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queerfanfiction · 11 months

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Love Notes (Ch. 6)

Larissa Weems x musicteacher!Reader Thank you for being so supportive, even though it has been literal months since I have updated!! I will try to post a bit more regularly (but also who knows because depression is a bitch).

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You decide to hop up and shower after Enid’s inadvertent pep talk, feeling more hopeful now than you have in days. After getting dressed and stocking the bathroom for recently arrived students, you head to Jericho. It’s time to finalize scavenger hunt plans. You don’t want to wait weeks and drag out the process through secret codes in your mixes.

Flowers were taken care of, thanks to your new acquaintance James. You had also created a few other clues but needed to access a few places, like the bookstore, in town to complete them. You try to push your latest trip with Larissa to Jericho from your mind as you begin jogging the wooded path from Nevermore grounds to the town square. The crisp spring air was welcomed, and hopefully you could use this time to clear your head. Besides, you didn’t want to check-out any vehicles to drive in case Larissa was nearby. Her quarters were right above the school’s scheduling office, and you weren’t ready to face her just yet.

Once you’re severely out of breath and think the pain in your side will topple you, you finally reach the outskirts of Jericho. Your pace slows, and you begin to map out a to-do list in your head. At the bookstore, you’ll need magazines and the clerk’s cooperation on the day of the scavenger hunt. At the flower shop, you’ll need to ensure James was able to secure lilies and might lend his labor in planting and arranging them. At the Weathervane, you will need to clue the new barista in on your plan. Since Tyler is now a guest of the state after everything went down a couple months ago, a new barista was hired. You two are friendly due to your aggressive kindness when they would accidentally make mistakes during training. You hated that people in town weren’t understanding of the realities of service work. Finally, you will need to visit city hall to ensure you don’t need a permit to occupy the public space around the fountain in the middle of the square.

As you check things off your list, you realize you still need a way to ensure Larissa makes it to the book store once in Jericho. You ponder this as you head back to Nevermore—this time at a reasonable pace. Once on the grounds, you cross through the courtyard to the dorms and see Enid giggling with Yoko. You smile softly at their carefree banter. It’s at this moment you have the idea to loop Enid into the scavenger hunt, especially since she had helped you put things into perspective when you were secluded away in your room. It’s also at this time that you know it would probably be a terrible idea to entrust Nevermore’s gossip queen with a secret regarding the school’s principal. Stumped at this conundrum, you trek up to your room to leaf through the magazines from the bookstore you bought.

You get to work creating the aspects needed to complete the scavenger hunt—a new mix CD, cut out letters, a fake newspaper crossword, and so on. After an hour or two, your energy and attention span begin to falter without food. Your eyes wander to the clock; with students back on the school’s campus, you could catch dinner before the cafeteria closes if you leave now. You toss on an oversized maroon cardigan and head downstairs.

As you wander, you wonder if Larissa will be tucked away in her office with dinner and wine like she usually is. You desperately missed the time you two would spend together. You also speculate about whether or not you two would stay friends if she rejected you. You think too highly of her to be sour if her heart does not feel the same magnetic tug that yours does.

—

The same morning as your talk with Enid, Larissa awoke in sweats. She normally regulated her body temperature well and wasn’t terribly affected by nightmares. She’d lived through enough monsters to not be effected by them in dreams. Recently, however, she had been agitated…fitful. She knew why, even though she tried to rationalize it away.

She didn’t have a lot of friendships, let alone close ones. Shapeshifters never do. That’s why she constantly worked so hard to change the perceptions of outcasts—both within and outside the community. Whatever she had with you, Larissa feared she had ruined it. At the beginning of her relationship with you, there was a feeling between you of treading carefully, of testing boundaries. When could you be silly or drop the professional façade? That hesitance quickly dissipated and was replaced with comfort and familiarity. Unfortunately, Larissa had learned to rely on it. She craved it. It balanced her. Letting others in didn’t come easily, yet it felt like you were meant to know her.

After giving it more thought, Larissa isn’t completely sure if seeing you flirt with someone made her lash out or if it was about being confronted with her own feelings for you. Regardless, the underlying fear came true—damaging her relationship with you.

