Young and in Love - Wenclair

and all those romantic tropes..

"Maybe you only want to be blonde because of the Anglo-Saxon beauty standards embedded in your brain."

Enid laughed, looking up from her crocheting to her girlfriend that clicked away at her typewriter. It had come from nowhere, and she found the best part about Wednesday's sense of humour was that it was dry and out of context.

"Oh? Is that so."

Wednesday made an affirmative noise, humming. "Yes. You should try brown hair. I think it would look quite cute on you."

Enid flushed. They'd only started dating a week ago, and the addition of compliments from the usually emotional vagrant was something she was still trying to assimilate to.

"But then how would we be the perfect love trope?"

Wednesday turns in her chair, eyebrow raised. "What trope?"

"We cover so many!" Enid set her things aside, standing to cross the room and sit on the black bed with a bounce. "Black cat and golden retriever, introvert and extrovert, lover and fighter, coffee and tea!"
She gestures to their dual mugs that Wednesday insists always stay on her desk. One with a coffee ring stain in pink, and a mug shaped as a coffin.

It had been the first gift she'd gotten them- even going as far as wearing the Snood outside the school to purchase them. She'd gotten some weird looks, and in turn, some bloody knuckles. But that was beside the point.

Wednesday looked up at her girlfriend, blinking. "All of those words put together made me feel slightly sick. But if you prefer having blonde hair, I'd like you all the same."

She turns back to her typewriter, satisfied that the conversation was over.

Enid, however, was not. She huffs, standing and grabbing her coat and keys from the hook by the door.

Wednesday looks to the ceiling, sighing. "Where are you going?" Drawls.

"You'll see!"

And she does see. Because when Wednesday gets home from class at the end of the day, the one in which is Enid's free period, she's hit first by the nauseating perfume of chemicals in the air, and then secondly, by the discarded boxes and plastic on the floor.

She tilts her head to look at Thing, whos settled drumming his fingers on the hardwood of her desk, looking perturbed, before rounding the corner to be met with the fourth and concluding paragraph to this ordeal.

Enid's in the bathroom, with brown box dye on.

On her hair, and her neck, forehead, the sink, the floor, the mirror and a shirt Wednesday is fairly convinced belongs to her.
Anywhere there could be dye, there is. Splatters upon splotches.

"Enid, mia cara, mia vida, what in pray tell are you doing?"

Enid turns with a brush in hand, painting her eyebrows to boot. Her tongue is sticking out of her top lip in concentration, but breaks it to smile. "Hi my love!"

She leans in for a kiss that Wednesday deftly steps away from. The room smells worse then the hormonal broth in the halls of her old school.

Enid pouts, sagging her excited demeanour which results in the brush on her brow streaking across her cheek.

Wednesday would find it adorable, if there wasn't a mess of global concern in her bathroom.

She takes a few deep breaths, through gritted teeth. "Enid, it really is not that hard to keep eye on your hair and off of everything else."

Enid blinks like she'd just been given a scathingly bad review on her blog. "I've never done it before and Thing was out while I was doing it."

Sighing. "Well, please clean everything up. You know I hate messes."

Enid puts the brush down- more dye around her skin than on the eyebrows themselves- and turns to face the perplexed brunette with a grin. "Then ya shouldn't be dating me!"

She boops Wednesday's nose, before bending down to retrieve a sponge and some all purpose cleaning spray.

Wednesday feels her heart tender at the sight of her strange werewolf, on her tippy toes to reach a spot on the wall.

When she straightens back up, wednesday moves into the room- trying not to choke on the pertinent information that they may very well die in their sleep from persulfates. She catches the whirlwind maid by the back of her neck, using her free hand to wipe at her cheek.

"You are innocuously close to being the death of me, you know that?"

Enid smiles. Wednesday leans in to press a chaste kiss to parted lips, when she feels something cold touch her cheek.

She bites at her cheeks when moving away, she sees Enid still has the dirty sponge in her hand.

She really shouldn't ever suggest anything again