Pigtails|Wenclay

What's After Woe?

Wednesday's POV:

Walking into my dorm, I see Enid sitting dead in the middle of the room, staring up at the ceiling. She looks so different to the Enid I first met. The colours on her side of the window are halfway peeled off, and it looks like she stopped for a break.

"Are you aware that you're stripping the window of your colours?" I ask her.

Enid just sighs. "I don't own colours."

"They were specifically curated to fit your palette."

"Everyone thinks that I'm gay now." Enid changes the subject.

I take a deep breath. "You are gay—"

"I'm not." Her response is the first time she looks at me since I entered. "To be gay, I have to not only be attracted to women and think about them all the time, but I'd have to want to date them, to break societal norms for them, to lose family over them, to lose potential friends and accept the fact that I may be without a mate forever if I stick to it. I do not want that, therefore I am not gay."

I think about this.

I am not sure if I want to be associated with a fixed label, but I do know that breaking societal norms and accepting solitude with open arms are things I do despite my sexual orientation. Before I identified with homosexuality, I identified with being an Outcast. Before I identified with being an Outcast, I identified with being an Addams.

Enid is a very obvious fur. Especially now that she's wolfed out. She's dealt with maltreatment since the very day she was born, so why is it now that she's fussed over whether people will accept her or not?

"Enid, is your point that you are not gay, or that you can't be gay?" I question her.

Enid looks back up at the ceiling. "It'll just be too hard, Wednesday."

"Life is too hard." I interject. "But you can either let it swallow you whole... or simply create your own definition as to what life should be."

Enid doesn't respond, so I assume it is the end of our conversation. However, I feel uncomfortable leaving her alone to be drowned by her own spiralling thoughts. So I move to her, and then sit so that our backs are against eachother.

In a moment of drunken exhaustion, I let my head rest on her shoulder and vice versa.

We stay like that until the sun rises.

°0°

I draft a text to send to Bianca. Then I delete it. Nothing is coming out as sincere as I wish for it to.

I decided after the Dorothy show that I needed to break up with Bianca as soon as possible. Her livelihood is on the line, and it's clear that the one thing exacerbating the severity of the situation is our current relationship.

"What are you doing, Wednesday?" Enid asks. I note that the window is now entirely stripped. It's the first time that I've felt that a lack of colour has made something look bland.

"Breaking up with Bianca." I respond simply.

"Over text? Are you crazy!?" Enid storms over to where I sit on my bed, snatching my phone from my hand. "You might as well rob her bank account while you're at it! You never break up with someone over text!"

"Ah, yes. I forgot that your expertise is ending relationships." I clap back at her, which makes her scoff.

"Look, I might have little to no right to be giving you advice right now, but hear me when I say that if you break up with Bianca over text, she will NEVER speak to you again. And I mean NEVER! She had a small fling with a dude after Xavier, and when he broke up with her over text, she literally got him kicked off the fencing team."