Wenclair oneshots

Pride

A/N: yass it's my birthday 1year closer to death 💅

Summary:
Enid and Wednesday both come out to each other as sapphic and address each other's anxieties.

Best friend or not, Wednesday was a strange person. Enid could admit to that. Actually, she was more than happy to admit to that, as she had recently walked into her room slightly later than usual and stepped on a pile of rabbit bones stacked in the doorway. It wouldn't have been a big problem, if Wednesday hadn't been in the middle of stripping fur and flesh from said bones, leaving chunks of -

Okay. Enid didn't want to think about that anymore. The mere thought always led to some unpleasant dry-heaving.

Yes, Wednesday was a strange person, and Enid didn't know why she did half of the things she did, nor did she want to know. But lately, she'd been acting even stranger. Firstly, she was always gone in the morning when Enid woke up, and returned just before Enid was about to leave, fully clothed and ready to go. She must have been getting up before the sun to get ready. But she hadn't done that before.

Secondly, she wouldn't look Enid in the eye. That wasn't a strange thing on the surface, Wednesday either stared at people intensely until they looked away, or avoided eye contact altogether. It was even written in the file Enid and Wednesday had obtained (in other words, stolen) at the beginning of the semester about themselves. A few spaces under Wednesday's name, as her very long list of supposed behavioral issues was started, the first line on it was, "severe eye contact problems." Why that was a problem was beyond either of them.

And lastly, she was quieter. Yes, okay, she was an eerily silent person in general, but this was a different kind of quiet. Almost like she was... unsure of herself. Like she was considering every move she had in her mind, over and over and over again. Enid knew the feeling. But, no, it was Wednesday. The most weirdly confident person Enid had met. So that couldn't be right.

Right?

Case in point, Wednesday was already sitting on the edge of her bed when Enid arrived at their room, even though it was early. Her hair, though still in braids, was wet, meaning she had either showered or been thrown into a pond again by someone trying to murder her. Likely the former, though the latter situation had happened twice that semester already.

"Hey, Wednesday," Enid flashed her a grin and put her things away. Wednesday gave her a slow nod, not tearing her gaze away from the wall. Thing was perched beside her, one of his fingers brushing against the girl's. It was a gesture of comfort. Wednesday didn't move her hand. "Did something happen?" Enid crossed to the much darker half of the room, only half fearing for her life. Wednesday had never actually threatened her at knifepoint or anything before, but when your roommate happened to keep two dehydrated tarantula corpses in her drawer, you generally developed a healthy respect for her space.

"No," Wednesday said, her gaze briefly flitting up to meet Enid's, then focusing back on the wall. Her hands were clasped in her lap, her nails pressing against her pale skin. Enid waited. "I still have no usable leads on the identity of the stalker. I spoke with Eugene this morning, he could not discern a specific location other than the area, which we already know."

"Oh." Okay, so they were jumping straight into creepy business. Enid didn't know what she'd been expecting. "You'll figure it out. I mean, you've already fought him, her, them? Off twice"

"Yes," Wednesday rose from her bed and strode across the room, sitting at her desk instead. Enid saw the hint of a scratch across the side of her neck, dipping down near her shoulder, which was covered effectively by the dress she was wearing.

"Where'd you get the scratch?"

"What?" Wednesday turned around.

"Come here," she said. To Enid's surprise, Wednesday walked back over and returned to where she had been sitting. Enid reached out a hand, "can I...?" She was met with the slightest dip of her friend's head. Slowly, she reached out again, her fingertips gripping onto the edge of the fabric on Wednesday's shoulder and pulling it down ever so slightly.