"I'm not going to school." This was the first phrase out of Spencer's mouth as the door to her bedroom was opened. The phrase felt rather foreign on her lips – after all, she'd only missed school willingly about a dozen times before in her life. But she literally could not move from her bed. She could barely breathe. She turned her face into the pillow for an instant, before she balked, pulling back. God, it still smelled like her.

"Are you sick?" It was her mother, Spencer knew this without looking from the moment the door opened. There was a pause. "Spencer, what's wrong?" Concern invaded her voice, more than Spencer was used to – she was worried. And rightfully so, she supposed. Spencer couldn't ever remember being like this before, feeling like this.

Spencer nodded weakly – that was the best way to explain it. "I'm weak…and hot and cold all over." She whispered, her breathing shallow, her voice tepid, quiet. "My head hurts…and my chest." It sounded painfully similar to the flu, but she was telling the truth. Funny how heartbreak felt like an actual disease, like a germ, invading her body and shutting it down slowly, painfully.

She felt her mother's cool hand on the back of her neck. "You do seem to be running a fever." She sighed, standing up, the bed shifting with the motion, but Spencer laid still. "I'll bring you up some medicine later. Get some rest." There were footsteps, and then nothing for an instant, a pause. "Turn that music off, Spencer, it's not doing you any good. It's depressing."
Spencer closed her eyes against the influx of tears as soon as the door closed, letting the music play…

'I told you to be balanced, I told you to be kind…'

'...now all your love is wasted? Then who the hell was I?'

` The flow of music was abruptly cut off. "God, why do you listen to this stuff, Spence?" Hanna said as she shut off the music, running a hand along the wall. "I get that you're all dark and brooding, but come on. That's just depressing."

"It's a beautiful song." Spencer said, as she dared to look up from her notes at the blonde. Caleb was a dead end now, between too many secrets, too many, too-long trips to California and trust that couldn't be repaired. Although she still stung from her split from Toby, she suspected Hanna's wounds were deeper, and would take longer to heal than her own.

Hanna paused, getting a far-away look in her eyes for a moment. "…it's depressing." She finally said, glancing back at Spencer.

"I'm sorry, I should have thought..." Spencer trailed off, sitting up. "Come on, Han, let's get back to this. We still have a test tomorrow."

"Right. Thanks for reminding me." Hanna flounced over, sounding less than pleased. "That's even more depressing."

It was hours later, or at least Spencer thought. Her eyes had remained closed, so she couldn't tell by the light. She had remained painfully conscious, aware, never falling asleep for any length of time, not letting go. But time dragged on, so that wasn't accurate either. If she had to guess, she'd say it was two hours after her mother brought her medicine – which she'd spat back out once she was gone – and left her to sleep.

"Mom, it's not – "

"It's me." To this, Spencer opened a bleary eye. No, it wasn't possible, it couldn't be –

"Melissa?" Spencer's voice was weak, catching as she said her sister's name. "What are you doing here?" She asked, legitimately wanting to know. If it had been any other time, she might have snapped at her, but she didn't have the energy, and Melissa didn't sound angry, for once…why provoke her?

"You're not sick." Melissa said, dragging a chair over to Spencer's bed, sitting down.

"Shut up, I have the flu." Spencer shot back, with as much energy as she could muster – not much at all.

"Liar." Melissa leaned back. "You never were good at telling the truth. I know you're not sick."

Spencer rolled her eyes in Melissa's direction. "Then what am I, Melissa?"

"Heartbroken." Melissa replied, leaning back. "I know the feeling, I can tell."

"…I'm over Toby, Melissa, that was ages ago." Spencer replied, her eyes fluttering shut as weakness crept over her again, making her body go slack, her normal rigidity, her stiffness, gone for the moment.

"I wasn't talking about Toby, I was talking about Hanna."

And then Spencer went rigid again.

"God, Spence, you're so tense." Hanna's palms drifted over Spencer's shoulders, one sliding as far as her neck. She'd been touched like that before, but…this felt different. Her stomach tensed, but in a good way, a different type of tension, like a coil, twisting tighter, every second Hanna's hands were on her.

"I haven't been able to go near a spa since A rubbed him or herself all over Emily." Spencer replied, shifting, biting at her lower lip for an instant. This was strange, but…"That does feel nice, though." She admitted.

"Let me take care of it." Hanna said, applying a little more pressure. "Sit up…that's it." She said, as Spencer obliged. "Wow, Spence…could you, you know, stop being you for awhile…it's raking havoc on your back."

"That's…wreaking, Hanna." Spencer said softly, her eyes fluttering shut. "Wreaking havoc."

There was a low chuckle from Hanna that drew a soft smile from Spencer. "That's exactly what I mean." She said, and Spencer could feel her breath against the back of her neck and ear, making the coil twist even tighter, making her shift slightly against Hanna. "Just…relax…"

There was a long silence as Spencer weakly pushed herself up to stare at Melissa. She trembled slightly, not so much in panic as in shock. Shock that Melissa knew, shock that she wasn't lording it over her, using it to torment her, using it to perpetuate the cycle of abuses their relationship had deteriorated into. "You knew?" She asked, glancing up at her.

"Of course I knew…you might be a good liar, but that's where your subtlety runs out." Melissa said, shifting forward. "You always forget to close your curtains…and you know there's a perfect view from the barn to your windows."

"How very voyeuristic of you." Spencer bit out, swallowing the acid that rose in her throat – she was on her way to ending up like Emily. "Are you going to – "
"Tell? No." Melissa said. "This…it's just not my thing to tell about, it's sort of different than a stolen paper, Spencer."

"…not like there's anything to tell, now." Spencer said, curling back up into a ball on her bed. "Melissa, I'm tired, can we talk later?"

