You fell first, I fell harder //Wenclair one-shots//

Fears of fire (1/2)

Prompt/request: orphan au (why not?)
This chapter takes place in 2022, same as the show.

If you asked anyone why Wednesday was the way she was, you wouldn't get an awnser. She was a secret, a mystery no one could get past. Except Enid. That stupid girl who laughed whenever someone made a remotely funny comment, who always wore boxers under her skirts so her thighs were warm, who payed Wednesday more attention then anyone had in that children's home. Not that she knew about that damned home. No one did.

Wednesday remembered it like it was yesterday. The fire lapping at the buildings like it was hungry but always wanted more. She remembered the feeling of heat picking at her skin, smoke filling her lungs as she screamed. Screamed until her lungs gave out, until her hands were blistered and her legs no longer moved, until they dragged her away from the town and placed her under machines that beeped and groaned. Until they told her that her family was gone. Dead.

Her heart throbbed at the memory. It had been her fault, if she hadn't been playing with those damn matches attempting to light her dollhouse on fire, maybe she wouldn't have lit her actual house and many along with it.

Wednesday scribbled her thoughts onto the paper in front of her, every letter coming with a new pain she hid behind a strong mask. A mask that had been thrown up even harder every time someone mentioned the 'trauma'. The trauma she didn't need any damn help healing, she was doing fine. Alone.

"You okay?" Enid's voice pushed all the pain aside, filling her stomach with bats. That stupid fluttery feeling she tried to get rid of every time she saw her bubbly roommate.

"I am alright, Enid."

"You just look pretty worried, or upset..." Wednesday knew what unspoken words lay there. Her expression of emotion wasn't often, and when it was, it was fairly unreadable.

"I write to express myself, of course I may look...emotional as I do it."

"Well what are you writing about?" Enid tried to take a peak at the notebook, though it was quickly slammed shut.

"Since when has my personal business become yours?"

Enid, seemingly defeated, wandered back to her side of the room, pulling out her computer to write one of those illegible blog posts.

In true honestly, it wasn't that Wednesday disliked technology, it was just that she had never learnt how to use it. In between foster homes, the places she stayed never allowed any sort of technology, and all the homes she went to were advised against it, as it was claimed to be dangerous. That only spiked her interest more, but she refused to admit to Enid her attention to the little glowing devices.

With a huff, she stood up and grabbed her coat off the hook. "I'm heading for a walk." She said, though the sun was already setting.

"You do you."

————————————

Listen, Enid didn't necessarily agree with snooping through peoples personal items. Occasionally she would stalk a profile on Facebook, glance through the pages of their textbook, take pictures of them from across the room, even go as fair as reading through their Wattpad profile, but someone's diary? This was a new low.

In her defence, it wasn't the original plan... kind of. She hadn't thought it was a diary. It didn't have a lock, it's cover was plain black and the first page wasn't covered in Wednesday's name beside some random boys last name. Instead it just said:

'If found, please return to...
2516 cruise rd
4628 lovsteart st
3281 mortician rd'

The list drawled on, almost covering the entire page before the final words were printed at the end. Ophelia hall. Enid frowned at the way the writing changed from the first address to the final one. How long had Wednesday had this book?

She flipped to the first entry, finding it was written in 2013. Nine years ago. She flipped further, thinking that would probably be just Wednesday drawling on about her newest pare of scissors.

Finally, she found the date Wednesday had arrived at Nevermore. Odd, an entry the exact day. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself of all the stuff Wednesday had done, her reading a diary wouldn't kill the girl.

2/17/22
I don't suppose they think this will actually work. They should be well aware of my all but normal habits in new places, yet Weems believes it will be good for me. Than again, she has been helping them place me in all these homes anyway, and how did that last one work out?

They are making me attend sessions with a therapist. Believe it will help with the flashbacks and 'panic attacks'. Not that I have those anyway.

My roommate isn't that bad, there could be worse. She blasts horrid music and wears more colour than I could fathom, but at least she doesn't drill me with questions of where I'm from, and why I'm here.

I won't be here long, it will be no different then the rest. Sometimes I wish I died with them.

Enid frowned, trying to figure out what any of the words ment. Why would she care where Wednesday was from? What did she mean by 'all those homes'.

She flipped to the next page, expecting to find more writing, but instead she was met with a drawing. It was only in pencil, but she could tell it was fire, the fire lapped around something, though she couldn't make out what. She couldn't help but notice the slight wrinkles in the paper, tear splatters most likely.

Trying to ignore the horror that the page displayed she flipped again. The following pages writing was in pen, though the ink smudged. Her nose picked up on an odd smell. Not tears, sweat. She frowned, starting to read the entry.

2/20/22
It happened again. I hardly managed to escape to the bathroom before my sight gave out. It's not a vision, but in a way it feels like one. I remember every detail, I can still smell the burning flesh, the feeling of charred wood against my fingers.

Even now as I sit here and write this, my hands still shake and sweat. It's my fault, I know it is. I watched them burn because of my mistake, but I can't help wondering if their not dead. If maybe somehow they escaped. I just wish my only memories of my father were not his screams.

Enid slammed the book shut, holding it up to her chest. Even she knew she had pushed too many limits. This was Wednesday's business. She didn't know if her family was dead, nor did she know what she had caused, but she did know it was none of hers to care about, and she shouldn't-

"What are you doing!"

Enid threw the book aside, but she knew it did no good as she looked up and was met with Wednesday's cold gaze. She wasn't fooled by the harsh eyes, she spotted the way her lower lip trembled, how her ears were slightly too red. Embarrassment, maybe even fear.

"I was just-"

The book way snatched from the place beside her. "How much did you read!"

"Just two entries and a drawing. The first day here and then the next time you wrote. I think it was after your first visit with Kimbot?"

"Go back to your side."

"Wednesday I-"

"GO BACK TO YOUR SIDE, ENID. I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU!"

She had never seen Wednesday loose her cool. She always stayed calm, even when others yelled at her and got angry. She never yelled.

Enid watched as the girl threw back her covers, crawling into bed with her shoes still on. The light clicked off.

She had fucked up.

A/N: who's ready for part twooooooo