a/n: yo yo yo ~~~~~ it hasn't been THAT long has it? Sort of. Not as long as USUAL? Maybe? Well...

This is moderately short, but ~

I actually like it for the most part. Well, there are some parts i'm like eh... about, but I like it. So, I hope you like it too.

I REALLY LOVED YOUR REVIEWS. A LOT. YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST PEOPLE EVER.

Chapter 4: Falling, What A Tragedy.

She knocked on the door of the boy whose name she used to curse. They weren't really friends, not really, anyways. But they were almost sort of friendly. But then again, not really. They still made their daily remarks about each other. But it was almost in a teasing matter, rather than disgraceful. Although they weren't close enough to decree this situation as a norm. Toby had been absent today and she thought she would drop off their homework. It really wasn't a big deal or anything, he lived a couple houses down from her, but it still felt tremendously uncomfortable.

Toby opened the door and Spencer was glad it was him instead one of his family members. It was probably one of the first times in her life she had actually been glad to see him. This certainly wasn't a normal occurrence.

He gave her a puzzled look, his eyebrows tilted slightly inwards and the corners of his mouth pointing seaward.

"You weren't in school today, I mean obviously…but." She pointed out, the awkwardness of the situation finally catching up to her. She pushed the abundance of worksheets toward him, "I thought I would drop off your homework."

He the papers a skeptic glance before taking them. "Thanks, Spencer." He sounded uncertain.

She nodded stiffly, clasping her hands together in a tight grip. "Well, see you later…" she parted with him, turning around to step off the porch. When her foot reached the sidewalk, she heard him calling out to her. Telling her to wait. She turned around hesitantly, a puzzled look washing over her features.

"I know this is sort of a lot to ask, but do you think you could maybe help me out with this?"

Spencer had to stop herself from smiling out of victory. She had been waiting for the day where he would ask for her help. She knew he couldn't do this all on his own—she knew it. Sure, he was absent, but whatever. It still counted, right? She turned around and walked back up to his porch.

She told him she would help him, which led them to take a seat on the steps. Spencer took the packet of worksheets from the boy, describing what they were supposed to do in great detail until he finally understood. They spent the afternoon together on that porch, and it was the first time in all of history where neither produced one mean remark.

When Spencer heard the news, her stomach transformed into a broken elevator shaft, plummeting down to the depths of her stomach. It wasn't because she was shocked or surprised, or anything. It was because she felt like it was almost her fault. Usually she wasn't so superstitious, but for some reason, her mind wasn't working properly. The whole time they were in dance class, all she could hear was Caleb's words replaying in her ears, "Toby had an accident and landed his ass in the hospital." Obviously, Caleb did not seem too agonized over his best friend being in the hospital, so why did she? He was obviously fine. And the fact that she was blaming herself was just ignorant. The fact that she was riding an elevator up to his room was mental.

At the end of the class she had gone up to Emily. She seemed to be the most reasonable, even though she had her share of comments, but whatever, out of her choices, she was the best one. Spencer had tried to slide the question into their conversation, but Emily had not let it reside without a comment to add. But eventually, Emily gave away the information. He was staying at Greenford Hospital, room 2A, floor 3.

Spencer felt an urge to turn around. What was she doing here? They weren't friends. They could hardly stand each other. She pressed the elevator button again, but this time pressed "lobby."

The elevator opened at floor 3, and Spencer could hardly believe her eyes. It was Toby sporting an arm cast. He was standing right in front of her, looking at her with a look of confusion. The elevator began to close, and he used his free arm to stop it.

He walked in and she kept her head down. This was beyond awkward. She tried to hide the cheap flower pot in her hand. Why did she even buy it? She doubted Toby would even appreciate it, besides it was Toby!

The stood together in silence. Every now and then side glancing at each other. The elevator finally opened, as did their mouths.

"Who are those flowers for?" Toby asked, in a smugly sort of matter, as they step out of the elevator. She mumbled something he didn't understand, which prompted him to ask again.

"No one." She spoke louder.

"You bought them for yourself?" he looked back at her, his eyebrows slightly furrowing.

She nodded her head stiffly; her lips pressed tightly together, "Yup."

She didn't want admit she was here for him. How humiliating that would be! She wasn't even going to go through with it!

"That makes a lot of sense," he stopped walking, his oceanic eyes forming a pointed look at her.

She grumbled something under her breath, her eyes peering everywhere but him.

"What was that?"

"Fine." She gritted her teeth, narrowing her eyes on the man. "They're for you."

