Sincerely Yours | 2

6. memory jog

"I can't be t-that... An-ymore."

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"You don't have to be someone you don't want to be. It's okay, y/n.." Spencer began to speak, but you interrupted him.

"Spencer. You don't remember."

His lips parted slightly in shock of your deadpanned statement. "Well..Not right now.. But-"

You dragged your fingertips roughly under your eyes to wipe your tears away. "B-but what? Do you of all people really think you could remember? Aren't you supposed to be smart?!" You paused and took a shaky breath, lowering your tone of voice.

Spencer tightened his grip on you as you drunkenly unloaded your harsh feelings on him. He knew something had gone on between the two of you- the chemistry was palpable, but no one in the office ever admitted to how long he had been with you. This anger of yours was bound to let some secrets loose.

"You know the real odds. Don't go around promising things just to make me less upset."

Spencer circled his thumb against the skin of your thigh beneath his hold. "The real odds don't matter. Where did all of your hope go? Where did all of you go?" His words made you hesitate.

Where did you go?

"I.. I don't..." You stumbled over your words trying to answer his question, but you couldn't. You looked up to his worry-strewn face, your heart thumping against your ribcage.

"I thought you wanted me to remember." His gentle breath warmed the tip of your nose.

You gently bit your bottom lip, beginning to look down at your hands. "I'm not going to force you to do anythin-"

Spencer's hand on your lower back moved up to your head as he brought his lips against your forehead, kissing it softly. His fingers lightly danced on the nape of your neck, sending a rush down your body.

"You don't have to-.. Spencer.. Please.. Just let me sleep."

He swallowed the lump in his throat and removed his lips from your forehead, his hands returning to your hips. He lifted you carefully off of his lap and placed you on the bed, standing to straighten himself out a little.

You didn't notice how much sorrow filled Spencer's shimmering eyes as he quietly wished you a good night. He left before you could see a single tear roll down against the side of his button nose. You were too focused on trying to peel back your covers and sink under the cool heavy fabric.

You fell on your side and silently cried yourself to sleep.

You never knew that Spencer laid down on the couch, clutching a pillow to his chest, and doing the same.

You dreamt of your own funeral. Grey skies and moist grass set the tone on this treacherous afternoon. You hadn't figured out how you died.. But you didn't want to know. The first thing you saw was Spencer. His hair was long, matted from the rain, and his disheveled suit looked as if he had been sleeping in it. His hand carried a thick silver wedding band that glimmered in the foggy light. This must've been in a world that the car crash didn't happen.

Maybe it did.

Maybe that's what killed you.

The vivid image of Spencer gripping the ends of his sleeves while watching your casket descend into the ground faded.

You woke up slowly, curling into yourself as the sun hit your fluttering eyelids. You sunk your fingers into the sides of your torso and furrowed your brows as you wished to continue dreaming.