far from home | spidey

[Sydney Lamont]

Early September, 1963
From Here

She didn't know who initiated it, whether it was him or her. In the long run, it didn't really matter. Syd would forever remember this part of it; her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her fingers clinging to his hair, her lips pressed against Spencer's for the first time.

Her eyes were closed because that's how kisses were supposed to be. While it wasn't her first kiss, it was the first one that took her breath away. She pulled away, face flushed in a sheet of red. She swallowed air by the mouthful, then smiled and leaned in again.

This time, she was sure it was her who wanted more.

[Spencer Callander]

It happened so fast that he barely understood what was happening until their lips collided, guided together by the pull of some invisible string, the push of months and months of thinking of nothing but this. The important thing was that it was happening. And, quite unlike his last attempt, this wasn't half bad.

In fact, it was absolutely, perfectly, earth-shatteringly wonderful.

It was over too soon and they pulled away. Spencer's face was a perfect mirror to Sydney's reddened complexion, and he could feel a grin cracking his cheeks wide.

"Uh-" But he didn't have time to think of anything to say—and what could he possibly say in a moment where his lips were so intent on getting back to kissing—before Sydney was leaning in again and Spencer, too, fell giddily, dizzily in.

[Sydney Lamont]

The seconds pooled into minutes and then time lost all meaning.

Under the shade of the thin tree, sunshine breaking through its swaying limbs like water through cracks forming on a dam, Sydney never knew she needed something more than what Spencer was offering her. She'd offered this before, told him he could kiss her because it was Spencer and why not? However, given the chance to later reflect, she would know that this felt a bit diffrent that she could ever intend.

Sure, when she fantasized about her first snog session it wasn't Spencer who she pictured. But, reality had a funny way of surprising you. She didn't realize his lips were so soft, that he could get her heart pounding so loud.

She would forever be a happy person, but Syd knew she was happiest with him.

Late September

Tilly had told her that snogging didn't mean nothing.

Sydney took the advice whole heartedly and stopped overthinking these outings that were becoming a constant part of her week. She didn't dwell on when exactly kissing Spencer had become a hunger, that she could only go so much time before pulling him aside and allowing him to leave her breathless. She turned believing that things hadn't really changed between them into her reality and anything else was just a fleeting thought quickly tossed aside.

They were still best friends. He was still the person she turned to first, second, and last. So, when she dragged him away to an empty stairwell to snog, she did so happily and didn't think twice about her motivations or what it truly meant.

Late October

They were holding hands down the halls of the East Bailey. It wasn't a rare sighting. Anyone who noticed the pair for the past five years would have seen such a thing before often enough not to be left with their gaze lingering, wondering what it meant for the pink-haired witch and the rosy-cheeked wizard.

"I think I'm gonna get a meat pie before class," she stated, smiling up at the tall boy. This was her free period, after all, while he had Arithmancy to skitter off to.

"Want me to save you anything from the kitchens for when you get free?"

[Spencer Callander]

In Charms class, the following day

Paying attention was difficult on a good day, but on the day after the very best of days, it proved downright impossible. The Professor's lecture, questions and answers from fellow students, the patter of rain against the windows—they were all just a buzz in the periphery of his awareness. Again and again he tried to focus his eyes on the Professor until they moved back to a divot in the wall's stones. And when he tried to read through his textbooks, all he saw was Sydney, Sydney, Sydney, Sydney kissed me.

He hoped he could kiss her again.


He did. He kissed her again, and he kissed her a lot. As often as he could. And every time, it was a baffling thing. That she'd let him. That more often than not, it was she who took the initiative to lean in. That she seemed to enjoy it just as much as he did.

More than once, the thought crossed his mind that he must have died and gone to heaven, because this was too good to be true.

He traced his thumb along the side of her hand. Tiny gestures like these, more than anything, were what, to him, made the difference between being friends and being a couple—more still than the kissing. The smiles, the small moments of tenderness, the kind consideration of smuggling food for one another—those were the things he treasured most of all.

As if in response to her question, his stomach growled.

