Wenclair One-Shots

Miscommunications (Part 1/2)

Summary:

After almost kissing Wednesday, instead accidentally bumping foreheads, Enid is convinced that Wednesday wants nothing to do with her.

Wednesday, also convinced that Enid is rejecting her, does increasingly desperate things to win her affection, not knowing that she already has it.

Or, a courtship fic.

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Wednesday was in purgatory.

Purgatory in the form of her disgustingly colorful roommate, Enid Sinclair, drawing incessant little pink hearts on her perfectly nice black wrist cast. Just about three months ago, Wednesday had gotten herself into a fight with Enid's ex-crush, Ajax. She had gotten stoned, which was actually a pleasant experience. She enjoyed not having to listen to anyone about anything.

However, the experience had left her with a pretty nasty broken wrist, which was how she had gotten herself in this predicament. Enid was humming, trying to doodle on the cast, but Wednesday kept tapping her fingers, messing up the girl's drawing.

"Willa!" Enid's whine cut through her thoughts, "stop moving! I've seen you be stiller than the dead before!" Wednesday gave a slight smirk- ew- she chided herself internally for the positive response. However, the agitated reaction from the other girl was always satisfactory, considering Wednesday knew exactly how to get a rise out of Enid. Wednesday slowly moved her arm back and forth to try and derail the sinister plot to make her cast look colourful, finding that she liked the motion and continuing to do it.

"Just give in. I'll do it in your sleep if you won't let me do it now," Enid said, waving the pink sharpie in her face. Wednesday recoiled,

"I'm forced to wear this arm prison-"

"-Cast."

"I'm forced to wear this cast, and that's bad enough. Now you insist on using permanent marker to make the situation all the more worse," she threw her arm back as Enid reached for it again. Enid sighed, putting the cap back on the sharpie,

"To be fair, the only reason you're still stuck in that thing is because you won't take a break for like, a minute. So now it's extended."

"That's irrelevant," Wednesday muttered, glaring as Enid reached for another pink sharpie, a different shade. How many shades of pink were there? She didn't want to know the answer. Thing vibrated angrily from the desk, diverting Enid's attention. Now was the time to escape. Wednesday hurried to the door as Enid let Thing climb onto her shoulder.

"WEDNESDAY!" Enid exclaimed, dragging the girl back to her desk. "I feel like a- a fucking babysitter sometimes, with the two of you!"

Wednesday knitted her eyebrows, glaring at her roommate, "now you know how I feel every day with you."

"Occasionally running after a squirrel is NOT-" she gave a huff, tugging Thing away from the door- "-equivalent to handling a teenager with an interest in criminal activity and a dismembered hand who wants to murder Ajax!" Thing angrily tapped a message with a lot more unsavory words than necessary, most directed at the gorgon boy in question. Ever since he had broken Wednesday's wrist, Thing had taken it like the death of a family member as a hand himself and was out for cold blood (no pun intended, with Ajax having snakes for hair and all).

"I'm going outside," Wednesday said from in front of the window, Enid groaning and stroking her fingers down Thing to calm him,

"No, you're not!"

"Wow, I'm already out the window."

"Wednesday Friday Addams."

Wednesday climbed back inside of their room reluctantly, her hair in disarray from the comforting motion of repeatedly tugging on it. The shorter girl was constantly bored out of her mind without an opportunity to stalk someone or dart into the woods. Enid rolled her eyes fondly, waving her over to her desk. She raised a hand with a brush, silently asking permission from Wednesday to start physical contact again. The shorter girl stared at her, before turning around as an unspoken allowing of the activity. Enid gave a grin, tilting her head and picking up one of Wednesday's braids. She gently untied her hair from the woven style, brushing through it.