Fairy Bride Ch17: A Beauty to Keep (Patreon)

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Christchurch College, Oxford

Eight Months Later…

Spencer drags another comb through his hair and flexes his new denim jacket.  Personally, he thinks it looks ridiculous with the blue jeans.  But Shravya’s eyes sparkled when she saw it, and that’s the only encouragement he needs.

Staring into the mirror, he can barely recognise his face.  The acne is buried beneath cream, the glasses replaced by contacts.  The old sweater-vests lay folded in their cupboards, used only when the Pujar’s invite him to dinner.  Even his time in the gym is starting to pay off.  Shravya never tells him she likes these things, of course.  She’s always dodging the question, or muttering that he shouldn’t change around her tastes.  But Spencer does regardless.  If he can look sleek to one pair of eyes…

… that’s one pair of eyes who can see.

“Gobbling gargoyles gobbled gobbling guh-guh…”  Spencer winces, repeating the exercise from memory.  “Gobbling gargoyles gobbled guh-guh-GOD DAMMIT!”

He slumps against the mirror and sighs.  She tries to hide the way she cringes at his stutter, too.  But it only reminds him more of how wrong it is.  A mistake to be corrected.

“Gobbling gargoyles gobb-buh-buh…”  Deep breath.  He should try laughing.  Always easier to mutter the phrase when he gives himself breaks through the giggles.  “Heheheh.  Gobbling gargoyles gobbled gobbling goblins.  Gobbling gargoyles gobbled - heheh - gobbling goblins.”

He smiles.  Good enough for today.  Spencer closes his closet, swipes the paperback from the top of the pile, and goes out to see Shravya.

She’s sitting on the bench outside, smoking her usual cigarette.  Same yellow-brown hoodie and thick leather boots, though she’s got a blue neon streak instead of green.  Spencer still can’t believe how sudden they became.  After only a couple book clubs, they made it official.  A couple after that, they…

He waltzes over to the bench, lifting the paperback high.  When she turns, he pretends to slam-dunk it before gently placing it on her lap.

“And that’s Wretched of the Earth!”  He makes an explosion sound.  “What’s next?  Motorcycle Diaries?  Second Sex?”

“Another one?”  Shravya crams the book into her bag.  “How many have you read this month?”

“Three.” He beams, helping her up.  “And we still haven’t had our meetings.”

Shravya blinks.  “Oh, bullocks.”

“We can do Thursday, right?”  Spencer offers.  “Or whenever, I’ll make it work!  I-If you took that extra shift at work again, we could-”

She looks at him, confused.  “H-how did you know I was taking extra shifts?”

Fuck.  That means he’s said something wrong.  “Well, you know, y-you leave your planner out, and…”  Spencer stops as her face shifts.  “Shravya, look.  I know you don’t mind being busy, but… but I could help!”

“No.”  Shravya crosses her arms.  “Spence, we talked about this.  I appreciate the gesture, I really do, but I have things I need to pay back.  You’re not supplementing my job.”

“Why not?  You deserve the time off more than anyone, and then we can-”

He’s interrupted by her kiss, and enjoys it too much to stop her.  He pulls Shravya close, by the shoulder.  Her breath still smells like cigarettes, but that would never bother him a bit.

She pulls away first, like always, touching her lip.  “That was… scratchier than usual.  Are you growing a moustache?”

“I’ve been trying for a beard!”  Spencer shows her the small edges of his facial hair.  “What do you think?”

Shravya purses her lips.  “Ehhh…”

“But you said you liked beards.”

“Yeah, on Indian men, not you.”

He deflates.  “You’ve been looking at other men?”

“Uh, yeah.  They’re half the population.  Would you rather I walk around in a blindfold?”

“N-no, that’s not what I meant, i-it’s just-”

“Hey!  Bug Boy!”  A voice shouts behind them.  “Gonna bring Rat-Hair to the party?”

It’s followed by bursts of laughter.  Spencer feels himself shrivel.  He takes Shravya’s hand and pulls her away.  It only makes the boys laugh harder.

“Don’t look at them,” he hisses.  Even as he says it, he turns.  Guy Mallory’s flanked by a few larger students, arms folded in clear contempt.

“What party are they talking about?”  Shravya asks.

“Some fancy banquet at Merton for the end of the year.  Every Eton kid’s expected.”

Shravya looks concerned.  “And you’re not going?”

