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Enid woke up early.

She usually woke up early, with plenty of time to wake up before classes began. But the sun hadn’t even come up yet. Her eyes were greeted with the soft glow of the fairy lights she strung above her bed. Rain tapped ever so gently on the big round window in her dark dorm room. The mountain of plush animals and blankets kept her warm from the storm outside. Soft sounds of thunder rumbled gently in the distance.

After a moment of drowsiness, Enid had realized why she had woken up from her cozy slumber. She turned in her bed to face Wednesday in the bed on her half of the room. A cacophony of coughs and groans emerged from Wednesday’s bed as she tossed and turned in her sleep. Enid sat up, turned on the lamp on her crowded night stand, and put on her colorful rainbow unicorn slippers. She shuffled over to Wednesday’s bed quietly. She knelt down right next to her bed. Wednesday’s sweaty face was slightly illuminated by the light from Enid’s lamp.

“Wednesday… are you okay?” she whispered. She shook her gently to get her attention.

All Wednesday could do was moan in response and cough.

Enid placed the back of her hand on Wednesday’s forehead. It was alarmingly warm. Like Wednesday’s heart, her body temperature was usually quite cold. “Oh my God! You’re burning up!” Enid whispered hastily. She got up and knocked on Wednesday’s desk to awaken Thing. The hand groggily crawled out of the drawer. “Wednesday is sick. Can you go get a wet towel from the dorm bathroom please?” Thing made a motion of understandment and quickly scurried out of the room.

More coughs erupted from Wednesday. Enid put her hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder in response. “What’s going on, Weds?”

“My throat feels as if I'm swallowing daggers. Every infernal cough sends a rush of pain through my body. Everything feels so hot. I hate sweat. I cannot wait for the sweet release of death,” Wednesday mumbled out. She looked up at Enid. Her big brown eyes filled with a type of despair that was clearly not like the despair she likes. Enid felt her heartstrings be pulled at the sight.

“Shh… shh… I know, I know… you’ll be ok,” she assured her. Enid grabbed Wednesday’s warm hand that was dangling off the side of the bed and held it.

After a few minutes, Thing came back with a small wet towel. Enid thanked Thing and he ran back to his drawer to sleep. She placed the towel on Wednesday’s forehead. Wednesday let out a noise of relief. “There we go… feels nice, huh?” Enid said warmly. Wednesday squirmed and nodded in response. When the towel became warm and Wednesday affirmed she did not feel as hot anymore, Enid sighed out, “When the sun comes out, I’ll take you to the nurse so she can look out for you, okay?”

As Enid tried to go back to her bed, she was held back by Wednesday’s hand still holding onto hers. Enid turned her head around confused. ”Don’t go…” Wednesday pleaded weakly. Enid was nearly horrified at Wednesday’s state. Never could she have ever imagined Wednesday acting affectionate in any shape or form. She really was sick, Enid thought. Enid returned to her girlfriend’s side.

“Sleep in my bed tonight? Please,” Wednesday coughed.

Enid couldn’t believe it. She must have been dreaming or hallucinating. She felt excitement grow inside of her. Enid had been trying to reassure Wednesday that she can be more affectionate when they’re alone. And this time felt perfect. “Are you sure?“ Enid asked, smiling.

“If you make me ask you again, I will put you in a cardboard box outside of a gas station that has ‘free mutt’ written on the front of it,” Wednesday responded in her usual cold tone.

Enid nearly jumped onto the opposite side of Wednesday’s bed. She laid on her side facing Wednesday’s back and pulled her closely towards her. Her body wasn’t as warm as it was earlier, but she still felt pleasant to hold. She held onto her tightly and buried her face in Wednesday’s dark, unbraided hair.

“Is this okay?” Enid asked.

“Yes,” Wednesday confirmed.

Wednesday was too sick and tired to complain about how “affectionate and gross” she was snuggling her, which to her sounded like a better excuse than admitting that she was actually loving every second of it. Wednesday felt all of her pains melt away in Enid’s arms. She felt as if she could finally breathe again after a horrible night.