"I wish I could go with you," He said, despondent. Spencer did not want to go to Arithmancy class. Then, suddenly, he perked up. "You know what? I will go with you. I'm gonna skip class." The pronouncement was made with no small measure of pride. All that kissing had imbued him with a new sense of daring. 

[Sydney Lamont]

"What? Really?!" She was rather surprised despite sounding quite enthused with the idea. She didn't think Spencer do be some delinquaint who skipped class. Actually, he was usually the one who saved her notes when she skipped, a habit she was trying to shed but couldn't when she got tied up chasing butterflies in the garden or braiding Tilly's hair or other very important things.

"Are you sure?" She asked because Professor Proud was a terror, because she didn't want to be the reason he might get in trouble, because she would never reject him the opportunity to spend time with her no matter what her concern might be.

"Not that I don't want you to, obviously, I--" then he kissed her and shut her up.

The meat pies were delicious, when they finally got to them.

December
Days Before The Break

"Were you planning on writing?" She whispered it to him, keeping her voice quiet because she'd already been sternly shushed by a neighboring table trying to study in the library for talking too loud. Not that she'd stop talking, because studying was a game of dwindling patience before she needed a distraction, but had decided to lower her voice out of respect and decency.

"While on break? Not that you don't or wouldn't or, uhhh--" she sighed, disgruntled from failing to get her sentiment in line. "--I just, I'll just miss ya is all." She'd found herself rather dependant on Spence this term, far more than in years past. It wasn't just that he was her snogging partner, though she'd miss that too without it for two weeks. It was more that she constantly found her friends too busy.

Tilly was never around lately. Cress was prioritizing potions like her future depended on them (as they should, but Syd couldn't be bothered). Roo was, well, Roo. That was far too complicated a topic to unravel for her, one that made her stomach twist like a pretzal. But, in all that tumultuous time, Spencer had picked up the slack as a friend and she was truly grateful for it. It was always easy, uncomplicated, perfect.

Plus, he was a surprisingly great kisser.

"Are you going to miss me?"

[Spencer Callander]

Based on what he'd read in his comic books and witnessed with his own eyes in the halls of Hogwarts, Spencer had expected their relationship to be fraught with rather more trials and tribulations. But so far, everything had been drama free—no arguments, no misunderstandings, no untimely hostage situations.

In the end, he rather preferred it that way. Sometimes real life could be better than his stories.

"Were you planning on writing?"

He lifted his head from the textbook he'd been trying and failing to study, his heart skipping a beat. Because he'd been wanting to ask her something for a while, he just hadn't quite mustered up the courage he needed to actually go ahead and ask. Now, though, she had handed him an opportunity on a silver platter.

"I am going to miss you," He admitted, mollified to the point of almost missing his chance. "Or, uh, I would, but I was kinda hoping you might want to come visit me? And my family?" Something he never would have dared do with his old family, but it felt nice to dare with the new. "I could introduce you to everyone, and you'll love Delia's cooking!"

[Sydney Lamont]

"Oh!" This felt like a big step. Sydney had always been curious to how Spencer spent his time home. She had worried far more when it was with his muggle father who didn't like magic, far less now that he was secure with people that genuinely cared for him. Not that a father wouldn't; she'd know how it felt to have to live with a parent that thought they were doing what was right but going about it all wrong.

"That'd be lovely. I'd need to ask permission but it shouldn't be a problem. They know you!" Well, they knew of him. Her mother had inundated her with a variety of peppered requests for details and quickly grew bored with Syd's rambling story-telling. They were the wrong sort of details, apparently, which she could never seem to get right.

Eunice was less curious and she wouldn't have gotten much out of the Hufflepuff anyway. She'd find a way to ruin it if she could. The further you stayed away from her sister, the better off you'd be.

"Would it just be for the day? That might be easier. Obviously it's not like we're dating but they still might not like me going to a boy's home out of their supervision. I remember Eunice not being able to even bring boys over until she was an adult." She was laughing until she saw his face, which cut her mirth short.

"Wait. What's wrong?" Was it something she said?

[Spencer Callander]

Spencer was allowed a few seconds of excitement—a happiness that ebbed from the tips of his toes to the brightening edges of his ears—before his world came tumbling down altogether.