“Why the fuck would I go?  Look at the company.  Guy, that pack of fools, and-”

“I hear Lord Cyril’s coming next week!”  Mallory shouts after them.  “Can’t wait to see the look on his face when you drag her through the door!  I’ll tell my mum to hide the bloody pearls!”

Spencer squeezes Shravya’s hand, walking faster.  They’re nearly at the College gates.  “He’s fishing for a response.  Just ignore him and - ”

Shravya’s hand trails away from his.  Spencer turns.  She’s staring at the stone floor, biting her lip. “Shravya?  Are you alright?”

“Hiding pearls…”  She blinks several times.  “Haven’t heard that one before.”

“Shravya, you know better than to listen to that arse.”

“Did you think like that?  When we first met?”  She looks at him with quiet, pleading eyes.  He offers a sympathetic smile back.

“Of course not.”  Spencer tugs her arm.  “Come on, let’s go.”

It takes several tries before she starts moving again, exhaling loudly.  “You had something you wanted to show me, right?”

“Yes!  But we have to keep it a surprise.”  He smirks.  “And since you mentioned blindfolds…”

“Can I take this off now?”  Shravya asks, grasping at the air as Spencer slowly guides her around.  She seems to be having fun, but it’s hard to be sure; a black cloth covers her forehead to the bridge of her nose.

“Not yet.  And no peeking.  Are your eyes closed, too?”

“Does it matter?”

“That’s not an answer~”

Shravya grumbles, to Spencer’s delight.  After a few more steps, he prods her to stop.  “Okay.  You can take it off… after you tell me how much you love me!”

“Spencer.”

“You have to say it!”

“I love you very much.”  Shravya unpins the cloth before he can give permission.  She blinks in the bright, cloudless sun, but as her eyes adjust, her entire expression shifts.  “... Holy shit.”

Before them stretches a tapestry of colour: bright yellows, reds, and purples, as far as they can see.  Ancient trees lean over finely carved stone fountains, and rows of sprinklers add a gorgeous mist to the world.  Spencer kneels by a shrub in bloom, attended by a handful of bumblebees.  Shravya gasps when one climbs onto his finger, but he lifts his hand carefully.

“It’s perfectly safe.”  He smiles, bringing it up to her eyes.  “They don’t sting.”

She watches in fascination as it takes off.  Spencer can’t hold back his grin.

“It’s not just the bees.  Dartwings, dragonflies, beetles.  They’re all coming out for the spring.”  His face collapses.  “Oh, shit, sorry. I-I shouldn’t be talking about bugs.  I know it’s buh-boring, but-”

“No, I like it.  In a… dorky way.”  She chuckles, then studies the gardens.  “Where are we?  I’ve never seen this before.”

“The University’s Botanical Gardens.  Oldest in the world!”

“Oh, shit, the school’s?”  Shravya frantically looks around.  “Spencer, you snuck us in, right?  The tickets are like forty quid.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.”

“No.  Turn around right now.  You might be bourgeois, but I am not letting you get ripped by our own bloody - ”

Her mouth hangs open when he flashes the cards in front of her.  In bold red letters, she can read: ‘Lifetime Membership Pass.’

He smiles impishly.  “Oops.”

“How much did that cost you?”

“Not enough for you to worry.  Look, I didn’t know your favourite flowers, so I opted for the biggest bouquet!”  He holds the placards out.  “For you…”

“Spencer, I really-”

“... and your sister.”  He watches Shravya freeze at his words.  “She deserves to see this. And if there’s anything else she deserves to see… you know where to find me.”

The hesitation vanishes, and Shravya snatches the cards, holding them to her chest.  “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Spencer smiles shyly.  “When I was a kid at Eton, I had a place like this.  A little patch of grass near the school grounds that I ran to whenever I could.  That’s where I found my… real friends.”

He waves to the flowers around them, and all the insects within.

“Bugs never cared about my stutter.  They never read the words people taped on my back.  They never saw me as anything but me.”  Spencer laughs, despite himself.  “God, this sounded way cooler in my head, but… I thought I lost that place, that comfort, forever.  Until I found you.  And if I can give you someplace that’s just as calm and quiet, I will give up anything.”

Shravya folds her hands together.  She’s smiling, but something about her expression is off.  “Spencer… there’s - ”

“Wait.”  Spencer pivots to her side, squinting at one of the trees and rushing ahead.  “Holy shit.  C’mon!”

“Spence?”  Shravya jogs after him.

“Shhhh.”  Spencer covers her mouth and points.  “Look.”

