Work Text:
Spencer sighed heavily as she paid for her coffee. The Brew was pretty full today, and she was thankful for that. She just wanted to blend into the crowd today. After constant questions and badgering about her injury— how she had gotten shot, who had shot her, why they had shot her— she wanted to go unnoticed and avoid the gossips who had to know all the details. The barista handed Spencer her drink and she quietly thanked her, before turning to leave. She stopped up short when she almost walked directly into someone.
"Sorry!" Spencer said quickly, ducking her head bashfully, hoping she could sneak out before they realized just who had bumped into them.
"Spencer?"
She immediately stiffened at that voice.
Toby.
She wasn't sure if she had it in her to put on a brave face for him and smile today. They hadn't talked since she'd paid him a visit in the hospital at A's behest. That conversation had been painful. And awkward. She'd intended to avoid Toby as best as she could until he and Yvonne could leave for Maine again. But A wasn't going to allow that. And apparently, neither was Toby.
"Oh, hey," she said quietly, "how are you holding up?"
A strained smile touched his face and he grimaced.
"As well as can be expected I guess."
Spencer smiled sympathetically and tried not to squirm. The tension between them was almost suffocating and she felt a desperate need to get out. She wasn't even sure exactly what the tension was stemming from, but she knew she didn't want to find out. But she also couldn't find it within herself to walk away just yet. Not when Toby had such a fragile look on his face.
"How's..." she cleared her throat, "how's Yvonne doing?"
Toby let out an exhausted sigh and he shrugged.
"The same," he answered quietly.
"I'm so sorry, Toby," she said, just above a whisper, "if there's anything I can do..."
"I'll tell you," he finished, a gentle, thankful smile on his face.
Spencer nodded and shifted on her feet.
"I'll come by again soon. Check in on you guys..."
He thanked her softly, and looked to be silently debating something. Spencer took in the determined set of his jaw and internally recoiled. She knew that look. Whatever it was that he wanted to talk about was not going to be a fun conversation. She took a minute step back, intending to make a quick exit but stopped short at the words he spoke.
"I know lately, you have been pummelled by life. Everything you learned about your parents and how you— If you ever want to talk about anything... I'm here."
Spencer blinked at him. Of all the things she'd been expecting, this hadn't even made the cut. She hadn't even been aware he'd known. She let a small smile touch her lips and tried to bite back the pain that was trying to claw it's way out.
"If I find the words, I will share them with you," Spencer said softly.
He nodded and shifted, his jaw clenching and unclenching. That clearly hadn't been all he'd wanted to talk about and Spencer dreaded what else he could possibly want to discuss. She wasn't sure she could handle whatever conversation he was attempting to have, so she made a desperate, cowardly decision.
"I should go," Spencer said quickly, and she turned back toward the door, hoping to make it out before he could stop her again.
"Spencer," he called, "...actually...do you have a minute?"
"Uh..."she stalled, looking down at her watch, "yeah. Sure. What's up?"
Toby cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Why don't we find a seat first? This isn't exactly a conversation I want to have in the doorway."
Spencer hesitated, a ball of dread settling in her gut. She was pretty sure she knew what conversation he wanted to have, but she didn't know if she was ready to have it. She didn't know if she'd ever be.
"I think...I think we both need some closure...I'm so tired of dancing around this. Trying to ignore it and pretend this strain doesn't exist. I'm so tired of acting like we didn't happen."
Spencer slowly nodded as she swallowed hard, following him to a secluded area and taking a seat. Her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, were the only tell that she was nervous.
"I need to be honest with you. I need to just say it all, because not saying it...it's eating me up inside. And I don't think I'm going to be able to really move forward...with anyone, until I say this. You need to hear it. I need to say it. Just once."
Toby cleared his throat and took a breath, as if to steel himself for what he was about to say.
"Being with you...it was like a dream...a really good dream that I never wanted to wake up from. The years before we actually got to know each other had been the darkest, and worst, of my life...and finding you— it was like seeing the sun for the first time. It was like coming home. And it seemed too good to be true. Even with A, and everything else that was going on for us. The fires burning left and right. But amidst it all, I was learning you. My hands were learning you. And my heart was learning yours. And it was perfect. Everything else in my life had always felt so wrong. But you...you were comfort. You were right."
He tried to find the right words to truly, fully express what it had felt like.
"It was...planets meeting. It was synced up breathing. It was...heaven. It was heaven to me. I never really believed in a love like ours. Not after the way my dad moved on so easily...so quickly after my mom—" his voice caught so slightly, Spencer knew if she didn't know Toby as well as she did, she would have missed it, "but there I was: free falling."
