Listen to Me Now // Wenclair

+ One

Enid stood idly by the window, watching almost longingly as Wednesday spoke soft, muted words to Thing, her face being painted ever-so-slightly with the hues of their split window's tinted glass; beautiful reds and blues coloring her roommate's face, distant and sad. It was almost funny to Enid—the one time she saw Wednesday in colors other than black and white was when the world felt so morbid and hollow; so distant from the person who she now felt colored it the most. It had felt like days since Enid had been able to have a proper conversation with Wednesday, the only things they've ever really said since their fallout (if Enid could even call it that) being short morning greetings and late-night whispers of "good night".

Enid wanted so desperately to make things right with Wednesday, but she never found the courage to do so—she never found it to be the right time. It was cowardly, she knew that full and well, but she couldn't help the fears and anxieties that would cling to her every time she so much as glanced at Wednesday. What if she hates me, she would wonder to herself, heart twisting in her chest. What if she thinks I'm playing with her feelings?

Enid shook her head, trying desperately to push those thoughts away. If Wednesday truly believed that, then this was her chance to make things right. She had to fix this.

Now, a voice in her head demanded; sharp as it cut through walls of insecurities and doubts alike. Now's your chance.

Enid took a breath, hating the way her stomach twisted in fear. You got this, Sinclair. Just...trust yourself. With a nod of determination, Enid stumbled towards the window's latch and pushed it open, silently relishing the way the cool, midnight breeze ruffled her hair as she stepped outside.

She stood stiffly by the entrance for a moment, waiting for any signs of acknowledgment from the black-clad girl; though she received none. Enid sighed, shuffling her feet awkwardly as she only slightly closed the gap between her and Wednesday, deciding to take matters into her own hands; even if poorly. "Are you mad at me?" Her words were soft, almost whispered, as she began to feel the doubt eat at her once more.

Wednesday was silent for a moment, which only further kindled the anxiety sparking in Enid's stomach, before she let out an almost reluctant, "Why would you think that?"

Enid found herself quickly relaxing. It was strange, the werewolf noted, that Wednesday's voice always seemed to put her at ease; even if, most of the time, it was to threaten her—more so now when it felt like the two were walking on eggshells around each other, feelings being heavily guarded behind rows and rows of bittersweet sentiment that neither girl could truly relay. Enid was determined to change that, however, as the woman took a long, slow breath, before speaking, "It's just...ever since Ajax visited, you've been really...distant." Enid took a short moment to mull over her own words. "More than usual."

"Yes, well," Wednesday got to her feet, allowing Thing to help her put her cello away, "I don't want to cut into your precious time with Ajax."

Enid blinked. "My what?"

Wednesday shook her head, cheeks flushing in mild embarrassment. Admittedly, she had said something quite embarrassing; the psychic not at all used to portraying her feelings so openly—much less something as flustering as jealousy. "Nothing," the braided woman said, hand flying up to rub the nape of her neck. "Ignore me."

"Wednesday, something's up," Enid eventually let out, exasperated; though, she was quick to notice the way Wednesday stiffened at her words.

"I—"

"Don't try to deny it," Enid cut in, brows furrowing as she gave her roommate a knowing glare. "I know. I saw."

The psychic paled. "Saw...what?"