a kiss after a devastating event, meant to comfort. ― @erdtreed, wednesday addams.
HER HEART, USUALLY SO FLIGHTY AND EAGER, FEELS LIKE A PAPERWEIGHT IN HER CHEST. enid cannot get it to budge as surely as she couldn't scrub the remnants of wednesday's blood from under her nails just weeks ago, when she had cradled her limp frame in her lap until emergency services arrived. she had felt so afraid then, that she might never see wednesday's obsidian - glass gaze or hear her macabre musings again.
herein lies the difference between that night and this one: she can see the fear in wednesday now. the severity of her eyes is only punctuated by the draw of her brows, the slightest crease that may as well be a sharp - edged sword. she can see the twitch of muscle in her jaw as the words spill rapid - fire from her lips, hear the huff of her breath as if her lungs are unable to fully expand in their haste. she has never seen the psychic like this before. it all pierces into the excess of perpetual guilt in her sternum, as if it's her fault. but it's not. it's not.
“ wednesday, ” her meek attempt is drowned out by the pacing of boots ( like it's something crawling over her roommate's skin, making her uncharacteristically restless ), and even another, steadier elicit of tone does nothing to break her ceaseless plotting. of course, she isn't listening. a spark of indignation brings the she - wolf to her feet, but concern leads the careful way she approaches the other, hands outstretched but not reaching. “ weds, come on -- please, just ― ” but it's no use. enid snaps her teeth together, watching the way wednesday's gaze floats right over her as if she isn't even there at all. and that's just ― oh, after everything, that is so unfair. she has to break her out of it somehow, and if it's wednesday's ways that aren't working . . .
even in her frustration, enid's hands are careful in the bold action of framing wednesday's face, an advance made so quick that the toe of her sneaker scuffs against the raven's. in the same motion, another quiet “ wednesday, ” expels milliseconds before she presses her lips gently over hers, and -- oh, that wasn't exactly what she was planning. it stopped her from monologuing though, didn't it? it only occurs to her a heartbeat or two later when she realizes her friend is still as a statue, mouth stiff against hers and while that's fairly normal for her again . . . well, enid can accept that she might get stabbed for this. crossing so many boundaries at the same time.
when she pulls away, cheeks dusted pink and an apology bright in wide eyes, she doesn't completely remove her touch: but her fingertips only loosely linger upon wednesday's visage, allowing her the option to create distance if she needs it. she half expects it.
“ listen, ” soft and almost pleading, a frown etches deep into her expression. “ i'm right here, okay? i'm still here. tyler didn't -- he didn't touch me. ” this time trails off, unsaid. they both know this reappearance was as much of a warning as anything, his grand reveal following wednesday's coma. but it isn't like her to spend so much energy agonizing over the possibilities.