"You got me flowers?" he looked at her, tilting his head down slightly. His oceanic eyes were almost sparkling in awe. She thought he had already put the pieces together, why was he in such amazement?

She nodded her head awkwardly, pushing the flower pot toward him to take in his hand that isn't bound to a cast.

"Well, thanks.." he said uncertainly, looking down at the plant rather than the woman who gave it to him.

"No problem…" she said, even more uncertain than he was.

Another silence passed over them.

"Why are you here?" he looked at her, suspicion lurking in his blue eyes.

She shrugged, sort of. "I thought I would visit."

"Visit? I thought you'd be happy to hear the news."

She rolled her mocha eyes at the statement. "I wouldn't wish physical harm on anyone…" she proclaimed, "well maybe some people, but not you…" she admitted. He looked at her, sort of in awe. "Well," she clucked her tongue, "I actually did wish that you would fall ill…but now I totally regret that." She spoke carefully, peering up at him.

"Is that why you're here? You felt guilty?"

She smacked her lips together, puffing her cheeks out as her eyes found the sight of the floor.

His eyes did a three sixty. "Thanks for the flowers," he coldly parted, walking pass her and to the exit.

She sighed, but she didn't let it get too much under her skin. Why would she be honest with him? Now she looked like the bad guy. Oh, why did she care anyway? It was just Toby. It didn't matter what he labeled her. His opinion meant nothing. Telling him the truth was better, better because now he won't think it was for him. She was simply just clearing her conscience and that was all. No part of her actually cared for the fact of whether or not he was okay. He wouldn't get to march around, boasting about how she paid him a friendly visit at the hospital, and even bought him flowers.

Ugh, she was annoyed with herself. Or maybe she was annoyed with Toby. It was probably Toby.

She walked to the exit, following the imaginary footprints Toby left behind. Whatever she wanted to accomplish by coming here, obviously didn't work out too well.

When she arrived outside, she once again saw Toby. He was sitting on a bench, the flower pot next to him. He was talking—more or less arguing—on the phone. Her nosy ears couldn't help but listen.

"Are you kidding? An hour? You want me to wait here for an hour... I do appreciate it... No…no. Look, I just…don't hang up on— " she watched him growl, slamming his phone in his lap. He looked over to her, catching her eye. She immediately looked away, continuing her way to her car, until she stopped in her pace.

She hated herself, she really did. She was turning around and she couldn't even stop it. "Do you need a ride?" she called out, walking to the bench he was sitting on.

He looked up at her with curious eyes, "you're offering?" he asked, appalled.

She rolled her eyes, "good luck." She shot back, turning around sharply.

He quickly stood up from the bench, grabbing the plant to bring with him. "Wait!" he called out to her.

She didn't look back.

He was soon at her side. "Wait, look…yes, if it wouldn't be that trouble then I would love a ride."

She side glanced over at him, "fine" she answered after a moment. As they made their way to her car, she sparked up a question. "What happened to your ride?"

"My sister, she was supposed to pick me up, but she bailed…"

"I didn't know you had a sister?" Spencer asked, looking at him with curious eyes as they arrived at her car.

"Well, step-sister." He informed her, as she pressed the button to unlock her car.

Spencer nodded in understand, opening the driver's seat and hopping in.

Toby went to the passenger's seat and began to struggle with the subject of opening the door. He was holding a plant in one hand, and his other was completely useless. He grunted under his breath out of irritation.

Spencer looked over at him through the passenger seat window, wondering why it was taking so long for him to join her. She couldn't help but viciously laugh when she realized he was struggling, but the laugh gradually transformed into a frown. She stepped out her car and went around the car to meet him by the passenger's side.

"Here, let me…" she told him, offering a smile as she opened the car door. He flashed her a smile of gratitude and shame.

She once again met the driver's seat, where Toby immediately had an excuse waiting for her.

"I just didn't want the flower pot to drop…you did spend a great deal of money on it."

"Do you want to walk home?" she asked him.

He let out a quiet laughter. His shoulders shaking at the instance.

She began the car and drove out of the parking spot. After she asked him where she was taking him, and dialed it into her GPS, the car became silent, well silent, if you take out the blaring music.

"So," Spencer began, "how did you get yourself into this little predicament?"

"You're going to laugh."

"Yeah, I probably will."

He gave her a look.

"What did you expect me to say I wouldn't?" she glanced at him.

He shook his head lightly, "Well, I was playing at this pub, and I was getting all my stuff together from the stage, and I tripped. I fell right off the stage, and my arm was the first met the ground."

