Secret Little Love Song

Why Can't We Be Like That?

Author's Note: I'm borrowing an idea from one of my older unfinished fanfics from another fandom and applying it to wenclair with a new twist to make it new. Also because this idea just fits wenclair so well and I was feeling like writing angst.

Wednesday's head spun at the words on the page. Why can't we be like that?

She could hear the sadness in Enid's voice as the words replayed in her head even though it was simply a letter from her beloved. Behind the locked door of her room, darkness brought by the curtains, she doesn't need to mask the uncontrollable emotions that she will surely go to hell for. Wednesday looks forward to it more and more every day with Enid. If there's anyone she could tolerate dragging to hell with her, it would be Enid herself and nobody else in this lifetime or beyond.

Closing her eyes, Wednesday lets herself imagine through the images that she had raced to the library to find on Nevermore the moment Enid had told her in a letter that she was going there and the words written on the page clutched in her hand.

Skipping through the halls, Enid doesn't falter a single step. Neither does her smile. It is inside that her heart bends over its back trying to avoid the arrows attempting to make it bleed. Couple after couple were in the halls, the knowledge courtesy to her adamant attempt at keeping her title of gossip queen with her blog.

Part of her kept it up specifically so that she could tell Wednesday about it in her letters. It was part of their exchanges for Wednesday to make fun of her use of writing for social media.

Today wasn't a special day by any means. It was yet another day. Another day without Wednesday. To be fair, Enid hadn't seen her girlfriend in years now. Something that had burgeoned as a young puppy love had become something so much deeper through distance, as if the distance and the pain had gouged a larger place in each of their hearts for each other. It certainly hadn't been love at first sight like Wednesday described her parent's love story.

Still, some days Enid missed Wednesday more than others. Some days she let herself wonder if they weren't outcasts, they would've been able to be the ones holding hands down the halls, walking each other to class.

Wondering further, Enid thought, would Wednesday have been the chivalrous type?

The answer was most definitely. Wednesday yearned to offer to carry Enid's books and open the doors so that Enid would give her that knowing smirk once again that annoyed Wednesday so badly she wanted to die (more than usual).

Eyes snapping open, Wednesday knew she had to do something. There was no way she would let Enid continue to suffer this pain. The idea that she was feeling hurt that was related to Wednesday made Wednesday want to fall to her knees, which simply could not happen. Wednesday still had graves to dig, and a body count to add to.

More than that, even if Wednesday wouldn't admit it, Enid's suffering sat wrong with Wednesday. It was more than uncomfortable,

Tracing the letters and the grooves they left in the paper from the pressure of Enid's letters, Wednesday pondered how. For a moment, Wednesday considered that perhaps letting go would be the best course of action. That way Enid could find somebody close to her that could hold her hand through the halls of Nevermore. The idea was quickly dispelled from her head however. Wednesday would give up murdering and maiming before she gave up on what she had with Enid. Addamses did not give up so easily.

No, if she could not give what Enid needed from here, she would simply have to find a way to get to Enid.

Don't get it wrong, Wednesday was under no delusion that they would have to be any less secretive if she was near Enid. There was a very good reason why they had kept it a secret in the first place, and a secret it would remain until it was safe to reveal, or to their deaths.