Once her breathing steadied after waking, she peered around her room. Her living quarters used to feel so luxurious and private, something completely hers in a boarding school that constantly pulled her in so many directions. Now, though, all she can sense is emptiness in the space. Bitter echoes of joyous moments she had with you throughout the room lingered.

Not only did you vanish from her room and office, but she hadn’t visibly seen you since that day at the Weathervane. You were no where to be found these last couple weeks. Instead of regularly creating music in the orchestra room and popping into her office, the library, the conservatory, and student dorms, you had hidden away. She knows this, because she had asked around about you to various faculty (and even some students). Larissa’s schedule often took her throughout Nevermore, and she ached to catch a glimpse of you—check in on you in some way. It wasn’t until she stepped away from answering emails to drink tea on her balcony for a moment that she saw you. You were outside in the spring air, heading away from the school.

Larissa had never seen you in athletic clothing…mainly because you two had joked about running being a punishment, that it was often a mutually constituted performance by people who bought into traditional, often limited ideas of health. Of course, that’s not why seeing you stunned her.

Rather, her heart ached. She felt panicked, as if she should make a decision about what to do right then and there before you ran completely out of sight. With a deep, slow breath to hinder acting impulsively, Larissa began to consider her options. Is it better to swallow the hurt and try to salvage the friendship? Surely, only a friendship with you is better than being without you completely. Or would doing that and being close with no hope for a future together hurt worse? Could she handle seeing you with the florist all the time? Larissa sat her teacup down to rub her temples.

A distant knock at the door to her office pulled her away from her thoughts. She stepped inside and called for the visitor to enter. There was work to do, meetings to be held. Quickly and neatly compartmentalizing her thoughts and emotions, Larissa moved forward to greet the mayor.

—

You were in the orchestra room, arranging a new composition in preparation for the scavenger hunt. You couldn’t sleep now that you had decided on a course of action, so you decided to make use of the extra energy swirling in your stomach and radiating out through your arms and legs. Thankfully the dormitories were on the other side of Nevermore’s campus, meaning students could not overhear or be disturbed by your work. You don’t quite remember how you got across the grounds or what time you left your room. All you knew was that this was your time, your safe space.

All of the sudden you hear heels from down the corridor and know that it must be Larissa. Who else would it be? Sure enough, Larissa comes in. No hesitation in her approach. Your stomach flips, and you’re surprised she seems so confident and determined. No silk pajamas; she’s still in a work outfit. You can’t remember if you’ve seen it before. Her sense of purpose impelled you to lean the cello in your arms to it’s stand instead.

Her lips are on yours before logic can catch up with you, her hands cradling your face as if you’re something holy and sacred. You let out a surprised “mmph” but return the kiss eagerly, wrapping your arms around Larissa and inviting her closer. When your lips part ever so slightly, she deepens the kiss without delay. Her hands drift downward from your face to your neck to your arms to your outer thighs. You feel as if your heart is going to beat so quickly and become so enlarged that it will begin to break through your ribcage. Still, you wouldn’t stop this long-awaited union for anything.

Larissa’s swift hands had begun to pull you up into her arms, urging you to wrap your legs around her torso. You couldn’t bother with whether or not the cello was okay. After feeling her warmth against you, knowing she could feel the heat radiating from you too, both of your movements turned frantic. Your breath mimicked the raggedness it had from your run the other day.

“I want you. I want you. I need you.” Breathy declarations from Larissa ring out and ring throughout the room. In response, you bring her hand from the small of your back to your front, just under the edge of your shirt. The encouragement makes the taller woman whimper in between fervent kisses.

Suddenly, a deafening, reverberating crash sounds out.

Heart racing, sweaty, you jolt awake in your office chair in the orchestra room. Looking around anxiously, you see the cello you were playing on the ground, still vibrating. You must have was accidentally kicked it over in your sleep. The reddest blush plasters itself onto your cheeks. You were no stranger to dreaming of Larissa, but this is the first suggestive dream since she left you in the Weathervane. You didn’t even know someone could feel this embarrassed with no one else present. You’re alone and unsure of what time it is or what time you fell asleep after traipsing across campus. Only the quiet singing of birds outside indicated it was early morning. You normally frowned upon clocks in the classroom, but maybe you’ll rethink that now.