Melissa opened her mouth as if to say something, but thought better of it. "Alright, Spencer." She said softly, rising from the chair, hesitating, before leaning forward, giving her an awkward one armed hug. "…feel better."

"Does that feel any better?" Hanna asked, sitting back, looking up at her with her clear blue eyes as Spencer turned to face her, rubbing her now considerably less tense neck.

"Actually…yeah." Spencer said, as it dawned on her, shifting so she was facing Hanna. "…thanks." She added softly, watching Hanna. The blonde lit up at the praise, her smile infectious, drawing a small one from Spencer as well. Out of all of them, Hanna could still smile like she used to…no matter what A did. The other three, you could look at them, and know that something was wrong, something was breaking them, bending them back slowly, but surely. With Hanna, that wasn't the case. You couldn't tell. Perhaps that was just the way she'd always been…putting on a smile while hiding things behind it.

But even then, it was a different sort of smile. Knowing Hanna as well as she did, there was a subtle difference when she was hiding something. But there, in Spencer's room, she was hiding nothing. And Spencer wanted to see her smile like that every day from then on.

"You have a really pretty smile." Spencer said aloud, before she could stop herself.

"You sound like my mom, Spence." Hanna said, with a bit of a laugh. "…but thanks." She added, softer, smoother.

Spencer almost didn't hear her, because now she's focused on her smile…namely, her lips, the contour they have to them, what they might taste like…whoa. She physically sat back in shock. Where was this coming from?

"…is everything okay?" Hanna asked, shifting forward to make up the gap, concern etching itself across her features, reworking her smile.

"I, um…" Spencer searched, her mouth finally finding words after only a moment. "I think you missed a knot on my neck." She said, turning again. "Could you get it?"

"Oh…of course." Hanna said, shifting forward so her chest was pressed against Spencer's back, the coil tightening again, to the point where Spencer was sure it would break. She inhaled sharply, reeling.

She knew what this was now…she knew what was happening. It was heavy in the air, and there was no doubt Hanna felt it too, with the way she carefully, delicately moved…a tentativeness, a confusion, but also a boldness – whatever this was, Hanna wasn't afraid, or, at least, not very much…and she wasn't letting it hold her back.

It was later when the door opened again, and while Spencer knew better, she told herself it was Melissa coming back – after all, she was relentless. "Melissa, now is not 'later' enough."
"It's me." She had known it was her – her insides coiled up again, something that only happened when Hanna was around, although now the feeling was tinged with a heavy uneasiness, a sinking feeling…for once, she didn't want the blonde around. "I guess you heard me last night…"

"Just go." Spencer muttered, not opening her eyes, knowing if she saw her, things would change. She pressed her face deeper into the pillow for a second before pulling away, overloaded by her blasted perfume. She couldn't get away…"Please…just go."

"Spencer…" There was a catch in Hanna's voice, and although Spencer hadn't opened her eyes, she could still see her expression, eyes wide, mouth dropped open slightly, pleading…she could move mountains with those eyes. After all, she'd moved Spencer. "It's for the best…don't do this, it's not worth it. We weren't even…"

"Weren't even what?" Spencer finally opened her eyes, looking up at Hanna. However much she hated that fact now, she was a Hastings…and she couldn't keep her mouth shut. "It's not like you even gave it a chance to be anything."
Hanna wrapped her arms around herself, obviously wounded by Spencer's sharp tongue. "It's not like it was easy…I had to break up with you while you were sleeping to even consider it."

"Please just go away…haven't you done enough?" Spencer asked, lifting her eyes to meet Hanna's again. The air was thick again, but not like it used to be. There were unspoken thoughts, hurt feelings floating between them, like clouds, ominous and dark on the horizon. And while silence followed the exchange, the tension in the air was anything but quiet.

It was in the air. It hung heavy like moisture, was thick like fog, and spellbinding like magnetism, drawing them closer. There was no fighting, so resistance…it was there, in the room with them, permeating them. It was an out of body experience…Spencer had no control. She tilted her head back slightly as Hanna leaned forward – was drawn forward, really, by the spell that had fallen over them – and gently pressed her lips to her shoulder.

Three things happened at once. The contact sent a spark shooting through Spencer, and she gasped, her head tilting back even further. The coil contracted so hard that it felt like it broke, letting the heat it held wash over Spencer. Hanna pulled back, her blue eyes wide in shock. "I'm sorry, I didn't – "

"Don't stop." Spencer said suddenly. Well, her voice did, anyway. She hadn't said it…it hadn't even crossed her mind to say it, but the instant it passed her lips, she meant it. God, how she meant it. "Please…" She added. "Don't stop."

There was the same tentativeness to Hanna's kisses as there was in her movements, the same hesitation, but the same sweetness, and the same understand boldness. Hanna was pushing through the fear – and there was fear – the same as she kissed her way up Spencer's neck; by just doing…by just following what felt good.

Spencer hesitated too – this was entirely new territory, and unless threatened, she wasn't extraordinarily brave. But the magnetism, the spell in the room, the now fractured coil in her chest and stomach, pushed her forward, propelled her around, and suddenly, she was kissing Hanna, hands buried in her blonde hair.

She tasted like sugar, mint and cherry lipgloss, crossing over her tongue and her senses like an explosion. Hanna was an explosion, really, brilliant, glittering…everything seemed to sharpen, to clear up, pushing everything away with her sheer force. The air was no longer heavy with tension, it was easier to breathe. She worked Hanna back, felt her underneath her, the gentle rising and falling of her chest, and it was like sparks thrummed through her heart and veins…she was alive…not trapped, not cornered, not being stalked, and certainly not a caged animal, if only in that moment.

It was a beautiful moment, because, for once, Spencer was alive, unafraid, and oh so very human.