love is watching someone die (so who's gonna watch you die?) OPEN

[doublethepain]

The thing about having an eidetic memory is that try as he might, Spencer can't make himself forget. He doesn't need to look in a mirror to know that he's a complete mess between the blackening eye and the stitches at this temple and the finger-shaped bruises on his neck. He flexes his fingers on his right hand as he glances down at the cast on his left, the one the doctors had insisted on putting on him because three broken fingers apparently need more support than just a splint. His ankles and wrists are still bandaged because they're raw from trying to wriggle his way out of the zipties Mark had bound him with and he's about ready to rip his own hair out because every time he feels it brush against his neck, he remembers the way Mark had used it to his advantage, taking care to be nothing less than rough.

It's only been a few days since Joel had found him in the lighthouse but Spencer almost feels like years must have passed. He'd refused overnight treatment at the hospital--against medical advisement--and locked himself in his house because it's the only place he can go. He hasn't been in his library since he'd gotten home, though a glance inside has told him that someone--not someone, Joel, there's nobody else who could have--has cleared the floor of the glass and blood that had been left after Mark had come for him. He flinches as he remembers the sound of the glass shattering against the side of his head, remembers the sting of the whiskey spilling onto the cuts and the way Mark had grabbed his hair to assist in dragging a half-conscious Spencer out to his car.

He's supposed to be taking it easy, has already been banned from coming to work for however long the doctor had recommended, though Spencer knows he'll likely be back long before that just for the sake of his own sanity. Sitting here at home has done him little to no good, not when he'd been abducted right downstairs, in one of the few places he's ever felt truly safe. It makes his good eye water with the threat of tears at the thought of how long it might take to feel that way again.

He knows there must be talk of what happened; it's a small town and gossip travels at lightning speed and besides that, he's had people ringing the doorbell and leaving things on his doorstep and leaving messages on his phone almost non-stop. It's nice to know there are still people that care, he supposes, but one very notable person hasn't tried to check on him at all. Joel hasn't come around or called or texted and Spencer feels like such a fool. Joel's the one person he'd be willing to let in the door but he realizes now that he should have known better than to think that Joel would want to even be near him after what Spencer had put him through with Mark.

He needs a distraction, he decides, a reason to get out of the house. What's more, he needs to get rid of this hair. Nearly everything seems to be a reminder of what had happened at the moment but at least he can fix the hair. He grabs one of Dane's old baseball caps and shrugs on a jacket, mindful of his injured hand, before walking out the door and heading straight toward the barber shop. The whole cut takes less than an hour and though the bruises on his face are more pronounced now without the frame of his longer locks, Spencer already feels a bit lighter. One less thing to remind him of Mark's assault.



He shoves his good hand in his pocket as he leaves the shop, unsure of where to go or what to do next.





[OOC: You can find Spencer anywhere you'd like. Roaming around town, grabbing a coffee, back at his house, anywhere. Dude needs a friend.]

Comments

[asharpertongue]

Lara spots him walking along the boardwalk. She'd tried to find him at the hospital but they said he'd been discharged so she tried him at his home - again with no luck. She was walking back home and there he was.

She breathes a sigh of relief at seeing him and immediately frowns when she sees how beat up he is.

Walking up, she smiles gently. "Spencer..."

[doublethepain]

He's been walking with his head down, staring at his feet as he shuffles along who knows where--toward the boardwalk, apparently--but when he hears her voice, he freezes. It's the first time a friend, other than Joel, will have seen him like this and it's harder to swallow than he would have thought.

He slowly lifts his head, pulling his sunglasses out of his pocket and slipping them on to detract from the black eye, and forces a smile. "Hi, Lara."

[asharpertongue]

She'd already seen the black eye when he puts the shades on and she winces in sympathy.

She's careful when she goes in to hug him, but she can't not do it. They might never have been all that physical but her siren side needs to make sure he's in one piece and after seeing Joel yesterday, she isn't inclined to fight it back.

Letting him go, she ran a hand over his hair. "Suits you."