You look to the sheet music stand near you and find your phone. It’s dead. With a deep sigh, you gather your items and make your way to your living quarters. You need to confirm what time it is and change your clothes. Today is the day that you’re putting your scavenger hunt into motion.

—

Outside of Larissa’s office is a corkboard for Nevermore news, flyers, events, and so on that she checks daily. You post the anonymous note that serves as your first clue and fade into the stone wall behind you just as her office doors open and she steps out.

Larissa moved towards the board, not suspecting any terribly special memos pinned on a Saturday morning. Her eyebrows furrowed as she read the pasted together instructions. Larissa knew the mismatched lettering had to belong to whoever was gifting her the elaborate playlists. It was finally time to uncover the truth that she so desperately desired. She quickly glanced around to see if anyone was watching or leaving the area. …No one.

The patchwork note from cut-out magazine letters read, “Alas, it’s time to confess who I am. Come and find me if you can. I can skip but can’t walk. I’d rather sing than talk.”

A wild goose chase? Larissa considered. Truly, what can come of this? Just another CD with no confirmation of who this is? Even with her skepticism, Larissa was intrigued. She enjoyed conquering puzzles. There was something so satisfying about hunting down information and excavating the truth. With everything going on with you, Larissa welcomed a distraction, especially from someone who she considered herself to have a certain bond or connection with.

Snatching the clue from the board, Larissa retreated back to her office, abandoning her morning plans to roam among the grounds. I can skip but can’t walk…sing rather than talk…hm… Larissa mulled over the riddle. After a few moments, she can’t believe it took her this long to realize: CDs. Of course, it’s telling her to go back to the CDs. It’s where this all started. She walked over to her media player where one was already in place and started from track 1. Larissa felt as if she had committed the sounds and occasional lyrics to memory. How is there a clue here?

Pacing in front of her lit fireplace, Larissa fumbled haphazardly with the CD case in her hands as she listened with new intent. On the third turn around, her hand accidentally brushed off a sticky note that was placed on the back cover. “Wha-” she began while bending over to pick up the small piece of paper on the floor.

“Finish” she saw written on it. Finish what? A bit frustrated that she can’t make sense of the notation, she went to her desk to examine the other gifts. Sure enough, there were post-its on the backs of them as well. When read all together, they directed her to finish the newspaper crossword. Okay, so whoever this was definitely knew her routine. That’s not exactly breaking news, though. Larissa stepped out onto her balcony where she laid the newspaper next to her finished cup of tea. Flipping through to the crossword section, she saw a custom crossword tucked into the paper. In all honesty, she admired the dedication and thought that went into these clues.

Once she completed the crossword, it very obviously did not read out her admirer’s name like she had hoped. Rather, the answers prompted her to go to Jericho. Larissa pursed her lips, attempting to win against a budding smile as she shook her head. This is ridiculous. The final part of this clue spelling out Jericho also mentioned finding an outcast and a normie laughing together. Larissa didn’t know if she hated or loved that prospect, seeing as many Nevermore students had passes to Jericho this weekend. How many will be hanging out with a local, though? she asked herself while grabbing her overcoat and heading out the door.

—

“Alright, and what’s the plan?” you quizzed Enid on the ride over to Jericho.

In the passenger seat sat a wiggly werewolf who bounced her legs with excitement. In a singsong voice, she responded,“Hey now, give me some credit. I’m the one who suggested Lucas and I could give Principal Weems the next clue!”

“What if she asks who is orchestrating the scavenger hunt? How do I know you won’t crack under her prodding?” You narrow your eyes at her briefly before returning them to the road. You try to keep the tone light while still voicing your concerns.

