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The Worthlessness of Grey

Summary:

During a stormy night, Wednesday and Enid watch one another sleep at separate times.

Enid has some theories. Wednesday doesn't quite understand her emotions.

Wednesday Addams could confidently say that she had never had the intention of ever sharing a room with anyone. Especially someone like Enid. Oh, yes, Enid was a nice girl. That was where the problem lay. The same thing that turned her eyes away from her parent's affection turned her eyes away from the girl who was now her "roomie," as Enid liked to put it.

Wednesday could admit that the world wasn't outwardly black and white. No, it was in all shades of grey. And that was what made it black and white. She rarely thought of those grey shades, though they always shadowed any issue. The light only seemed to fight back after the darkness had already conquered it.

That was alright. Wednesday lived in the darkness. It was simpler than trying to dissect the shades of grey. And yet...

She turned over in her own bed, staring at the girl asleep in the bed across from her. The bed that looked like a unicorn had simultaneously exploded and vomited on. Disgust briefly flashed through her mind. Then an unfortunate, icky feeling; like the ocean had taken up residence in her stomach. It was a grey, stormy sea.

There were good kinds of icky feelings. The ones that reminded her that she was alive, and creeping toward her death. She knew where those feelings came from. She could control her intake of them. But the ocean feeling was unpredictable. It reminded her that she was alone.

She liked being alone. But there she was, sharing a room with another girl. She rolled over from her stiff position on her back and brought her fists to her chin, curling up on her side. Enid was asleep and Thing was doing Hell knew what. She let herself indulge in that position, despite the icky feeling it brought back to her stomach. Wednesday had no time for feelings. Only logical ponderings.

She saw Enid clearer from that angle. Enid, the opposite of everything she had ever known. She almost reminded her of Pugsley. But Pugsley wasn't innocently good. He merely gave himself moments to indulge in his feelings.

Actually, most of her family allowed themselves small moments. Wednesday was an outcast inside an outcasted group inside an outcasted group. What kind of person was that?

Enid. Enid was an outcast too. A lone wolf. She looked over at the tall, sleeping girl again. Blonde hair, the ends dyed. A happy and peaceful face. Objectively, she was pretty.

There was the ocean again, thunder crashing over the water. Thunder roared outside the large window in the room as well. Wednesday looked outside of it, seeing rain. It almost helped her feel at home. She rolled back onto her back, staring at the ceiling.

She had more important things to think about. Like monsters and murder. Normal Addams family adolescent thoughts. She crossed her arms to her chest and let out a deep breath. It was cold. She had always imagined death as being warm. Something about proximity to hell. She glanced back over at Enid, sprawled across her bed and softly snoring.

Then, she rolled over and brought her fists to her chin once again. She closed her eyes.

She dreamed of monsters and murders (and warmth).

A crack of thunder woke Enid up. She glanced out the window at the moon, where her eyes normally wandered during the night. A part of her hated that glowing sphere. And a part of her held a natural wonder. She sat up, checking her phone. It was 4:00 am. She could probably at least try to go back to sleep. Maybe. She laid back down, looking across the room to Wednesday's bed. Wednesday's side of the room was dark. She could barely see her.

The lights on Enid's side still shone brightly in the early hour. She liked to have them on. It made her feel safe and comfortable with who she was. Maybe that was what darkness did for Wednesday.

Enid couldn't imagine darkness making anyone feel safe, though. She wasn't innocent. She knew what hardship was and had experienced it more than once. The lights above her were something she chose. The light inside of her was too. It wasn't her mothers or the school. It was something all of her own.

Why bother trying with Wednesday? Enid had asked herself that question multiple times, in the quiet of her own mind. She knew some of the other kids had asked things along those lines.

Why bother with Wednesday Addams, the girl who had already threatened to disembowel ten different students? The girl who was so special she wore her own, distinct uniform. The girl who was different among those who were different?

Why bother?

Maybe because strangely, she saw herself reflected in those dark eyes. Okay, not entirely herself. Definitely not. But pieces of her story. Her difference. That difference hadn't had a name for a long time, until one day it did. Autism.

Sometimes she wondered, as Wednesday rambled about monsters in the woods, while Enid tried so hard to fit in and just be one of the pack. Maybe she and Wednesday shared a unique brain.

Enid squinted through the darkness at the other girl. She angled her fairy lights toward her bed.

Wednesday looked different in multi-colored lights. Even more disturbing than usual, if Enid was being honest. Her breath caught in her throat as she properly looked at the other girl in the light.

Wednesday was sleeping on her side, her hands tucked under her chin. She looked comfortable, even if her face was somehow more severe in her sleep. Enid didn't outwardly coo, afraid of waking her up (she had discovered the fact that the other girl did in fact wake up at the literal drop of a pin). She sure as hell inwardly cooed, though.

That was why she bothered. She'd known from the moment she saw the other girl's pale face that it wouldn't be easy. But there was something inside of her worth fighting for. There was a pleasant aspect to the darkness. Perhaps not light. Maybe something greater.

Mostly not fearing Wednesday, she sprawled out her body as much as possible once more, closing her eyes.

She'd keep trying.

She was nothing if not persistent.