Chapter Text
Larissa Weems was somewhat popular in her school years.
She was a roommate and close friend to the Queen Bee of Nevermore. Morticia Frump. Well now it's Addams.
Yet the blonde, for all her intelligence and talents, was constantly overshadowed by the ravenette. Of course she was. She could never compare to Morticia.
Larissa Weems was surrounded by people all her life. She was still incredibly lonely. No matter the amount of people. No matter the amount of “friendship” the girl was just alone.
But it wasn't always like that, no. Once upon a time the blonde had someone she could call a friend. Someone she could confide in about the dumbest of things and not face any judgement.
Someone who loved her. Truly loved her. But she was oh so blind to see it.
She had been drunk on the popularity that came as she grew older. As she grew with Morticia.
The constant need to be around the ravenette girl, the need to try and look flawless to the public.
But she never needed to be flawless with a certain someone.
Reagan Salem.
Reagan Salem was a spirited girl. Larissa can only assume she grew into such woman. She would have known if she wasn't such a fool.
Reagan had a certain charm to her looks. Cherry red hair, borderline crimson. Her eyes were the brightest shade of green but somehow they would get brighter under the sun.
She was a bit gaunt in the face, but just so, Salem was tall aswell. Not as tall as Larissa but she did tower the other girls by few centimeters. It somehow suited her. Her nose was perfectly straight, whenever the redhead was bored she would trace it, looking into the nothingness. All her features were sharp like her personality.
A smile was a rare thing. A thing separated only for Larissa. A crooked grin reserved.
But it all stopped once Larissa chose the wrong people over comfort.
Larissa hadn't thought of it much back in the day but she would remember every now and then that she was looked at with fondness.
Reagan was strong headed, cunning, spirited and as wild as she was beautiful. She wouldn't take shit from anyone. She had always stood up for Larissa the same way.
“Oh Larissa you're driving me mad! You're beautiful, as I've said many times. Do you truly think I'd be friends with someone ugly.” The last part was meant as a joke. Reagan, despite her sarcasm and curt attitude, never judged without a reason.
Her attitude was self preservation. A wall.
Larissa understood it years later.
“The sun makes you even more lovely.” That sentence was blurted out weeks before the two girls would fall out.
And when they did it was not pretty.
Weems expected a fight. Screaming. Perhaps a thing or two thrown.
But neither came.
“I knew. The way you'd just trail after Morticia.” A scoff came. “I do not blame you. Go. Get out.” The words were bitter but calm.
Larissa saw a tear fall down the redheads face. None of them spoke about it. Or at all.
From then on it was pure rivalry.
Reagan would immerse herself in her talent.
Ah yes speaking of abilities.
Reagan Salem had a special trade. A necromancy of sorts. She would work with organs, no matter human or animal and place them in a corpse, bending the lost soul at her will for a short amount of time. Minutes at most.
She was quite good at all sorts of anatomy for a reason.
She would often make small clay figures and put a mouses heart in them to make them alive. It was one of the silly ways she'd make Larissa laugh.
Once she was in the courtyard with her new friends. As much as she could call them such.
They had made a practicularly nasty jab about Reagan's ability. “Well it's quite grotesque, isn't it? I mean imagine enjoying having your hands buried down intestines for hours. Absolutely disgusting.”
They carried on. “And those clay figures? That's just bonkers. I heard Salem keeps glass eyes in jars to use them.” They all laughed.
And asked for Larissa's opinion. In the heat of the moment she had agreed. While she hadn't always been fond of the sight she had never thought of it as repulsive.
Too late to take those words back.
Reagan Salem was around the tree. She heard everything. The blonde and redhead made small eye contact. She was embarrassed. Ashamed. The ever so confident redhead was now red in the face, rushing away.
The rest chuckled whole Larissa's eyes stayed glued to the spot she was at.
As the years passed they minimized contact completely but they still looked at each other.
Weems was a fool. She was a fool to give up someone who valued her. She was a fool to fall in love with a girl who played her.
In some way she was happy Morticia and Gomez got together. They deserved each other but that didn't stop her from being bitter.
Perhaps Larissa Weems was meant to be alone.
“We are born alone and we die alone.” Reagan told her one night when they were girls in vain attempt to try and comfort the blonde.
It was the last year of school.
Reagan began to date some douchebag. Aegor Marsh.
He was handsome, no denying. Tall. Muscular as he could be. His hair was long and coal black, often but wavy. The boy even sported a small pepper beard. His nose was crooked and his eyes dark.
Aegor was known to be trouble. He wasn't aggressive…much. But he got himself into all sorts of tomfoolery. Not at all what Reagan likes.
She had shared with the blonde once, that she would want someone serious.
Aegor couldn't even finish a sentence without swearing. He never listened properly to the redhead.
Yet they stuck together.
And everyone knew why.
You see their families were close. They wanted them married. This was just a means to get them close. It's not like they had a say in this.
It was the Rave’N.
Theme was Hitchcock. Fortunately Larissa's theme had won.
She was elegant that evening. A cream and golden gown with a small slit and a leather golden coat. Her hair was in that pristine updo, Weems felt like herself.
Morticia and Gomez had coordinated their outfits, black and red.
Reagan was wearing a floor-length gown features a deep plum cowl-neck overlay draped over a lighter lavender, high-neck lace base. She looked wonderful.
Reagan thought the same of Larissa. Both girls looking at each other when the other wasn't looking.
Larissa considered pulling Salem aside to talk. To try and fix things.
Then that wretched man Aegor showed up by her side sporting a two-piece ensemble featuring a moss green velvet suit with a tailored, single-breasted blazer and matching high-waisted trousers.
The last chance Larissa had slipped.
They graduated and it has been a year. Reagan married that bafoon. Larissa became a teacher at Nevermore.
Years passed, and Larissa became a principal. It was everything she could ever dream of.
She stopped talking with Morticia the night of Rave’N. It felt oddly freeing..
God knows what Reagan is up to. Sometimes Larissa wonders if she is with a child. If she's travelling. If she's sad or happy.
But as more years pass the thoughts dull. The two women don't think of each other. Perhaps it's for the best.
Last year Morticia Addams showed up in town with Gomez and their daughter Wednesday. A child straight out of hell and with a record utterly wicked.
That year was quite interesting. Aside from the fact that Larissa was almost murdered by their only normies teacher. Marilyn Thornhill. A wretched woman..
The blonde needs a drink. Or two. Or three. Perhaps the whole bottle.
She is exhausted, all of those events put a mark on everyone.
Perhaps the next school year will be more peaceful. It should be.
The principal is now sitting in her office reviewing the applicants for next year.
Countless of names but a singular one stops her.
Brynden S. Salem.
This must be a mistake. There have got to be lots of people with that surname..even if it's uncommon.
Then there's the proof of the uncomfortable truth.
Brynden S. S. - ability: necromancy.
Larissa's breath catches in her throat, wine spilling as the glass falls from her hand.
“Well fuck.” She breathes out..
This ought to be interesting.