[doublethepain]

He tenses at her touch, moreso than usual because he's still involuntarily prepared for pain. He relaxes a bit when she's nothing but gentle, not that he ever would have imagined she'd be anything less, and gives her an awkward pat with his good hand before shifting out of her arms.

He wrinkles his nose but his smile grows a bit more genuine when she reaches for his hair and he shrugs a shoulder. "I needed a change."

[asharpertongue]

"It suits you." she said and gestured along the boardwalk, figuring that after a stay in hospital he'd want to be in the fresh air for a while.

She'd wait for him to talk. He was clearly still working through it and she didn't want to rush him.

[suchgoodluck]

Cosette is on her way to Spencer's with a cup of coffee and a whole pie from the local bakery in hand. Of course, she'd heard about what happened, and considering what the detective had told her about the potential for danger, she's found herself newly horrified with the more she thinks of what's happened to some of her dearest friends.

It turns out, she meets Spencer on the street.

"Hey," she says, softly, holding up the coffee and pie both. "I thought you might like some sugar."

[doublethepain]

He blinks at the coffee and pie in Cosette's hands and it's not until he feels his stomach turn that he remembers he's only had the soup Emily had left on his doorstep to eat in the last couple days.

"Thank you," he says, reaching out to take the coffee from her but moving his gaze to the ground between them as he moves his other hand behind his back, out of sight like he'd rather be right now. There is one good thing that had come out of this, he supposes: at least it had been him and not Cosette.

He clears his throat because his voice is still a little hoarse from Mark's attempt to strangle him and he's suddenly very aware of the bruises on his neck so he brings the coffee to his lips, satisfied when he tastes that it's the way he likes it. "It's good to see you," he tells her. "Not only because you've brought me things."

[suchgoodluck]

"I'm not going to ask how you are, because I can tell you look like shit just from looking at you," she tells him, gentleness beneath her biting words, regardless. "And that's a dumb question to ask anyone who's been through hell and back."

She doesn't know what happened; she does see Spencer move his hand behind him, deliberately keeping it from sight. Her heart aches, watching him and noticing the bruises on his neck. Jesus Fucking Christ.

"It's good to see you too," she says, with a real smile this time, because from what she sees of Spencer currently, he could damn well use a smile. "I like to think you like me for my boobs, and not my other assets."

[doublethepain]

He does appreciate that, actually, because he's been stopped by strangers who have apparently caught wind of what had happened--or at least, whatever's been reported to have happened--and are suddenly considered about his well-being. They're probably the same people who'd sneered at him before this because of his so-called reputation but that's the least of Spencer's worries at present. "At least I'm still standing, right?" he asks, offering a weak smile.

The blush comes immediately and he sputters for a moment before resorting to taking another sip of his coffee. Leave it to Cosette. "I do not like you for your boobs," he protests, and he'd rolls his eyes if he didn't think it would only hurt. "Besides, boobs haven't exactly been capturing my interest lately." That makes him frown again, as thinking of Joel has been prone to make him do lately, and he works quickly to change the subject. "It's your books. Your great skill with books. That's what I like."

[suchgoodluck]

"Damn it all, and I had already picked out my wedding dress and everything," Cosette can't even pretend to scowl, delighted by her friend's blush and the way he is so obviously into Spencer. "But I am glad you appreciate me for my intellect, at least."

[isaiahward]

He's more out of the loop than he even realised, is the second thing Isaiah thinks when he sees Spencer shuffling down the street like a kicked puppy.

His first thought is holy shit.

It takes a couple of half jogged steps to catch up with Spencer, at which point he can see the blackened bruises, the cast and a couple of bandages discretely half-hidden beneath his clothes. He almost doesn't want to ask, but he has to, because this guy is the closest thing he's come to an almost-friend, and he's already itching to punch whoever did this to someone so friendly and helpful.

"Hey, Spencer. What happened?" he asks, and a second later corrects himself. "You don't have to tell me."

