Work Text:
Strangers Again
He saw her.
That was all it took.
He was done for.
She was just a stranger, at a table in a coffeeshop, but it didn't matter. The world stopped spinning the moment he saw her, and he knew it wouldn't start again until he spoke to her.
How could it?
Toby couldn't even seem able to draw in a breath with her so close, but just out of his reach. His eyes drank in her appearance. The ribbon in her hair, the soft enraptured expression gracing her features as she read the book in her hands. She was perfect. She had the most beautiful face he had ever seen and life and love seemed to just exude from her being, as she did nothing but just exist. His thoughts ran a mile a moment and he couldn't look away.
Maybe I'll love you for a while.
Her head lifted and Toby immediately realized he was staring. He forced his gaze away and immediately regretted it. He wanted to see her every expression and emotion as it flitted its way across her face.
I wonder what happens when she smiles.
He shook his head at his thoughts, thankful no one could hear them but himself. He sounded like a creep. Toby needed to go and talk to her. He knew as well as he knew his own soul, that he would regret it if he let her walk out without talking to her. Without doing something to get her to see him, even if just for a moment. He took a deep breath to steel himself and glanced over at her again. She was reading an epic novel. A smile turned up the corners of his lips and he looked away again. She was his kind of girl. Toby cleared his throat quietly. Once. Twice. And then before he could talk himself out of it, he walked up to her table.
"The Catcher in The Rye?" he asked.
Her eyes met his and his breath caught. He had never seen eyes so warm. Slowly, so slowly and so subtly he would have missed it had he not been watching closely, she smiled softly up at him. He was a goner. If he hadn't known before, he did now.
"Have you read it?"
Her voice was smooth like honey and soothed an ache within him.
"It's one of my favorites," he answered, his gaze never wavering from hers.
She smiled again.
"Did you want to sit?" she asked, offering the other chair at her table to him.
Toby moved immediately to the chair.
"Is this your first time reading it?" he asked her.
"No," she said, a wistful undertone touching her voice, "I read it at least once a year."
He nodded at her and scrambled for something else to say.
"So you must know it backwards and forwards then."
She laughed lightly in response and his heart skipped a beat.
"What's your favorite part about it?"
A flash of pain shot through her eyes and he was taken aback. What had he said to cause that? But she cleared her throat and it was gone and he was almost convinced he'd imagined it.
"Probably the motif of the loss of innocence. I like 'To Kill a Mockingbird' for the same reason," she answered.
Toby tried to hide a smile and failed. She was offering information. That had to mean she felt at least a fraction of the emotions racing through him, right?
"What about you?"
"Well, I think I related most to Holden's desire to protect his sister's childhood and innocence; to preserve the good and her blissful ignorance. I also thought Salinger was really insightful in his choice of Holden's name, and the way it symbolizes more than what anyone believes at their first look. The same way Harper Lee did with Scout's name."
She looked intently at him, an odd look on her face. It was a cross of happiness and loss.
"Did you come over here just to discuss books?"
His gaze snapped back to hers. He hadn't expected her to be so direct. But this was his chance, and he was not about to waste it.
"This is going to sound crazy. Completely insane. But...just, hear me out. Please."
She had an amused brow quirked at him, but nodded anyway.
"I might never be your hero—I've never been one to fight. But that doesn't mean that I can't learn. I won't be your savior either; couldn't even if I tried. But I think... I think I could be someone you like."
Toby watched her. She said nothing, but he could tell the wheels in her head were turning faster than he could keep up with. And then it happened. She gave him a watery smile.
•••
Spencer breathed deeply as she turned the page, relishing in the scent of coffee that filled her senses. She glanced up as the bell over the door sounded. Her breath caught in her throat and she immediately looked away, hiding shyly behind her hair.
It was him.
She had seen him in here once or twice before, but she'd always snuck out almost immediately. She couldn't quite figure out what it was about him that sent her running every time. It was like some defense mechanism, as if she was terrified of giving him even a chance to get in close; even though there was no guarantee he would see her at all.
But this time, she was frozen to her seat, in breathless anticipation.
Spencer wasn't sure if she wanted him to see her, or if she hoped he wouldn't see anything beyond her hair. But as she waited with bated breath, for what she didn't know, she couldn't stop herself from watching their movie in her mind. And in that moment, she knew she wanted him to approach her, and that this time, she would stay.
I promise not to fly away.
It was some silent plea that bubbled up from deep within her, and she desperately hoped his soul could hear it. She wished she had also brought her journal with her today. She wanted to write down every detail of today so she would never forget. Even if nothing happened.
Come on, give me a try.
"The Catcher in The Rye?" a voice asked.
She looked up and as his eyes met hers, her heart skipped a beat. His eyes were so bright and full of life, she couldn't help but want to know what that felt like. Unconsciously, a soft smile touched her lips and she softened even more at the responding one on his.
She was lost in him.
"Have you read it?" she asked, needing him to stay. To keep talking.
