TWENTY

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warnings: mentions of suicide and self harm

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warnings: mentions of suicide and self harm.

"It's your birthday today!"

You jolt from bed, almost getting whiplash from the loud words. You rub your eyes, yawning as Spencer shakes you in bed. "Yeah, yeah," you laugh, finally removing your fingers from your eyes.

Older, you think. You wanted to age when you were younger, to be taken seriously and what not, but as you did begin to age, you took it all back. More responsibilities and more issues you had to deal with on your own.

"What do you want to do today?" Spencer asks, his voice high like he woke up with the voice box of an eleven year old boy.

You stretch, your arms and legs shaking lightly. It takes you a minute to reply, but he gives you that moment to. "I don't know, maybe tonight we can look up at the stars or something. To get a little peace and quiet."

Spencer crawls onto the bed, slowly leaning in to your lips. He plants a chaste kiss to your lips, then back away, only a few inches away. "Okay, deal," he says. "Anything else, Miss Magic?"

You're about to shake your head no, but you get a sudden craving for a certain food. You smile, so widely you feel as though the corners of your lips might rip. "Actually, how about we get pancakes. Those birthday cake ones."

Spencer gives you another innocent, sweet kiss that fills your heart with so much joy. You don't even wanna get out of bed if this is how it's going to be every day. But, like any other day, you have to get up like the responsible adult you are.

"Okay, come on then," he echoes, pulling your hand that's laid on your lap. You stumble over the covers and jump off of the bed, landing on your knees. You laugh, the sound bouncing through the small apartment.

"Spence, I have to get ready," you say mid laugh, mid whine from the impact on your knees. He pulls you up from the floor and keeps his grip until you finally move from your spot. You rush to your dresser and pull open the first drawer, skimming through and picking out a pair of lavender panties. You take out a white sports bra and throw the pair of undergarments' on the bed, closing the drawer after.

You lean down and pull open the fourth drawer, which is where Spencer keeps his t-shirts. You take out one of his Cal-Tech t-shirts and throw it over your shoulder. You decide to wear some jeans, although you would rather be comfortable. So, you rush over to the closet and pull open the right door-- your side of the closet.

You take out a pair of dark wash jeans and close the closet door once more, feeling a twinge of happiness jump inside of you from the clicking noise the door makes. You immediately begin taking your clothes off, throwing it to the side, accumulating a pile for you to discard in the hamper later. You pull on your sports bra, peering Spencer watch you as you slide it on.

"Woohoo, please give us a show Doctor Y/N Y/L/N," Spencer shouts from the corner of the bed, where he's laying down, his hands behind his head.

You can't help but blush, your face growing hotter by the second. You take off your panties and throw them at him, in which he quickly catches, which surprises you because Spencer isn't the type to have quick reflexes.

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