nemesism // spencer reid angst

don't go

Spencer took a deep breath and wiped his sweaty, clammy hands on the bed beside him. Derek was right here, he was upset, and he was waiting for an explanation. Spencer hated everything about it.

His confidence waned after Hotch left the room, leaving behind only a small amount of courage. It lingered in the air like cologne; noticeably there and yet not strong enough to have a visceral effect. But Spencer needed to learn how to open up. This was his chance, and if he didn't take it, he may not get another one.

"Hey. Um, so, I had a conversation with Hotch." Spencer cringed internally at the rough start- of course he had a conversation with Hotch, that was obvious. "And he helped me to realize some things." He took a shaky breath in. Even though Spencer was watching Derek's movements and therefore was aware of the man's arm extending hesitantly towards him, he still flinched at the contact of Derek's hand on his knee. Derek didn't retract it when Spencer flinched, and he was grateful that the man understood the knee-jerk reaction as simply that and not something personal.

"Yeah? What did he help you with?" Derek inquired. Spencer was glad to see that the previous anger had waned and been replaced by sad curiosity. While sadness is an awful thing, it's surely better than anger, at least for Spencer.

"IhatehurtingmyselfbutIdon'tknowhowtostopbecauseIneedthisandIalsoneedtobeapersonbutIdon'tknowhowtodothat." Spencer spoke so quickly his words muddled together, forming a string of incoherence. His breath was stuck in his throat. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many explanations to give, but he didn't even know where to start. Derek's face flitted between compassion and concern.

"Hey, hey, you're okay. Can you repeat that a little slower, pretty boy?" Derek's thumb moved back and forth over Spencer's knee, a repetitive motion that helped calm him down enough to speak again.

"I hate it. The self-harm, I mean. But no matter how much I hate my dependence on it, the dependence won't go away. And the real problem is that, on most days, I don't even want to bother with recovering. I've tried before, and it wasn't easy. I felt awful the entire time. The only time I feel mildly stable is when I have that to lean back on. And sometimes... sometimes it's the only thing that keeps me away from the drugs." Spencer's voice cracked and he wrapped his arms around his midsection as he spoke. He had never voiced these feelings and thoughts aloud, and it felt quite disconcerting.

"I'm so sorry, Spencer. I am so sorry." Spencer watched the beginnings of tears forming in Derek's eyes and immediately regretted opening up.

"No, I'm sorry. It was too much, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have put all of that on you. It's too much." Spencer began to panic, anxiety sparking every nerve in his body. He had learned long ago that vulnerability ultimately led to punishment.

"Hey, Spencer, it's okay." Derek scooted closer and wrapped his arms around Spencer's stiff frame. "I'm glad you told me. You opening up to me isn't a burden, okay? I want to hear what you think." That was when the waterworks began.

"You don't think it's a burden for me to tell you how I feel? You care about what I feel instead of being mad about it? You're not going to- to punish me?" Spencer's voice was thick and he tasted salt as tears met his tongue after they trickled down his cheeks and through the creases of his lips. Even though he knew Derek wouldn't lie, he had a hard time wrapping his head around something so foreign to him. He released some of the tension from his body and melted closer to Derek.