Wenclair One-Shots

you could be the one (that i keep)

Summary:

"What is your last wish?" Wednesday asks impatiently. "Surely there must be some idiotic, impractical thing you want. You humans are so very predictable in that way."

And Enid, who's wished on every star and comet and birthday candle she's ever seen, looks at Wednesday now and comes up impossibly short of an answer. One wish left, anything in the world at her fingertips, and all she really wants is more time to spend with this enchanted, enchanting mystery of a girl.

(EnidStoleMyWig's Comment) 21k work of enid falling in love with wednesday who's her genie granting her three wishes... are you ready my darlings >:)
————————————————————

Enid Sinclair is afraid of a lot of things in this world, including spiders, her family's disapproval, and the prospect of LOONA continuing without Chuu.

The list could go on forever, pages and pages of her deepest fears scrawled in messy metaphysical handwriting no matter how hard she tries to get rid of them. After today, though, she thinks it might just be safe to put creepy antique stores at the very top.

Uriah's Heap is undoubtedly the weirdest place she's ever had the misfortune of visiting - weirder even than her supernatural fever dream of a high school. Nevermore Academy may be stuffed to the rafters with sirens and vampires and other magical beings, but Enid's been a student there for three years now and she's never seen anything quite as strange as what she's looking at right now: a taxidermied set of squirrels, each dressed in a pilgrim-style outfit and grinning eerily with yellowed teeth.

Yeah, this place is weird with a capital W. Totally, completely, murderer's-secret-lair weird.

For the third time in as many minutes, Enid curses herself for listening to Yoko. Her best friend had dragged her in Uriah's Heap for the first time in both their lives, citing a need for a "super creepy knick knack for the room to scare my new roommate into dropping out."

At the time, Enid had thought it was a good plan - Yoko's roommate this year is some god-awful horse girl freshman that even Enid would find it beyond her capacity to be friends with. Now, standing between shelves of taxidermied rodents and mason jars of eyeballs and wondering where the hell Yoko disappeared to, she's rethinking her life's decisions.

"Yoko?" Enid whispers, as loudly as she dares. "Where'd you go?"

There's no answer. The silence presses in around her, almost suffocating. Enid shudders, fighting the urge to sprint out the door and never return, and walks to the end of the aisle.

Here, at least, things seem a little more normal. Against the wall, there's a collection of antique furniture languishing below a window that looks like it hasn't been cleaned in the last century or two. Dust lies thick on ragged black chairs and scratched sets of drawers; sunlight streams through the cracked and clouded glass, catching the slow fall of dust motes in its lazy beams.

All in all, it's kind of disgusting. If Enid wasn't so scared of the lady behind the counter, whose vibes fall somewhere between eccentric but harmless and absolutely hell the fuck no, definitely capable of eating children, she'd offer to run to the pharmacy down the road for some Windex and Lysol. Maybe she can anonymously leave some on the doorstep later.

She walks past a row of antique bookshelves, side-steps a molding brown armchair. The furniture is less creepy than most of the merchandise here, but there's still something deeply sinister about it - the bookshelves loom menacingly, the chairs look strangely hungry. Enid's just about to give up on Yoko and book it for the exit when her gaze catches on something square and shiny resting on the antique writing desk in the corner.