"I was seventeen and I wanted to fix the world for you. And I'm still hurting. But I'm still certain that when the pain comes back in waves, it was worth it. The memories still hit me like freight trains, but I choose to keep replaying them to keep you with me. Because it's better to have had...than not at all," he took a deep, shuddering breath, "I think we both know we were chasing stars, across the county lines— thinking we could make it. We were two imperfect pieces, with our fingers intertwined. But I would do it all again; knowing I'd be left behind...for that time— back when you were mine."
"We knew each other, Spence," he said hoarsely, wincing slightly as he fell back into old habits, "better than anyone. Didn't we?"
Spencer bit her lip and breathed deeply through her nose, still trying to process everything Toby had said as her heart ached painfully within her chest. She opened her mouth to reply and closed it again, choosing her words carefully. Toby had been completely transparent, completely candid with her. He'd made himself vulnerable and shared his deepest hurts with her, just like he'd used to. Only this time, she was the one who had hurt him, and she couldn't comfort him as she so desperately wanted to. He hadn't shared this in an attempt to "win her back" or change their ending. He had shared it so he could move on and have a future. With Yvonne. A future untainted with their history.
"I knew you once," she started quietly, "and it was nice. I knew your mind. And your heart; all your insides...as if they were mine. And I could tell—just with a look— what you were thinking; that's all it took. You shared your secrets. And I shared mine. Silence with you was comfortable; without even having to try. I'd never experienced anything quite like that with anyone before. We had secret smiles, and inside jokes. We opened up the innermost parts of ourselves, and gifted advice...we never hid from each other..."
Her voice broke slightly and she paused for a moment to collect herself.
"Yes. We knew each other once. And it was nice..."
There was a beat of silence between them as Spencer tried to piece together her next words. It was strange, baring their souls to each other in this way. It still felt so natural to confide in each other, yet, there was a palpable difference there now.
"I was...never ready to say goodbye...and I wasn't ready for without you...I never thought I'd need to be..." she cleared her throat gently, "you have to know... if you'd asked...I would've stuck around for you. I would have fought this whole godforsaken town. I would have been here. I might have wanted more than Rosewood, but for you, I would have stayed...but, I also know you...and you never would have asked that of me, or anyone. No matter how much part of me wanted you to. You changed me, Toby," Spencer's voice caught slightly on his name, her tone aching with regret, "I was someone else before you. And I was someone else with you. But for some reason, I never truly thought there would be an after you. But then, before I knew it, there it was. And I was in it...and I lost sight of who I was."
"I spent so many days thinking about how it all went wrong. We were always good at taking on each other's issues...but we bled through the band-aids and cried through the tissues. And it just didn't work anymore. I think...I think we put too much pressure on ourselves, keeping up appearances to please everybody else...instead of talking about things when we should have. And somewhere along the way, we lost us. I wish that I had just built you up inside my head. It would have made moving on and walking away from you and what we had so much easier. And maybe then, it wouldn't have hurt so much when you said goodbye. It was as if I was living in the shade and darkness of the loss of you; until all of my sunshine was gone...and no matter how far I ran...I couldn't get away from you. You were living in my mind— and I gave you permission. I could constantly feel your name on my lips. It was like—" she cut herself off, "I was stuck."
A short, mirthless laugh fell from her lips.
"But then I got shot...and while I was unconscious... for the first time in years, I wasn't hurting...and for one horrible moment: I forgot that you existed. And I had thought that that would kill me. But it didn't. And for that moment, I forgot about A, and the last seven years. And it was so nice; so peaceful and quiet...and that feeling was so unfamiliar. It wasn't fear. It wasn't love. And it wasn't hate or anger— it was just...indifference. And after caring so much, for so long, it was like this weight I'd been dragging around, been clinging to, was just gone for that one moment," Spencer paused to catch her breath, having felt rather than heard her voice breaking, "and I felt...relieved. Like I hadn't taken a breath in years but suddenly I could breathe again. But then the moment ended and I remembered and I felt so guilty. Because I didn't want to forget. No matter how much the memory of us routinely destroyed me, I didn't want to live without it. I never wanted to know who I was without you."
A silence settled over them as they both attempted to absorb each other's words while trying not to drown in the foilsickness of what they had shared. Neither was fully certain if things were better now, or ten minutes ago, when they still had plausible deniability.
But what was done was done, and they couldn't take it back.