With a small scoff, Enid confidently replies, “Please, one time Thing accidentally spilled nail polish on Wednesday’s typewriter, and I was an iron trap. If I can handle Wednesday Addams, I think I can handle Weems.” She ends the statement with her arms crossed, seemingly very proud of herself. To be fair, that was impressive. “Besides, I’m on the side of true love. This idea is so romantic!” Oh my god was all you could think to yourself at that statement. Once parked, you and Enid walk into the center of the square to wait for the normie component of this clue.

“What are we doing here again?” Lucas, the mayor’s son, questioned once he was in front of Enid. She sheepishly glanced at you and back to Lucas and then swiftly elbowed him in the side. It was kind of cute how seriously she was taking this.

You’ve done all you can do, so all you can do now is hope for the best. You put your hand on Enid’s shoulder and reassure her, “If you need anything, just give me a signal and excuse yourself. I’ll be watching from the Weathervane.” Well, mainly you’re reassuring yourself.

—

Once in Jericho, Larissa felt it an insurmountable task to search every store and outdoor area for the right outcast and normie. It didn’t help that she automatically parked in her usual spot, which happened to be by the flower shop. Getting out of her car, Larissa saw that very florist outside, pruning and watering plants. He noticed her and waved. She could feel a scowl on her lips, so she looked away, pretending to not have seen his friendly gesture. At least that’s one person that the admirer couldn’t be…

Having walked past the flower shop, Larissa cups her hands over her eyes to look inside Uriah’s Heap. She can’t imagine a normie having fun in the morbid antique shop, but she’s nothing if not thorough. After being satisfied that Uriah’s Heap did not contain her next clue, Larissa turned around to consider where to search next.

Before she can decide to go into another store, she sees Enid. Actually, she sees multiple Nevermore students. It’s a beautiful day, and many students want to make the most of their time before classes officially begin. Curiously, though, all of the other students are with Nevermore peers, and here is Enid with the mayor’s son. Larissa wouldn’t have pegged them to be friends.

Attempting to take control of the situation, Larissa came straight up to them. “Enid? Young Mr. Walker?”

“Principal Weems! Wow. Hi!”

For a brief moment, Larissa considered if running into them was a red herring. There was always a possibility that at a boarding school, the person sending her gifts and love notes could be a student with a harmless crush. Could Enid be the admirer? Larissa had always considered Enid to be like a daughter or menteé. She had felt protective of her, especially when Enid’s own mother made some questionable choices at the last parents’ weekend. Larissa pushed the thought to the furthest recesses of her mind; the person from those letters had a connection with her that no one else compared to. Well, almost no one else.

“What are you-” Larissa began but was cut off by Enid’s excited voice. “You should try to find the building with the most stories!”

“I assume this is the next clue?” Larissa stood in the familiar pose she often used to command attention. Combined with her height and immaculate dress, it simply wasn’t hard. “Enid, I’m terribly busy with finalizing spring semester contracts, schedules, and arrangements. I need to know who has enlisted your help. I know you know more than you are letting on.”

In an effort to be defiant, Enid asked, “What do you mean, Principal Weems? What help?” Her face gave her away, though. Her lips were pressed together firmly, as if she was attempting to hold back a grin.

Larissa considered escalating, but before she could, the young girl interrupted again with a determined look, “Remember, find the building with the most stories.” With that, she grabbed Lucas’s wrist and skipped off, pulling him behind her. All Larissa heard was next was a distant, “Byeeeeee, Principal Weems!”

Larissa is a bit surprised Enid could hold out, but the young werewolf’s evasiveness helped in that regard. Sitting underneath her gaze made Enid uncomfortable. Larissa remembers a time when she pressed the girl on Wednesday’s whereabouts the night Crackstone’s crypt flooded and the water was dyed red. Enid promptly confessed after Larissa put on a semi-firm voice and a stern look of disappointment.

Back to this never ending task of uncovering the identity of her secret admirer, Larissa thought. Bars have quite a lot of stories… The only bar in Jericho is the Rabbit’s Foot Tavern, and the only tales it holds are repetitive small town musings and desires to leave the town behind.

Though it seems like a long shot, it’s her only lead. As Larissa headed in the direction of the bar, she began to pass the bookstore. She only made it two more feet before she stopped in her tracks. There are thousands of stories there!

