A/N - This was inspired by a comment request from @goldjr1012 (even though the request was from last year, and I was never planning to write for Heathers again.) Big ol' apologies if she's ooc, I'm very rusty lol.
You sighed loudly, putting your head in your hands. The days just seemed to get longer and longer, and all you really wanted to do was quit. I mean, teaching jobs are thankless to begin with, but the pay was far too low for somebody who had such little passion for the field. Regardless, you had no choice but to finish the lesson prep due for tomorrow or else you'd be in deep trouble, so you took one final sip of your coffee, before placing it down haphazardly, and then spilling it everywhere..
"Oh for crying out loud.." You whined, tears threatening to fall from your eyes at any moment. Even the mug had broken, your favourite mug.. Gone in the blink of an eye!
Still, like the (mostly) responsible adult you were, you dragged your miserable ass over to the empty staffroom and started searching for the paper towels. Yet, to no avail. The day just couldn't get any worse, and in defeat, you slid down the wall and curled up in a ball, crying quietly. It was late, and nobody would be there, so who even cares anymore? You let the tears fall, as much as your heart so desired.
That was until you heard the familiar click of heels as somebody entered the staffroom, but who on Earth would be here so late? Timidly, you tilted your head up off your knees to find a fellow teacher, Pauline Fleming.
In a panic, you stood up hastily in an attempt to appear professional, completely neglecting that your face was also drowned in tears and your eyes were red and puffy,
"Oh darling, are you alright?" She questioned, stepping closer to you.
"Uhm- Yeah, of course! Just came to look for some paper towels, cause I spilt my coffee like a dimwit, haha.." You explained, rubbing the back of your neck, feeling awkward.
"Oh, that makes sense, they're in the top cupboard," She informs you, before going over to the cupboard, retrieving them and handing them over to you, a sympathetic smile on her face.
"Thanks, Pauline.."
"Don't worry about it. Nowwww.." She always made a habit of dragging out her words, "what's got you all teary-eyed?"
"Oh, right- uhm- nothing. Don't worry about it." You dismiss her concerns, hoping she'll just leave.
"Don't be silly, of course I'm going to worry, now spit it out."
"Really, it's nothing."
She never was one for taking no for an answer, and in this scenario, she really proved it; stepping close to you and cupping your tear-stained face in her hands,
"Tell me the truth, dear."
"I just hate working here, nobody every appreciates anything I do!" You finally spat out, beginning to choke up again.
"Oh.. Come here." She let go of your face and held her arms open. Desperately, you threw yourself into them.
Eventually, the two of you parted from eachothers' arms, and she helped you to clean up the glass and coffee that had covered your classroom floor.
"Thanks, Pauline, I owe you one." You smiled at her, and sat down on one of the student desks, sighing in relief that the ordeal was over.
"No, it's alright, it's just nice not to be mocked for being the school hippie for once and have an actual conversation." She let out a sad chuckle.
"Oh, I never really got why they called you that. I mean, sure, your ideas are a little outlandish, but you're nice and all, so.."
"World's most backhanded compliment, but thank you." She responded dryly.
"Oh, sorry, I really didn't mean it like that!" You panicked, a heavily apologetic tone coating your voice.
"I know, I'm only teasing. Still, I do get why people call me a hippie, I can be a little too hung up on the 60's free-love movement and all that.." She admits, laughing a little.
"Ah, don't you just wish it was the 60s again, in regards to the movement I mean, it was just so freeing."
"Tell me about it." She agrees, and leans back on your desk, a few metres away from where you sat yourself down.
"I miss being able to be so open about stuff like that too.."
"Mhm, me too. Having to date middle-aged men never fails to depress me, but needs must." She shrugs.
"Ah, true, I just stayed single. I'd rather be alone than with a man." You reply, laughing.
"Oh? Why is that?" She inquired, her eyes now appearing to stare into your soul a little more than you'd like.
"I shouldn't be explaining things like that to you, but if you ever end up a friend of Dorothy's, she'll explain it."
"Oh, well me and Dorothy are already well-acquainted, so I don't think any further explanation is needed.." She smiles slyly at you, stepping closer and cupping her hands around your face again, before connecting your lips.
Maybe you weren't passionate about teaching, but teachers were a different story.