Wenclair oneshots

sweet of twigs and twine

A/N: THIS SHIT IS 17 368 WORDS I JUST SPENT A WHOLE 7HOURS STRAIGHT WRITING THIS SEND HELP

Summary:
Ajax is hopeless when it comes to dating Enid. But, against all odds, he makes Enid happy. And Enid, Enid's happiness—against all odds—matters to Wednesday.

The first phone number in Wednesday's new phone is Xavier's.

The second is Enid's.

It's probably not praxis, that Wednesday has discouraged nearly all communication with Xavier—via ignored texts and one-word responses, what in the nine spheres of heaven had made him think she would subscribe to the cellphone-usage patterns of a typical, chronically online teenager?—but the one time she reaches out first is to ask for his help.

Xavier is ... a friend – one of the precious few Wednesday has, and she's learned from previous experience that friends don't take too kindly to being used. The memory of Enid's vicious reprimand and the gaping wound she left in her half of their dorm room is not one Wednesday likes to dwell on; the feeling, strange and unpleasant in a disconcerting way, of the thorn in Wednesday's side being absent for the first time since she arrived at Nevermore, even less so.

But Xavier responds, even doesn't mention his last unanswered missive about their winter-break Gothic Literature reading list. And it's hard for Wednesday to feel very contrite about it all, not when he gives her exactly what she wants.

The interesting thing about Enid, once Wednesday texts her number—newly acquired and programmed into her cellphone—is that she doesn't seem to mind filling the digital silence, undeterred when Wednesday doesn't deem a message worth responding to. "Double-texting", Enid calls it, though a different multiplicative adjective might be more appropriate, because sometimes Wednesday will look up from her typewriter and find an endless stream of new messages waiting to be read and potentially—and most probably—ignored. Enid, always accommodating and almost annoyingly at ease in the soft spot Wednesday has for her, talks enough for the both of them.

Wednesday has never owned a cellphone before, always preferring ink and paper as a mode of communication to modern instant messaging. The never-ending deluge of texts and notifications coming from Wednesday's phone are foreign, unlike even the messages her parents leave on her crystal ball—which are, for some reason, much easier to turn a blind eye to—but, at the same time, not so unfamiliar. The texts evoke the constant chatter of an in-person Enid, jumping from tangent to tangent, breaking up the otherwise peaceful monotony of Wednesday's winter break, the trill of incoming messages punctuating the quiet while Wednesday works on a new novel and her family haunts the other wings of their estate.

It's ... something, to know that Enid is there. That she's just across the country, scars healing pretty well aw thank you for asking!!!, and omg wednesday the rain here has been so crazy you'd love it, and really?? i'd love to visit the next time we're off! As with her waking hours, Enid features prominently in Wednesday's dreams, frequent and vivid and confusing ever since the events of the last semester. Inundated with shadows the way Wednesday likes, pops of colour fill her nightmares now, too, bright and unmistakable.

wait, Enid texts, several days after Wednesday first messaged her, i totally got sidetracked by your new phone!!! She resends Wednesday's very first message and tacks on a simple ???, and Wednesday's own words glare back at her.

Hello, Enid. This is Wednesday Addams. Xavier gave me your cellphone number. Do you have a moment to "talk"?

Wednesday stares down at the glowing display of her phone. She looks over at Thing, perched on the back of his hand, fingers lazily kicking the air. He gets up, tapping the desk underneath him.