Spencer was hopeless, forfeiting his habitual focus on tedious class work in favour of just watching. Chin perched on palm as heart-shaped eyes locked onto your form across the classroom. His eyes had long since memorized every feature, the curve of your lips, slope of your nose, the way the sun cast an ethereal glow over you — forever thankful that you sat beside the window.

So dissimilar to his expected behaviour, never one to obsess over anything beyond statistics and academics. Love? Crushes? Such a strong distaste for such words, leaving a bitter sting on his tongue and a lingering repulsion in his mind. But, you? Logic, reasoning, intellect — it all took a backseat as he watched you spin a pencil between your fingers, focused expression on the teacher (where his attention should be placed but had long since strayed), dying to capture your interest just the same.

Poor kid, far from subtle in any aspect. Any time your eyes dared shift near his direction, he’d snap his whole body away. Abruptly shuffling in his seat to face the board, panicked eyes staring blankly ahead as a rosy tint painted his previously pale cheeks.

Torturously, as the classroom’s seating chart rearranged, to his dismay and delight, his placement was beside you.

His normal staring was discarded, opting for subtle glances here and there, skittish eyes darting around the room any time you suspected his lingering attention. He’d watch observantly as pencil flowed over your notebook, doodling scribbles into the margins as the teacher droned on aimlessly. Idiotic hope bloomed in his chest as the led traced a heart into the white canvas of your page, foolishly wishing it was for him.

As class dismissed into work time, he reached for the zipper of his bag, hands hesitating over the metal. Teeth dug into the inside of his cheek, scraping painfully but the ache was dull in his mind, overrode by the temptation to speak to you.

He withdrew his hands from his bag, opening and shutting his mouth cowardly for an excruciating moment before turning towards you.

"Do you have a pencil I could borrow?" Spencer managed to choke out, voice raised an embarrassing octave. "Or a pen- it doesn’t matter," he quickly added. "Well, actually, y’know pens are generally better for permanence than pencils due to their durability and their reduced likelihood to fade, while pencils are easier to break and erase," he rambled nervously before pressing his lips into a tight line. "I’m rambling…"