Chapter Text
~
Larissa Weems had long since given up on love. She’d accepted that she just simply didn’t have time for it, and that she wasn’t made to be loved. It hurt to acknowledge that fact about herself but over the years she had accepted it. Bitterly. That still didn’t stop her heart from yearning, the poor woman had so much love to give but her luck failed her time and time again, broken relationships had left scars on her heart, time had faded them but they were still there.
She had ignored her ever growing crush on the newest addition to Nevermore’s staff. Or had tried to, her efforts were in vain as her feelings began to grow arms and legs, evolving into something much more substantial than a fleeting fancy.
~
For once Larissa had some free time, choosing to head to the communal staff lounge so she could catch up with her employees. Check in with them, make sure everything was running smoothly or to iron out any wrinkles and issues.
The heavens had opened up and let down an onslaught of rain, with it a sharp chill to the air. Heating was turned on throughout the school, fending off the cold and creating a comforting warmth and escape from the downpour outside. Lamps were dotted around casting warm light over the lounge, and a hushed chatter spread throughout the room.
And there you sat, on one of the many couches, skin glowing in the orange light. Your shoes set to the side of the sofa, knees tucked to your chest as you conversed with one of the history teachers, a young woman around the same age as you. You had quickly formed a friendship with Miss. Hansen. Something Larissa found herself a little jealous of. It wasn’t that she couldn’t make friends herself, but she had to remind herself that she was everyone’s boss. And no matter how well she got on with a teacher, that fact remained. They were employee and employer. The cordial chats she had with them would remain just that. There was no room for friendship to grow, is what she told herself.
Principal Weems just stood there at the door, her eyes trained on you as you gestured with your hands, face animated as you recounted a story. Larissa felt her heart beat a little faster and nerves creep into her body, her hands began to feel a little clammy. She wanted to talk to you, she was dying to know everything she could about you. But you made her so nervous. The way you always gave her a tender smile when you passed her in the corridors, how you always stopped what you were doing to devote your full attention to her, on her, whenever she talked to you. Which wasn’t often, and when she did she always kept it concise and work related. Larissa cursed herself for that, but whenever she thought of making small talk her throat closed up and her head began to feel light. She hated how you made her feel like a schoolgirl with a silly little crush.
It was so unlike her, she was Larissa Weems, Principal of Nevermore Academy who was effortlessly the epitome of grace and poise. She addressed crowds with admirable confidence, it was second nature to her. She was a woman who was sure of herself, took up space and would never apologise for doing so. And yet here she was, feeling so small under your gaze. Unable to hold a conversation longer than a few seconds with you. Unable to hold a conversation with you full stop. It frustrated her to no end.
You must have felt her eyes on you because you stop mid sentence and look over to Larissa, still standing in the doorway. The colder light from the corridor shone behind her, creating a halo around her entire frame… she looked ethereal, as always. Your entire face softens as you wave to her, a fond smile on your lips that she so badly wants to feel on her own. The principal only just manages a stiff nod of acknowledgment before turning heel and beelining to her office to lock herself in. Again.
In her haste to leave she didn’t catch your disappointed look.
~
“Do you think I’ve done something?” You break the silence that had fallen.
You’re sat at your desk in your classroom marking a few assignments whilst Miss. Hansen keeps you company. Sitting at one of the desks. It was mid afternoon, just after the school day had ended. You had turned off the lights, enjoying the natural sun streaming through the windows.
“No? I don’t think you have,”
You fiddle with your pen before replying, “she seems chatty with everyone else though,”
“Maybe…” Miss. Hansen draws out the vowels, “she likes you back, and she’s just nervous,”
The woman’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat and you can’t help but bark out a harsh laugh, “please, as if,” you brush her off, rolling your eyes in mirth, “besides, she’s literally the headteacher and a fully grown woman, why would she give a shit about me,”
“Babes, you're also a fully grown woman, you’re 24… and I dunno, I’m out of ideas,” Miss. Hansen leans back in the chair swinging on the back legs of it.
You mull her words in your head, cocking a brow at her actions, “you know a student died doing that, tipped too far and cracked his skull open,”
“Shut up,”
You laugh at her and go back to your work.
~
Larissa’s private quarters, adjoined to her office, had an expansive bay window, and only recently had she realised that it looked out over the balcony of your quarters. She had taken to watching you whenever you were out on it. Often late at night with a violin, coaxing out saccharine notes and melodies from the strings.
She let herself entertain the idea of doing a duet with you, playing the piano accompaniment to whatever song you chose. She’d learn any composition if it meant you’d let her play alongside you. How she longed to be near you. To know you.
It was a warm night, the air a little stuffy making the world seem quiet and peaceful. You were out on your balcony playing unknowingly under the yearning watch of Larissa. Then suddenly a genius idea hit the woman.
~
You sat on a chair, back straight as you played from memory. Enjoying the last of the day’s warmth before the night’s cold crept back in. Your performance was cut short by a noise near a cluster of plant pots. You eyed the plants and just before you passed it off as your mind playing tricks, you saw a flash of white fur behind the terracotta. With care you set your instrument aside and approach cautiously - praying to all and any gods that it wasn’t a mouse or rat.
You peer around the pots to come face to face with a rather large Norwegian forest cat, its fur pristine white.
“Oh!” You are startled, but your surprise is swiftly overtaken with pure unadulterated joy, “hello little guy!” You coo, voice high in pitch. You reach a hand out slowly. Not wanting to scare the cat away.
At this it meows indignantly at you.
“Not a guy?” It blinks slowly before tentatively smelling your hand. Then seemingly begrudgingly allowing you to pet it.
“What on earth are you doing four stories up?” You mumble more to yourself than to the cat. At this point you’ve sat down. Scratching behind its ear. A deep purring started as it leaned in and you couldn’t contain your glee. You absolutely adored cats.
This one seemed friendly, having wasted no time lying on its side getting more comfortable. You pull your hand away and coax it underneath the cat, before it can scramble away you’ve got it cradled in your arms.
It meows in protest but doesn’t make any effort to move from your grasp.
“It’s getting cold, you can stay inside tonight,” you chirp. Knowing full well you’re taking this cat hostage. It’s far too well groomed to be a stray. But you missed having cats, and wouldn’t give up this opportunity to have a pet cat again. If only for a single night.
“Just make no noise, my boss would fire me if she finds a cat in here,” you chuckle dryly. You find you quite enjoy talking at this poor feline, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she was looking for a reason to fire me,” you add a little dejectedly.
You duck through your window into your room, and set the cat down on your bed before fetching the violin and storing it away.
“Sit tight,” you call out as you breeze into the ensuite to do your nightly routine.
The cat surveys the room, slowly drinking in every little detail. Studying the posters and photos on your walls, the fairy lights hung everywhere. It looks over your semi cluttered bedside table before kneading your duvet and curling up on it. A soft rumble sounding from its chest.
You enter the room again and start getting changed. Not noticing how the cat freezes. Soft blue eyes blown wide, pupils like saucers, focused on your now bare form as you slip into your pyjamas. Not that the shorts and skimpy top cover much.
It takes all the strength in Larissa to not shift back to herself.
~