The Birds & The Bees | S.R.

Ch. 27 | March Hare

Summary: Spencer's half-truths are catching up to him, and Ms. Fletcher is causing problems.

A/N: Welcome back, my bunnies. Three chapters remain.

Content Warning: Alcohol, kissing, verbal arguments, allusions to death and blood, ambulances, (metaphorical) hallucinations, paranoia, distracted/emotional driving

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Since the dawn of man, so has existed the fear of the darkness. I had been no exception to this universal truth.

I'd always written off my fear of the nothingness as a product of my upbringing; my idea of home. Las Vegas was the only place I knew of where the neon signs outnumbered the people. The evenings were often more illuminated than the midday mark when the sun showed no mercy.

But on the nights where I wandered, I would travel far enough until I could find a unique kind of night. I could still feel the crisp air in my blood. With flimsy pedals beneath my feet and the endless desert ahead, I would ride until my legs ached the same as my lungs.

My mother would've hated my tendency to wander if she'd ever been able to notice. My father hated it for different reasons.

But if only the world had understood that it was not my love for solitude, but my yearning to be part of something greater that led me to the shrub-laden sand.

When I stood among the cacti and fellow nocturnal creatures, I would find that the night was so much brighter than in my bedroom. I would stand soaked in the starlight that fought against the darkness. Eventually, I would learn the names of every star that had one. They would become something like a friend to me, those stars. The guardians that offered silent, reverent guidance whenever I was lost. All the while flickering to remind me that they were still alive.

It was no wonder to me that I had trouble sleeping when I moved away from the desert and towards the East Coast. My heart knew what beauty hid under the blanket of the bare night.

The nightmares that plagued my psyche were nothing but a contrast to the nights I knew.

It was rare to have nightmares on the nights there had been a Bunny in my bed. Luckily, on those rare occasions, I would still wake from the horror to find her sleeping soundly against my chest. I wondered how the sound of my heart hadn't been enough to wake her. I thanked whatever Gods were torturing me for allowing her unbroken dreams.

I hadn't had a nightmare in the five days since Lila's wedding. Of course, I hadn't let her leave my side, either. The unique horror that was watching her get hurt, however imaginary, was too painful to bear alone.

But it had come time for her to return to her life without me, even if it was just for a couple hours. I knew I would miss her terribly, but I also knew I had to let her go. I had to allow her the freedom to grow so that when she returned to my arms, there was never a doubt that it was where she'd wanted to be.

Still, I felt an overwhelming relief when I woke to find her already so. She ran gentle fingertips over the rough scruff on my cheeks.

The first thing I noticed was the way her eyes and smile widened when she saw me wake. The second thing I noticed was the same as it always was. Except somehow, in a matter of hours, she had become even more beautiful than when I'd gone to sleep.

"Good morning, Bunny," I mumbled.

"Good morning," she whispered back. Her placid voice still shaken by the touch of sleep, she continued, "I missed you."

My heart wrenched in my chest. It rioted against the starless sound of her sadness, and I was powerless to stop it from using every possible muscle to bring her closer.