A/N: This idea kept playing around in my head and though I was actually working on another piece I decided to write this out of my mind first. It's a bit rough around the etches but I hope you enjoy anyway.
Disclaimer: I do not own Pretty Little Liars
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He betrayed her once, he betrayed her twice and she counts two into eternity.
One for a black hoodie, two for his dead body.
He's gone, he's gone, he's gone and she whistles the melody of his death through her teeth and wishes she was as crazy as she pretends to be but she isn't and it hurts. Her soul is shattered into a million shards and the ragged edges bleed and bleed and she realizes their essences were blended together so much her soul couldn't only be ripped clean into two. She tries to pick them up and cuts her fingers but continues until she can't feel her hands no more, but the pieces don't fit into each other as they miss the glue that held them (held her) together.
So she counts and counts and forgets for a while.
/
She wakes at night and she screams as her heart tears and tears and it goes on forever and she wonders how much of her heart can break until she no longer has one left anymore before she realizes it's already gone, as he was her heart and when he died so did she inside.
They give her pills against the pain that isn't real but she doesn't swallow them as the only cure that can stitch her back together is him and he's dead. She lays in bed and the hurt ebbs away like the waves of the sea (and the pain turns into the color of his eyes) only she knows it'll return but for now it's gone and she wants to think about something but she's blank. She tries to bring up memories (but maybe she doesn't really as remembering hurts more than the cracks in her heart) but her life from before is gone and her friends are but faceless creatures at times.
She sees him, cold and dead and surrounded by infinite trees and she never wants to leave here again as she lives this fantasy that takes her far away from reality (though the knowledge of his death stays with her and haunts her every movement).
They deny and they lie and everybody lies but she knows, she feels in her bones he's no longer. So she whistles the song of his death and pretends to be insane and hopes one day she won't have to pretend anymore.
One for a black hoodie, two for his dead body.
/
They're here and they give her hope and she crushes it into the ground as she saw him. He's dead, he's dead, he's dead and nothing will ever bring him back. (worse is he never loved her at all)
She tries to pretend that night never happened as she can deal with one of them but not with both. One is too much, two is deadly and he either died and loved her or survived and loathes her. And she wishes for the last but believes in the first only not really as his black hoodie appears in her dreams and sometimes his cold, stiff body is clothed in trademark blackness when she finds him.
/
She picks at her sweater and plays a game from a long forgotten memory.
He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not. (he's dead, he's alive, he's dead, he's alive)
And when she loses herself in the verse she remembers a flower so delicate and boy just as delicate and the same game they used to play.
The sky is blue and the grass is green and the sun is shining down on the both of them. She doesn't know where he took them but she doesn't care as it's beautiful and away from home and really that's all that matters.
She's lying in his arms and he's lying in the grass and if she closes her eyes and forgoes thinking, for a moment everything is perfect.
Soft summer breeze ruffles her hair and he laughs as it tickles his skin and they lie and golden sunrays make his eyes sparkle. She drowns in their color and drowns in him and if this isn't love she doesn't know what is.
Out here in the open all the outside forces threatening their lives and interfering in their relationship, they disappear into the background and seem inferior to what binds them together. Their undeniable connection that much more potent when it's just the two of them alone in the world.
She wants to stay here forever (but knows she can't).
Her eyes follow the movement of his hand as he retrieves a daisy from the ground and twirls it in between his fingers.
It twirls and twirls and twirls and the white petals blur together until she averts her eyes and meets his instead.
They stare and he caresses her cheek with the flower before carefully removing one of the fragile petals.
"She loves me."
She rolls her eyes as she hates romance only she really, really doesn't. (not when it comes to him)
"She loves me not." And the sentence sounds so ridiculously wrong she doesn't think she can bear hearing him say it again. Her hands reach for his, trying to steal the flower but he keeps it out of her reach and maybe she isn't trying that hard anyway (as she knows he'll make sure the outcome sounds right).
"She loves me."
She climbs over his body but he's too quick and another petal falls before she can take his new toy away from him.
