Lovebirds

IF ONLY THEY'D MONOLOGUE

They find Vincent at the end of the day, emerging from the bathroom in his athletic gear. Wearing nylon shorts and a big grey sweatshirt over a white t-shirt that just peeks out around the neckline, he brightens when he sees Dion. It takes every ounce of Spencer's will not to stop and admire the way that he looks, huddled in the thick, stormy fabric.

That's one of her favorite sweatshirts of his.

"The good stall should still be open if you need to change here," Vince offers, seeing his hockey captain still sporting jeans and a t-shirt. The corner of Dion's lips tip with the hint of a smile, but he catches it; looks to Spencer, expression retaining its sobriety.

"Spence?" A worried look across Vincent's face as she carefully approaches him.

Vincent sets his hockey duffle and backpack on the closest table. All around them, the voices of departing students echo off the walls, cascade from the tall ceilings, making Spencer very thankful for Vincent's warm gaze as she approaches with her phone. Vince takes it, examining the open screen as all three take a seat. 

"They're not taking the photos down?" His voice rather delicate as he hands it back.

"They didn't see anything wrong with them... I guess that's understandable. I mean, I didn't realize anything was wrong until the third picture... but it still makes me nervous."

"Because you can't stop it."

Nodding, "it's out of our control."

Vincent sits down, Dion coming closer.

"Do you have any ideas of who would want to invade your privacy like this?" Dion asks, his voice even; focused.

Spencer's features contort as she thinks, saying, "No, not that I—"

"That's the thing, though," Vincent interjects, laying a hand on top of Spencer's as an apology for interrupting. "We don't really have enemies. Nobody's ever been hostile—and I don't know of any reason for them to be."

Dion steeples his fingers beneath his chin, listening carefully.

"No obsessed fans of the account? No hostility toward Spencer for her attitude on the relationship? No jealous feelings wishing to pull the two of you apart?" He asks.

Vince and Spence exchange a glance. A single moment that seems to hold an entire conversation before Vincent tells him—

"Not that we're aware of." He squeezes Spencer's hand, sensing her body tensing the deeper these questions reach; the more inexplicables they uncover. Seeing her face lost in thoughts of the worst possible outcomes, he pulls a smile over his concern. "If only they'd start monologuing, right? Full on Incredibles style?"

Vincent winks at Spencer as her eyes lift from the table to meet his. He swears he sees her cheeks crease with a smirk.

"I believe it might be best to bring this to the principal," Dion suggests. "Or a social worker. They probably know the best course of action better than we can assume."

"Of course," Vincent agrees, "I'll email Principal Rudd tonight."

Dion nods approvingly at the plan; glances once more at Spencer, then at Vincent, before excusing himself to change for hockey practice. The good stall is probably taken by now.

"Hey." Vincent catches Spencer's wrist as she tries to walk away too. "Don't worry too much about this. So far, the posts have been pretty harmless."

But Spencer looks like she's in a whole other world. Her mind running races through all sorts of possibilities—and yet he knows she understands what he's saying. That she'll do everything she can to incorporate his word to her mindset. It warms every fiber of his being as she looks back at him with those big, doe eyes of hers.

"I'm going to the basketball game with Ambrose next Friday."

He swallows. Tastes bile, or whatever had been rising to greet the sudden chill.

"Okay," collecting his things; releasing her hand. He always has to remind himself to stay at a distance with her. That sometimes standing too close makes her feel too much like a fire; reminds him that she has the capability to burn his delicate heart. "We're still on for geocaching this weekend, though, right?"

And she takes a deep breath, eyes lighting with the fervor that he's used to. A bright spark of wonder that never ceases to enchant him.

"Absolutely," she practically sings. "I'll be the one in the dress and the baseball cap."

"Holding a nature guide, I hope?"

She smirks. A true, deep, ironic smirk that takes over her expression and focus. Good, Vincent tells himself, proud of the way he'd brought her back.

"Wouldn't have it any other way." Then she turns; hair falling over her shoulders as she saunters off toward the front doors.

But I didn't bring her back, Vincent realizes a second after she's gone; when Dion returns from the bathroom, dressed in similar attire to himself. I didn't bring her back, Ambrose did. She'd changed the subject; taken it off the two of them, and he'd only been quick to carefully remind her of their own plans this very weekend.

They're both afraid, Vince realizes as he and Dion head for the bus. Arriving, they find Hugo waving all too wildly from a window seat toward the back, and Vincent understands that the fears he and Spencer are both cherishing differ only in magnitude:

She's afraid of losing her identity; her life; her freedom.

He's just afraid of losing her.

Who's to say which is the greater of the two?