Feeling pleased with herself, she steps inside only to be met with a tired clerk that is paid too little to care about town shenanigans. The worker behind the counter gives Larissa a sticky note with specific numbers from the Dewey Decimal System. He doesn’t even look up from his phone. Larissa blinks slowly and gestures appreciatively before she heads to the 700s, somewhere in Arts & Recreation.

The “book” that she finds at the detailed location is actually a mix CD on the shelf disguised as a musicology textbook. Torn between feeling excited to have a new playlist and determined the find the next clue, Larissa pushes herself to continue and try to examine the cover, rather than only appreciating it. The track listing is unlike the previous CDs, so she begins to break down what she assumes is a code. Finally, Larissa cracks it: “Make a wish, but don’t take a drink.”

—

Once you watch Larissa disappear inside the bookstore, you leap into action. Hopefully you’ll have enough time to sit out all the lilies before she figures out the next clue. Thankfully, Enid offers to help (and makes Lucas assist). Even James briskly walks over with an armful of lilies. You appreciate the kind gestures and make a mental note to send everyone thank you after this is all over. You’re not sure how long it takes, but your calves and lower back ache from the manual labor. You all successfully sit out hundreds of lilies planted in recycled Weathervane cups. Thank goodness the new barista, Emily, was on board to save as many used paper cups as she could throughout her shifts over the week.

When Larissa makes her way to the town square fountain from the bookstore, you are safely back inside the Weathervane, becoming more and more anxious as you realize she is so close to finding out you’re completely smitten with her and have been keeping it from her. However, she stands at the fountain, unmoving, for much longer than anticipated.

Larissa did not expect this—the humble lily of the valley, her favorite flower. She had never been gifted them. When she was younger and pining after Morticia, Larissa remembered getting the other woman an entire slew of flowers. Dark, moody flowers. Orchids. Carnivorous plants. Anything she thought Morticia would like. In return, when Morticia asked about Larissa’s favorite flower, she ended up giving her lilies. Larissa thought lilies were beautiful, but she had always adored lily of the valley. It hurt that Morticia did not care enough to get her the correct flowers, because it symbolized so much more when it came to their relationship.

The lily of the valley is always overlooked, considered modest and unimposing. Of all people Larissa thought Morticia would appreciate that every single aspect of the flower is poisonous. Now Larissa is at a loss for who arranged this scavenger hunt, because she hasn’t told a soul about what this flower means to her in years. Before she can intervene, tears begin to fall from Larissa’s eyes, staining her face. Sitting on the edge of the fountain, surrounded by hundreds of lily of the valley, Larissa takes a few minutes to appreciate the flowers, almost as if she is mending her relationship to them.

After awhile, Larissa stands, smooths out the creases in the front of her clothes and takes a deep, filling breath in. As she can infer from the cups, the next stop is the Weathervane.

At the Weathervane, Larissa takes notice that it is unusually empty for a Saturday. She strolls around the counter and then the seating areas, examining the area for any clues. Her eyes glance quite a bit to the booth she normally shares with you. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary except for the much smaller amount of people she would expect.

When Larissa internally questions if this is the wrong destination, the barista calls out “Larissa” and sits a mug in the “pick-up” area before going back to make the rest of the drinks in the queue. Scrawled on the cup are the words “sit where you are most comfortable.” That doesn’t seem like much of a clue, she surmises incredulously.

The task at hand proves to be more difficult than expected. Larissa looks to her regular booth, the one you two often shared. Is that where I am most comfortable? She wants to face the door, to surveil the inside of the café for any changes. However, she normally lets you sit in that direction; Larissa liked to have her focus on you instead of the bustling environment. Longing for that familiarity wins out, and Larissa takes a seat facing the back of the Weathervane.

No more clues. You knew that was the last one. Once Larissa sits in her usual spot, you phase through the back wall near the bulletin board. Astonished, the taller woman steps up and out of the seat with a slight gasp.

