Young and in Love - Wenclair

In love

"I think I'm in love with you."

Wednesday looks away from Xavier, who'd been sketching her a picture of a lily, to look at the blonde in the doorway of the classroom.

She may be flushed red for three reasons. One, being the fact she's proclaiming her feelings in front of a room of people. The second, being because she ran from wherever it was she spent second period (alchemy) and third, because she was staring at Wednesday who just looked at her. Not blinking, or glaring, or piercing through her the way Wednesday always did.

Just looked at her.

Looked. Surveyed. Analyzed. Whatever the fuck it was that she did, Wednesday watched Enid curiously as she crept into the room, shooting a mouthful of words apologetically to the teacher who looked as if he couldn't care less what transpired. He didn't get paid enough- this was evidence enough.

Enid is standing at the front of the room, eyes ping-ponging across every face she knows in the room. Despite her werewolf hearing, she does her best not to notice the whispers around her. Eyes solely on the black canvas across from her, that is as menacing and as gorgeous as ever.

Finally, she speaks again.
"Actually, I don't think. I know. That I'm helplessly in love with you and nothing that's said or done can reprieve me of that."

She looks to Yoko out of the corner of her eye, who shoots her a thumbs up as Davina makes some form of graphic statement with both hands.

She turns back to Wednesday, blue and obsidian twirling like the startings of a storm. "All I've ever wanted was to be yours. I didn't know when I fell- but I fell deeper than a knife for you. I feel it like a second skin. Like you're all encompassing and I- I don't want to be me without you. I don't even think I know where I'd begin."

Wednesday smiles- it's the most humane thing. Perfect rows of teeth and full lips and that sinful dimple like the Big Dipper in the constellations of freckles on her face, and it makes Enid's chest ache. She feels like there's something swimming in her stomach- the bottom of a bottle, the end of a joint. Something intoxicating and she can faintly taste the liquor and ash.

But it's entirely made up of that smile, and those glares levelled at anyone that so much as walked near Enid, and those soft eyes that exist only for her.

"I'm falling in love with all my heart and I can't bear another moment you don't know it."

Wednesday, blinks. Tears, in her eyes. Wednesday could count on one hand the amount of times she's cried in her life- even as an infant.
Xavier hadn't looked up from his sketchbook until now, producing the lily for the ravenette that pushes off her desk and charges forward. Not an ounce of elegance to her movements, even getting the corner of her shirt caught on the edge of the desk- and it's perfect. This moment is perfect and messy and for all to see because Enid truly doesn't care what anyone thinks. She'd stand on the tallest building and scream about the woman that owns her heart, if given the chance. Briefly thinks about scaling the side of Nevermore during lunch just to make that idea come true.

She is so in love with Wednesday, and she's exhausted. It's exhausting to act the opposite of how you feel. To not reach out and touch her when she's so close, to not kiss her forehead when she looks down to her book, or to massage her hands when they're sore from typing. It's nearly painful, to refrain from writing on sticky notes every tiny thought about the shadowy girl that could line every part of the hallways.

Wednesday holds the lily up. And Enid misses her voice, but knows in front of all these people she won't speak. Not out of fear of their reaction- but because she doesn't dare offer them insight into a place where only Enid is allowed access.

Because she knows Wednesday. Knows her no matter what. And she takes the flower, smiling kindly even when the professor drawls on about student etiquette in his day and how this would never be tolerated. But her eyes never leave obsidian- that light radiating from the core of her being that's turning them to a dark brown, as she backs from the room. Doesn't break their eye contact. Smiles when Wednesday smirks. The door shuts in her face, and still, she runs outside into the quad by where the class is and sits by the window. She doesn't hear Wednesday speak, other than a thanks to Xavier, but it's a saving grace. Just to feel her near. To smile into the blue and black lily, and feel every word and specific dictation Wednesday had thrusted upon the artist to perfect the animated piece of art.

She later hung it up above her bed. And even when it fell to pieces, at least Wednesday was wrapped up in her arms asleep- for once, outside her coffin position to tug the arm slung around her waist closer, the other hand tucked beneath her cheek. And it was so perfect.

Because it was her and Wednesday. The beginnings of a storm, and the soft pattering of rain and sunshine when it ends.