Shravya’s eyes grow wide when she sees the flex of tiny blue wings.

“A butterfly.  First of the season.”  He nudges her gently.  “Get up to it.  I wanna take a picture.”

Shravya gives him a look.  “With what camera?”

He shows her his hands, which he’s curled to mimic a frame.  Shravya snorts before running towards the tree.

“Quiet, quiet!”

“I am quiet,” she whispers back, leaning on the bark.  Her face is only a foot from the butterfly.  “How’s the shot?”

“Perfect.”  Spencer gives a thumbs-up.  “Now just hold still for a second, so I can…”

Shravya flashes a massive smile that melts his heart.

“... capture it.”

They’re on an old stone bridge overlooking the Thames, watching ducks wade through the water while they smoke cigarettes.  Christchurch Meadows is usually bustling, but as the sun sinks into the treeline, they’ve found a bastion to be alone.

Spencer drops his stub into the river first, pulling Shravya closer.  She looks pensively into the water, playing with her neon streak of hair.

“Spencer?  Can I ask you a…” she mulls the word.  “... weird question?”

“Always.”

“What’s it like?  Being rich?”  She never makes eye contact.  “Never having to count pennies.  Always getting whatever you wanted to get?”

It’s not the first time she’s asked something like this.  “Well, it’s all in perspective, right?  Polanyi says - ”

“I’m not asking Polanyi.”  She finally turns.  “I’m asking you.”

“You wanna know the truth?”  He searches her deep, brown eyes.  “Maybe I haven’t struggled like you have.  But in my mind, being rich doesn’t mean anything.  All that money is just a wall to keep ourselves from seeing each other.  From having to care.  At the end of the day, when it’s all stripped away, there’s nothing different between you and me.”

Shravya smiles sadly and takes a drag.  “I’d like to believe that.”

Then she looks back to the river, and doesn’t speak again.

Spencer squirms his way out of the crowded bookshop with a childish grin.  He’s holding a cheap, plastic bag with two copies of Atlas Shrugged.  It’s gonna be the perfect prank.  He hurries past the outdoor pubs, the trolley carts and horses, his eyes always on Tom Tower, on home, when-

“Spence.”  Spencer halts at the voice, too terrified to turn around.  But Guy Mallory approaches anyway, stepping into view with his usual knowing smirk.  “More gifts for Rat-Hair?”

Spencer grits his teeth.  “Get out of my way.”

“What’s the attitude for?  Man can’t check in on his friend?”

“We’re not friends, Guy.  I found better people.”

“You sure?”  Guy looks down at Spencer’s outfit.  “I never made you blow thousands of quid on ‘fresh garms’.”

Spencer pushes past him with his shoulder.  Guy’s shout follows into the street.  “Oh, sorry, Spence!  Didn’t realise Chairman GorbaShrav was waiting!”

“Will you leave her out of this!?”  Spencer drops the bag, turning on his heel.  “I know you think she stole your plaything, but I assure you, I want nothing-”

“She’s not who you think she is, Spencer.”  Mallory sounds stern.  “She’s filling your head with lies.”

“Not lies, Mallory.  They’re just ideas you don’t like!”  Spencer jabs a finger into his chest.  “Shravya’s opened my eyes.  She’s shown me what Britain really looks like out there.”

“You mean a Britain that fucking works?”  Guy leans in, too.  “Cry all you want, but people always suffer, Spencer.  If it’s not them, it’s us.  And better them, I say.  If they don’t like it, they can crawl back to their fucking home!”

“This is her home, you ass!  She’s lived here all her life!”

“You’re being used, Spencer!”  Guy frowns.  “She wants you to think you’re different, but to her, you’re just an easy mark.  She’s a Paki and a Marxist.  They call it ‘sharing wealth’, but they’re just grubby little thieves.”

Spencer scoffs, stepping back.  “That’s what you really think?  Heheh.  And to think I ever wanted to be your friend.”

Spencer turns around, picks up his bag, and walks away.  Guy doesn’t let up.  “Tell me I’m fucking wrong, Spencer!  If she really loves you, read books you wanna read!  Wear some clothes she didn’t pick out!  Speak with your fucking stutter!”

Spencer stalls, his breath hitching.  It takes all his energy just to keep his heart from leaping out of his chest.

“You won’t, will you?  No matter how much you love her, you’re never gonna stop being scared.”  He can feel Guy’s smirk.  “You know you’re gonna slip up.  Say something she doesn’t like, or push a little too quickly.  And then it all turns to ash, and she bolts right for the door.  Because that’s what the real Spencer’s like, yeah?  You’re just as fake as her.”

