First time writing Toby/Spencer, so please be gentle. I don't own pll

I suggest you listen to Lovestain by Jose Gonzalez whilst reading


You feel nothing when you find out. You expect to feel something. You should feel everything: betrayal, agony, anger. This is worse, you vaguely register yourself deciding. There is nothing; you are empty. You're unable to think, but unable to fill your mind with anything else. Nothing seems real, except for the heavy, erratic thud of the poor, fragile heart inside your chest. It used to be so well guarded, hidden from view. You wish now it always had been.

'Too good to be true' was a phrase you hated. You considered it an excuse for the foolish people who allowed something bad to happen to them, and then blamed it on something else. 'Grow up' you would think, rolling your eyes. 'Bad things are born of your decisions and choices, and you most accept that they are your own.'

But now you understand, for his presence in the last year of your life truly was too good to be true. To have found somebody outside of the three other girls who understood you; who loved you unconditionally (though now, it would seem, with deadly conditions). You were a fool for thinking you are left in this world with anyone but yourself. You were always going to be alone, but loneliness is so much worse when the sweetness of otherwise has been tasted, nourished, and desired.

The first feeling to return to your body is nausea.

Your throat is burning as you lean over, retching desperately onto the sidewalk, and you're grateful for it. One of the girls rubs circles on your back and you jerk away. His touch is too fresh in your mind, in your body, and you fear it always will be.

Now other feelings are coming back all at once. You start shaking, your whole body trembling with uncontrollable shudders. There are no tears yet, but you call out, voice anything but smooth. 'There must be some mistake' you tell them, 'this is absurd.' You see them glance at one another, and their pitying stares suddenly fill you with blinding rage. You scream at them not to look at you like that, you're not a child, you're not an invalid.

But then Hanna presents the evidence, and your knees are hitting the ground. It hurts. They're bruised. All of it: your knees, your heart, your soul.

The sobs have come now. They rattle your body to its core, and the girls are trying to move you inside, away from the possibility of onlookers. You don't see the point. What would they see, there's nobody there. Just a broken girl and her constellation of mistakes.

You can't say his name, you won't.

You don't know how much time has passed, but suddenly you're in bed and it's dark. You can see stars through your window, as the pale, lace curtain moves gently in the spring breeze, caressing the chipped frame. Those stars aren't beautiful anymore, not from here.

You're trying to recall the last few hours. There's broken glass, arms trying to hold you back; hold you down. You don't know how many things you smashed. You don't really care.

You realise you're hot, much too hot. You feel like you're burning up, and your hands fumble desperately with the fabric of your oversized shirt you've been put into. Your hands move even quicker when you realise it belongs to him. Whimpers are breaking out of your body, forcing their way through your throat, and you cry because you can't get this damn shirt off and it feels like the worst thing in the world. Then there are hands encircling your waist and you freeze.

After a few panicked seconds you recognise the lavender scent of the body beside yours. It's just Emily. You realise they must have voted to send her to stay with you, probably because she's the only one of them to have lost someone she loved like this. They will have thought she'd understand.

And that's when you realise you have lost him. Only now you question whether you ever really had him.

It's all too much, you decide, and you shrink back into Emily's open arms, head resting in the crook of her neck as she runs her delicate fingers through your hair and makes soothing sounds into the shell of your ear. Before you can stop yourself, you choke out a single word: 'why?' Her breath catches and you can tell she's crying herself.

"I don't know, Spence. I don't know."

You let yourself go. You cry and choke and bring your fists down onto Emily who catches them in her own and whispers empty words of understanding. Regret is the biggest feeling, the most urgent one, the one demanding to be felt.

And most of all, out of everything, you regret touching him with your whole heart, and allowing him to do the same in return.