She began to laugh softly, which prompted him to give her an amused look. "Anyway, I was kind of just laying there in pain for a few minutes before I got up, and I tried to push myself with my hands, but I couldn't. It hurt like hell, but I got up, eventually."

"Did you cry?" she teased.

"No…" he denied. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

A pause. "Fine, continue."

"Don't interrupt." He warned her.

"Tell the story faster."

"I could if you stopped interrupting!"

She smacked her lips together, residing in her side of the argument.

"Okay, well. I was pretty sure that my arm or hand, or both, were broken, so I went up to the bartender to ask him if he could take me to the hospital, but he was busy or something. So, I ended up taking a taxi cab, and I stole some ice from the bar for my hand. And then the taxi driver was all pissed at me for getting ice all over his seats. But, yeah, that's basically it."

"I don't see the purpose of the second part of this story…" Spencer commented.

"You asked and I told you what happened. What do you want from me?"

Spencer stayed silent. "How long do you have to stay in that thing?"

"A couple weeks." He responded.

"So, what about the dance lessons?"

"I mean, I can still go…I'll just have to leave out the right hand movements."

"Well, you weren't doing much before anyways…don't worry." she retorted.

"Would it kill you to be nice for one minute?" he asked in response, his voice ranging on the chords of bitterness.

"I don't know, but I'm not willing to take the risk."

They were almost at their destination. Just a couple more miles and it would all be over. They would then be able to depart from each other, and continue on with their day in peace.

His eyes rolled for probably the billionth time he has been in company of her.

"Wasn't me driving your ass home, nice enough? Also, I got you flowers. Honestly, you're pretty greedy Cavanaugh. Thought you were better than that."

"And I thought you were better than using your evil sorcery powers to put me in the hospital."

"Shut up," she retorted almost playfully. "It's not my fault that you're a clumsy ass who trips over nothing. By the way… why were you at a pub? On stage?"

"For someone who insults me every other sentence, you sure seem to care about my life" his tone teased her.

She pulled into the lot of the building where the GPS guided her. It was a parking lot of a coffee shop. She's been to this coffee shop. What the hell? Why did he give her the directions to a coffee shop? Was he subtly, forcing her to accompany him on a coffee date? Hell no! No way in hell would she ever do something like that. What in the hell was he thinking.

"Um, why are we at a coffee shop?" she asked him, turning the car to 'park'. She looked over to him, and he just gave her an indifferent look.

"You're the one who drove here." He responded, seeming to be clueless.

She gave him a look.

"I live here." He informed her, his tone acting as if she should have known this.

Spencer's face dropped, her mouth forming an 'O' shape. God, she felt beyond stupid.

"And to answer your question, I was at a pub, on stage, because I had a gig."

"A gig?" She replayed his words on her own tongue. "As in, a musical gig?"

He nodded.

"I thought you wanted to be a carpenter?" she asked, remembering him always going on about the stupidest things that no one—not even Caleb—cared about.

"Things change," he shrugged.

"I didn't even know you played music."

"You don't know a lot about me, Spencer."

"On the contrary, I know a lot, Toby."

"Maybe you did, but I've changed since high school."

The statement sort of captivated her. Intrigued her. She was astonished by this, was she seriously interested in the life of Toby Cavanaugh? How excruciating horrid. She wanted to burn the parts of her brain that desired to know more about him. She didn't even realize how much she actually cared about these petty facts of his new life until now. Oh, God. What was going on with her? This needed to stop. He wasn't interesting. He wasn't anything out of the ordinary. He was the same ol' boring Toby Cavanaugh from high school. Boring and plain, completely bland.

"Do you want me to open your door?" she asked, changing the subject; trying to get him to leave her car, more or less.

"Um, you don't have—"

She ignored him, stepping out of her car with a groan. She slammed the door and went around to the other side, where she opened the door for him. He once again gave her a grateful smile. Two genuine smiles in one day? Wow. How about no.

She closed the door when he was finally out of the car, and leaned on it to talk to him. She crossed her arms, "You know, I've changed too" she informed him, proudly.

"Have you?" he asked her, amused.

"Yes I have, actually." she answered assertively.

"Yeah, well, we'll see about that," he smiled at her once again before striding off.

"Stop smiling at me!" she yelled in annoyance at the man. His shoulders shook with laughter, which just heightened her irritation. God, she was glad that was over.

a/n: i know that a lot of you want them to make out ~ but sh...wait. We're getting there, children. We're getting there.

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