Spencer keeps walking, faster with each step.  Trying to outrun Mallory.  Trying to outrun the city.

Trying to outrun everything.

The bustle of the pub insulates the dining couple.  Spencer giggles anxiously as he cuts into his haddock.  “They’re sending out the new student leases.  Did you hear?”

“Mhm,” Shravya nods, shoving another bite of scampi into her mouth.  He’s pretty sure it’s the first she’s eaten all day.

“I was gonna get a Band F again.”  He keeps cutting his fish into smaller and smaller pieces.  “But then I remembered your… frustration with your walking times, and…”

He bites his lip.  Shravya’s only half-listening, but if Spencer doesn’t ask now…

“What do you think about renting an apartment?  With me?”

Shravya finally stops, looking up.  “What?”

“I’d cover it, of course.  A-And you’d have somewhere quiet to study!  I just think, puh-practically, it’d be a guh-good idea.  Right?”

Shravya looks into her plate.  The pause is too long.  “... it’s generous.  Don’t hear me wrong, I’m very grateful that you’d do that for me.  But - ”  His heart plummets.  “- I wouldn’t feel right -”

“Why do you always say that?”  Spencer asks.  “It’s my money to spend, isn’t it?  You’re always leading me on!”

Shravya gives him a bewildered look.  Fuck, fuck!  He’s said the wrong thing.  “Suh-suh-sorry!”  He sputters out.  “Thaaa’s… that’s not what I-”

“Um, excuse me?”  Someone asks behind him.  It’s the waitress, hovering awkwardly and looking aside.  “You asked for the bill?”

“Yes!”  Shravya lifts one hand and searches her bag with the other, pulling out the odd book.  “Just one moment.  I know I left it somewhere.”

“Let me handle it.”  Spencer lifts his wallet.

“No.  We’re splitting.  Spencer, I can pay.”

“Just let me fucking cover it!”  Spencer jolts, only realising the words after he utters them.  The pub’s energy goes quiet.  His eyes dim.

Fwwp!  Shravya finally pulls out her card.  She passes it to the waitress without making eye contact.  “Thank you.”

Spencer buries his face in his hands.  He tries muttering an apology, but his tongue feels heavy in his throat.

“Let’s just go home, Spence.  We’re tired.”

“I-IIIIII-”

“Spencer.  I’m not mad.”  Shravya places her hand on his shoulder, waiting until he looks up.  “I’ve been distant.  You’re upset about that.  You don’t feel heard.”

Spencer nods several times, quickly.  He lets her pet his hair.

“Well, I’m here now.  You have me all night.  So how about we do something…”  Shravya massages his shoulder.  “... relaxing?”

Spencer squeezes the pillow tight, curling into his bed.  Everything still feels hot, and his body is layered in sweat.  Shravya lounges naked on his swivel chair, smoking - she broke the smoke alarm long ago.

From the look on her face, neither one of them found this ‘relaxing’.

“Sorry.”  He tries to think of something better to say, but his mind completely flounders, so he simply repeats it.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she lies.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s okay to hurt me a little.”  She smiles sympathetically.  “I’d tell you if I wanted you to stop. Wouldn’t I?”

“You would.”  But would she?

Shravya flicks cigarette ash into his tea cup.  “Talk with me, priy.  Something’s bothering you.”

He buries himself deeper into the pillow.  “You won’t like it.”

“Spencer, I-”  Shravya’s voice briefly rises, before she sighs.  “Tell me anyway.”

He watches her through the cushions.  “Remember that field I mentioned in Eton?”

Shravya nods.  “With all the insects?”

“Guy Mallory found it.  That’s how we met.  He said he was always curious where I ran off to, since I never spoke with the other kids.  Asked if I needed a friend.”  Spencer chuckles.  “He was so curious about the insects, then.  Listened to me rant for hours about each and every one.”

Shravya slowly places herself back on the bed, listening intently.

“For a month, it was good.  I thought all those therapists’ advice was finally working.  But then…”  He closes his eyes.  “Mallory wanted to impress a group called the Popular Society.  Bunch of bullies, all of them.  I went to that field one day, and seven boys were waiting for me.  They pinned me to the ground, and… cheered Guy as he marched up with a bag full of insecticide.”

Shravya's face falls.

