wednesday had never been close, physically or metaphorically. your room was a clear microcosm of such rules, being split in two and never crossed.

unfortunately for her, you had no concept of that and her boundary meant very little. even worse, she never stopped you from pushing your luck. while mostly one sided, you at least knew that.

until tonight. something must’ve been in the frigid air, because wednesday was not herself. the moment she enters the dorm, taking off her soaked coat and muddied shoes, she walks over to you.

and sits on your lap. at least, on your bed, legs splayed over said lap.

“i’m cold. you’re a warm-blooded mutt.” is her simple explanation.