Wenclair One-Shots

Unpacking

Summary:

Wednesday is unpacking when she comes across something that shouldn't be there

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Wednesday found it while unpacking.

Neatly folded like a cat amongst the pigeons, a fluffy pink, yellow, and blue sweater laid with her all black attire. Wednesday had no doubt about the origins of the offensive garment. Something so loud and obnoxious could only belong to one person. Enid.

But knowing the origins of the sweater didn't explain how it managed to get mixed in with her clothes. Had Enid accidently put it into the wrong suitcase? Unlikely given Wednesdays unique bags. Perhaps Thing was playing with her again like at the dance? But what was the point of hiding Enid's sweater? Had she been so out of her own mind while packing that she actually packed it herself without noticing?

Wednesday glared at the sweater as if it had purposely crawled into her bag just to cause her a dilemma. The sweater being inanimate refused to elaborate on how it came into her possession.

"I should throw you into the incinerator." Wednesday stated to nobody in particular.

It was the simplest solution but Wednesday couldn't bring herself to do it. She had seen Enid wear it a handful of times and the idea of destroying something she cherished didn't hold the same appeal it did when they had first met. Her next thought was to mail the sweater back to its owner but she didn't know where Enid lived; and even with her forced assimilation into the 21st century she refused to call, or worse text, unless it was a life or death situation. With both returning and destroying it off the table Wednesday was left with one option. Keep it until the next semester of Nevermore.

Wednesday went to grab the sweater to throw it into the depths of her closet where she would never have to lay eyes on it until school started back up. Instead her hand sank into its colorful fluff. It was incredibly soft.

'Just like Enid's hug.' Wednesday nearly pulled away from the sweater like it was smoking. Why had her brain remembered something so embarrassing.

Between the two near deaths Wednesday hadn't been thinking straight when she had pulled Enid into that hug. She wanted to reason that it was for Enid's sake and not hers but the fact was that she had simply enjoyed it. Enid held onto her tightly but with a distinct softness like someone would hold something fragile or important to them. Wednesday sometimes wanted to ask which one she was but could never form the words.

Shaking off the memory Wednesday finally picked up the sweater, intending to hide it away, until she caught something she hadn't smelled in weeks. "Enid?" She asked looking around her room for any hint of blonde.

There wasn't any because it would be crazy for Enid to be in her room. Then why could Wednesday smell her? Wednesday looked at her hands, the answer clutched between them.

As if the answer wasn't obvious she brought the sweater close to her face. It smelled exactly like the sugary perfume that Enid always doused herself in because it "smelled pretty". The familiar scent crashed through Wednesday like a wrecking ball in a glass house. All the tension she normally carried bled out of her as if she were cut open. Without thinking she buried her face into the soft material. Every breath was tainted with a sickly sweetness that clogged her throat.

Wednesday couldn't stop. She stayed standing there for all too long and not enough time smothering herself with familiarity until a noise somewhere in the house broke the spell. With shaky hands Wednesday shoved the sweater under her pillow and tried to get back to unpacking; her mind never straying from a certain werewolf.