[doublethepain]

He startles at Isaiah's sudden presence and tries to cover it up with what he hopes doesn't sound too much like a forced laugh. "What, this?" he asks, holding up his injured hand. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

He doesn't know why he lies when he's very clearly not fine, he usually has no qualms about being perhaps too honest when people ask after him. His eyes flicker between Isaiah's concerned expression and his own shoes before he gives a little sigh. He needs to talk about it eventually, after all. "It's a long story. A messy one. I was attacked and then I was saved, I suppose that's the long and short of it."

[isaiahward]

The laugh sounds forced enough, but it's amplified by the waves of hurt and heartbreak and pain that are radiating from Spencer so strongly it almost staggers him. He feels his hands curling into fists and forces himself to stay standing. He's never felt anyone projecting this horribly and it takes most of his focus to remember that this isn't his pain, and that whatever Spencer is feeling must be ten times this.

"I'm sorry. For whatever happened, that's insane. Have the police arrested whoever or whatever or?" It's an effort to keep his words straight and he knows he's probably not making any sense but for one, he knows that Spencer will just feel worse if he knew what was going on in Isaiah's head, and for two, he doesn't want to push Spencer to tell him anything more than he wants to.

[doublethepain]

He takes a breath, trying to keep himself relaxed because Isaiah is only concerned. There's no reason to replay every moment over and over so vividly in his mind, no reason for it at all because he's being asked the basics and even though he can't exactly say he's okay, he can at least find a way to control his own emotions. It's all he feels like he can do, really.

"He's been arrested and is being deported back to Canada," Spencer answers with a slight nod. At least there's that much, Mark won't be sticking around in a cell in the Siren Cove prison awaiting what would probably just be freedom. He runs his good hand through his hair, pausing in surprise when he remembers how short it is now. He needs to keep talking, he thinks, because the length of his hair is reminding him why he's had it done in the first place.

"The man I've been--" He frowns, not even sure what to call Joel, especially now that they haven't spoken since the incident. "The man I'm interested in, we had a date. It obviously didn't go according to plan, but he feels responsible and I don't even know where to begin handling any of this." He deflates a little, rolling his eyes in spite of himself. "I don't mean to unload my problems on you, I do apologize."

[alfiehaywood]

Alfie was oblivious to the recent events in Siren Cove; a combination of being fully absorbed in his work preparing for the upcoming wine and music festival, and lack of friend-of-a-friend connections to tell him. So when he headed to the Quill that morning, his mind was focused on the list of vineyards he needed to call back for pamphlets and delivery times. Le Vin had agreed to have 20 cases with him by Tuesday, Cherry Bloom Vineyards would have 25 cases at the lodge by Thursday, he still had to hear back from Crisp Eve-

So stuck in his own thoughts, Alfie nearly walked into a man he’d never seen before. It seemed likely they were both going for the door at the same time and noting the bandages on the other’s hands; he quickly moved to pull the door open. “So sorry, I was completely in my own thoughts,” he apologised, beckoning the door way, “After you.” He noted the bruising on the other man’s face and wondered if he’d been in some sort of accident – he himself having been lucky enough to walk away from a car crash a few weeks back.

[doublethepain]

It takes Spencer longer than he'd have liked to realize that the man he'd nearly just collided with is being kind enough to hold the door open for him. "Oh! Er, sorry, yes. Thanks." He walks on, crossing his arms over his chest like it will hide the cast on his hand before glancing back over his shoulder.

"I've been a bit more out of my head than usual," he says, not that the man had asked for an explanation; but there's a small part of him that acknowledges that the reason he's engaging in conversation right now is because he wants to make sure he knows everyone he comes into contact with, as long as he can help it.

Spencer had known Mark's face only by photograph, hadn't seen him around town even though he'd clearly been watching; that mistake won't be made again. Spencer is usually on the ball, free of distraction, but lately it's been different. He doesn't need to go exactly back to the way it was but he's made a promise to himself to regain his awareness because he's not sure he could make it through a second round of what had happened.

