Young and in Love - Wenclair

My Art My Choice

set during 1x07 (where we're gonna pretend Enid's side of the room is barren for storytelling purposes)

-

Enid swallows, because she really didn't forget anything in the dorm. She wasn't as meticulous as some would be, during an impromptu my-roommate-is-driving-me-to-the-brink-of-insanity moving out party, but she hadn't thought she'd really taken... absolutely everything.

Plucks up a hair-tie, holding it up like it's a trophy or an old relic from a great aunt that had brought it with her from the homeland.

Wednesday is unblinking, watching her with a lour look.

And the silence- god, it's deafening. And she can't even use her heightened sense to hone in on the sound of sneakers in the gym a few floors down, or catch a break in conversation that billows into laughter.

Because this dorm— this god forsaken dorm, was her own personal brand of prison. Nothing entered or left it fully intact. It's as if the walls were forged from the hands of Greek Gods, to keep whatever enchanted object that was housed in this specific room ions ago safe from prying ears and hands.

But, no. She's just sinking quickly into sullen territory that is the aura Wednesday permits at any given moment.

And she has to speak— because the silence is becoming painful. She stands, hands clasped behind her back and the hair tie drops— as if she even fucking cared for it in the first place. Wednesday doesn't pay mind to it, the glower fully intended for Enid alone.
"Was I an annoying distraction?" She says, something soft lilting her words as she closes the drawer.

The muscle in Wednesday's temple flexes as her teeth grit.
"You definitely had some annoying habits"

She bristles, "Such as?"

"You giggle when you text which is a 24/7 addiction."

Enid rounds the drawer, coming to a standstill directly across from Wednesday, who hasn't moved. She remains unblinking, Kubrick staring her way into Enid as if it could possibly haunt her forever. And maybe it does, because she thinks of Wednesday a terrifying amount. More often than not, if she had to understate it.

"Well, at least it's not a migraine inducing typewriter hammering into my head."

Wednesday does't miss a beat.
"When you're not grinding your canines, you growl in your sleep." She rapidly fires.

"As opposed to late night cello solos."

"You over commit to clubs and activities then complaint about them non stop."

Enid sucks in her lips, biting at the inside of her cheek as she steps up to the line that had been drawn with duct tape not long ago. The kaleidoscope of colour does nothing to calm her rapidly rising temper that would only amount to growling that would completely prove Wednesday's point, and she couldn't add to her already inflated ego.
"I'd take that over your obsession with all things creepy and dead."

Wednesday follows, her feet marching forth and never straying as she too comes to stop at the divider. The sun reflecting rays of grey soothes her growing frustration.
"You could gas a small village with the amount of perfume you spritz..." Her eyebrow raises haughtily. "And that's just off the top of my head."

"Guess I'm the lucky one with a new bestie,"She spits the words, as if they're venomous on her own tongue. Wednesday doesn't flinch, as she continues. "That doesn't try to find ways to endanger literally everybody she comes into contact with."

Wednesday exhales sharply through her nose, and to anyone else she looks perfectly stoic and put together as always. But it's the most subtle novelties, her jaw shifting, lips pursing, eyebrows flickering along with the skin near her ear as though she's straining to hear every last sound Enid makes.