Obviously it's not like we're dating

Obviously

He tried to mull over the words, to twist them this way and that until he could wring some sense from them, but he couldn't. When that didn't work, he tried replaying the past few months in his mind, trying to decipher where his perceptions had gone so terribly wrong, but she seemed to catch on before he could unearth even the barest clue.

Spencer paled, trying to come up with an excuse, but coming up short there, too. In the end, though, he opted for honesty. Therein, he hoped to find his answers.

Bashful, embarrassed, and rather hurt, he said, quietly, "I thought we were dating."

[Sydney Lamont]

The growing worry on her face, mirroring his own abject shift that riddled her with fear, became apparent to her when he spoke, and her world shattered like painted glass. Sydney couldn't name the feelings swirling within her as she tried to piece herself back together. All she could hear were those words echoing back at her.

"I thought we were dating."

"I thought we were dating."

"I thought we were dating."

"I..." She remembered the conversation she had with her roommates, both of them on two separate occasions. Snogs didn't mean relationships. They didn't mean change. Who they were, Spencer and Sydney, didn't have to change just because they had added kissing into what they did, right?

She'd believed as much, but she could feel looking at him then that they had. Somewhere along the way, they had stopped being on the same page. But for how long? When they started kissing? Before? After? It was overwhelming, her face growing flush as if she'd just contracted a high fever.

And in the library of all places.

"I'm sorry," was all she could muster to say as she shied her face away and began grabbing her things.

[Spencer Callander]

While Spencer Callander had never, ever espoused his father's values, there were certain things that felt fundamental to him, like simple facts of life rather than the word of God. Namely, that when boys and girls kissed, it meant they liked each other, and if they liked each other, they should probably become boyfriend and girlfriend before kissing more.

He couldn't quite remember if they'd ever actually discussed it, but it had seemed so natural, so obvious to him that he'd never quite felt the need to make sure.

As it turned out, that was a terrible mistake.

Sydney Lamont's retreating figure was evidence of that, at least.

The following day
The Hufflepuff table, lunch

The journey from Magical Law to the greenhouses and back to the Great Hall seemed longer than he remembered. When he arrived at the Hufflepuff table, he was out of breath, flecks of snow beginning to melt in his unkempt hair and on the shoulders of his coat. In his hand, he held a mismatched bouquet of roses, geraniums, lilies of the valley, and one lone orchid, outstretched toward one very important pink haired Hufflepuff.

Perhaps she was right—if they had been dating, he might have known her favourite flower.

He could rectify that now, just after he fixed this other pesky problem.

"Sydney Lamont," Spencer declared, still panting. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

[Sydney Lamont]

"Are you really going to keep it pink all term?" She asked, not at all questioning the irony of her asking anyone else that particular question. It seemed Roo had not simply done it to get her attention, or to provoke her. He genuinely liked it and had kept it going for weeks now. 

She resisted the urge to give it a soft pull to know that it was real.

"Should I change mine or, wait, what is it?" Sydney turned her head to follow the sight of her friend's, if that's what they were, gaze as they widened in surprise. Spencer was fast approaching, looking like he'd just come from outside. He appeared very determined. She prided herself in knowing such things, as it was the exact face that had visited her dreams the evening prior as she made herself sick thinking about all that had transpired.

The flowers she noticed next and the realization of everything slammed into her before he opened his mouth. Now, Sydney had given this a lot of thought in the day that had passed. Spencer was the most important person in her life. And she did very much enjoy kissing him. And he did treat her better than anyone else ever had and far more than she deserved. She never took it for granted either and had done her part in telling him as much, gifting him as much, writing lovely notes to him to show her appreciation for him as a person-- though, in retrospect, she could understand why he could have taken that all to mean what he had thought it did.

Except, when he finally asked, when the crushing weight of his request bore down on her, Sydney looked around at the faces of her housemates and back at Spencer. She would have very much preferred to talk this out in private. In lieu of that, she slowly shook her head.

"I... I can't."

[Spencer Callander]

He faltered, and so did his arm, bending ever so slightly inward. He could feel his heart breaking, but still, he grasped on to the last tethers of hope he could reach.

