Spencer hums YMCA under his breath as he closes his suitcase, ready to leave for the airport. I sit on one of the dining table chairs and watch him quietly.
"That song is terrible," I say at last, just to say something, fill up the sense of him leaving.
"It's the gayest song I have ever heard," he concedes and then looks up at me. "I thought you'd like it."
"Fuck off," I say, and he smirks.
He looks around the room, though it's not like he unpacked much to begin with. The protective sheets are gone but will be put back soon enough. "Have you seen any of my socks? I swear they've all vanished."
I'd suspect Sisky to be behind this – Spencer feet smell or something crazy, I don't even know – but Sisky hasn't been around yet. He's got his meeting with the lawyers today. Maybe now, actually, who knows?
"You want an extra pair?" I offer, and he nods. That way he doesn't have to go sock hunting the second he gets to London. I'm sure he'll have more interesting and urgent things to do.
He follows me to the bedroom, talking about the flight time and the apartment in London where he'll be moving into – staying, he means, just staying. And I say that it all sounds good, while handing him a pair of black socks.
He's looking over my shoulder and onto my made bed. When I follow his gaze, I see what he sees: the large picture frame, face upwards on the bed. The black and white shot of a boy, taken by someone else.
"Just something I found when I got home this morning," I explain. I don't even know where I had hidden it, but whoever came to clean up the apartment and fill the fridge found the frame and placed it on the dining table. His smile greeted me upon arrival, like I always wanted it to. Head tilted downwards, a shy smile aimed at his feet. Smiling because of the man he chose over me.
"Sure." Spencer smiles slightly, but it's forced. We haven't talked about that. Brendon. We've talked of him, sure, but we haven't talked about him. I close the bedroom door after us, slightly ashamed.
I know that it's not over for me, but that – That just takes time. Spencer and Haley aren't together, but they're certainly not over even if it's clear that they are never getting back together either. So it's alright that I'm not over it, it's – It's fine. And His Side is back on tour now, and he's back to being his own different person somewhere out there. And my thoughts find him all the time, and I have these fucking messed up dreams about him that I've never told anyone about.
It's not over for me, but I'm sick of people and myself thinking that I need to be.
I'm trying, though. I am. Admitting that I'm not over him is the first step like alcoholics anonymous or when I got addicted to codeine but he forced me to clean up my act. He's just another addiction to shake off.
Spencer packs the extra socks and closes his suitcase. He looks towards the window and asks, "So you're sure you want to go back? To that house of yours."
"It's where I live."
"Is it?" He quirks an eyebrow at me, but then lets it slide. "You could stay here, you know. A lot of people miss you here."
I smirk at him. "You don't know that. You're speculating. You'd just feel more at ease knowing that I'm surrounded by people who look after me."
"So?"
"So maybe it's time I look after myself." I've always been depending on others, clinging onto them. Spencer, Keltie, even now I depend on Vicky for a lot of things... "I'll be fine this time. I'll survive. Like a virus."