[alfiehaywood]

“Not a problem,” Alfie replied, after all, he too had been in his own world when he nearly walked into the guy. Following him through the door, he hadn’t expected the other to try and explain his brief zoning out. It took very little for Alfie’s mind to wander off and stop paying attention to things, although that was typically helpful when he had boring tasks at the lodge such as litter picking.

He waved his hand as if to say ‘no big deal’. “It’s understandable, I hate to bring it up, but it looks like you’ve had a bit of a tough time.” As soon as he said it, he thought that maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up. The other didn’t necessarily look completely comfortable with the current situation. Alfie wondered if whatever had happened to the guy was bothering him, because after his car accident he’d been a little more cautious of roads and other vehicles when driving. He hadn't heard anything about a crash though but then neither had he actually read any newspapers as of late.

[just_another]

The only thing Joel has been sure of for days is that he wants to see Spencer.

That's not entirely true. The only other thing he's sure of is that he shouldn't have left in the first place. He should have stayed at Spencer's after cleaning up the library, he should have waited for him and he should have been there for him when he'd come home, but Joel knows he's a coward. He wants to pretend he's done this to keep Spencer safe, to make sure Mark never comes after him again, but that's not the truth. The truth is that he's scared to look at Spencer and see that he's not wanted anymore. That this experience, being hurt, seeing what Joel can do, seeing parts of the person he really is, all that will mean Spencer is done with him. Joel has been through a lot in his life, he'll be able to take it if that's what it comes down to, but he also knows it would break parts of him that no one will be able to repair.

But he has to take the risk.

Spencer doesn't need him to bring books, but he does anyway. In a bag, he's carrying his stained and dog-eared copy of The Once and Future King, a few more George Saunders collections, two science fiction novels and Blood Merdian. He knows he could bring other things; food, coffee, ice cream, but he's sure people have taken care of those already. He's sure there are others looking out for Spencer when he's been too afraid to face him. The books are different, though, they're something he's been able to share with Spencer right from the beginning and he doesn't know if he's going to be turned away the second he shows up at his door, but he wants to show him that he's here. He'll be here no matter what from now on. It's hard to explain how the books demonstrate that to anyone outside his head, but he thinks Spencer will understand. If he doesn't just slam the door in Joel's face.

He hooks the bag over his injured arm, avoiding the brace and pushing the straps to the crook of his elbow so he can knock. On the walk over, he'd practiced a thousand different things to say, but he knows none of them will come close to expressing what he really means. So he stops trying to come up with something and just waits, shifting nervously on the front porch, wondering if Spencer will even let him in.

He's not sure he's ever been so scared in his life.

[doublethepain]

He'd caught about the last thirty seconds of Joel trying to decide whether or not to knock on the door from his bedroom window. Spencer runs a self-conscious hand through his hair, already knowing that he'll of course be down to open the door for the other man but worrying a bit about what might happen when he does. He's been curling up in bed with the books Joel had lent him, had even sneaked into the library to get a copy of Blood Meridian before heading home from being out and about in town, and he surreptitiously slides the book under his pillow even though he doubts they'll make it back up here. He tries to convince himself that Joel's here strictly to make sure he's at least still alive and upon seeing him still standing, will immediately excuse himself to leave.

Everyone leaves, after all. It's why he feels so stupid that he'd let himself get too close and the evidence for why he should never do that is written all over his face, his hand, his neck. Even so, seeing Joel even from afar has made something tighten in Spencer's chest so he tears himself away from the window and forces his feet to shuffle down the stairs.

It takes him another moment at the door to gather the courage to open it but when he does, he feels like his knees are ready to buckle. His good hand trembles as he braces himself against the door frame, the other hanging uselessly at his side, and he swallows hard at the sight of Joel standing there like Spencer had hoped he would be every day since what had happened.

"I called," he says, and it comes out hoarse because he hasn't used his voice much in the last few days and besides that, he thinks he can sometimes still feel Mark's hands wrapping around his throat. He pushes that aside for now, though, shifting to clear the entryway and just barely managing to bring himself to observe the bruises on Joel's face, the brace on Joel's wrist. "You can come in, if you'd like."

