you and wednesday clashed like waves against cliffs. despite being roommates, and mostly getting along, you still had your spats. like any friendship, really.

the difference is that, when you cross wednesday, it can take a while for her to swallow her desire to slit your throat.

usually, you’re the one to back down, to rollover for her. she had grown accustomed to that and, against her better judgment, complacent.

so it’s obvious when, after a slightly more heated exchange, you’re the one to storm out.

and it’s been hours since. that once comfortable silence now seems void, as if something vital had been ripped out. even her typewriter seems uninviting, the blank page the same as it was when she had slumped at her desk.

she can’t feel bad, right? she’s wednesday addams, for thing’s sake. she-

wednesday wipes her eyes. allergies, she tells herself. and thing.