Weak | S.R

Allie

I pull up next to Spencer's car and put mine in park before hopping out.

It started raining just a little bit on my drive over.

I knock on the passenger window, getting him to unlock the door for me.

Sliding into the passenger's seat and closing the door behind me, I immediately turn my focus to Spencer.

"Hey," I say to him. "I'm so sorry."

He was quiet for most of the phone call on my drive here. Seeing him in person hurts even worse. His cheeks are stained with tears, he's laying his head against the window. Numbness has set in.

"I'm sorry I ruined your plans," He says after a minute or so. "I tried calling Emily, Penelope, Luke... but they're all still mad at me. They put me to voicemail. You were the only one who picked up. You were actually the only one I really wanted here."

I feel bad. I never meant to cost him his friends. We should have talked upstairs that day. I should have listened.

Derek was cold to him for awhile, too. Now, they're fine, but still trying to put it in the past.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, resting my hand on his knee and giving it a squeeze before bringing it back to my lap. "That's my fault."

"It isn't your fault. If... If I hadn't cheated on you, everything would have been okay. It's my own fault."

Well, I won't argue with him on that.

He finally looks over at me, sitting up straight. "Band practice tonight, right?"

I nod, looking back at him. "Yeah, but... they'll understand. This is important."

"Your ex shouldn't be more important," He looks down at his lap.

"Spencer," I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. "You're more than just an ex, and I told you... I'll always be there for you when you need me."

He stays quiet and looks back out the window.

"Whenever you're ready, we can go in together."

-

It took him a little while to gather the courage to go in. We even stood outside the door for a few minutes while he took deep breaths, the tears still running down his cheeks.

"Hey," I'd said, taking his hand to comfort him. "It's okay, I'm here."

Maybe letting him hold my hand throughout the entire visit was overstepping a boundary between us, but he needed it. It calmed him down-- made him feel the slightest bit better.

Now, we're just getting home. He kicks his shoes off and sets his bag down by the door before heading for the stairs.

"Spencer?" I ask him as I untie my shoes.

He stops and turns to look at me. "Yeah?" He asks quietly.

"Are you hungry? I was going to make myself some chicken or something. I can make enough for both of us," I offer, knowing that he's going to sink into a giant depression once he gets up to his room. That depression will have him down to the point where he doesn't want to move for anything.

I've been there. When my parents died, I didn't want to get out of bed— and I didn't unless I was really starving. After I finally got out of bed, I took my aggression out at the gym.

"I really just want to go to bed," He says in response, gesturing toward the stairs.

I nod at him, feeling a bit defeated. "Okay. If you need anything, I'll be here."