Chapter Text
Spencer stands in front of the elevator, rocking back and forth by shifting the weight between the ball of his feet and his heels. He looks up and notices that the elevator had been on the same floor for a little over 2 minutes now. He checks his watch instinctively.
10:52 pm.
His heart picked up its pace. He barely gives it a second thought before he’s turning around and running up the stairs.
10 flights of stairs shouldn’t be a problem, not if you passed your fit test.
By the time he reaches the sixth floor, he’s grabbing onto the handrail to stabilize himself. His breathing is ragged and he feels a sharp pain in his abdomen, as he silently curses himself for not working out with Morgan when he had the chance. As he reaches the landing of the 10th floor, Spencer is bending over trying to catch his breath with his hands pressed against his knees. His eyes wander to his watch.
10:56 pm.
He straightens up and breathes heavily as he jogs over to his front door. Spencer’s hands fumble as he rummages through his brown satchel. His fingers weave through the crumpled receipts and empty candy wrappers at the bottom of his bag. He impatiently shakes the bag, hoping to hear the familiar jangle of his keys. He looks at his left wrist, the watch indicating 10.57 pm. He pulls the strap of the bag over his head and flips the bag over, the contents spilling at his front door. The keys drop on the ground in front of his sneakers, as a wave of relief washes over him. He bends over and pockets the keys. He quickly shoves the scattered contents of his bag back inside and slings the bag on his right shoulder. As he finds the right key, he jams it into the keyhole and turns it. The sound of the door unlocking almost sounded like music to his ears.
He rushes inside and slams the door behind him, dropping the keys and his bag on the floor next to his shoes he took off swiftly. His eyes dart to the clock on his wall. 10:59 pm. He runs over to the cordless landline next to his red couch. He grabs it and punches the numbers in like he has been doing every Friday night. Tonight was no different. Except it was different. He looks over at the clock, waiting for the clock to turn 11 pm.
His finger hovers over the ‘dial’ button, shaking. He held his breath and felt his chest squeeze tight, and he could almost hear the blood running through his veins.
11 pm.
Click.
He presses the phone against his ear. The sound of the phone dialling always felt like it was mocking him. A sound that he prays would end as quickly as it started because he knows that when it ends, he could hear her voice instead.
The sound stops. It was radio silence on the other end.
“Hey, it’s me.” He breathes.
“Were you just watching the clock and waiting by the phone?” She laughs, a hint of teasing.
He blushes as he pushes his hair back behind his ears. “I thought I was gonna be late,” he explains, still trying to catch his breath. “I uh, ran up 10 flights of stairs to make sure I called on time.”
There wasn’t any response on her side. He frowns, confused if he said something wrong. But his worries are put to ease when her voice continues. “You exercised for me?”
He chuckles, looking around the room as if a live audience was watching him nervously talk to a girl. “Yeah, I didn’t know if you imagined me as a hunk or not, and didn’t want to disappoint you if you did.”
“Oh, I definitely pictured you as a hunk, with a six-pack and everything” she teases and laughs. For a moment, he wishes that time stood still because all he wanted to do was listen to her laugh over and over again. He wishes that he would get lost in the beautiful ballad of her laugh, never to be found again. He wishes that another second wouldn’t pass so that he could keep reliving that laugh. He closes his eyes shut, wishing.
“You know,” she begins, her voice low and measured as if she only wanted him to hear her. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t counting down the minutes till you called,” she admits, almost as a whisper, like she was afraid that if she said it too loud, it would all become too real. He relished the moment because all he wanted to do was to listen to her talk for hours.
He doesn’t reply except with a smile, even though she couldn’t see him. The silence is comfortable and neither of them speak, both of them just want to be there in that moment.
Spencer breaks the silence first. “Can I tell you about the moon tonight?”
“I would love that,” Maeve breathes. She closes her eyes, ready to picture the beauty that Spencer was about to describe.