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weemsfreak · 2 months

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Nobody Like You

Happy Valentines! Whether you enjoy this commercial holiday or not, do/buy something nice for yourself! Larissa would want you to ;)

I suppose this is a more joyful part/addition to my story All The Time

Platonic Larissa Weems x StudentReader ~3.1k words

You knew of nobody who felt the same.

Nobody who recognized, no-

revelled in the beauty of women as they aged, as the depths of their emotion became more evident in their skin, as they formed crows feet, as they became wiser;

as they lived.

Nobody like you.

You always felt that it was rather odd, to bask in their light, their entire being, and let it absorb you completely, to the point where you cared about nothing and nobody else.

It hurt, knowing that they didn't feel the same about you.

It led you to believe that you were ugly, unwanted, a sliver of a soul compared to them, insignificant.

Recently, however, you've grown just a bit.

You’ve began to tell yourself that you are rather lucky.

You have the privilege to see what others don't and feel what they never could.

You have been graced with the ability to learn and admire.

Women have taught you many things over the years, although, you didn't realize until now.

You have been blessed with the ability to adore and cherish them, perhaps when nobody else cared to do so.

As odd as you may feel, pressured by societal norms, women make you feel alive.

You allow your dark thoughts to get the best of you, until you remember that there is good in everything.

Something has to make you feel, you have to live for something.

And so, despite the hurt, and the confusion, and the guilt, you let it make you feel.

You let yourself feel and you tell yourself that maybe women deserve you, in a way that you're willing to give and a way they're willing to accept.

Maybe they deserve to be admired, maybe they deserve to be cared for.

Maybe they deserve to be looked at like they hung the stars and crafted the moon, maybe they deserve to feel beautiful.

Of course, you didn't think 'maybe'; you had no doubt they did.

But they have been beaten and bruised and used, and therefore they didn't see it in themselves.

You knew they didn't.

So you thought and thought and finally accepted the fact that maybe this was your purpose in life, no matter how insignificant you felt.

Maybe your purpose was to make women feel worthy, by a gesture, a compliment, or a glance, even if you didn't feel worthy yourself.

For perhaps maybe one day a woman would come along and do the same for you.

And until then, you'll long for them, admire them, and soak in their beauty in the way that you're willing to, and in the way that they're willing to accept.

And until then, that will be enough.

༺♥༻

You were observant, very detail oriented. People always told you that.

It gave others the illusion that you cared.

That was a good thing, and you took it as such.

That was, until those times where being observant hurt, where the fact that you actually did care so much hurt.

It hurt when you noticed her become increasingly tired, more irritated, and less enthusiastic throughout the year.

It hurt when you saw less of her, when the events became more bland, and when that usual sparkle in her eyes as she spoke dulled.

Usually it was with utmost passion, but lately, you could see that she was forcing it.

Faking it like her life depended on it.

You could chalk up your recognition of these changes in her to your observant nature, you could.

But, you knew it was way more than that.

She was your inspiration, your motivation, and your love.

She was the beauty, madness, and order of the entire universe.

And, she was sad, lonely, and tired.

So no, you didn't just notice her or recognize these changes; they were thrown at you with force and left bruises on your chest. They bled internally and seeped through your tissue to your heart until it hurt.

༺♥༻

You winced as she stepped up to the podium, stumbling as she failed to pick her heeled foot up high enough.

No, she didn’t fall, for if she had have, you would've ran up to her, despite being more than ten feet away, and caught her as she did.

Instead, she recovered and gave a sheepish smile to the crowd. You smiled back to make her feel better, knowing she wasn't looking your way.

You watched with bated breath as she walked through the corridor, face void of emotion.

Nothing wrong with that, really, people would tell you that you had resting bitch face.

But, as it was characteristic of you, it wasn't characteristic of her.

Usually she greeted students with a smile that gave you the strength to get through the rest of your day.

Sometimes she even gave you a nod or a wink, or if it were a blessed day, a gentle hand on your shoulder as she asked how you were.

But now, as she strutted through the crowd of teachers and students, you knew that she was tired.

One night, you found her at the weathervane, ordering a hot chocolate and a croissant.

It was a Friday night as she sat at a booth across from you, your heartbeat picking up rapidly as you watched light hair and long legs stride past.

You didn't know much of her personal life, she was your principal, after all.

But, despite your inability to understand why, you knew deep down to your soul that she was lonely.

Lonely like you.

And as you watched her sip her hot chocolate alone, her eyes wandering around the café and painfully landing on you, you thought that you were rather lucky, and you made her a promise.

You would never stop trying to make her feel beautiful.

You would never stop trying to bring her some joy.

Maybe you were young and naive, and maybe you were nothing to her, but some kind words and a kind gesture, someone who really cared, could mean the world.

You really had nothing to lose, (besides your dignity) and so, you put your pride aside, and made it your purpose to help her feel worthy; even if you didn't feel worthy yourself.