            Three speeders in, and suddenly Wither stiffened. “Oh no,” he said softly, and then Yoda felt it.

            “HEY!” a voice called out.

            “Run,” Yoda said, and Wither immediately broke into a sprint, running in the opposite direction as fast as he could. Wither was laughing, the sound exuberant and breathy, pulling a communicator from his belt.

            There was a yell of “Halt,” other voices crying out. Yoda had pulled his hood lower on his head, holding onto Wither, pulling his makeshift hood down lower, fighting to make sure that the horns didn’t pierce through it and reveal themselves. Wither flipped his communicator open, even as he leapt, spinning in the air over the row of security guards that attempted to stop them, Yoda utilizing the Force to send the blaster bolts they sent towards them harmlessly aside, without making it look like he had utilized the Force to do it, merely that they had been lucky.

            If they scorched a few paint jobs it wasn’t their fault, really the Coruscant Guard shouldn’t be so trigger-happy.

            “Hello?” a new voice called as the communication was answered. “Who is…?”

            “Hello,” Wither called brightly.

            “Wi-!”

            “No names, please~” Wither sing-songed, “I’m in a bit of trouble. How quickly can you get to the Senate Parking?”

            “What happened?”

            “How quickly, please?”

            “Less than two minutes, I’m close to the district, I just… Get as high as you can go!”

            “Oh, high?” Wither asked, and skidded to a halt, having been running towards the lower floors. “I can do that.”

            With that he turned right back around, and ran, practically flying back up the ramp, leaping from one speeder to another. There was a yell from a Coruscant Guard who ran up before them, looking distinctly like he was ready to tackle them, but Wither simply brought his feet up and forward, plowing into him with all of his weight and sending him backwards onto the hard duracrete, flipping over him and throwing his momentum forward so he hit the ground running.

            Yoda held on as tight as possible, cackling, the two of them rolling through the Coruscant Guards easily, Wither leaping into another twist, trusting in Yoda to hold on, and Yoda once again sent those blaster bolts harmlessly aside. Wither was all high adrenaline and gleeful motion, leaping off of speeders and off of people when appropriate, and Yoda found himself remembering ‘grace.’

            Well.

            Wither definitely had that.

            They ran towards the topmost platform, realizing that they were running out of room, but then Wither gave a sound, running towards the center of the room, and that’s when Yoda spotted the ladder. It was in the center of the room, connected to a fueling station that went up past the upper floors where the more intricate workings of the garage were kept. Wither leapt towards it, catching the lowermost rungs, and pulling himself up hand over hand, before finally swinging up to land on the first catwalk in a long series, leaping between them with lithe grace.

            They burst into the open air, and Wither paused for just a moment, before he seemingly took a direction at random and ran.

            There were voices behind them, voices that were yelling for them to stop, to halt, and then Wither leapt.

            Yoda was laughing, whooping with glee, hearing Wither’s own answering cackling, flying into open air, and for a moment Yoda worked to join his presence with Wither’s, feeling the way that Wither’s worked at catching their fall…

            And then they dropped directly into an open-topped unmarked speeder, the occupant of which SCREECHED.

            “Kit, Kit, my beautiful Kit, you have come,” Wither called out, and Yoda rolled into the backseat off Wither’s shoulder as he spread his arms out. “Fly fast!”

            Kit…Yoda narrowed his eyes, looking at the human male that was with them, who had pulled a cloak over his own head, and felt a burst of realization light up in his chest. Kit Lowe was the name of the man driving them, a playwright that had already developed a bit of a name and reputation for himself, the very man that Wither himself had acted for. Suddenly a lot of this made sense, not only why Wither would know him, but why he would have called him.

            And then Kit put on such a sudden burst of speed it almost sent him directly into the seat. Wither gave a call, and Kit dove down, the speeder weaving and bobbing through traffic easily, Wither laughing all the way.