Chapter Text
“Whatever you’re planning to ask, it’s a no.”
Spencer doesn’t even glance up from his textbook at the sound of Benji’s resigned, dramatic groan. His pen keeps moving across the margin of the page, jotting down equations. His roommate in question flops down onto the couch like an overgrown cat next to him, his brown hair falling in his face.
“You didn’t even let me say anything!” Benji throws one arm over his face dramatically.
“That’s because I know you well enough to understand your question will be a waste of my time.” Spencer replies, his voice calm.
“Dude, you haven’t left the house in a week! What the hell have you even been doing?” Benji complains, tilting his head up to stare at him through the thick lenses of his glasses.
“I have left the house.” Spencer nods evenly, his tone clipped, turning a page of the schoolbook with his fingers. “Several times, in fact.”
There’s a suspicious pause.
Then, a “When?”
“To attend my classes.”
Another moment of silence. Spencer doesn’t need to look up to feel the expression of disappointment currently blooming on Benji’s face. Finally, he huffs.
“How does that even count? Your classes are mandatory!” His intonation takes on a whiny lilt that unfortunately grates on Spencer’s eardrums.
“It does count, though. I interacted with people. Breathed fresh, pure air. Therefore—“
“Oh my god.” Benji interrupts, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re unbearable sometimes.”
Spencer hums faintly, which, for him, is basically a celebration. “I have midterms approaching. All I’m doing is simply prioritizing.”
Benji stares at him for a long moment.
Then he leans forward, elbows on his knees, expression sharpening with sudden determination.
“Nope. No way. I refuse to watch you turn into some kind of ghost in an haunted library.”
“I am not—”
“You are,” Benji cuts in immediately. “You’ve got the pale thing down already. Give it another week and you’ll start rattling chains.”
Spencer exhales slowly through his nose, closing his book with a soft thunk. He sets it aside on the table with exact alignment, as though even his irritation needs to be organized.
“What,” he asks, voice mildly annoyed, “do you want, Benji?”
His roommate’s entire demeanor shifts instantly.
It’s almost impressive.
Benji’s expression brightens like the sun after a rainy day. He leans towards Spencer, voice eager. “Okay. So. There’s this band playing tonight—”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what band—”
“It doesn’t matter what band,” Spencer cuts in smoothly, already picking his pen back up. “My answer remains unchanged.”
“It’s local!” Benji insists. “Like, very local. Indie scene, small venue, super cool vibe—Tristan’s coming too! It’ll be fun! Please, Spenc! Just this once!”
The raven haired man stays silent, almost like he’s considering. Then he sighs. “…It’s gonna be loud. And suffocating. That’s not exactly my type of environment.”
“Who cares, man! You can let loose this one time!”
Spencer finally looks up. His minty green eyes hold a faint hint of reluctance. Eventually, he exhales. “Fine. One hour.” He mutters. “Then I’m leaving.”
Benji whoops loudly, reaching across the couch to pull his roommate into a tight hug. “I knew you’d cave in!” He beams. “Make sure to wear something nice! Trust me, you won’t regret this!”
Spencer groans. “Believe me, I already am.”
—
The bar is exactly what Spencer expected. And worse.
It’s noisy, extremely noisy. The kind of noise that seeps into your bones slowly, and refuses to leave. Music, words, the sound of ice clinking in a glass.
It vibrates in his body like a drumroll. And not a pleasant one.
It’s also very, very crowded. The kind of crowd that leaves you no room to breathe, and makes you feel like it’s backing slowly into your chest, squeezing like a vise and leaving you no room to breathe.
Spencer hates it. It makes him wonder why he even agreed to this in the first place. Then he remembers the thirty minute long conversation with his leech of a roommate.
He adjusts his glasses as him, Benji and Tristan step inside. The neon lights hit him immediately, same for the scent of cheap alcohol and fried appetizers.
“This is mediocre.” Spencer comments under his breath, looking off to the side in hopes of finding a quiet corner.
“Oh, relax, will you?” Benji says, already scanning the crowd. “It hasn’t even started yet.”
The brown haired man proceeds to rapidly blend in the crowd along with Tristan, his stance light and confident. They both greet people, make small talk, like it comes natural.
Spencer, on the other hand, follows behind them like a puppy attempting to find the owner it’s lost. He stands stiff, hands in his pockets, looking like he’d rather be attending a funeral.
Embarassing, even for him, but he can bear it. Just for an hour.
He’s just about to excuse himself for some fresh air when the lights dim. The crowd starts murmuring, and the speakers make a scratching noise, like they’ve just been activated.
A distinct female voice with a South-American accent speaks up, her voice echoing through the bar.
“Hello, everyone! And it is such a pleasure to see you all tonight!”
Spencer glances up briefly. His breath catches in his throat.
“My name is Rosa Maria, for those of you who don’t know me! I’m so glad to be here! Let’s enjoy ourselves!”
His usually sharp, analytical brain just… stops working for a second. Because around him, everything has stopped.
Not literally. The music continues playing, the crowd continues cheering, but Spencer’s perception fractures, narrows.
On the stage, there is perhaps the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in his entire life.
Purple hair catching the light like a flame. Pink streaks flashing as she moves. There’s an ease to her presence, a confidence that isn’t forced. The microphone fits in her hand like it was always meant to be there.
She wears a stunning leather jacket that seems to glow in the dark, and high, spiked boots that frame her legs perfectly.
She grins sharply, and launches into the first line.
Her lovely voice cuts through everything, accompanied by the melody of the bass, guitar, and drums. It makes Spencer briefly forget how to breathe.
Because this is a problem. A bad one, too. His mind scrambles to analyze, categorize. It fails terribly.
He watches the way she moves, the way she commands the room without effort, the way the crowd bends toward her like she’s the center of something inescapable.
She laughs mid lyrics, a beautiful sound that rings in his ears like tinkling bells. But instead of apologizing, she leans into it, her expression radiant.
Somewhere in the back of his head, the realization hits Spencer like a slap to the face.
He’s falling in love at first sight. Like his usual.
He closes his eyes briefly, tilting his head back and letting the music sway him. Once he opens them again, she’s still there. Still looking like an angel.
Benji looks over at him, his smile charming. “Having fun?”
He nods back wordlessly. His heart feels too tight to form a proper response. His thoughts are swimming. Forming sentences feels useless now.
Unfortunately, this will be a problem. Won’t it?