Before preparing to explain the past several months and your previously concealed ability, you proclaim, in what you hope is the most impressive way possible, “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but you owe me a hot chocolate date.”

You slide into the booth opposite to Larissa, waiting for her to sit back down.

—

Tagging: @lilsmeaux, @suckerforcate, @rickistheman, @tundra1029, @aster-loves-gwen, @justcallmelittleone, @poorwritingandstalecoffee, @lvinhs, @one-pining-queer, @kimiinou, @bobia13, @gwendolinechristieiscute, @kay-liah-scope, @readingtheentrails, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @weemssapphic, @ctrlamira, @im-a-carnivorous-plant, @winterfireblond, @gwendolinechristiesnumberonegirl. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged or have your tag taken off future posts. :)

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weemsgay · 1 year

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Love Notes (Ch. 3)

Another playlist included for these lovestruck dummies. Also, @coffeemelko had a great idea to have Larissa know the hospital staff had been calling Reader her partner, hehe. Thank you for letting me write that in! :)

Larissa Weems x musicteacher!Reader

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Getting Larissa inside and settled proved a harder task than it would seem. She kept demanding to stop and confirm everything was in order after being away from the academy to recover. She tried to inspect the grounds and interrupt the groundskeeper. She was stopped by several students who she confirmed were okay and didn’t need anything. Larissa even attempted to gather faculty for a meeting.

Oh, you felt like a tired mom who's toddler kept grabbing at all manner of items in the store only for you to sit it back down and try again. Once in her office, she continued the behavior, striving to call the mayor. Finally, having enough of this, you say agitatedly, “Shhh, Larissa. Enough. Just let me take care of you.”

Larissa seems to take the hint and quiets down considerably.

“How about I start to get you settled in the bedroom while you peruse your email. Only peruse, okay? And just until I’m finished.”

Walking into Larissa’s bedroom to turn down her sheets and prepare the space, your thoughts wander to the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. With the abundance of time spent with Larissa over the weeks, you began to pick up on the various genres that she likes—from 80’s power ballads to modern classical arrangements of pop songs to elegant classical music.

What started out as an effort to fill Larissa’s day with music while she recovered turned into a desperate attempt to disclose your feelings for the woman. The next mix CD you already started to create began to expose how much you cherished the principal-turned-friend. Though…the idea of only friendship was the furthest thing from your mind. You considered the assortment of music you had planned for Larissa’s next surprise. Desire. Affection. Appreciation. Yearning. These emotions undoubtedly flickered throughout the collection, tying each song together. If only you could pick up the courage to sign your name to these love notes.

Is it too late? you ponder warily.

Stepping back into the office, you hear Larissa typing frantically. With a sigh, you march over to where you left her at her desk. You reach out to slowly close her laptop until both of your eyes lock. “Hello,” You utter softly. “Ready?”

Larissa couldn’t help but feel secure and thankful for someone to be taking care of her for a change. Normally, she would resent the charity or pity, but from you, it didn’t read as those things. She can’t even be frustrated to be pulled away from her laptop. Instead, she replied definitively, “Ready.”

—

You and Larissa gather on the bed with wine after you tuck her in (quite literally). You can’t remember the last time you slipped blankets around someone’s feet and sides to make them feel snug. She just seemed so carefree for a moment at the action, wiggling her feet back and forth once she was bundled. You couldn’t help but feel a wave of adoration for the woman, as well as gratitude to be one of the select few who has seen her guard down.

“Oh gods, how I have missed red wine,” moaned the silver-haired blonde, downing a glass before you were even able to get one yourself and accompany her in the bed. “Excuse you,” you gasped. “Save some for the rest of us!”

“You didn’t have to give up wine,” she emphasized, teasing you. Regardless, you refill her glass and decide to bring the bottle bedside instead.

“And you are lucky that I’m letting you drink at all your first night out of the hospital.”

Larissa feigned astonishment with wide eyes. Revealing some of her typical poise and filter weakening, she returns, “You’re not in charge of me, you know.” With a gentle roll of your eyes, you mutter a bit under your breath, “Tell that to the staff.”