“He covered everything in it.  Even the grass was dying by the end.  And when the others left he knelt in the dirt with me, wearing that same horrible grin, and said: ‘Chin up, Spence.  I’m doing you a favour.  You can finally start hanging out with the normal kids.”

Spencer sniffles, his breathing heavy.  Shravya touches his arm in silence.

“I’m scared, Shravya.”  He continues, distantly.  “Not of Guy or what he did.  But… that nobody did anything about it.  I’m scared because he’s right.  He’s a monster, and that’s normal.  Exactly how the world wants him.  How it wants me.  And… and I’m not brave enough to stop hearing him when he talks about power.  To not feel… drawn to that.  I’m a coward.”

Shravya doesn’t speak for a long time.  Staring at him with the same intensity as that first night, so many nights ago.  “They’re the cowards, Spencer.  Not you.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think they go after you?  Or me?  Because we remind them that people don’t have to get hurt.  That there’s always another way.  And that’s poison to Mallory and men like him, because they feel that same draw, and they’ve already given in.  You’re not being beaten down because you're bad, Spence.  You’re beaten down because you remind them that they are.”

Shravya leans closer to Spencer’s face, until he can smell the lavender in her breath.

“I want you to do something for me.  Let’s go to that banquet together.  Mallory, your father, all of them.  Let’s shove our difference in their faces.”

“Sh-Shravya…”  Spencer’s stomach twists.  “Buh-but-”

She leans in and kisses his cheek.  “I’ll consider that apartment if you do this, Spencer.  Because I’ll know then that you see.”

He glows red and stops speaking.  Shravya rises gently from the bed, smiling down.

“You’ll never be the monster they want you to be, Spencer.  Not unless you let those voices win.”

She waltzes to the bathroom to dress.  Spencer tucks the pillow into his chest in her absence, already wishing she was still there.

And that the voices weren’t already winning.

Like all the dining halls at Oxford, Merton’s was ancient and pristine.  Centuries-old portraits peered down at pheasant dishes and trays of champagne.  Wizened old men whisper from elevated tables while students on long, ebony benches make messes of their silverware.  It only takes a few stares for Spencer to realise many of their jokes are about him.

But for once, he doesn’t really care.

Shravya looks absolutely stunning in a blue-and-gold sari they bought in London.  Her make-up makes all her best features shine.  He hasn’t bothered to check the high tables for his father.  If Cyril’s here, he’s definitely watching.

“Okay, okay,” he takes another long sip of wine.  “What makes the Romantic period so interesting are the emotions.  The range of dynamics is greater, the melody’s are stronger-”

“And yet…”  Shravya pretends to yawn.  “It’s so boring.”

He frowns.  “At least my music has more soul than whatever shit’s on the radio.”

“You are such a dweeb.”  Shravya starts giggling.  Spencer playfully scoffs.

“Oh please.  I’m not the one singing the year’s Top Bhangra Hits at the top of my lungs in my boyfriend’s shower.”

“Chup raho!  Shut the HELL UP!”  She nearly pushes him off the bench, laughing.  Spencer can’t help but join her.  Suddenly, his eyes bulge.

“Uh, Shravya, what’s the Hindi word for bathroom?”

She rolls her eyes.  “Gusalkhana.”

“Then I’m needed at the gusalkhana very quickly.”  He leaps out of his seat.  “Excuse me.”

The rush to the dining hall’s bathroom, and the immense relief he feels after, all swirl into a drunken rush.  As Spencer swipes paper towels from the dispenser, he can’t help but giggle to himself.  How many of these fancy evenings did he spend hiding away when he was little?  If they always felt like this, he can finally understand why his parents insisted on hosting them.

He shuffles through the door, stopping at a sudden pressure on his chest.  Someone’s hand?  His head’s spinning, but he can make out the blurry shape of -

Spencer steps back.  “Guy?”

“Spencer,” Guy waves a folder in his other hand.  “We need to talk about Shravya.”

“Fuck off!”  Spencer shakes his head, sobering quickly.  “If you try anything, I’ll-”

“This is a lot more fucking important than some petty school drama!”  Guy snaps, opening the folder.  “Look.  These are your bank statements.  Lord Cyril-”

“You’ve been talking to my father!?”  Spencer shouts, louder than he intended.  A few heads turn their way.

“He reached out to me because you won’t talk to him!”  Guy points to a highlighted part of the page.  “See these lines, Spencer?  If-”

“Spence?  What the hell is going on?”  They both turn to look at Shravya.  Her eyes widen when she sees the folder.

