The day had been loud.
Dirk had drawn every eye with his effortless control in Alchemy, every whisper carrying his name. Students were equal parts fascinated and unnerved. Some idolized him already, others saw him as a rival, a threat.
Dirk cared for neither.
Attention was noise. And he had lived his whole life drowning in silence.
But when he returned to his room, expecting solitude, he found Enid waiting.
---
The Visit
She sat cross-legged on his bed again, scrolling her phone with restless thumbs. The moment she saw him, her face lit up.
"Dirk! That was insane today. Seriously—alchemy ribbons? Everyone's still talking about it."
He shut the door quietly. "I noticed."
Enid hopped off the bed, closing the distance between them with her usual burst of energy. "No, like—you don't get it. People try so hard here to stand out. And you? You just… breathe and suddenly you're legendary."
Dirk's lips twitched faintly. "Legendary, or infamous?"
"Both," she said without hesitation. Then, softer: "But I don't think you care about either."
---
The Contrast
Dirk moved past her, sitting at the desk, his broad frame silhouetted against the moonlight spilling through the tall window. He didn't answer immediately.
Enid tilted her head, studying him. Unlike Wednesday or Weems, she didn't look for cracks in his armor. She just… looked. And what she saw made her voice drop, uncharacteristically gentle.
"You're lonely, aren't you?"
Dirk's eyes lifted, meeting hers. His expression didn't change, but silence was its own confession.
Enid stepped closer, her bright aura softening in the shadows. "You don't have to say it. I can feel it."
---
A Moment of Warmth
She sat on the edge of the desk, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed.
"I used to be lonely too," she admitted quietly. "Back before Nevermore, before roommates and wolf packs and… chaos. I know what it's like to be surrounded by people but feel invisible."
Dirk's voice was low, steady. "I was never invisible. I was… overlooked. Ignored because I didn't matter. That's worse."
Enid's chest tightened. Without thinking, she reached out and placed her hand lightly over his. His hand dwarfed hers, rough and solid against her warmth.
"Well," she said firmly, "you matter to me."
---
The Anchor
Dirk turned his head, studying her profile in the silver glow. There was no trap in her eyes, no calculation, no hidden motive. Just sincerity.
"Why?" he asked.
Enid smiled softly. "Because you don't try to impress me. You don't have to. You're just… you. And that's enough."
For a long moment, silence held them. Dirk felt something stir in his chest—a quiet, unfamiliar weight. Not power, not desire, but something he thought long gone.
Belonging.
---
The Retreat
Enid yawned, her energy finally giving way to exhaustion. "Okay, I should… probably head back before Wends bites my head off."
Dirk's lips curved faintly. "She already tried."
Enid giggled, rolling her eyes. "Don't remind me." She lingered by the door, glancing back at him. "Goodnight, Dirk."
"Goodnight, Enid."
When the door closed behind her, Dirk remained at the desk, staring at the moon.
For the first time in his two lives, the silence felt less like a prison.
Because someone had promised he mattered.