For all the make-believe that consumed his thoughts, dreams, and ambitions, Spencer refused to believe that these past few months had been nothing but a fabrication on his part. That every smile, every kiss, every tender moment was nothing but a flight of fancy from an imagination gone rabid.

In his hands, the flowers twitched.

"But I love you…"

Though he hadn't spoken loudly, Spencer felt suddenly acutely aware of all the eyes and ears in their vicinity.

[Sydney Lamont]

His pain was her pain.

The subtle twitch of his hand rippled through her like needles prodding her skin. She hated seeing it, burning her cheeks at having to reject the proposition for reasons she couldn't pinpoint more than a painful feeling in her gut at committing to the word, the label. Whenever she talked of them, she talked of forever. But, as she had noted, relationships ended. For all the joy she found in life, for all her own self-doubt she swallowed in believing she'd never be enough, here stood Spencer telling her she was.

She couldn't accept it.

"I lo--" she stopped herself and reached to grab the flowers. "These are lovely Spencer, but," she heard snickers around her, and the reddening of her cheeks spread to the rest of her face. Syd could already hear the whispers, the rumor mill spreading from mouth to mouth as this come-to-life nightmare was playing out in front of her.

She had a choice to make. Either she hurt Spencer or she hurt herself. For the first time in her life it seemed, at a tumultuous time she wouldn't be able to forget, Sydney chose herself.

"You don't love me, Spencer. You can't. Not like that, I--" the sigh that escaped her sucked all the fight out of her. "Can we please talk about this, um," she looked around for a moment, evading anyone's direct line of sight, "Not here, in front of everyone?" Syd was pleading, a hand extending to reach for his.

[Spencer Callander]

"I lo--"

There was a rise.

"These are lovely Spencer, but,"

And a fall.

Because there was always a but, and beneath all this soul crushing sadness, Spencer felt anger stir. Not only because he was losing something so good, because the curtain had been pulled on such a fantastic bit of theatre, but because Sydney was denying him on the premise that his words—his feelings—weren't true.

That stung just as much as outright rejection. It stung differently, but it stung all the same.

"I do, I—" But he stopped, because she was right about one thing, at least. They could do without these people, ogling them, waiting to swallow up the drama like morsels of gossip. He spared them a cursory glance, not only at the bystanders, but at the people she had been sitting with, those whose opinion probably mattered most to her.

He wondered what she'd told them. He wondered what they knew that he didn't, wondered at the meaning behind their snickers and their averted gazes. Seeing one boy in particular, with his hair dyed to match Syd's, he was struck with the thought that perhaps she didn't want to make things official—exclusive—with Spencer because she wanted to remain available to someone else.

His gaze darkened as it returned to her. He suddenly felt the urge to leave before she could confirm or deny anything, to leave it at that because as horrible as that was, it could be so much worse.

But this was Sydney. And he couldn't think the worst of her, even as she repainted his world from bright hues of joy to the deepest black.

"Sure, just—" He hesitated, unsure what more he could say, short of begging, as they began to move toward the more private entrance hall. "We've been… You know. We've basically been a couple already, so I don't see why you don't want us to be one."

[Sydney Lamont]

Her fingers grazed his as he pulled away. Sydney's jaw dropped, hanging ajar as Spencer turned to lead them out of the dining tables. She closed her mouth, swallowed hard and followed. The Hufflepuff wasn't the best under pressure. It's why she seldom asked to chase the snitch or volunteer for the Hospital Wing. Her brain simply didn't want to compute. The right thoughts she should be concentrating on was how to fix this situation, how to articulate her feelings, how to make it all make sense.

All she could think of was not holding his hand as they walked out into the Entrance Hall.

He stopped and so did she. Her hands were clasped together, fingers bouncing off her knuckles anxiously as she stared at her feet. Spencer spoke first. She lifted her gaze to gawk at him, her features growing incredulous at his perspective that felt so unlike hers. To Spence, they were practically dating already and could not understand why she couldn't commit. Without thinking it through, she began to ramble.

"That's not true! All we started doing was kissing!" There was a sudden anger roiling within her that she could not understand being there at all. This fight, because that's exactly what it was, felt so unlike them. They might argue over what superpower would be best to have, whether Quidditch was worth the risk of bludger beatdowns, innocuous things that would end in laughter and them agreeing to disagree before moving on.