Guy glares at her.  “Spencer, send this bitch back to the fucking table.”

Spencer’s face sets.  “Call her a bitch again, Guy - ”

“She’s stealing from you, you idiot!”

“That’s not true!”  Shravya rushes to Spencer’s side and grapples his arms.  “Spencer, c’mon, let’s go-”

“He’s staying right here.”  Mallory hisses.  “I have fucking proof.”

“BULLSHIT!”  Shravya shouts, tugging Spencer’s arm.  “Spence, you’re not gonna believe him, are you?”

“I-”  Spencer sets his feet in, even as Shravya tries to drag him away.  “I-I… don’t…”

“If Spencer won’t deal with this, the police will.”  Mallory snarls.  “Don’t think you can run away from this, rat!”

“Rat?  Are you hearing him, Spencer!?  He’s just some prejudiced rich prick!”  She slides in front of Spencer, pulling his face to her eyes.  “Don’t you trust me?”

Spencer sputters, clawing for something to say.  Shravya yelps as Mallory pulls her off, pushing the folder into Spencer’s hands.  “Just read the fucking statements and-”

“NO!”  Shravya shoves against Guy, grabbing desperately for the papers.  “Spencer, he’s manipulating you!  He’s trying to get you back!”

“He’s not yours to have, you cunt!  Get off!”

Shravya heaves again, so forcefully that she pulls Guy down with her.  Her hand slaps the folder out of Spencer’s grips as she collapses, sending a flurry of papers into the air.

“Shravya!”

Spencer immediately rushes to her side, offering his hand, when his eyes dart to the page on her shoulder, and the little flicker of highlighted text.

‘27/12/99 £2.060’

He freezes, his eyes dropping further down.  ‘26/1/00 £2.050.’  ‘25/2/00 £2.070.’  ‘25/3/00,’ ‘24/4/00.’  Always exactly thirty days apart.

And always for the same amount.

“Look at the first date, Spencer.”  Guy gets up and tosses another sheet at Spencer’s feet.  “Sound familiar?”

September 28th, 1999.  It was a Saturday.  The one right after he visited Shravya’s house.

“Sixteen thousand pounds overall.”  Guy spits.  “I counted for you.”

Shravya stares at the floor, silent and trembling.

Spencer has to hold the wall to keep himself steady.  Something’s ringing in his ears.  “Sh-Shravya?”  He can barely stomach the words.  “Were you… you stole from me?”

“I… It’s my sister!”  Her breaths are rapid and ragged, and she doesn’t look up from the floor.  “Th-the bar wouldn’t give me a raise, but she needed her meds!  I had to do something!”

“Why didn’t you ask!?”  Spencer shouts.

“I was gonna tell you!  I swear!  But-but I didn’t because-”

“- she thought lifting from a retard would be easy.”  Guy interrupts.  “I warned you, Spencer.  I told you what would happen without me.  They all think you’re a freak!”

“NO!”  Shravya bounds to Spencer, grabbing for his hand.  “Spencer, I’m going to make it right!  That’s why I’m taking extra shifts.  I’m doing everything I can - ”

“ - to stay away from you.”  Mallory finishes.

“Stop it!”  Shravya shouts.  “He doesn’t care about you, Spencer, he’s trying to get rid of me, can’t you see that?!”

“Sh-Sh-Shravya…”  Spencer looks down at the sobbing girl, his mouth trembling.  “Did you… e-ever love me?”

He sees the flash across her face.  The hesitance.  And it’s the only answer he would ever need.

“I… I love you now!”  Shravya sniffles.  “That’s what matters!”

“She loves your money.  Your power.”  Mallory smirks mirthlessly.  “Should have listened, Spence.”

“You’re not like them!”  She clutches at his arm.  “That’s why I’ve stayed!”

“Get off me!”  Spencer starts to pull away. Shravya starts pleading something, and it’s more than he can bear.  “GET OFF!”

He shoves her away, rebounding into the wall.  The room closes in around him.  Mallory’s eyes are alight with triumph; tears run down Shravya’s cheeks.

“You don’t get to play around anymore, Spence!  Tell the bitch off, or Lord Cyril will charge you with her!”

“They’ll get me kicked out of school!  Please!  I’m sorry!  I had to protect her!”

“Spencer!”

“Spencer!”

“SPENCER!”

Spencer’s eyes dart between the two, and then to the crowd beyond.  The Balliol kids, the school leaders, they’re all watching.  He can even see the piercing blue eyes of his father.