"She loves me not."
Her weight is too much and they topple over and she's sitting on his chest and he chuckles but pulls of another before she can stop him.
"She loves me."
"Toby, give me the flower."
"She loves me not."
She laughs as she feels carefree and she'd almost forgotten what it felt like and he watches her and his eyes sparkle and she snatches the daisy from his hand before he can react.
"She loves you." Snow white petals leave with the wind and the stem disappears in green summer grass and kisses are exchanged and the sky is blue as his eyes and the sun shines down on the both of them and everything is perfect.
Blue eyes close and brown eyes open and the dream fades away in white sheets and she wonders how the world is able to go on without sparkling eyes.
/
Her hand strokes ivory keys as she tries to remember tunes from her childhood but the past is disappearing from her mind and the past before the past has been gone for a long, long time. She doesn't want to remember anything except him but doesn't really want to remember him either. She wants to be and she wants sleep and live in the now without thinking about what was or what will be.
/
She asks for a daisy and Eddie gives her one and she moves from her sweater to the flower and plays a game and whistles a song and shapes the letters of his name with fallen petals and when one last remains she refuses to remove it as she can't handle either outcome.
/
She looks through the window and watches cars pass and waits for his truck though she knows he won't drive again. She sits and stares and one day her mother comes and sits with her and asks her what she's looking for.
"Glue, I'm looking for my glue."
/
"Did you love him?" His voice is always kind as he sits next to her.
"I did."
"Did he love you?"
"Only when odd petals fall."
/
They visit, she visits and she turns everything around and suddenly it's Spencer not Mona who killed him. And she pulls at her hair and scratches at her arms and legs and everything she can reach and wishes she could forget this idea Mona planted in her head but she can't and she realizes if she had done what they'd told her to, done what the enemy wanted her to do he'd be alive. His death was her punishment and she should have known someone else would suffer over her.
She looks at her hands and sees red and no matter how often she washes them his blood doesn't disappear.
/
"What color are my hands?"
She studies the doctor's composed face and wishes she could be as calm as the women in front of her while she redirects the question without blinking, "What color do you think you're hands are?"
She doesn't answer as no answer would take away the red anyway (only his pulse would) so she shakes her head and smiles and their time is up and the doctor leaves.
/
Another daisy finds its way inside her bedroom and she plays a game with the soft petals.
I killed him, she killed him, I killed him, she killed him.
/
Sometimes they come together, sometimes they come alone. One cries, one talks, one listens (though there's nothing to listen to) and they all ask questions. She answers but never the ones they seek and maybe they hate her for it but she doesn't care and hates herself more than they do.
She can't think, can't remember and panics but doesn't remember how to and they ask more and more and suddenly it's about Mona as if she isn't the one who killed him (but they're right as she isn't because Spencer herself did).
It's too much, it's too much and it builds up till she screams and she doesn't (can't) stop as everything hurts and he's gone. Blackness saves her from herself and she dreams about him and he's alive so she's too only she wakes and she's alone again.
She stares at the ceiling and realizes the walls and furniture are her only company and she's never felt more lonely (as even a part of herself has abandoned her).
/
She sits on her bed and she sits in her chair and misses their chair and strokes the leather in hopes it will turn to wood but it never does. She rocks herself but her seat doesn't move with her and she wants to throw it across the room but she doesn't have the strength to lift it from its place. So she rocks herself on the bed and she rocks herself on the ground but refuses to sit in the chair ever again.
/
Her heart aches and throbs and she wonders if her nails are sharp enough to rip it out of her ribcage to join him in infinity. She tries and five crescent scars are left in her skin but her heart keeps beating.
/
It's the same, it's the same and there's no change even if they come and go. She doesn't remember the day and she doesn't remember the month but she knows the difference between sun and moon and counts the nights that have passed since she's been in here (the nights that have passed since she's found him).
When she passes sixty she stop counting.
/
She dreams of unending woods and wakes up and appreciates the tiny room she's convicted to. The walls keep her together and she fears if she ever were to enter an open field again her body will fall apart as much as her soul already has.