[just_another]

I called. Those two words make Joel want to turn around and run, not because he doesn't want to be here, but because he knows how badly he's screwed up by not being here from the start. Every urge he's had the past few days has been cowardly, warring with the only thing he's wanted, which is to see Spencer. And not just see him, but be with him, be in the same room with him, do whatever he can to make sure he's alright and he knows it's not as simple as that. He can't just fix things by being around, but forcing himself to stay away has been a hell of a lot worse. There's no apology he can come up with to fix that.

But he comes into the house and he closes the door behind him. It pains him to do so, but he lets his gaze drift over Spencer, lets himself see his injuries all over again and just like the first time he'd done so Friday night, each mark, each injury feels like something hard and sharp is twisting in his chest. He thinks he should say something about Spencer's hair, but it seems too light hearted for what he really needs to tell him. "I should have stayed," he says without realizing that's what's going to come out. "I came and cleaned up and then I left to fill my prescription, but I should have stayed. I started thinking... how could you want to see me again after all that? After... it's my fault you were there. I thought it would be okay to- that finding someone-" He's not saying any of this right, but at least he's saying something.

"I just wanted to be with you and even after I got the letters I convinced myself you'd be okay, that there wasn't any real danger and I... I was wrong and then all I could think was... I'd put you in danger and... how could you want me around after that. So I left. And I shouldn't have. I should have stayed." And even if Spencer tells him to get out of his house, even if he says he never wants to see him again, at least Joel has said what he thinks he needs to.

He looks down at the bag he's still holding and then shifts it, hooking his good hands under the straps. "I brought you a bunch of books. I started telling you The Once and Future King in the ambulance and I know you've read it before, but I never got the chance to get very far and I wanted..." He has to say it. Even if Spencer tells him to leave, he owes it to both of them to say it. "I wanted to keep going. I wanted to keep telling you the story."

[doublethepain]

If Spencer had expected anything out of Joel in this moment, it wouldn't have been that. "You don't owe me anything." He immediately regrets saying that, it almost feels like he's brushed aside everything that's been growing between them up until Friday night and that's not what he wants to do. There are a great number of things he'd like to forget right now but Joel, what Spencer knows they have and everything that they could have, isn't one of them. The problem is that he can't seem to shake the anger or bitterness or fear that's come with what Mark had done to him--to them. He'd known to expect it, the doctors had warned him and even if they hadn't, Spencer has read about the subject numerous times: post-traumatic stress. He's supposed to feel this way, it's normal to feel this way, eventually he'll stop feeling this way. It's only been a few days, after all, he can't be expected to bounce back that quickly, right?

He wants to, though, desperately wishes he could be better and stronger and more rational about all of this; but he hasn't been sleeping since he's been home and just last night, had been absolutely sure he'd heard the shattering of glass in the library. He hadn't gone to check, opting instead to lay wide awake in bed for the remainder of the evening with the TV in his room turned up to capacity volume. When he'd glanced in the room this morning, there had been nothing. It's all in his head and he's not sure if that makes him feel better or worse.

He sighs, rubbing small circles against his temples to ward off the headache he feels coming on--and come to think of it, he's probably due for for another dose of his medication--and moves a few steps closer to Joel. "I want you around," he tells him, no preamble or awkward stammering because it's something that needs to be made clear, especially if Joel is doubting it. Spencer doesn't want to do this alone and he doesn't want Joel to, either. "When I asked you not to leave I meant-- I meant more than for just the night. And I've been thinking the past few days about what I could have done to fight harder but it doesn't matter, does it? It happened." He lifts his injured hand, gestures at his face. "It can't be undone. We have to live with it."

Spencer comes closer, nearly closing the gap between then and glancing down at the bag before looking back at Joel, forcing himself to hold his gaze. "You didn't do this," he says firmly. He'd said it the night of but if Joel needs to be reminded of the fact every hour of every day, Spencer is up to the challenge because Joel is the only one who makes him feel the way he does, like he can be himself without judgment, like he's safe. He bites down on his lip, hesitating before brushing his fingers against Joel's. "Don't leave. I don't want you to leave. We can finish the story."

