Cold sweat rolled down the back of his neck. In the dim light of the bathroom, empty eyes stared back at him. What they were looking at, he wasn't sure. Because all that stood in front of the mirror was the shell of his body, his spirit hovering somewhere between these sterile white walls and the safety of his mother's arms.
Back in his childhood bedroom. She had just come home from work. His baby brother clipped at his heels as they rushed to greet her at the door. Her arms wrapped around them both. Warm. Soft.
He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against the edges of the sink. Cold porcelain. This wasn't Crenshaw.
A gentle knock brought him spiraling back into reality. "Spencer, you okay in there?"
He yanked the faucet handle upwards, and the heavy stream of water echoed through the small room. "Yeah, be right out."
He wasn't ready. He had practice in the morning. Was he still supposed to go? His twenty-fifth birthday was in just a few weeks. He was still a kid. This had been an accident.
The tightness in his chest squeezed, and he knew he couldn't hide any longer. If this was what he was feeling, what about her? The cold water sent a jolt down his spine. He grabbed a paper towel and dried off his face. His reflection blinked back at him. One deep breath, and he reached for the door.
Like she had been waiting, her eyes met his. Every thought that had crossed him in the past five minutes got neatly folded and shoved away into the depths of his mind.
"Where'd you go?"
Her voice was raspy. She needed water.
He held a cup to her lips and watched her Adam's apple bob as she guzzled.
"I had to go to the bathroom."
"Don't leave me again."
He felt his head shaking long before he managed to utter a response. "No, never."
"You guys okay for a little? I'm going to go look for some coffee."
His gaze strayed up to her mom. Blonde hair pulled back in a loose bun. Eyes tired. He rarely saw her like this.
"Yeah, we're okay."
He looked back down at his wife. We're okay. He had to snap out of it. He should have responded first. He backed himself into the sole armchair in the room. Why didn't they have more? That seemed like a poor design choice. What if two people needed to sit down at the same—
"Come back."
"Hey, hey, hey," he hushed, rushing forward, easing her back. Her face scrunched. "I'm here."
"I'm uncomfortable."
"I know," he murmured. His lips pressed firmly against her forehead like they had countless times before. The warmth of her skin brought a familiar sense of peace. "I know, baby."
"Spencer, I'm scared." He pulled back to look at her, and her eyes screamed the thoughts neither other them had to vocalize. We're only twenty-four. We're kids. "Please, tell me you're okay because I'm losing my shit right now."
"Yeah, baby. I'm okay. I'm good. We're good."
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, and her head took on a vigorous nod. An attempt to convince herself that she was okay, too. But mid-nod, her face crumpled, and a death grip strangled his hand.
"I want to get up," she croaked.
"You sure?"
"Mhm." She was already propping herself up with her other arm, and he rushed to slip his hands around her waist. If there was any moment for him to support her, physically, emotionally, spiritually, it was now.
Her arms laced around his neck, holding on for dear life. The swell pressed between him. He swallowed. "Hey, Liv."
She didn't answer, but she also didn't need to for him to know she was listening.
"You're the strongest woman I know. You're brave. You're selfless. And I'm here for whatever you need from me. Anything at all. You say the word."
"How are you so okay?" she murmured into his neck. "Our whole life is about to turn upside down."
The words flowed from his mouth. Smooth. Confident. "I'm in this with you. As long as that's true, there's no way I won't be okay."
Her fingertips weaved into the curls at the base of his neck.
"This is the best day of my life," he whispered.
While she groaned, his hands guided her hips gently from side to side. For several minutes, they rocked.
"When it starts," she murmured, "hold onto me and don't let go."
In a daze, Spencer nodded. "I won't."
She whimpered into his shoulder and more of her weight fell into his arms.
As he kept her upright, he couldn't help but wonder—would it be fast? Would they be able to tell if something was wrong? Who was he supposed to remind that if something went wrong, she was the one he needed to stay?
The door creaked open, and his glazed eyes met his mother-in-law's.
He wanted to tell her that he would do anything for them. Everything they needed. Today, tomorrow, forever. This wasn't just a moment. He hoped that she could see that for the past seven years, nobody had mattered more to him than his best friend, and regardless of what was destined to happen that day, no one else ever would.
It wasn't the right moment now, but one day he would tell her.
A soft smile pulled at her lips, and she stepped back into the hall.
"Spencer." His wife stirred in his arms, her body coming back to life after a few minutes of stillness. "I think we need to call someone in here."
From that moment on, time sped up, racing away from him as he tried to keep up. The disposable camera she had packed laid forgotten in their bag. He wanted to remember. To see with his own eyes. Though he knew from past moments that this memory would all be a blur.
Through it, words he wouldn't remember saying flowed into her ear, encouraging her, promising her the world. The whole time he breathed with her, keeping his own exhales steady for her.
The whole time he held on.
A short forty-five minutes later, he still hadn't let go. His fingers tangled with hers as a new emotion—foreign, yet...right—coursed through his veins. He couldn't move. His wife was pulling his face down, but his eyes wouldn't stray.
Not as every worry he had leading up to this day melted away at the sight of his daughter's perfect brown eyes.
_____
Wrote this on a whim.
If you couldn't tell, I love taking a shot at depicting the emotions in these life moments. That's what motivated me to start this book, and what kept me going through so many one-shots regardless of what the show's done. That being said, I've been going back and forth on whether to stop this book at 100 stories. I'm really not sure because it's truly a fun escape for me, and it'd be hard to let go. But, I also feel like I can't just keep writing these forever, and this one will have to end at some point.
I haven't decided yet, BUT if there's anything you've wanted to see from this book, feel free to comment or message me because we're getting close to 100, and it's always a fun challenge trying to bring other's ideas to life.