Woe it's Wenclair

Movie

Enid

Even though I don't really know what's going on with Wednesday, I'm happy she signed up for therapy. I hope she can talk to them about this. It's really been worrying me, ever since I found out. I don't want to say or do the wrong thing, and I know I can't fix this myself.

We're back in our dorm, just hanging out before dinner. I can't stop thinking about her. I just want her to be okay. To be happy.

"Hey, Wednesday?"

"Yes?" She asks, turning in her chair.

"I know you're writing now but, I was thinking, do you wanna watch a movie or something?"

She pauses.

"Can I pick?"

"Sure!" I respond, already pulling out my computer.

I log in and pat the spot next to me. She steps forward, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Or- uhm, we could watch it on your bed, or the floor..." I offer, feeling embarrassed.

She swallows before moving to sit next to me.

"I can't imagine the floor will be comfortable." She mutters.

I nod.

"So... what were you thinking?"

"How about a 1950s crime noir?"

"Uhm... okay... maybe we can find something on YouTube?"

I try not to show how unappealing the idea sounds to me. I don't think I could get her to watch mean girls with me, though.

I scroll through the results and ask Wednesday what she thinks.

"Hmm... this one?" She asks me, pointing to one with a vague name and a white man on the cover in a suit and one of those stupid hats.

"Sure." I shrug, and press play.

The ads start, so I reach over to turn off the lights, accidentally getting close to her face.

"Sorry," I apologize, my cheeks red.

"It's okay."

I swallow and pull the blanket over myself as the movie begins.

"Want the blanket over you?" I ask.

"...sure." She responds, pulling the baby pink blanket up to her waist.

I have to look away, she looks so cute.

"The music's always iconic." She points out.

"The mu- oh, yeah. Very uh... fifties."

God, I'm so awkward. I shuffle in my spot, placing the computer on our legs, trying to make a sort of table. It just falls at an angle because we aren't close enough.

"Oh." She mutters.

"If you just..." I trail off.

"Yeah..."

She slowly scoots closer to me until our thighs touch.

"Is that good?" She whispers.

"Mhm, yes." I nod frantically, trying to cover both of my tomato-red cheeks with one hand.

"You okay?" She asks, slightly leaning towards me, getting closer.

Too close. Jesus Christ. Fuck, I'm gay.

"Good!" I reply, too loud.

"Are you sure? You look a bit... red."

"Fine, I'm fine. I'm good. This movie is... so interesting."

"It barely started."

"Yeah... already hooked! You know, crime. I love crime."

"Okay..." she responds, unconvinced.

She very well knows I do not like crime.

The next half hour is excruciatingly unbearable. She's right next to me, our legs touching, the black and white of the screen bouncing off of her face in the most complimenting way, not that I'm looking at her face more than the movie. Definitely.

To make things worse, every so often she gives a little smile when the characters talk about poison and murder.

Why did I think this was a good idea? Remind me again? Why are you stupid, Enid?

Oh Christ. She's starting to lean against me. I guess she's just really focused on the movie. I'm panicking. Her body lies gently against mine as I try to act cool. This is fine. This is normal.

And then her hand starts to move. To the computer, tracing across it below the mousepad, to the other side.

Deep breaths.

Deep breaths.

Fuck. She lies her thumb on the edge of the computer and her fingers on my thigh.

Her fingers are on my thigh. Holy fuck.

Deep breaths.

I guess she's just absent minded. It's no big deal. Definitely. No big deal. They're on my shorts, not bare skin, maybe she's just adjusting the computer.

Until she readjusts her position, pushing her hand on my thigh to move herself up against the bed frame, letting out a soft groan. Fuck. Through this, she has pushed my shorts a bit up my leg, leaving her whole hand on my bare thigh.

I have died. I am deceased.

Oh my fucking god.

—————

"That was good," Wednesday announces once the credits roll.

"Yeah, I thought the best part was when they caught the guy."

She pauses and looks at me weird.

"I mean, when they... when the guy did the... the stuff."

"They never caught the guy. Did you forget?" She asks, looking at me puzzled.

"Oh, right. Yeah, I remember now."

"Okay, " She says, pulling the blanket off herself and kneeling on the bed.

"I must be really tired."

"Yes, are you sure you're alright? You've been acting... different."

"Might be uh... be a little sick."

"I can bring you some dinner, you should stay in bed," she offers.

"Oh, I'm okay-"

"You should just stay in bed, Enid. If you're sick."

"Oh-okay," I respond.

"Dinner starts soon, I guess I'll head down now."

"Okay... thank you."

"Yeah, of course. I'll be back soon." She says as she walks to the door.

"Bye."

"Bye," she responds before closing the door.

As soon as it shuts I flip my head against my pillow and let out a much-needed sigh.

I can't go on like this, I really can't. I need to talk to her soon. I don't know how to say it, I just want her to explain what she couldn't on the plane. I don't understand anything, I don't know how she feels about me, and I don't know what to do with myself.