You smiled, she smiled back with a nod. Standing, you grabbed your drink and made your way to her booth. As you stood across from her, reluctantly gazing down into her blue eyes, you found that they held galaxies, the secrets of the universe, the weight of the outcast world, and perhaps the normal as well.

"May I?"

She nodded, gesturing with a gloved hand to the empty seat across from her.

You had no clue what to say. Well, without sounding totally creepy.

'How are you? Sad, lonely, bored, scared, confused? Because I am.

But I'm just clueless and young, and I'm just obsessive and dumb, and you are…intelligent and worthy and beautiful.

There is nobody like you.'

No, you couldn't say any of that, because she didn't know you like you knew her, and she didn't love you like you loved her, and she didn't think you were worthy like you thought of her.

"How have you been Principal Weems? I haven't seen you much lately, busy?"

She nodded and let her gaze fall to her hot chocolate, "Yes, it's quite busy this time of year. Very tiring."

'Of course it is, it must be busy running a whole school, let alone a school full of outcasts.

It must be busy planning events in hopes of keeping our heads out of the gutter and opening our eyes to the world.

It must be tiring caring for us when nobody else does, being the only one who gives a shit and being the only one to try.

It must be tiring fighting to live with yourself, it must be tiring praying and hoping to finally feel happy, to finally feel loved.'

Because it was, you knew, it was every second of everyday.

It was busy. It was tiring.

But you didn't say any of that.

You looked down at your hands as you twisted them in your lap.

"If it's any reconciliation, I think Nevermore is running really smooth lately. I feel safe here, and I really enjoyed the last event that you planned."

Suck up? No. You probably sounded like it, hell you were expecting her to say it.

People have in the past when you were just trying to be…kind.

But Principal Weems wasn't judgemental or rude, she wasn't a prude, and she wasn't suspicious of you.

A crooked smile pulled at her lips as her eyelashes fluttered, "Thank you, darling."

She placed an open hand on the table, your eyes flit between it and her gaze, then you placed your hand in hers.

"I appreciate your acknowledgement, I'm glad you feel safe here."

Of course you would acknowledge her, yearn for her, bathe in her entire being, feel safe under her authority, feel safe in her care.

Of course you would admire her from afar and wish that she would at least notice you back.

Of course you were trembling, attempting to steady your hand in her soft and gentle touch.

"Of course. We see how hard you work for us, how much you care."

'We' really meant 'me', but she didn’t need to know that.

For maybe the teachers and your peers and the people of Jericho noticed, maybe they noticed her input and effort, maybe they saw her anger and fear, maybe they knew of her loneliness and betrayal, but you were the only one to say anything, you were the only one to give a shit.

You were the only one to do something about it.

༺♥༻

And do something you did.

February came around rather quickly, your peers making Valentines and 'Galenites' plans in front of your very eyes.

You didn't think much of this commercial holiday, but you knew that some dreaded the day, being surrounded by people who had someone who loved them. Or at least liked them.

And since you had no partner, no love, no like, and no real friends; you had no plans.

No plans until you willed yourself to make some.

You planned with more effort and care than you ever had in your life, pushed away your immense fear of rejection, and made a promise to her.

For when the day came, you would make sure she knew she was admired, and you would make sure she knew she was cared for, as she had done for Nevermore.

As she had done for you.

༺♥༻

That morning, you printed a photo from a recent outing, one in which you were standing next to her, your smile stretched from ear to ear, unlike any other photo you had ever taken.

You made your classmates sign the back as a kind gesture for the principal, hoping to make it look as though you were not the only one in on it.

During your lunch you basically ran into Jericho, to the flower shop and the Weathervane.

When school ended, you made your way to your dorm and grabbed her things.

Walking to her office with pride in your chest and butterflies in your stomach, you prayed that she would be there. Yet at the same time, you knew that she would be.

With bated breath you stared at the large wooden doors, closing your eyes and reaching out a hand.

Show her she's beautiful, show her that you care, show her that she's not alone, show her that you love her.

You knocked, and backed away.

The door opened with a creak as the principal gazed down at you.

She trailed her eyes over the items in your hands, a red gift bag and light pink roses, and a question rang in her head.

"Hello darling" she smiled, scrunching up her nose as she looked down at you with interest.

"Hi Principal Weems" you nervously stuttered.

She tilted her head in confusion, and then she understood.

"Those are beautiful roses you have there. I assume you want my help in their delivery, perhaps?"

Your heart fell as she peered down at you, eyes weary, lips pulled up at the corners with a soft grin that would let one believe she was alright, that she was fulfilled, that she was happy.

But, you knew better, it was her fake smile, her professional façade, her signature expression that screamed 'I am the headmistress and nobody can get to me'.

Show her that she's worthy.

You shook your head. "Um, no actually. They're for you."

You held the flowers out, watching as blue eyes landed on the roses being presented to her, mouth opening slowly in disbelief.

A hand reached out carefully, "For me?"

You nodded with a smile.

