Nyctophilia

Chapter Two

Sun seems to make its presence known through her window before she is ready. Spencer opens one of her hues in a slit; squinting against the rising sun that came too quickly. Another day. Another day with Wren. Spencer pries the blanket off of her slender frame, getting to her feet and stepping towards the mirror. The reflective surface presents a reflection that she used to believe couldn't be her own. Now she knows no different. Emitting a sigh, she reaches for another long shirt. A long shirt to cover the black and blue bruise on her wrist where he grabbed her too hard. A long shirt to hide the deep cut on her upper arm where he dug his nails into when he, once again, forced himself on her. A long shirt to cover everything that nobody else can see. A long shirt to cover the visible scars he leaves on her skin; the ones that'll appear above the surface and show itself off if she doesn't cover it. But the deeper scars are the ones she doesn't have to cover up with clothing because they cover themselves. Emotional scars. Mental scars. The worst ones.

It's Saturday. One of the days she gets several very rare chances to get away from Wren. He's working all day at the hospital; earning a living as a doctor who heals strangers and helps people he doesn't care to know. It's ironic; it's almost even funny. She might have even laughed at it if it wasn't her boyfriend. A doctor who heals people at a hospital and harms them when he's not. Taking advantage of her numerous hours without him, she climbs inside of her car and does one thing she needs to do for absolute peace. She shuts her phone off. She shuts her phone off because then -A can't get to her. She shuts her phone off because then Wren can't call her. It's enough for her as she travels to the Brew, having all intentions on grabbing a soothing cup of coffee without the presence of her boyfriend or her stalker or even the familiar faces of her friends who are always welcome. Stepping into the familiar building that will always be familiar, she orders her usual and doesn't have to wait too long before holding the cup in her hand and relishing in the warmth it provides. She decides that she should just sit here; sit in the familiar building that'll always be familiar and duck away from the harm waiting outside of those doors; the harm waiting inside of the hospital too close to the espresso shop she sits in now, hiding.

As she seats herself, a smooth voice pulls her from her serenity. She looks up with an expression resembling annoyance, met with a pair of dazzling blue eyes. "Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full.." The voice sounds timid, almost shy to even be asking the question. The tall boy shies away from her gaze, something in which Spencer finds oddly interesting. What does he have to be afraid of? Isn't she usually wearing the scarily similar expression? Fear? Intrigued, Spencer shrugs her slender shoulders toward him, answering the question for her. Spencer watches him as he takes the spot directly across from her; an eyebrow raised, as Toby squirms under her observant gaze. She has always been told she is slightly scary, especially from Hanna, without trying. It must be a Hastings thing, she supposes. Spencer tucks an escaped lock of chocolate brown hair back behind her ear, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table separating them. "I'm Spencer." She greets politely, hoping to come off as slightly less intimidating. The corner of her lips lift into a small smile, gaze dropping to his hands as he fishes out a copy of "Catcher in the Rye." Her eyebrow once again quirks in an interested manner, amused by his classic taste in books. "You're reading Catcher in the Rye?" She asks, shocked mostly because she doesn't believe she has ever met somebody with a book taste quite like her own. Toby removes his gaze from the book, allowing it to travel upward in order to meet her doe-like orbs. He can't help but notice a twinge of sadness coloring her hues; one that doesn't belong in such beautiful brown. A small frown curves his lips; as he recognizes the sadness in his own eyes. He masks his sudden discovery from her, allowing a small smile to take over his lips in return. "Yeah, it's my favorite. I must have read it a thousand times," Toby begins, pausing as if to calm down the small excitement seeping through his words, "I'm Toby." Spencer instantly nods her head, eyes landing, once again, on the book set on the table in front of them. "It's a classic. That makes it one of my favorites purely based on originality." She states matter-of-factly; oddly finding this stranger interesting. This is a significantly better way of spending her afternoon than it would be with Wren, she thought. He smiles easily at the comment, his head bobbing in agreement. "Does that mean you also enjoy To Kill a Mocking Bird?" He asks, a brow raised in her direction. "That depends on whether or not you're about to pull that from your bag too." She teases, a genuine smile tilting her lips upward. He shrugs his broad shoulders, a smile identical to hers taking over his features. "I'm not going to deny that it's possible, but that was a genuine question." He teases, hinting at whether or not she likes the book. "It's a classic, Toby, of course I like the book." She says it like it is obvious, which is probably is had he known her better. He likes it, he decides, when she says his name. Like she has said it all of her life; easily rolling off of her tongue. He dramatically face-palms himself, widening his oceanic hues in a playful manner. "What was I thinking?" He jokes, shaking his head slightly at himself as if scolding himself. She laughs at this, finding this interaction easier than she originally thought. Actually, it's the most free she has felt in a long time. She is without -A, without Wren, and completely, whole-heartedly here with the sweet stranger with blue eyes sitting before her.