Pale Streams

Chapter 5

"I know more than you think."

Enid, sporting what she assumed was her best confused puppy expression, hummed questioningly. No only was she confused, she was frazzled, unsure of why the love of her life's face was slowly creeping closer and closer to her own. Was she trying to headbutt her? Was this payment being taken for the expensive setup? Was this. . . a nose-kiss? The nose-kiss may not be far from the truth, as it was something the blonde had taught her unknowing roommate about a month prior. While that wasn't what it was normally called in wolf culture, she used it anyway as it was the more widely known name. The goth had been complaining about how little she really knew of wolves and their culture despite being best friends with one. Enid, for the most part, took the blame for this, as she purposefully had shielded Wednesday away from her family and in turn, her culture as a whole. After all there was only so much she knew, even being a werewolf herself. She taught what she could, the nose-kiss being one of them, as it was a show of platonic affection between friends or family. It was primarily done in wolf-form as it's much harder to communicate when they're shifted but it translated well to human forms over the centuries.

So, not wanting her counterpart to feel left out, she made a show of leaning forward as well. As Wednesday tilted her head to the right, the blonde followed, unquestioning as she figured it made the slightly awkward position more comfortable. They were still huddled together on the floor, the goth engulfing the wolf in her arms from behind. Honestly, it was pretty uncomfortable, her willingness to ignore the numbing of her buttcheeks coming as a surprise so she could lengthen the amount of time that she's held in the arms of her crush. The cool temperature of her body helped to regulate the wolf's heated skin from the constant skin-to-skin contact they were currently in the midst of.

She is very obviously not complaining, she'll take all the skin contact she can get. After all, they rarely hugged, as the goth was averse to physical touch, much less blatant affection. Luckily, over time, Enid managed to build up her tolerance for these types of things. They hadn't hugged at all until Wednesday had seen Enid's family for the first time at parent-teacher conferences. It wasn't. . . the best night admittedly, tears were involved (on Enid's part) and it ended in an impromptu sleepover at the Addams residence. There, while bawling her eyes out about her family, Wednesday hugged the wolf for the first time. It was awkward, given with one arm and a grimace, but the meaning behind it was all that mattered. That day, the two became closer than ever, that was probably the day their friendship rose to best friends.

At long last, their noses touched. Wednesday's eyes fluttered open at the feeling, confused as to why their noses were now touching instead of their lips. That, and the blonde had a surprisingly cold nose. She could make a dog joke but it was absolutely not the time for that, maybe later. Nevertheless, through her puzzlement, she reciprocated, allowing the action of affection to continue its course. It was awkward and clunky, as it was now clear neither of them knew what the other was doing at all.

Wednesday, who had most definitely been going in for the kiss, was inwardly distraught. She thought she had delivered that line perfectly, as smoothly as she'd seen her father do to her mother before. It was one of the few times she actually thought one of the scenes she was forced to bear witness to was legitimately romantic. Granted, it had its sinister tones but even an idiot would get the point.

Enid, now more confused than ever, leaned back into the arms of whom she held her, wondering what the hell was going on. First, Wednesday buys her an entire setup worth more than the wolf could ever even dream of looking at, much less purchase. Then, she delivers a hair-raising line of, "I know more than you think." What the hell is that supposed to mean? And, last but abso-fucking-lutely not least, she gives the blonde a nose-kiss? Does the goth want to murder her or give her gifts? Knowing Wednesday, it's most likely the former.

The room was silent, save for the breathing of its two inhabitants. Neither made a move, unsure of where to go from here.

"I'm gonna. . .," and, "Well I guess. . .," rang out at the same time, causing both to stop short. Shuffling commenced, the blonde saddeningly wrenching herself out of the goth's grasp in order to escape from one of the most awkward encounters either girl had ever experienced.

Skittering out of the way, Enid made way for the door, desperate to get out. Confusion warped her mind, causing her shoulder to bounce off the door trimmings. It didn't hurt all that much but it was enough for her to wince and curse under her breath as she continued on. If she had a clearer mind would have gone back to talk, smooth things over, ask a few questions about what the hell was going on but alas, that was not the case. In her wake, she left her roommate alone, the only dark object in the ungodly bright room of hers.

What had she done wrong? The goth pondered to herself, going over everything that had happened thus far over and over again in her head. Was it her delivery? It couldn't have been the gift, Enid said she loved it. Unless. . . oh god, could she have been lying to make Wednesday feel better? Did she just accept the gift out of pity? Was it not good enough? The goth knew she shouldn't have trusted that rat of a store associate. She really should've known, Enid is way too nice to turn down a gift, especially from her supposed best friend.

Well, if that were the case, Wednesday would need to step up her game.