Perplexed, as if she is trying to catch up, Larissa questions, “What was that?” She turns her body to face you—to try to focus her eyes on your expression.

You giggle and steady her hand that almost spills some of her wine on the pristine duvet below.

“Oh, nothing.” Larissa feels a bubbling desire to press you for more information. However, she is suddenly struck by how heavy her arms and body are. How comfy the sheets feel. How warm her cheeks are. How can someone’s tolerance plummet this quickly after not drinking? she wonders as her head spins.

When Larissa lays flat on her back to still her spinning head, you roll onto your side towards her and tenderly stroke her forehead and hairline to provide her some comfort. The soothing motion feels right…feels natural. Her shoulders relax a bit and her breathing begins to even out. You wonder if she has already fallen asleep.

A few minutes pass. Eventually, you hear a soft proclamation, “I didn’t correct them.” The sleepy voice continues, “It felt nice, and I thought it was you.”

Your mind races. Does she mean she didn’t correct the staff? Does this mean she knew the doctors and nurses thought you were her partner? That the idea of you being her partner felt nice? Or just having someone there for her at all felt nice? What does she mean that she thought it was me? The mix CD? It had to be that… After another moment, with a nervous and fluttering heart, you question, “How would you feel if it was me?”

To that, you receive silence. No response, only steady breathing. Asleep, it seems.

You continue petting Larissa’s head, not wanting to rescind your touch. Her skin was warm from the wine and soft under your caress. You two didn’t discuss sleeping over, and you’re nervous to overstep or make her feel uncomfortable. Maybe you could get away with a few hours of blissful sleep next to the other woman?

You wake slightly at Larissa’s shifting body flinging an arm over your waist and pulling you close. Your stomach flips, and you’re not sure if you can get back to sleep. You lie in Larissa’s bed syncing your breaths to hers and trying to commit the feeling of her body next to you to memory.

Once the morning light started to trickle in through a crack in Larissa’s green velvet curtains, you decided it was time to untangle yourself from her and take your leave. You quietly grabbed a few of your things and exited the principal’s living quarters and office, heading toward the faculty showers. Hot water against your skin might ease the ache you felt from Larissa’s absence.

—

You attempt to sleep but can’t, so you make some buttered toast to munch on while you work in the orchestra room, knowing no students will be up to bother you. Last night strengthened so many of the feelings you knew you had for Larissa. What if that’s the first and last time I share her bed? The intrusive thoughts threaten your sanity, and you attempt to replace them with selecting songs for her next mix CD.

After an hour of immersing yourself in how to convey your emotions perfectly, you feel sleepiness begin to take you. Satisfied, you drag your feet to your own bed and plop down to rest.

Many hours later, you are jolted awake by an excited knock at your door. You glance at your clock to see that it’s noon. Confused, you stand up and put your father’s old robe on. It’s always been a comfort item for you—the way it was slightly oversized and could be wrapped around you tightly. You make your way to the door.

“Enid? What’s wrong?” You implore with concern as you swing open the door and are met with eager eyes and a slight bouncing up and down. You glimpse behind her to see Wednesday standing idly by, exuding mostly nonchalance but with an edge of analysis.

“Nothing is wrong. Sorry. It’s just that Principal Weems wants to see you in her office. Isn’t it great she’s back? I can’t believe Ms. Thornhill turned out to not be Ms. Thornhill and that she poison-“ you begin to interrupt the sweet, rambling young werewolf. “Thank you, sweetie, for letting me know. If you don’t mind, I need to get dressed.” Understanding, even though she wants nothing more than to keep talking and ask about the time you and Principal Weems have been spending together, Enid steps back. “Okay, see ya!” Enid assures, turning around to slip her arm around Wednesday’s to attempt to skip off. You stare after the unlikely couple for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and closing the door.

You drag your feet getting ready; you’re not sure why you are so nervous to see Larissa. Okay, yes, you do. You can’t help but think, What if she is upset with me?

You push the thoughts from your head and travel downstairs. Standing outside her office, you take a breath to prepare and knock.

“Come in!”

