Wednesday runs her fingers through your hair as your head rests against her chest. You're curled up into yourself almost like an armadillo—trying to hide. You don't even want Wednesday to see you; to see what you think is so disgusting.

It's been going on all week and she feels guilty for not noticing sooner, especially with the heatwave passing through. You're hiding under so many layers of clothing, binding too long, and your posture is like a banana as you go through each day trying to appear small and unnoticeable. It makes her heart ache in a genuinely painful way—and not just because she doesn't know how to understand the feeling.

Your internal agony makes her feel... Soft. She's not used to being soft, but you bring out this uncharacteristic nature of hers. Maybe it's your cute face, the way you look at her. "You're handsome." the words are soft, her fingers stilling in your hair. Her hand comes to rest on your shoulder and she gently pats it.

"You shouldn't let what others think hurt you, they're only unhappy with themselves." her voice is monotone but not harsh, there's a subtle gentleness in it reserved for only you.