/
She looks but doesn't expect and when she sees it turn into the parking lot it's hope that erupts throughout her body. It's too much and it bites like salt in open wounds and latches onto broken etches of her soul and she wants it to go away as she can deal with misery better than she can deal with hope these days. She rocks and whistles and counts but nothing helps and the walls are closing in on her and she wishes for an open field and to fall apart rather than to be suffocated in light. She claws at her face, at her eyes and wants to stop seeing but doesn't and she wants to leave but she's not allowed so she claws at the walls too.
Her nails break and redness flows and his blood mingles with hers and everything is wrong as he's gone.
His eyes are gone, and his laugh and his voice and she'll never again see his lean form waiting for her after school. She'll never be able to surround herself in his scent again or feel his arms closing around her and protect her from everything that's hurting her. She won't be able to look into his eyes and fall into their color and let their lips dance in silver moonlight or feel his hand taking hers as they watch the stars from the back of his truck.
She thought they had time but now he's gone and how can she ever move on from the things that should've happened but never will? How can she move past the future she's lost?
Her nails dig into thick wallpaper and tears and blood fall like rain on the clean floor beneath her broken body. She weeps his name and realizes that all that's left of him is her and all that's left of her is him and she hates him for taking her with him instead of himself.
She's trapped inside herself as he was the key to her everything. He's molded her into him and now nobody but him will ever fit beside her anymore. So she claws at the walls and claws at herself until her fingers turn numb but neither will bend and she hopes she'll bleed until the emptiness of her body resembles her heart.
Strong arms safe her from herself and she knows (hopes) they've come with the blackness she craves but they don't as the sharp sting of a syringe never follows, instead they pin her arms to her body and sweep her of her feet and press her close to a solid chest and lift her from the ground like she weights nothing (she doesn't).
Blood stings her eyes but she can see enough to know they're carrying her towards the chair and she struggles against their hold but the arms won't loosen.
"It doesn't rock, it doesn't rock, it doesn't rock."
Feet stop moving and arms tremble as if they feel the same pain she does but they turn around regardless and move towards the bed instead. She falls limp in them as there's nothing else she can do and watches them move away from the chair and she vaguely remembers cold nights spend rocking in comfortable wood and hates how everything reminds her of happier days lost in forgetfulness.
He's gone, but he's everywhere (even in Radley).
"He made me him and took me with him into death and left me empty inside. Have you ever lived with half your soul?"
"I have." Rougher, the sound containing memories, a past it didn't contain before, nevertheless it's a voice that speaks to her heart and a voice that shouldn't be able to speak again and yet she'd never mistake the soft, gentle tune for anything else even though she thought it to be long gone.
But it isn't possible and it isn't true so maybe she's bled to death the way she wanted to.
Her head turns and not warm brown but blue meets her and she doesn't cry as she wept the tears of his life away in the grieve over his death.
He's the same yet different as a shadow of darkness rests over his face and his features overwhelm her and she scrambles away from his arms and flees from his eyes and falls off the bed and it hurts but her mind hurts more.
"Spencer!" He reaches for her but she backs into the corner of the room as she's finally lost her sanity to the white walls.
He's either dead and loved her or alive and loathes her.
Not both, never both.
She saw him, she saw him, she saw him and his tattoo glared at her and her heart, her soul, her mind shattered and he wasn't there to fix her.
She's counted over sixty moons and he didn't come, he was dead and she knew, she knows he is and yet his blue eyes are as clear as summer skies, though misty with soft clouds of rain (of tears) and it's not possible.
Her thoughts come and come but don't go away and her mind is full and it hurts as they are with too many, so she grabs at her head and pulls at her hair and tries to count but he's here and he's not wearing black.
Her broken nails smear blood through auburn locks and she closes her eyes against the walking dead.
One for a black hoodie, two for his dead body, one for a black hoodie, two for his dead body.
He's dead and loves me, he's alive and loathes me, he's dead and loves me, he's alive and loathes me.
She rocks and rocks and sees black and cries tears of blood.