You receive a rather large smile from Larissa as you enter her office. To your dismay, she is in her work chair behind the desk. Are you seriously trying to do work right now? You mull over voicing your thoughts. She interrupts, “Where did you go?” Almost all anxiety around overstepping last night had left your body as you saw Larissa choosing to not rest.

“I couldn’t sleep. What are you doing up at your desk?”

“As usual Wednesday’s assimilation is once again rocky. I just got off the phone with the temporary replacement therapist in Jericho. I need to repost the job advertisement…” Guilt overwhelms you. Rather than trying to scold her, you should be understanding. You move to stand by her and rest a comforting hand on her shoulder.

You hear her out and strategize a plan forward. After posting on a few education and counseling job boards, you stand and stretch—letting out a bigger yawn than anticipated. “Is that all?” you ask sympathetically.

“Oh, I didn’t want to see you for this. I wanted to apologize for falling asleep on you.” You blush a bit, disclosing, “No, no, not a problem. A cuddle was nice.”

It was the blonde’s turn to react puzzled. “Cuddle? I rather meant falling asleep early. Did we cuddle?” Larissa seemed to tease and had a lilt to her voice.

Mortified, you backtrack and stutter, “I-I’m not sure. Y-your comforter was heavenly, though. You’re lucky I don’t steal it as compensation for taking care of you.” A deep, throaty laugh sounds from Larissa. You two banter a bit before you retreat to her restroom attached to her living quarters.

Okay, so using the restroom was a ruse for slipping out and delivering her new mix and letter. This time you included a poem special to your heart.

You quickly lock the door and phase into the adjoining classroom on the other side of the wall. Making sure no one is watching, you slip out of the room towards the principal’s office door. Your knuckles rapt against the door three times before you slid the gift underneath and to the other side. You begin to hear heels coming closer in determination.

The door opens quickly, Larissa’s torso peering out, inspecting the hallways to find no one. You had immediately disappeared into the wall to return to the bathroom before Larissa could suspect you were missing. Her mind reviewed the many possibilities, It’s almost impossible to vanish that quickly with no trace. Vampires could not transfigure into bat form that abruptly. No ghosts were enrolled or employed. Powers of invisibility were rare and difficult to control… She turns, closes the door, and heads into the bedroom.

Coming out of the bathroom, you hear Larissa, “Look what I found.” “Oh, shit. Another mix CD? Who is it?”

The taller woman sits on the bed, perplexed. “I confess I don’t know.” Larissa’s disappointment shines through, only you don’t notice that it is due to your alibi and not the impending mystery.

—

After you make Larissa promise to stop working on emails and paperwork for the rest of the day, you depart for your own room.

As soon as you are out the door, Larissa is rummaging through files on everyone associated with Nevermore. All faculty, staff, and students self-disclosed their outcast status and abilities annually. Things are bound to develop and change as powers evolve, but there is no mention of any power that could reasonably explain the mix CD’s presence in the absence of its creator or deliverer.

Her hands wander over your file. You were an obvious choice for the open music position when Mr. Altone, your predecessor, retired. Your ability to manipulate sound and generate music was unparalleled, and you could even compose according to specific emotions or mental states. Before you applied to Nevermore, you were a successful composer and closeted outcast, somewhat of a musical theater sensation. Nothing listed here that would explain the delivery of the CD, but plenty to incriminate you in its very creation.

Resigned for the night after another hour of scouring the internet and her book collection for an explanation, Larissa decided to put on the new playlist. She had almost melted the first one from playing it on repeat until her CD player was hot to the touch.

Larissa pulled a chair towards her magnificent fireplace and waited for the music to envelope her. A sweet melody begins to play, and she is transported into a warm, dream-like state. Behind her eyelids, swirls of purples, blues, pinks, and reds dance and convey the emotions behind the carefully curated songs. Her heart swells. Larissa still has doubts about who is behind the mix CDs, but when the music fills her up, she imagines you. She hopes for you.

@lilsmeaux, @suckerforcate, @rickistheman, @tundra1029, @asterlovesgwen. Let me know if any of you don't want tagged anymore! :)

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