She took them and opened the door, moving a hand to your back to invite you in.

Placing the roses on her desk, she admired them as her head swam.

Was this a joke? Would she have to explain to you why she couldn't fancy you back? What was going on? Why? Could you really just be…innocent and sincere?

You could tell that her thoughts were going a mile per minute, so you stepped closer.

"I just wanted you to know how inspiring and cared for you are."

Her gaze quickly turned to you, eyebrows furrowing in attempt to understand, to believe.

Noticing her skepticism, you placed the gift bag onto her desk.

"We wanted to get you something to say thank you, that's all."

She reached for the bag and pulled out the framed photo, her eyebrows softening as she found students signatures and comments on the back, a special note from you.

She chewed at her bottom lip, and your heart swelled with joy at how beautiful she was.

Running a slender hand over the glass frame, she set it on her desk along with the roses.

Her eyes, filled with mirth, met yours as she reached into the bag and found a package of croissants from the Weathervane.

A grateful chuckle escaped her, and she placed a hand on her chest as she pouted.

You ran a hand through your hair nervously.

"I uh- I figured you had plans tonight, so I'm sorry if I'm keeping you from them. I just wanted to give these to you now, otherwise I probably wouldn't have at all."

The principal looked to the ceiling as a toothy smile puffed out her cheeks.

The lines in her skin became more defined when she smiled like that, and you longed to reach out and trail your fingers along her skin.

She was truly gorgeous, her smile was your lifeline.

You couldn't help but press your lips together into a small grin, desperately fighting the urge to burst at the seems.

She dropped the croissants onto her desk and opened her arms to you; you hesitated, looking up at her with what you hoped she would know was sincerity.

Her eyes watered and her lower lip trembled, and you let go, throwing yourself gently into the woman as you felt her long arms pull you against her warmth.

"Thank you, love, thank you" she whispered, sniffling into your hair.

You closed your eyes as you felt yourself tear up, and focused on the softness of her dress against you, her skin against yours, sighing as you finally felt comfort, finally felt care.

You were honestly proud of yourself. To see her happy, even if for a moment, to see her smile again, it was worth it, embracing your purpose.

She pulled away and wiped her eyes, looking down at the pink roses once more.

"I really appreciate you thinking of me darling, but I'm sure you want to get to your people."

You embarrassingly followed her gaze to the pink roses, rubbing your sweaty hands on your pants.

"I um, don't have any plans, or people. But I'll go, I'm sure you have somewhere to be."

Her gaze met yours in surprise, she tilted her head to the side in question.

"You don't have plans tonight?"

It was adorable when she did that, like a curious little puppy.

You shrugged, "No."

She pursed her lips into a lopsided smile, "Me neither."

Principal Weems wouldn't tell you how she really felt, for you knew her professionalism was of utmost importance. Her job, her image, her look, built up from the ground, her character exuded confidence and sophistication.

But occasionally, you had the ability, the privilege, to see through Principal Weems.

Sometimes when you looked deep enough into her eyes, into her soul, you found Larissa.

And Larissa, well she was someone you yearned to know.

She was someone you longed to touch.

She was someone you knew that you'd love.

And, you felt as if, right now, you could see a little bit of her, unwillingly yet necessarily crawling her way out after years of hiding, as she stared back at you with appreciation and tears.

Larissa had wished deeply that she would find someone with whom to make Valentine's plans, or maybe even just normal everyday plans.

But as the years went by, she lost hope.

And so, she stopped trying, she stopped caring, she stopped feeling worthy.

But, you came along, to her total surprise, with a kind and thoughtful gesture.

She scoffed on the inside, who would think of their principal on Valentines day?

Who would buy gifts for a lonely old woman?

Who would notice, who would care about her?

As she asked herself these questions, her brain ceased its fire, for she found the answers in your lingering gaze.

Her heart paused, or so it felt like it, when she realized that for the first time in a long time, someone could see right through her.

Someone could see her façade wear off, her failure to pick her heeled foot up, her rapidly dulling eyes and her loneliness.

Someone could see it, and that someone cared enough to do something about it.

And, as if you knew her brain suddenly filled with self doubt and panic, you summoned the courage to tell her exactly how you felt.

"I admire you very much, Principal Weems" you hesitated, "and Larissa. I hope I'm lucky enough to be as beautiful as you are one day, inside and out."

Someone thought she was beautiful, someone admired her.

Someone looked up to her.

Someone thought that she was worthy.

Someone had no plans for Valentine's, and she shivered at the thought of someone following in her footsteps, her unlucky streak of lonely and sorrow filled years.

Her heart ached as she thought about how someone felt just as she did.

For nobody had gotten to her before, nobody had attempted to get past the force that was Principal Weems; nobody had cared enough to find and to know Larissa.

Nobody like you.

"You know, I have Valentine's cookies that I was going to bake by myself."

Larissa chuckled at her embarrassing admittance.

"Would you like to bake them together?"

༺♥༻

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