[callmeemily]

Waiting until she's done with work has made her nuts. She's heard from no less than three customers that goodness, Spencer Water's certainly brave, coming out looking like that or other variants of the same. That means that he's actually out of the house, and not just soundlessly taking the soup she's been leaving for him.

After she clocks out, Raleigh tugs her bag over her shoulder and it's not long before she actually finds him, presumably as he's heading back to his house since that seems to be where he's heading.

"Spencer?" She says his name full of worry, and when he turns, she takes it all in - the cast, the injuries, and she just.... she moves. She moves to hug him, careful of his cast and arm and all of that, but she's glad he's alright and...

Something'd happened, when she'd been talking to Joel, and Spencer - somehow she realised she relates to him way more than she ever had before, and that's why, maybe. Maybe that's why her gut said she should hug him. It's not super long, especially if he freaks out, but it's heartfelt.

[doublethepain]

The hug takes him by surprise until he realizes it's Emily. He doesn't exactly hug back, though he loosely drapes an arm over her shoulder to awkwardly pat her on the back as his injured hand hangs down by his side and Spencer thinks that's fair considering he's not usually great with physical contact. He can let it go this time, for her and for the sake of reminding himself that it's only because he's still alive that her arms are around him right now.

"The soup was good," he tells her, and it's simple but he means so much more than what his words express. That Emily had cared enough to stop by at all, that she'd gone out of her way to check on him, it had meant a lot on a day he'd felt so incredibly out of touch with his own life. "Don't stop making it, okay?"

[callmeemily]

She nods, and she's oddly emotional about his wellbeing, because when she pulls back she looks upset, to be honest.

"I'm really, really glad you're okay. That you'll be okay." Because she knows that he's not okay now, either physically or emotionally, but he will be. Both he and Joel will, she's sure of it, and she thinks it's important to actually tell him that. That he'll be okay.

She shrugs some when he mentions the soup, but she nods when he says not to stop making it. "Just say the word, and you'll getting soup for the rest of time," she says lowly, and she finally exhales in a rush. She wants to ask him something personal, something she thinks she'll have to build up to - if he's seen Joel yet. It's not her business, but she knows that Joel's convinced that Spencer would like to see him last out of a list in the whole world.

So she doesn't ask, and instead just nods towards Spencer's house, and she walks with him - to keep him company, to worry about him more than a little. Her limp is more pronounced than usual - long day - but she can keep up with his long stride. "Is there anything else I can do, besides soup?"

[doublethepain]

He lowers his gaze at her correction even though he knows she's right. He's going to be fine, yes; the more pressing concern is how long it will take for that to happen. He'd fallen asleep for a precious few minutes this morning before jolting awake with the image of Mark sneering above him and lashing out at someone who hadn't been there. He hasn't properly slept in two days because he can't seem to close his eyes without picturing what had happened in vivid detail.

He's relieved when they start their walk back toward his house, it gives him something to do other than stand in awkward silence and he notices her limp but doesn't ask questions. Today has made him temporarily hate most questions, all the ones that the suddenly sympathetic people he's crossed paths with have asked--what happened to his hand, did they catch the person who did it, is he sure he should be out and about town alone--and if one more painfully frustrating person asks him if he's okay, he thinks he might scream because no, he's not okay. He's tired and in pain and utterly at a loss as to what he's supposed to do. He wants Joel, he thinks, and it's not a sudden thought; he's been thinking of calling Joel all day, already had the evening before and had received no answer so he figures that's as good a sign as any. Spencer had ruined things before they could even big, and he'd known it even on Friday night while still bound to that chair that he should have fought harder.

"This is good," he tells her honestly. "I haven't really been up to taking visitors. Or answering calls. It's good to be with a--" He pauses, furrowing his brow because he can't imagine that they're anything else but it still feels odd sometimes to apply the word to someone who isn't Cosette or Lara. "With a friend."