His hands close around her fisting ones and her eyes open a fraction and his face is so, so close and she can smell mint and vanilla and sunshine and he's not real, he's not real, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead.
"You aren't real, you aren't real, go away, leave me, leave me, leave me." And she whispers and she prays and closes her eyes and wishes him away as no illusion made up by her broken mind could ever do him justice and she rather not imagine him at all than imagine him as half the man he ever was.
"I'm real, Spencer, I'm here."
A hand cups her bloodstained face and it's warm but she doesn't dare lean into it.
"Open your eyes and look at me." His thumb brushes away red tears but she refuses to open her eyes until her imagination leaves her alone.
"Please, Spencer." And maybe it's because ocean blue eyes shouldn't beg but wet lashes blink and her bloodshot orbs meet his.
"I don't want to be crazy anymore." She whimpers as her mind is unbroken enough to have pictured his eyes flawlessly. Deep enough to drown in and intense enough to want to look away but being unable to and really wanting to stare into them forever anyway.
"You never were. I'm here, don't you feel me?" And his warm hands glow against her cheek and around her fingers and hope cuts through her like a blade and slices open her insides.
She doesn't dare believe and yet his fingers weaving through her own feel as before, rough and used and safe and his hand squeezes hers and she stares at his shirt and doesn't recognize it.
He didn't own it before and she knows it as his shirts are her own more than they are his and she doesn't know this one.
"Toby?" Her voice breaks like her heart already has and maybe he smiles, a ghost of curling lips before disappearing into a grieving relieve and she has nothing left to lose so she falls into the beautiful lie in front of her and believes in the pulse racing against her cheek.
"Yes, it's me Spencer, I'm right here."
One of her hands comes up and touches his holding her face and he pulls her into his chest in one fluent movement and she doesn't try to struggle out of his strong hold on her.
"You bought a new shirt." She fists the fabric in her hands, ruining it like he ruined them with blood and tears and wonders if he knows the pain that has tortured her since he's betrayed her.
"I did." Relieve sounds evident in his soft voice, "I did, I'm here now."
She doesn't understand but believes in his voice and his strong heartbeat and his shirt and he's here but he wasn't for a long time. Suddenly the truth is a lie and the lie is the truth and where does she start understanding the opposite of what she's tried to come to terms with? He's pulled the ground from underneath her broken body (destroying the fragile world she's build around herself without blinking) and she falls and falls and falls until he catches her again.
(But blood washes of her hands with every cares of his and she will fall forever if it means her palms stay pure.)
"You were gone, the wind had taken your soul."
He doesn't answer and she lies in his arms and listens to his pulse and waits for it to start stitching her back together.
"I was." Pause. "But I'm back and I won't leave you again."
He rocks them back and forth like their chair abandoned in her room and she wishes everything was alright but it isn't as she's in Radley and he's a part of them. The horror of one night fades into the horror of the other and as one betrayal turns around another takes his place.
Black contrasted with his complexion and his blue eyes gleamed in thunder before he disappeared into the night to die only not as he's here.
"You hate me, black hoodies symbolize hate."
His hands still and he trembles again and she wonders if he feels as cold inside as she did for so long.
"Not when I wear one, never when I wear one."
Maybe she believes him and maybe she doesn't but he's here and even if he loathes her that's enough for her right now. She's too broken to hate him and to lost to love him but she needs him to fix her so she can decide between the two of them (though deep down she knows the answer already as the shards of her broken self never really stopped loving him).
"There's so much you don't know but I'm going to tell you and we'll be okay." His eyes burn into hers, "I promise you, Spencer, we'll be okay."
She lifts her hand and lays a finger on his lips and paints them red with small trickles of still flowing blood and he understand she doesn't want him to talk.
So he doesn't and for a moment she's whole again.
/
The last withered petal falls from a long forgotten flower.
/
A/N: Did it turn out alright? I'm contemplating writing another part to this from Toby's perspective. Please let me know if anyone would be interested in reading that?
Much love always,
- Lynn