"It's one of my favorites," he answered, his gaze never wavering from hers.
His voice was sanding all her edges, smoothing down the barriers and walls she'd put up around her heart.
"Did you want to sit?' she asked.
Spencer was determined to make this last as long as she possibly could.
He moved immediately to the chair.
"Is this your first time reading it?" he asked her.
"No," she said, hoping beyond hope that he couldn't hear the ache in her voice, "I read it at least once a year."
He nodded at her and his eyes seemed to see everything she wasn't saying. Spencer fought the intense urge to shift uncomfortably.
"So you must know it backwards and forwards then."
She laughed at that, thankful she hadn't scared him off by accident.
"What's your favorite part about it?"
Her heart clenched and she fought down the choking feeling in her throat. Her answer revealed so much about her past and her traumas. Yet, maybe he wouldn't be able to read between the lines and see that. Spencer cleared her throat and tried to respond as casually as she could.
"Probably the motif of the loss of innocence. I like 'To Kill a Mockingbird' for the same reason," she offered.
Spencer hoped that by adding more information, it would draw attention away from why that part was her favorite. He smiled at her and her breath caught in her throat. He was sunshine and happiness and she wanted to stay there forever.
"What about you?" she asked him, wanting so badly to hear his voice again.
"Well, I think I related most to Holden's desire to protect his sister's childhood and innocence; to preserve the good and her blissful ignorance. I also thought Salinger was really insightful in his choice of Holden's name, and the way it symbolizes more than what anyone believes at their first look. The same way Harper Lee did with Scout's name."
His answer caught her off guard. It was almost like he was trying to get through to her, to say something with deeper meaning than the words he'd spoken and it tugged on memories she struggled to suppress. She had to know why he came over to speak to her. She may have fiercely wanted him to, but she had also given him every reason not to.
"Did you come over here just to discuss books?"
Their eyes met again and it felt like something snapped into place between them. Something familiar and safe.
"This is going to sound crazy. Completely insane. But...just, hear me out. Please."
Spencer bit her tongue so she wouldn't say anything, wouldn't make a noise that would get him to change his mind about what he was about to say.
"I might never be your hero—I've never been one to fight. But that doesn't mean that I can't learn. I won't be your savior either; couldn't even if I tried. But I think... I think I could be someone you like."
Spencer stopped breathing.
She felt like she'd been waiting her whole life for this. For this moment. For this man. No one had ever gotten passed her walls and under her skin this way, or this quickly. But something deep within her told her she was safe with him. And she was captivated. Spencer felt a watery smile tug at her lips and she took a breath.
"I might never stop your sorrow or fix you up good as new. But that doesn't mean that I can't hold your hand in mine. I might never be the first to say I'm sorry... I promise that I'll try. But I think I could be someone you like."
Her response hung in the air between them and his eyes locked with hers. Spencer felt the world shift around them.
"I might not do everything right, and I might not always make you happy, but I think I'd like to try," he said quietly, his eyes intense with deep emotion.
"I might fight you every step of the way, and I might drive you crazy, but I promise it doesn't mean that I don't care," Spencer replied, consumed by this moment.
"We have a lot to learn about each other," she whispered, scared to do anything that would wake her up from what she was sure must be a dream.
"That's okay," he said, his face the picture of sincerity, "we can start tonight."
A smile that she felt starting in her heart made it's way onto her lips and she watched as it teased one out of him.
"I'm Spencer," she said, her eyes locked on his, her hand extended to him.
He reached out his hand and grasped hers in a light, tender handshake. Such an innocent touch had never felt so intimate before.
"It's nice to meet you, Spencer. I'm Toby."
She couldn't look away, no matter how hard she tried. It was as if she was afraid that if she looked away for even a moment, she would realize that he'd been a figment of her imagination all along. He smiled at her and everything within her melted.
"Spencer," his warm voice said again, "would you like a refill?"
Spencer saw his offer for what it was, an excuse to spend more time together, and there was no way she was turning that down. She gave him a nod and a smile of her own, and as he picked up her cup and made his way over to the counter, she felt all the broken pieces within her begin to settle back into place. His eyes held promises she wanted to hold on to forever, and without him even voicing them, they made her feel safe with him, and she knew she'd found home.
Spencer slipped a worn greeting card out of the pages of her book, rubbing it gently between her fingers. A tear dripped from her eye and down her cheek and she hastily brushed it away. Spencer didn't know how many times she had read this card and relived the day she'd received it. She had parted ways with love of her life two weeks prior. The sentence inside was ambiguous, but she knew exactly what he was trying to say. And it both mended and broke her heart at the same time. The day he left was still fresh in her mind and she could hear his voice telling her that he wished they could live it all again, so they could make different mistakes this time. That maybe this time around, they wouldn't end broken; that they wouldn't end at all.
She breathed deeply, a small, pained smile touching her lips as she opened the card. To anyone else, it wasn't anything special. Just a blank greeting card with one handwritten sentence.
I wish we could be strangers again.