It's foreign, it's not what he's used to because he simply doesn't hug anyone aside from Joel. He's never been comfortable with the close proximity, the physical contact that implies emotional connection, but Spencer is finding that it's much easier to do when the situation is dire, when it's someone he lives with, when it's someone he actually cares about. He holds her close to him, mindful of her injuries, and smooths a hand over her hair as he tries to urge her to calm down.
"That's right, he's dead. He's gone, Raleigh, you're safe and he can't hurt you again," he says, gently rocking her against his chest as he closes his eyes and wills his own memories to stop creeping to the forefront of his mind. He can't afford to keep thinking about this, to keep being reminded of being ziptied to that chair and feeling the most vulnerable he's ever been in his life.
He has dreams, too, the kind that make his eyes fly open in the middle of the night along with a choked sob that makes Joel's arms tighten around him every time. The only reason they aren't worse, he knows, is because of the anise seed and he feels like a fool for not offering it to Raleigh sooner. Until he can get back to his room to get it, though, he knows he needs to be here. He'd promised Raleigh that he'd be here for her in times like this as often as he can, and he hasn't forgotten, especially because he still feels a pang of guilt every time he sees her on her flinch with pain or offer a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. He notices every time even if she doesn't know it, and he wishes he could take it all away for her. He wishes he could have been a better friend, had more intuition about those texts, but all he can do now is try to make up for it by being here.
"You're not alone. You're not, you don't have to go through this alone because I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, okay? He's gone, you're not there anymore, you're safe at home and I'm here for you."
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"That's right, he's dead. He's gone, Raleigh, you're safe and he can't hurt you again," he says, gently rocking her against his chest as he closes his eyes and wills his own memories to stop creeping to the forefront of his mind. He can't afford to keep thinking about this, to keep being reminded of being ziptied to that chair and feeling the most vulnerable he's ever been in his life.
He has dreams, too, the kind that make his eyes fly open in the middle of the night along with a choked sob that makes Joel's arms tighten around him every time. The only reason they aren't worse, he knows, is because of the anise seed and he feels like a fool for not offering it to Raleigh sooner. Until he can get back to his room to get it, though, he knows he needs to be here. He'd promised Raleigh that he'd be here for her in times like this as often as he can, and he hasn't forgotten, especially because he still feels a pang of guilt every time he sees her on her flinch with pain or offer a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. He notices every time even if she doesn't know it, and he wishes he could take it all away for her. He wishes he could have been a better friend, had more intuition about those texts, but all he can do now is try to make up for it by being here.
"You're not alone. You're not, you don't have to go through this alone because I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, okay? He's gone, you're not there anymore, you're safe at home and I'm here for you."