weeee ( wenclair)

awkward

Enid's POV:

I wake up to my alarm going off. I reach over to turn it off and immediately realize I'm not in my bed, and I'm not alone. My heart skips a beat as the memory of last night starts to return in pieces.

Oh my god. I slept in the same bed as Wednesday Addams. I slowly turn my head to see her lying next to me, the blanket slightly pulled down to reveal part of her toned stomach. She's wearing one of my old t-shirts, and somehow even that looks formal on her.

She's still here. Still lying next to me. Still asleep.

She looks peaceful, which is weird for her, and I can't help staring for a moment. I thought she'd be long gone before I even opened my eyes.

"Good morning, Bellissimo," she says suddenly, her voice raspy from sleep.

"G-good morning," I stammer, flustered. My eyes flick up to her face, and I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. Then I remember, I'm still in yesterday's clothes, and everything just feels... awkward. "I'm, uh, gonna grab a shower," I mumble, taking the quilt with me for some modesty.

Wednesday's POV:

I'm sitting up in bed, the blanket draped over my lap. Last night replays in my mind like a strange indie film. We didn't do anything, but the proximity, the quiet tension, the way she looked at me... it was far more intimate than I'm used to. Especially after what happened with Aurora.

Aurora. She broke up with me. That should bother me more, but instead all I can think about is Enid's nervous smile and the warmth of her shoulder against mine. Sharing a bed with her should've been more uncomfortable. But it wasn't. It just made everything feel... complicated.

The bathroom door creaks open, and Enid walks out, fully dressed now, towel-drying her hair.

"What time is it, Детка?" she asks casually.

"You know Russian?" I ask, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah, do you?" she replies, not meeting my eyes.

"Конечно, я делаю." ("Of course I do.")

She pauses, visibly surprised. Her face goes red.

"Ведьма, это значит, что я знаю, что ты говоришь, даже когда ты говоришь по-русски." ("Which means I know what you're saying even when you're speaking Russian.")

Enid stares at me, shocked, before smirking. "Connaissez-vous le français?" ("Do you know French?")

"Bien sûr, qui penses-tu que je suis?" ("Of course, who do you think I am?") I reply as I stand to grab my jacket.

"Where are you going?" she asks.

"To the Weathervane."

"Can I come?" she asks, fidgeting with her sleeves.

"Sure. Come on."

She beams and quickly puts on her shoes. "You should grab a jacket, it's cold, Enid."

"Nah, I'll be fine," she says confidently as we head out the door.

Time skip – at the Weathervane

We walk into the café. A few people sit scattered in booths, and two guys are behind the counter. One of them notices us and immediately starts looking me up and down, smirking like an idiot.

I glance sideways to see if Enid caught it, she did. She's already glaring at him. We head to the counter, and I nudge her. "Do you mind ordering for me?"

She nods, placing our order. As we wait, she suddenly grabs my hand. I glance down in surprise but don't pull away. Our fingers naturally interlock. The guy finally walks off to make our drinks.

When we sit down, Enid is visibly annoyed. "Did you see the way that guy looked at you?" she whisper-yells.

I nod. "He was persistent."

"Persistent? He looked like he was about to-" she's cut off by the other guy approaching with the card reader. I reach for my wallet before she can grab hers and tap my card.

"You just paid for both of us," Enid mutters. "Bro, what the frick?"

I look at her like she's grown two heads. "You did not just call me 'bro.'"

Before we can continue the argument, the barista returns, the smirking one. I catch his name tag this time, Tyler.

"Thanks, Tyler," Enid says flatly, sipping her drink. He ignores her and looks right at me.

"So, you single or what?"

I glance at Enid, who shrugs, then I answer coldly, "Yes. What's it matter to you?"

"I wanna know when our date is."

Enid's face twists with disgust. "Back off, you muppet," she snaps, scooting closer to me and slipping her arm around my shoulders.

I lean into her, calmly sipping my drink, and glare back at him.

"You know, I've always had a thing for Latinas," he adds with a smirk.

"We should go, Детка," Enid says, standing up.

I follow suit. But before we can make it to the door, Tyler blocks our path.

"Not so fast. Give me your number, then I'll move."

Without hesitation, I kick him in the shin, hard enough to make a point. He stumbles back with a groan, and we walk right past him.

Once we're on the street, Enid turns to me. "Wednesday, you can't just kick people."

"He was annoying."

She laughs nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. "Fair."

There's a strange moment of silence between us again. I glance at her. She glances at me. We both stop walking. The street is quiet, the cold air wrapping around us like a blanket neither of us wants to acknowledge.

Enid's eyes meet mine, and we both freeze, not with fear, but with something else. Something warm and terrifying. There's no teasing this time. No smirks. Just a calm, electric stillness. Her hand finds mine again, fingers brushing first, then curling gently.

She steps a little closer, heart racing, I can hear it in the way her breath changes. And then, in the softest motion, like it was always meant to happen, Enid leans in.

Our lips meet, a quiet, careful kiss. Nothing heated or rushed. Just warmth, and trust, and the overwhelming sense that this is what we've both been trying not to say.

When we part, we don't speak. We just stay close.

Then-

"Wednesday?"

We both turn, startled.

It's Aurora.