“Don’t fucking stutter.”  Mallory hisses.  “Not this time.”

A whimper comes from his mouth.  The papers rattle in his hands.  But Spencer lowers his head, closes his eyes…

… and speaks loud and clear.

“Knew you’d pull through in the end.”

Mallory pats him firmly on the back.  Spencer recoils at the touch, still staring at the open exit door.  “I… I just called her…”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it.  Her sort of people always need a little prodding.”  Mallory shoves the folder into Spencer’s hands before kneeling down to scoop up loose pages.  “Let’s get these back to your father.”

Spencer blinks a few times vacantly, before dropping down to join him.

“Balliol kids saved a spot for you.  More understanding now, I think you’ll win them over easy.”  Mallory smirks.  “Who knows?  Some of the older boys are already promising to put forward my name in the Tory list.  In a few years, we could both be MPs-”

“Wait.”  Spencer squints at the page he’s holding.  “What’s this?”

Mallory glances, then shrugs.  “Ah.  Deposits.  Look, I wouldn’t worry about dealing with her mess-”

“Holy shit.”

Spencer double-checks the lines.  Two hundred pounds here, three hundred pounds there.  All tossed in haphazardly, once every couple weeks, but consistent.  Every single highlighted line is a bank transfer from the same IBAN.

“She’s paying it back.”  The page wavers in his hands.  “She’s really paying it back.”

Guy gives an unconcerned shrug.  Spencer flares.

“You knew.”  Spencer’s brows furrow.  “You set her up!”

“Stop being a tool, Spencer.  She still robbed you.  Not covering anything near the full amount-”

“But she’s still trying!  She didn’t lie!  And if she’s telling the truth, that means she…”  Spencer’s eyes grow wide.  “Oh my God.  What… what have I-”

“Spencer, quit the fucking moping and get a goddamn grip!”  Mallory leans close, frowning.  “You two were never going to work.  You think your dad would accept a bunch of brown grandkids?  You ought to be thanking me for the fucking-”

Spencer slams his fist into Mallory’s face.

By the time Guy picks himself off the floor, he’s already bolting through the doors.

Night has fallen over Christchurch Meadows, the Thames’ waters reflecting the light of the moon.  The park is entirely abandoned, its animals long asleep.  Spencer jumps the fence to get in, sprinting frantically through the mud and grass.  Not stopping, never stopping, until…

He hears her, in the distance.  Choked, painful weeping.

Shravya is standing on the old stone bridge, her sari torn and ragged.  She freezes the moment she hears Spencer’s footsteps.

“You.  Back for more?”

She tries to set her face into anger, but it only makes her look more afraid.

“Shravya, I saw the deposits.”  Spencer lifts his hands.  “I’m so sorry.”

“That doesn’t take back what you said.  What you really think!”

“NO!”  Spencer shakes his head.  They were watching him, expecting him to say those things.  He never had a choice.  Doesn’t she understand?  He takes a few steps closer.  “I-I’ll make it up to you, I swear-”

“That’s close enough!”  She shouts, stiffened.  “I don’t want you near me.  Ever again.”

Spencer stops.  His heart is racing.  “Shravya?”

“We’re done.”  She forces the words out.  “I have to deal with the school, the police, your father, and I… I’m so tired, Spence.  I’m so tired of… doing this!”

“No.”  He’s breathing faster than air can move.  “Y-y-y-you have to give me another ch-ch-chance.  Y-y-you can’t hate me!”

“Stop saying I hate you!”  Shravya buries her face in her hands.  “Every time I say no.  Every day I’m too busy.  You freak yourself out, you put me on the spot, and it’s driving me CRAZY!  WHY WON’T YOU FUCKING TRUST ME!?”

“I’m sorry!”  Spencer’s hands grapple to his head.  “I’m stupid, I’m bad!  I know, I know, I KNOW!”

“Stop it!  Don’t play for pity when…”  Shravya’s breath shrivels when Spencer shuffles towards her.  “Spencer, I said get back.”

“I’ll change!  I’ll be better!  I’ll do whatever you want!”  He looks at her, pleadingly.  “I can get you into politics.  I’ll read all your books.  Y-you can have my money - ”

“I don’t want your money!  I’m not your fucking whore!  I only stole…”  She shudders, leaning into the stone railings. “... I just want you to stop pretending!”

“I’m not!”