This was serious and she meant every word she said.

"If that was true, then we've been a couple since we've first met! Since the clock tower, since my first year. I do love you, Spencer. I always have. You're my best friend! Isn't that enough?"

[Spencer Callander]

He felt her fingers against his. It was so tempting to just give in to old habits and deep desires, but instead, Spencer pulled his hand back, folding his arms across his chest and hunching forward. This all felt wrong now. Spencer and Sydney were not the perfect fit he'd thought they were, and so, he decided, his fingers ought not to fit in hers anymore, either.

His arms remained folded as they stopped walking and again, he was baffled by her response.

"And holding hands, and giving each other gifts, and spending all our time together! Those are all couple-y things to do." Granted, they had done most of those things before, but the frequency and intensity had gone up a notch since they'd started, well, not-dating.

"You're my best friend! Isn't that enough?"

His heart was breaking further and further, and Spencer folded further and further in on himself.

Once upon a time, it would have been. It had been. And he would have been okay with it continuing to be so had she spurned him at the start of the year rather than kiss him.

But now, he couldn't go back.

"No," He said, voice cracking. "Not anymore."

[Sydney Lamont]

And, just like that, her walls came tumbling down.

Sydney's eyes went wide, their color starting to shift from hazel to brown to blue to grey and all the colors in between. She tried to speak but nothing came out but a gasp of air she choked on. It wasn't enough for Spencer. He wanted more, wanted something she could not honestly give.

Fear gripped her with their talons and feasted. This is exactly what she didn't want and, again, she debated whether she should just give in and agree. He held on to trying to convince her nothing would change but their terminology. Except, the one clear thought in the sandstorm that roiled within her was that it wasn't honest, and he deserved the truth. Even if it hurt her more than anything had, and it showed as her eyes began to water, Syd knew full well that Spencer wouldn't be able to believe her this far along into her uncertainty. And where would it leave them in the future when she couldn't be what he wanted her to be?

That was the story of her life, really. She would never be quite right, a puzzle missing too many pieces to make out the mystery.

Sydney, absent words, began to cry instead. She broke down in front of him, stopping short of wailing. Then, knowing full well if she didn't move now that she'd remain catatonic and unable to, she ran.

The Next Day, Past Noon
Hufflepuff Fifth-Year Girls' Dormitory

She hadn't gotten out of bed yet.

Syd didn't know when she would either. Eventually, especially when it would alert Tilly that something was wrong. She was not a talented enough liar to be able to hide how devastated she felt from her roommate. Even if she figured her entire house knew about it already. Not because she was ever a topic of conversation. Sydney lived in rather unbothered anonymity for the most part. It was solely due to the nature of her tragedy, the ripe pickings of drama that others couldn't resist sinking their teeth into.

She rolled in her tangled comforter and began to cry some more.

The First Day of Classes After Winter Break
East Bailey Hallway, The Busy One

It was the first time she'd seen him since and her heart skipped a beat.

Thankfully, he would not have been able to see her as she'd changed into someone else. Sydney had made a habit of sneaking around this way as it was the only way she could convince herself to try to return to some sense of normalcy. She could pretend everything was right in class, around her housemates, but it was far from the truth. Depending on her ability to keep her from showing face was all she could resort to, unable to come with grips with the Spencer-shaped chasm left in her daily life.

Until now.

"What's wrong with you?"

The accusation lay at her feet as she made eye contact with the person walking past her moments after Spencer had disappeared behind her. She wasn't sure what was meant by that, worry contorting her face as she looked around and realized others were looking at her strangely. There was incredulity, horror, and shock she lacked the context of until her hurried steps to get out of gawking eyes had her pass a hung mirror.

Her face was shifting, changing out of her control. Syd wasn't Cress, or Tilly, or any of her other housemates' appearance she stole before leaving their common room. It continued to change, like ripples in the lake under the wake of the rowed oars. She ran towards Mr. Clint's office, her stress reaching a boiling point.

