𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒚

Fifteen

𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚒𝚍'𝚜 𝙰𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝙷𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚘𝚗 𝙰𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚡, 𝚀𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚘, 𝚅𝙰

𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝟺, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟸

𝟷:𝟹𝟷 𝙰.𝙼.

Tillie and Spencer sat together on his leather sofa, talking for hours upon hours, bundled up in some old quilts he found in his closet. The cold air from outside slipped through the cracks in the windows, filling up the apartment with a sharp chill. 

Despite the heavy blankets on top of them, Tillie still shivered from the cold. Feeling her small movements, Spencer looked over at the half asleep blonde on his couch. She was in a thin, flowy dress that provided hardly any warmth for her. He frowned at the goosebumps rising on her skin.

"Tills? Are you awake?" He whispered softly to her.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm up, is something wrong?" Her words were slurred, and contrary to what she had said, she was not 'up'.

"Do you want something to change into?So you're not so cold?" Spencer felt guilt for waking her up, but he couldn't just let her freeze.

"Yeah, that'd be nice..." She trailed off with a large yawn and rested her head against one of the pillows on his sofa. Her closed eyes flitted with movement under the low, yellow lights from the lamps around them that had provided the illumination. 

Gazing at her peaceful state for one moment longer, Spencer sighed at her beauty. He didn't ever believe that someone like her would ever come into his life. Someone with her level of intelligence. Someone who was funny and quick-witted. Someone who wore her heart on her sleeve and wasn't afraid to speak what she was thinking in that moment. Someone who was gorgeous like she. 

Getting up as best as he could without disturbing her, he walked into his room and into his closet, absentmindedly picking out a thick, soft, regal purple sweater. He then moved to his dresser, opening his pants drawer to find some black sweatpants for her. Once he gathered those, he opened up his sock drawer, grabbing one purple and black sock with haunted houses patterned all over, and a white and black striped sock with jack-o-lanterns all over. 

Padding back to the living room, he smiled at Tillie with the blanket piled on top of her. He sat on the edge of the furniture, placing a hand on her arm shaking it ever so slightly. 

"Tills, I got you some clothes, the bathr-" He was interrupted by her tossing the blankets off of her and attempting to pull her arms through the dress's arm holes. 

"Here," Spencer moved closer to her, to get in a better spot to help her. Moving his head, averting his eyes from her cleavage, he helped her strip of the dress, leaving her in only her underwear and her bra. The purple sweater replaced the dress, covering her once again, only this time she was actually in something warm. A stark contrast from the thin material of the dress.

Slightly more awake, Tillie struggled to put on the socks and sweatpants, so once again, Spencer helped her with the tasks. It was an odd situation they both found themselves in, but they were more than comfortable. If it were anyone else in the scenario, it wouldn't have been as smooth sailing. 

When the two finally settled down, and Tillie was no longer shivering, Spencer turned off all of the lamps, leaving them in the dark of the apartment. Together, they laid in silence. Spencer was laying straight, and in between the back of the sofa and himself, was Tillie, who was half on top of him and half buried into his side. Her head was on his chest, rising and falling as he breathed in the cool air. 

He was sure that she was asleep by now, until she made a noise, grabbing his attention.

"Spencer, I really like you...Like a lot," She whispered to him. He only smiled, bringing up a hand to her long, blonde hair, stroking it softly. At this, she seemed to nestle even further into his side, enjoying the feeling of his fingers running through her hair. 

"Shh, go to sleep," he said to her in a low voice, trying not to break the comfortable silence they had resided in. He received no response, to which he took as her finally drifting off to dream land. Grateful that she was there in his arms, he felt feelings of contentedness bubble up inside him. 

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Spencer thought of her. He thought of Tillie. He thought that even after being away in rehab for two weeks, she still thought of him. In fact she even drove to his apartment, after not even being home for a day. She stayed the night at his, she felt comfortable with him. It was like, even though there wasn't any sort of communication during the past couple of weeks, it was like nothing changed. If anything, they felt closer. 

He didn't know why, though. Why did she come back to him first. Why was he her go to choice, there must've been someone else. He had to have been further down the line. 

Spencer's thoughts spiraled down and down, deeper and deeper. It was a never ending cycle of 'what ifs' and 'whys'. For once in his entire life he didn't have an explanation. His job was reading people, yet when it came to her, she was a puzzle with missing pieces. 

Over and over, he went over every conversation they had, he went over all of her behavior since she met him, and there were still pieces missing. 

Before he even knew it, he fell asleep, laying with Tillie on his leather sofa, bundled in quilts and blankets. Empty mugs of tea were on the coffee table, and half full glasses of water were next to them. The blinds covered the windows, letting almost no moonlight in, and the branches of the tree right outside, knocked on the glass window in the early March breeze. 

The night was calm, and tranquil. And two sober addicts fell asleep side by side, a new path yet to come.