a/n: so after seeing this picture, i couldn't resist to write a, sort of, parallel i guess, to 1x13 and also my take of what might happen in that scene ~
The town was settled under a fleet of dark clouds overhead, only a glimmer of sunlight passing through. The forecast warned of the storm earlier that day, it wasn’t sudden. Many had prepared for it, even; going on a scavenger hunt for candles and flashlights just in case of a power outage. Usually, on days like today, Spencer would hide up in her room, reading or going over her school work, for the fifth time that day, occasionally jumping at the vibrating thunder and darting her eyes up at the lightning that would illuminate her room. So, why was today different you ask? The same reason that most of her plans, short term and long term, alternated; Toby Cavanaugh.
They had talked earlier that day, that morning, to be exact. She had stopped by his loft, bagels in hand, ready to spend the whole morning preoccupied with his lips, but apparently whoever was directing the outlook her life, didn't go by her script. When she got there, he was upset. More upset than she had seen him in weeks. All he had said when she came in, was a mumbled, “Hi”. He didn't even meet her gaze, let alone, embrace her in their usual heavy loaded hug. His eyes were too busy with a folder of papers, to address her. She had sat next to him, on the small couch in the middle of his living room, and glanced at the papers secured in his grip. All she could see was the cover of the folder, but that was enough to give it away. Radley Sanatorium, was in red bold letters at the top right corner.
He had finally gotten his hands on her records.
“Toby” she had tried, resting the brim of her fingers on his hand, leaving a semblance of a feather on his skin.
He had looked at her, his eyes sad, and lips curved south. He told her how he had finally gotten a hold of the files, after weeks; they had finally answered his requests. Apparently, his father had finally approved—signed, whatever he had to sign, to allow Toby to be in possession of them.
“I just need to be alone right now” he had told her, after a long pause, swaying his hand away from her touch.
She had been hesitant, but eventually, she did what he wanted. She left him alone and went home, leaving the bagels for her boyfriend to later munch on if his stomach started to growl. She had spent most of her day glancing at her phone, waiting for a text or call from her boyfriend. But, she never received either. She ended up calling him herself, only to be greeted with his voice mail again and again, which triggered her to return to his loft to see if he was okay.
But, he wasn't there.
She knew it was far fetched but she was worried—he wasn't exactly in the best shape the last time she saw him, and she didn't want him doing anything stupid. She had a few places she could look—their cliff, his mother’s grave (But she highly doubted she would find him there, considering what she engraved), and lastly, the small alleyway where she first saw into his soul. The alleyway was the closest; she wouldn't even need her car to get there. It was right down the street, in walking distance.
And that’s how she ended up here, walking through the potential thunderstorm, with only a thin sweatshirt to keep her warm.
As she gets closer, she sees the lone boy, his figure faint, but obvious that it is him. She starts jogging at the sight, needing to be close to him, needing to bring him out of the cold. As she meets where the walls space out, her pace weakens and her eyes become soft. Stopping completely, she rests a hand, to support herself, on the brick wall.
For a minute, she just watches him like she did all that time ago, which seems like forever ago, but really was only a little over a year ago. She begins to walk, slowly, towards the boy, the frown on her face drowning down even more.
He seems to notice the sounds of feet, for his head bobs up, his eyebrows knit, and lips ajar. Realizing who the intruder is, he looks back down, maybe out of shame, or just the inability to meet her eyes; she doesn't quite know.
“How’d you know I would be here?” he asks after a long pause, his head rising with the words.
Her stare falters, and her lips inch open to release the words stuck in her mouth, but nothing comes out. She takes a seat next to him, paying no attention to how the ground will make her pants dirty—it doesn't matter right now, she decides. A moment later, she finds her voice. “I saw you once…it was before…we even knew each other, well, really knew each other, anyways.”
He looks at her curiously; she takes this as a prompt to continue.
“You were…some douche bags yelled some malicious comment at you…and then you tried smiling at these kids…and they… ran away” her eyes were dead set on the ground, and her voice was trailing off to a breaking point.
He took a moment to digest it, to, maybe, remember the event. “…why didn’t you ever tell me this?” he asks, finally.
She shrugs, finally meeting his gaze. “I don’t know” her voice is quiet, and fragile, like the first raindrop of the storm.
He looks away.
“Toby, you know I’m here for you…right? You don’t have to be alone.” He doesn’t say anything. “Look…I know how it feels to bottle things up, I've done it my whole life, I felt uncomfortable talking to anyone about how I felt—I'm supposed to be strong, my shoulder is the one people cry on...but then...I don't know, you're different than everyone else. I feel like I can talk to you about anything, you just got me—understood me better than anyone else ever did...I guess I just wish I could return the favor."
He is looking at her now, his denim eyes soft, eyebrows in a furrow, the corners of his eyes granted with potential tears. "I know.." he tells her, "I know you are here, but I don't know...It's just so much to process. I just miss her so much, and I guess I thought having these files, it would give me some closure, but——" He shakes his head slightly, looking up, "she was my best friend" he murmurs, lastly, leaving a great canyon of time between them with the phrase.
Spencer grabs his hand in the silence, wrapping her fingers around his, stitching their fingers together so he can't release. He looks at her, a tiny smile framing his lips. "And now you are, Spencer. And I'm so grateful for you, but I just...miss her." his voice breaks gently on the phrase.
She smiles sadly, touching the side of his face with her free hand, not knowing what to say—not knowing how to make it better. "I wish I could make it better..." her thoughts evolve into words.
"You did—you are...just by you being here, Spencer."
