"Don't be." Spencer has been a man of logic for most of his life, and he can understand why she'd left the letter. It's something he plans on doing for Joel himself, one day, far into the future when they're much older because nobody ever knows what this life will bring. He'd never expected Mark Fuller or that island, he'd never even expected Joel. His life had been static until it hadn't and there had barely been a moment between the two states of being for Spencer to even process what had happened. He brings a hand to his forehead, rubbing lightly as if trying to smooth the creases out but to no avail.
"You needed to say goodbye." His tone is flat, almost hollow, and he can't even look at her as he says this because he'd been perfectly content since he'd been told about the letter to pretend it had never existed. Raleigh's alive, she's okay, they all are, that's the long and short of it; but the letter does exist, she'd felt that fear, and he knows the feeling well enough now to know how much it must have hurt her to write it. "Isn't that right? You just-- You needed to say goodbye." There's a pause, a moment of what would be complete silence if that country music wasn't still blaring from the stereo, before he finally glances up at her. "Don't be upset with him for telling me. Please. It affected him deeply, getting that letter, and as much as he didn't want to keep anything from me, I think he needed to talk about it himself more. See, that's what we do, Raleigh. We lean on each other, even if we think we shouldn't, even if we think it's not fair. After what happened in the lighthouse, after what he d-- after what Mark Fuller did to me, I thought... God, I thought I wouldn't be okay again. And maybe I'm not, maybe I'm not okay, but I'm better now and it's because of Joel, and it's because of you."
When his brother had been alive, Dane had come to Spencer with all his problems, big or small and whether or not he knew Spencer could help him with a solution. His brother had been the only one Spencer had felt like he could reciprocate that kind of relationship, and he remembers telling Raleigh he hadn't had the chance to say goodbye. There'd been a chance of hope that morning of his birthday, that morning he'd found his mother, that Dane was still alive. He'd had no texts, no missed calls, but there'd been a chance and Spencer had held onto that for as long as he could until he'd been given the news that his brother's body had been found. He'd lost it then, all the hope, all thoughts of ever finding someone he could share in that with again, until Joel had found him. Until he'd met Raleigh. Things haven't felt this easy in a long time, even after everything that's happened.
"It's hard for me to talk about things like-- like what happened with my family and what happened with Mark. But sometimes it helps. Sometimes it does more harm than good, but I have to expect that and moreover, I have to accept it because in the end, I'm still here. We both are, we're still standing. We just have to help each other stay upright, and it's not an obligation, Raleigh. I'm here because I want to be. Trust me, I've spent years avoiding getting close to people, years keeping to myself. Social obligation is not something I have a very firm grasp on."
He lets out a long sigh, suddenly feeling so drained but at the same time thinking that maybe it's good they're talking about this, even if they're maybe skirting around some of it a little. He glances around the room when she says she can see herself with kids here, with a daughter, and he nods as he imagines brighter walls and shinier ovens and brilliant sunlight shining through the windows. He can see it, Raleigh and a beautiful and blonde little girl, both their cheeks stained with flour and their hands deep in dough. He swallows hard, an affectionate smile playing at his lips.
"I can see it, too. I can see you doing that with my child, too, Aunt Raleigh teaching her nephew or niece how to bake." He ducks his head as he laughs, and it's the first time he's really talked about having kids to anyone other than Joel, but the image is incredible. "You're going to do amazing things here, Raleigh. I know you are."
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"You needed to say goodbye." His tone is flat, almost hollow, and he can't even look at her as he says this because he'd been perfectly content since he'd been told about the letter to pretend it had never existed. Raleigh's alive, she's okay, they all are, that's the long and short of it; but the letter does exist, she'd felt that fear, and he knows the feeling well enough now to know how much it must have hurt her to write it. "Isn't that right? You just-- You needed to say goodbye." There's a pause, a moment of what would be complete silence if that country music wasn't still blaring from the stereo, before he finally glances up at her. "Don't be upset with him for telling me. Please. It affected him deeply, getting that letter, and as much as he didn't want to keep anything from me, I think he needed to talk about it himself more. See, that's what we do, Raleigh. We lean on each other, even if we think we shouldn't, even if we think it's not fair. After what happened in the lighthouse, after what he d-- after what Mark Fuller did to me, I thought... God, I thought I wouldn't be okay again. And maybe I'm not, maybe I'm not okay, but I'm better now and it's because of Joel, and it's because of you."
When his brother had been alive, Dane had come to Spencer with all his problems, big or small and whether or not he knew Spencer could help him with a solution. His brother had been the only one Spencer had felt like he could reciprocate that kind of relationship, and he remembers telling Raleigh he hadn't had the chance to say goodbye. There'd been a chance of hope that morning of his birthday, that morning he'd found his mother, that Dane was still alive. He'd had no texts, no missed calls, but there'd been a chance and Spencer had held onto that for as long as he could until he'd been given the news that his brother's body had been found. He'd lost it then, all the hope, all thoughts of ever finding someone he could share in that with again, until Joel had found him. Until he'd met Raleigh. Things haven't felt this easy in a long time, even after everything that's happened.
"It's hard for me to talk about things like-- like what happened with my family and what happened with Mark. But sometimes it helps. Sometimes it does more harm than good, but I have to expect that and moreover, I have to accept it because in the end, I'm still here. We both are, we're still standing. We just have to help each other stay upright, and it's not an obligation, Raleigh. I'm here because I want to be. Trust me, I've spent years avoiding getting close to people, years keeping to myself. Social obligation is not something I have a very firm grasp on."
He lets out a long sigh, suddenly feeling so drained but at the same time thinking that maybe it's good they're talking about this, even if they're maybe skirting around some of it a little. He glances around the room when she says she can see herself with kids here, with a daughter, and he nods as he imagines brighter walls and shinier ovens and brilliant sunlight shining through the windows. He can see it, Raleigh and a beautiful and blonde little girl, both their cheeks stained with flour and their hands deep in dough. He swallows hard, an affectionate smile playing at his lips.
"I can see it, too. I can see you doing that with my child, too, Aunt Raleigh teaching her nephew or niece how to bake." He ducks his head as he laughs, and it's the first time he's really talked about having kids to anyone other than Joel, but the image is incredible. "You're going to do amazing things here, Raleigh. I know you are."