It's like a punch to the gut, the look on Raleigh's face. There's confusion there, like she's not even sure that she should be here right now and Spencer knows that's on him. He knows that he's hardly good at expressing what he's feeling but it stings a little more because he's trying, he wants to make her feel like she's welcome but between the guilt and the memories that keep flashing in his mind of what had happened in the lighthouse--in his own home--he's finding it difficult to do any of this.
"I mean the afternoon if that's as long as you want to say," he says, his tone gentle. He lowers his eyes then makes his way to the dining room because that's where he keeps his pain medication and he'd skipped out on it over the weekend in favor of being able to actually drink some of the wine offered at the wine festival; but he's feeling it now, in his hand and in his head, and he's become much better at popping off the cap of the pill bottle with just one hand. He doesn't look at her as he swallows a tablet dry, letting out a deep exhale as he grips the edge of the table so his knuckles go white.
"If you want to stay until tomorrow, the end of the week, the end of the year, you can." He glances up at her then. "I'm sorry I'm not better at this. I'm not--"
He shakes his head, realizing that she really shouldn't be on her feet so he guides her to the living room instead, extends his hand to help lower her onto the couch. He sits on the wooden coffee table in front of her, too tall for it to be comfortable and his knees come up to his chest but he just wraps his arms around himself and offers her a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He wants to make her understand, wants her to feel like none of this is just courtesy. He wants her to be her if she wants to be, wants her to feel like this could be a safe place.
"You know I didn't really leave the house after what happened last week," he says. "I've never really relied on anybody before, it's hard for me to let myself trust people. To let anyone in, really let them in, but then I met Joel and now... Now things feel different. And you, you didn't blink after I told you about my family. Some of the things people have done and said and-- That doesn't matter anymore but the thing is, it's taken me this long to realize that sometimes, it's better not to be alone."
He reaches out to grip her hand lightly, and it's not like him and he still feels odd doing this to someone who isn't Joel, but he does it because he thinks maybe they both need it. The contact, the reassurance that somebody is there, he'd craved it when he'd locked himself away. "You're my friend," he tells her, making sure their eyes meet and nodding firmly, squeezing her hand. "You're my friend, and I'd like to help you if I can."
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"I mean the afternoon if that's as long as you want to say," he says, his tone gentle. He lowers his eyes then makes his way to the dining room because that's where he keeps his pain medication and he'd skipped out on it over the weekend in favor of being able to actually drink some of the wine offered at the wine festival; but he's feeling it now, in his hand and in his head, and he's become much better at popping off the cap of the pill bottle with just one hand. He doesn't look at her as he swallows a tablet dry, letting out a deep exhale as he grips the edge of the table so his knuckles go white.
"If you want to stay until tomorrow, the end of the week, the end of the year, you can." He glances up at her then. "I'm sorry I'm not better at this. I'm not--"
He shakes his head, realizing that she really shouldn't be on her feet so he guides her to the living room instead, extends his hand to help lower her onto the couch. He sits on the wooden coffee table in front of her, too tall for it to be comfortable and his knees come up to his chest but he just wraps his arms around himself and offers her a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He wants to make her understand, wants her to feel like none of this is just courtesy. He wants her to be her if she wants to be, wants her to feel like this could be a safe place.
"You know I didn't really leave the house after what happened last week," he says. "I've never really relied on anybody before, it's hard for me to let myself trust people. To let anyone in, really let them in, but then I met Joel and now... Now things feel different. And you, you didn't blink after I told you about my family. Some of the things people have done and said and-- That doesn't matter anymore but the thing is, it's taken me this long to realize that sometimes, it's better not to be alone."
He reaches out to grip her hand lightly, and it's not like him and he still feels odd doing this to someone who isn't Joel, but he does it because he thinks maybe they both need it. The contact, the reassurance that somebody is there, he'd craved it when he'd locked himself away. "You're my friend," he tells her, making sure their eyes meet and nodding firmly, squeezing her hand. "You're my friend, and I'd like to help you if I can."