“You always are!”  Shravya shouts.  “One mask after another, over and over and over!  Why can’t you be you!?  Spencer, you need HELP!”

“Then help me!  PLEASE!”  He’s almost on top of her.  “I need you here.  Without you, I can’t do this.  I can’t be alone!”

Spencer reaches forward, grabbing Shravya by her arms.  She shouts, but he covers her lips with his own, kissing as deeply as he can.  Her legs begin to thrash, and she starts scratching his skin with her long, sharpened nails.

But he’s not hurting her.  He just wants her to listen.  He just wants her to stay.

Spencer pushes her deeper into the bridge, and she pulls her head free.  “SPENCER, SPENCER!  Mujhe jaane do, mujhe jaane do!  LET ME - mmmpphhh.”

Spencer pulls her into another kiss, whispering between his breaths.  “I love you, I love you, I love you, I - hrk!”

His arms slacken.  His vision blurs and his ears start ringing.  Distantly, he looks at Shravya’s face, filled with tears and smeared make-up.  She’s holding a loose piece of stone.

Something drips over his eye.

Spencer tries to speak with her, to plead with her, but his tongue feels frozen in place.  “Shhhhhrrrraaaaaaa-”

She tears into the Meadows at the same time that he slides off the railing and starts to fall.

Spencer’s only able to move when the water submerges him, but he chooses not to.  It’s cold, and deep, and murky, but the current of the Thames still pulls him away.

Far, far away.

His tears mingle with the puddles around him, drying in the sunlit grass.  He doesn’t remember the sunrise, or pulling himself from the river, stumbling into the gardens, and curling up against this tree.  Everything is a blurry mass of betrayal and pain.  In those few moments when the tears stop, he tries to move, tries to plan.  But in planning, he thinks of her.  And then he inevitably falls back into crying.

The sun now rises past the tree line; warm air whips the petals and flower stems.  It’s all so quiet, and beautiful, and he can’t enjoy a sliver of it.  He’d hoped.  He’d dreamed.  He’d dared to think this time was real.

And not what he knew it always would be.

He’s not sure why he opens his eyes.  Something pulling at him, some sense he can’t place.  Antennae brush against his damp trousers, hair-thin legs tap along his knee.  The butterfly twitches her wings, ready to fly away.  Bold and piercing, the same colour as his eyes.

With a sudden jerk, his hand reaches out, plucking her wing.  The butterfly tries to flap fruitlessly away from him, but he only pulls her closer, ignoring the scratch.

Polyommatus icarus.  A Common Blue.  So small, and simple, and beautiful for it.  A beauty to awe.

To love.

To keep.

Toulon, France

21 Years Later

He grips the fountain tightly, never looking at his wife.  Daphne balances on her heels, clutching her bag.  She doesn’t need to speak for him to hear her thoughts.  He knows if the magic allowed her, she’d already sprint away.

She frowns.  “Why is Mallory still here?”

Spencer forces himself up so she can see his face.  It’s the only answer he can give, and it still makes him feel weak.  But he’s too exhausted to tell himself that showing isn’t okay.

Daphne nods slowly.  Her lack of reaction terrifies him.  “I’m going back to talk with him.  I’ll tell him that I know, and he needs to set up the interview.”

Something shifts when he hears those words.  “Daphne-”

“Spencer.”  She looks at him seriously.  “There’s no way out of this for you without my help.”

Spencer’s muscles turn stiff, and his mind barks out resistance, but he falls silent.  It’s the only way, even if it hurts her.  “Thank you.”

Daphne doesn’t reply, instead turning back towards the opera house.  She only manages a few steps before he calls out.  “Darling?”

He can see the effort it takes her to stay.

“You believe me, right?”  He sniffles.  “You know what I’ve done and what I haven’t.  Don’t you?  Please?”

She half-turns back to him, pale and sharp like the marble statues around them.  Her words leave a cramp in his gut that lasts for days.

“I don’t know what to believe.”

continue reading -> 

Hey, guys!  It’s Lehanna!

One of my favourite aspects of this section is that none of the characters are exactly right or exactly wrong.  But what are your thoughts?  Was Shravya justified in saving her sister?  Does Mallory still cling to his bigoted beliefs?  And does this tale add to Spencer’s crimes, or has it changed the way you see him?

Regardless, Spencer and Daphne’s journey continues, but they’re about to face one of their biggest adversaries.  Fine out who and how in Chapter 18: A Better Offer, coming next Friday, November 10th.  See ya then!