something Enid had been begging Wednesday to do for months. They planned to watch a movie together with some popcorn, and play games together. “Are you excited? What do you wanna watch?” Enid grabbed Wednesday’s arm and shook her as she spoke, jumping up and down with excitement. “We can watch anything you want…even something scary.”
Wednesday looked at Enid with a raised eyebrow, her usual stoicism barely hiding a hint of amusement. "Excited? For a sleepover?" She deadpanned, her voice as flat as a pancake on a mortuary slab. "I suppose it has its... charms." She allowed a slight smirk to tug at the corner of her lips, acknowledging the rarity of her participation in such a mundane teenage ritual. "As for the film, I'd prefer something more... authentic. Perhaps 'The Texas Chainsaw Massacre' or 'Rosemary's Baby'. I find the true horror of reality far more captivating than the predictable plot-lines of most modern horror." She suggested, her eyes gleaming with an intellectual curiosity that seemed to border on glee at the thought of dissecting the classics.
Enid sighed. She knew Wednesday would want to watch a horror film—I mean, she’s Wednesday Addams. Everything about her was spooky. “Yeah…okay.” Enid tried to act like she wasn’t completely terrified of watching a horror movie…late at night…in the dark. She snagged the remote to their shared TV and searched The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and put it on. She then moved to the microwave and took out the popcorn she had already begun to make, pouring it into two bowls and handing one of them to Wednesday. She sat beside her—closer than usual—and chugged a nearby water bottle as she prepared herself. They were both sitting on Wednesday’s bed, since Wednesday refused to touch anywhere near Enid’s side of the room.
Wednesday accepted the proffered popcorn bowl from Enid with a delicate touch that seemed almost out of place for someone who usually preferred the company of spiders and skulls. Her eyes met Enid's, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips as she recognized the apprehension that danced across her friend's features. Her gaze lingered on the tremble in Enid's hand as it held the water bottle, and she couldn't help but find a peculiar amusement in her friend's attempt to play it cool.
As the movie began, Enid immediately felt a wave of fear and anxiety—with a hint of embarrassment—wash over her. She wasn’t used to scary things, at least, until Wednesday introduced her to it. It was obvious to Enid that Wednesday lacked social cues. She would often describe grim details of things like medieval torture devices or brutal murders since those were her interests, and while Enid liked seeing Wednesday all nerdy, the topics often left her feeling ill. And this movie would be no exception. “Can…is it alright if I lay on your lap?” She blushed, ready to accept a ’no, I don’t want you that close to me and I hate physical touch’ response from Wednesday, and turned to the side as she hid her face from the goth’s view. “It’s alright…i-if not…” She stuttered a bit out of embarrassment and fear of rejection.
Wednesday's gaze remained fixed on the screen, the flickering images of the horror classic reflecting in her dark, inscrutable eyes. She felt the sudden weight of Enid's question hang in the air like a funeral shroud, an unexpected and uncharted territory in the tapestry of their friendship. The film's opening chords of terror seemed to resonate with the tremble in Enid's voice, and for a brief, uncharacteristic moment, Wednesday found herself contemplating the delicate balance of social norms and personal comfort zones. She glanced down at her own hands, clutching the popcorn bowl with a grip that might have been mistaken for nervousness by a less discerning observer. With a sigh that could have been misinterpreted as resignation, she set the bowl aside and patted her lap with a motion that was as close to an invitation as Enid was ever likely to receive from her. "If it eases your nerves, by all means," She murmured, her tone softer than the rustle of dead leaves. The corners of her mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, had it not been for the macabre context that painted her every expression with a tinge of the morbid.
Enid quickly laid herself in Wednesday’s lap, nuzzling into her. She had a massive crush on the girl, but she’d never admit it since she believed Wednesday wanted nothing to do with romance. “Thank you…” She attempted not to look away from the film, but multiple times she caught herself gripping onto Wednesday for dear life, screaming, or hiding in the girl.
Wednesday's expression remained as impassive as a statue in a graveyard as she felt Enid's warmth seep into her. Her arms instinctively wrapped around her friend's shoulders, not quite a comforting embrace, but rather a firm, steady hold that seemed to say, 'I am here, but do not mistake this for weakness'. "You're quite welcome." She replied, her voice a smooth purr that held an unspoken promise of protection from the on-screen horrors. As the movie progressed, the screams and gore filled the room, yet it was the tremble in Enid's body that resonated more deeply with Wednesday than the cacophony of terror from the speakers. "Just remember, fear is a fleeting emotion, much like love." She mused, her gaze never leaving the screen, yet fully aware of the unspoken tension coiled like a snake in the space between them. "Both are illusions, but which one leaves a more profound mark?" The question lingered, unanswered, as the chainsaw roared in the background.
“Love isn’t fleeting, Wednesday. Love lasts, always. It leaves the most profound mark of any other emotion.” She stared up at Wednesday as if she was trying to express how she felt. How she loved Wednesday deeply. How she needed her. She hid yet again inside of Wednesday, gripping onto her. Slowly, she looked up, cupping Wednesday’s face. “I’ve never really admitted this but…I feel so safe around you. And cared for…dare I say loved.”
Wednesday's eyes, which had been trained on the macabre scenes unfolding before them, flicked down to meet Enid's gaze. The softness of her touch was as jarring as a whisper in a mausoleum, and the declaration of love hung in the air like an unexploded bomb in a silent library. For a brief moment, Wednesday's stoic facade cracked, revealing a hint of something unfamiliar—perhaps it was bewilderment, or the faintest glimmer of understanding. She remained silent, her heart beating a funeral march in her chest. The only movement was the slow, deliberate blink of her lashes as she processed the words that had just been spoken. Then, with a quiet dignity that seemed to suck the air from the room, she leaned down and placed a chilly kiss upon Enid's forehead. "You're a peculiar girl, Sinclair." She murmured, her voice as soft as a lullaby for the damned. "But I must admit, your affection is... intriguing." Her arms tightened around Enid, the gesture a silent testament to the uncharted waters of emotion she found herself navigating.