It wasn't until she calmed down that she could settle on her normal face and features-- absent the pink hair, the hazel eyes. She was just Syd again and it was a lonely place to be.

[Spencer Callander]

The sight of her beginning to shatter almost broke him, even as he struggled to understand it.

(Because why was she crying, when this was what she wanted? How could she not want to be with him when they had been together for months already?)

But regardless, Sydney's pain was Spencer's pain, and it mingled with his own until he could feel the tears burning behind his eyes as well. His every instinct told him—begged him—to reach out and hold her, to pull her close like he had in the room of requirement all those years ago, when then, too, he'd so unwillingly made her cry. Like then, he wanted to fix things, to pull them back together with a great squeeze of his arms.

But he couldn't.

He shouldn't.

Yet his arms nevertheless lifted, only it was too late. Sydney had already turned on her heels, was already gone.

Holiday Home

He'd thought a lot over the following days. His holidays were a blur of thoughts and musings, of hidden tears and a stomach too twisted to enjoy hearty Christmas meals. He wondered if the women he now called family noticed at all.

He expected they had.

Try as he might to hide them, Spencer's emotions were always writ plain on his face. Pain was no exception.

In that busy hallway

Blue eyes—and they certainly seemed bluer than usual now, glassy as they were with nerves and emotion—roamed the halls, searching for that familiar round face, those signature locks of pink. They found nothing.

Spencer sighed, keeping course for his next class. There was no chance he would be able to pay any attention today. Already, he'd walked into one wrong classroom, thinking he was scheduled for Transfiguration that morning. A side-effect of wishful thinking, perhaps.

There was a hubbub down the hall, a clamor of gasps and laughter. Though he craned his neck to see, whoever had caused the commotion was already making their escape. With another sigh, he turned around and continued on his way.

It was only when he overheard two students talking later ("Did you see that?" "Yeah the way they kept changing faces? Weird, right?" "Yeah, even by Hogwarts standards.") that his stomach twisted into a fresh knot of guilt and regret.

Later that day, very near the end of dinner
The Entrance Hall

"Syd!"

He almost ran right into her. He'd been waiting to stagger his arrival in the Great Hall, to ensure that enough time had gone by before he came to dinner that he wouldn't risk seeing her. His stomach protested loudly against the miserable failure of a plan.

"I uh—" Didn't know what to say. "How are you?"

[Sydney Lamont]

Like gravity, she felt herself pulled towards the sound of her name leaving his mouth.

The delicate steps came with a heavy heart, misery etched on her face like cave paintings. Sydney had been having a rough day, one she divulged all the anxious bits absent the details that caused them from her understanding roommates. While her powers might be on the fritz, it didn't mean she couldn't try to look nice. She'd spent enough sessions with Professor Buzzolic to be able to apply cherry-red lipstick, rosy eye shadow, blush, and she'd even gotten her hair braided with a pair of daisies pinned to the top of her head.

"Not great," she started, and then because she couldn't help herself.

"I miss you, Spencer. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." It all came rushing out of her like water capsizing a boat. She hadn't rehearsed it very well in her head, all the things she wanted to say, but she respectfully kept her distance and kept their eyes locked, sympathy pouring out of her.

Her fingers twitched, held back from reaching out despite her wanting to.

[Spencer Callander]

His arm lifted, old reflexes wanting to reach out and hold her hand, hold her, but Spencer quickly caught himself. Instead, his hand moved to the back of his neck, anxiously rubbing his nape. He had wanted to avoid this, knew it would bring them only pain, but it seemed his best efforts had only served to bring them closer.

Her answer didn't surprise him, he'd known it, still felt the same way on his end, but it hurt nonetheless to hear it confirmed. It only spurred the urge to pull her close, but still, Spencer held back.

"Yeah, me too," He admitted, arm falling limply at his side.

He wanted so badly to tell her he'd changed his mind, that they could go back to just being friends, but it hurt so much even just to be around her. And it wasn't just because it pained him to see her so sad. His own heartbreak swelled fresh in his chest.

"I just don't understand why, you know, 'cause it was going so well, and—" He took a breath. It took some measure of courage to ask the question that had been weighing heavy on his mind, and it was a difficult thing to muster. "— is there someone else?"