Author's Note: I have nothing more to say other than THANK YOU SOOOOOO MUCH FOR GETTING ME TO 1K REVIEWS! I feel complete now.

Day Two-Hundred Twenty-Nine: The Common Cold by Marina and the Diamonds

There's no known cure for the common cold.

In fact, there are probably somewhere around 200 strains of the virus which causes what is colloquially referred to as "the common cold". The common cold commonly affects the respiratory system, and most prominently, the nose. The symptoms, though they cannot be cured, are often treated rather easily and the cold subsides within a few days.

But what happened when the common cold affected the heart?

It all started when Spencer suggested we take a break and start seeing other people. I knew she just wanted to see other people and go on a date with someone she deemed as "better" than me. I could tell from her tone, especially how fake she sounded when she said she thought it'd be better for both of us in the long run.

I told her I didn't own her—a bit bitterly, might I add. She didn't need my approval to do any of that. I wasn't her keeper. Maybe I was just bitter that she was doing this and I wanted her to be more. Clearly, she didn't want that. I sort of hated that—though I'd never admit it to anybody else.

And now I was whining and bitching about it. I hated whining and bitching. It seemed as though all I did nowadays was bitch and moan. It almost felt like my job. Just like it was Spencer's job, it seemed, to lie. She was so good at it. I wished I could just tell her to stop—and actually get her to stop—but that was not what was written in the stars; the big guy upstairs just decided that things weren't going to work out that way. All her lies unraveled in my eyes. Now that she was gone, I feel like I finally saw who she was. My illusion of her was shattered. Even though I tried to salvage the pieces of her, I could never find a place for her heart…

The winter in Rosewood that year was especially harsh. Contrary to popular belief, it is impossible to contract the cold via being exposed to low temperatures alone.

One day, the school was running a practice AP exam (or ACT or SAT…I don't remember). A snow storm was supposed to be coming that night, but it seemed to have come early and quickly. We got stranded in school. The kids who were taking the test—there were only about twenty-five of us, total, since not a lot of kids took APs and even fewer wanted to take the practice exam.

The teachers told us that we'd likely be stuck there for a while.

I wandered around the school for a while, debating where I should go and what I should do. After a while, I decided on the library. I sat in there alone, reading. About half an hour later, I heard someone come in the opposite entrance. I didn't think about it very much. I just continued to read.

However, the lights turned off about fifteen minutes later. I looked up in alarm. I figured now would probably be a good time to go back and find everyone else. They'd know what to do.

But when I walked over and tried to open the door to the library, it was locked. It seemed as though the power outage caused the automatic locks in the school to go off. The library, in particular, had these locks, due to the trophy case they kept in the library (there were more places where these locks went off, too, such as the music room and the archive room, where they kept all the old school records, mementos, photos, etc.).

I heard someone else trying to jiggle the doorknob and get out on the other library door. I heard them kick the door, as well. "Those frickin trophies," Spencer grumbled under her breath as she glared at the shiny metal cups and engraved plaques that sat in the trophy case about fifteen feet away from the librarian's desk.

I looked over at her, finally realizing her presence. She immediately tensed up and wrapped her arms around herself protectively.

I don't know what overcame me, but I suddenly had this huge gush of emotion and feelings.

Immediately, I tried to silence and suppress my own emotions. It was ridiculous and almost shameful that I felt this way around a girl who broke up with me what felt like ages ago. It couldn't happen again. She probably got satisfaction from seeing me like that. I wasn't going to let her feel that with my own discomfort.

An hour of silence and tension between the two of us felt torturous. And I was hungry. It must've been like three by now and the last time I ate was probably a little before seven, which was like one small bowl of corn flakes.

Then, I remembered that I had a granola bar in my backpack. Actually, two, since the package had two granola bars in it.

Maybe I should offer the other one to Spencer.

I walked over to Spencer, who was sitting in the history stack. She looked up at me apprehensively. Did she think I was planning something?

"What is it, Toby?" she asked weakly.

"I had another granola bar and I was wondering if you wanted it," I answered with similar unease.

She looked at it like she was tempted. Then, she turned away. "I probably shouldn't."

She looked pallid and bony. Her face seemed to have thinned since I last took a good look at her. When was the last time she actually ate? I know she pretty much survived on coffee, but…did she actually survive on coffee?

Was she actually suffering from this break up?

"Spencer, when was the last time you actually ate?" I asked firmly as I sat near her.

"This morning."

Lies.

"Spencer—"

"I don't know the last time I had a real meal, Toby!" she snapped as she got up and walked away.

I sighed. "You can't just not eat. You have to have something."

"Oh, why do you care?!" she exclaimed already halfway across the library. "You don't care about me, anyway." I was about to reply, but I heard her say softly, "You shouldn't, anyway…"

"What's the game you're playing?" It wasn't in a demanding tone; I asked it with an air of sympathy and understanding.

"I'm not falling for this," she insisted. I could hear the tightness in her voice, like she was about to cry.

"Don't do that, Spencer. We both know I'm not the one playing games. Is this a test or something?"

"It's not a test, Toby!" she exclaimed in a mangled voice.

I decided to break the cycle of the two of us talking at each other. I found her on the other side of the library in a corner behind the librarian's desk. She looked nervous and overwhelmed. I sat down next to her with a sigh.

If this is love, we'll find our way back to each other after it all.

I recalled that Spencer had said that a while ago.

"I'm scared," she said simply.

"Of what?"

She was silent for a moment. "You're going to think it's stupid—"

"Try me," I insisted.

"I'm scared of the two of us," she confessed. "Love is…scary and tempestuous and…I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want to get hurt," she added. "What if you're not the one and I get my heart broken?"

"It seems like your heart is already breaking." She was silent. "I'm not going to break your heart, Spencer. At least, I'll try my best not to hurt you." Where was this coming from?

As if I was trying to further emphasize, I leaned in and kissed her. For a moment, she kissed me back. Then, she tensed up.

"I thought we were supposed to start seeing other people," Spencer said as she pulled away and turned away uncomfortably.

"I don't know. Are we still seeing other people?" I asked. She looked at me uncertainly. "We can if you still want to."

"Do you want to?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

She thought for a moment. Hesitantly, she leaned in to kiss me.

I literally just answered all of these and fanfiction is pissing me off right now but oh well.

Guest:Thank you so much! What level Spanish are you? Maybe I can help :)

Guest: Thanks! And oh, the struggle of being single and looking for Toby Cavanaugh. Then again, I'm not really "looking" for a boyfriend because idk I'm fifteen and I have no real aspiration to love someone else when I don't really even love myself even like 50% of the time. But yeah, every decent human being should have a Toby Cavanaugh (perhaps that's why I don't have one).

Guest:I know! I'm crying! That's probably the closest I'll get to a running away fic because idk I guess I don't like writing them a whole lot. Thank you very much!

Tomorrow's one-shot (the last one *sob*) will be Performance Art by Rachael Sage and it'll more than likely be verrrryyyyyy loooong. You were warned. -Kayson