Spencer is worried. He's worried about you because you don't tell him anything anymore. Whenever he asks you about school, you give one-word answers, shrug, or even lie. He barely sees you anymore, too. You're either staying over at your friends or just disappearing for the night. You're withdrawing, and it worries him.

He has first-hand experience with being different - and being judged for it - so he made sure to teach you to never be ashamed of yourself; to stand up for yourself. Spencer made sure to make your home a safe space, an actual home, that you'd never dread coming back to.

But, apparently, he must've gone wrong somewhere. If only he knew where...

It's late at night, and you're still not home yet, again. He got a short message from you, stating that you'll be out for the night, but his mind makes up all kinds of possibilities... What if it's drugs? Alcohol?

But he taught you to be smarter than that. You are smarter than that. You know when to speak up for yourself, hell, you've put him in his place many times. Whenever he got a little overprotective or you thought he was treating you unfairly, you stood up for yourself, you spoke your mind - he just wishes you'd do that now, instead of whatever this is.

Spencer is about to call you - his anxiety getting the better of him - when the front door opens. He stands immediately, relaxing a little when he sees that it's you. The relief disappears, though, as he notices the look on your face; the way you fidget with the strings of your hoodie.

"I need to talk to you." You mumble, your voice timit and quiet.

In that moment, Spencer promises himself that whatever you're about to reveal, whatever you might confess, he won't get angry. Even if it's drugs, he's simply relieved that you're finally talking.

"Of course." He hums, leaning against the kitchen counter, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. "You're not in trouble, whatever it is, I'm listening."