Wild Nights, Wild Nights || Spencer Reid x Reader

18. A Dateless Melody

You were on a beach, sitting on the sand, staring out onto the ocean. The sun overhead was obscured by a dense wall of clouds, and though you were dressed in denim cutoffs and a sheer button down shirt, you couldn't feel the wind whipping around you. Your body was numb to the frigid bite of the winter elements.

But you knew this place, and when you craned your head around to look behind you, you saw a sandy path bordered by dune grass leading up to a blue house. Once that blue house had been full of love and laughter, the setting of parties and cookouts and happy beach days. It held late night stargazing sessions on the roof that made your heart ache for the innocence that once defined your relationships, and it carried eighteen years of blissful memories inside.

Eighteen years of happiness.

Now, it was dark inside. Empty. And from where you sat, you could see that the deck that once bustled with activity was silent. The furniture had been put away. The wood was cracked from the outside elements. It hadn't been properly cleaned or refinished in years.

The house was lonesome now. Quiet. Dead.

Gulls screeched in the distance, barely audible over the crashing waves. It would be high tide soon, and the edge of the water was inching closer and closer to you with every swell.

You drew your knees up and rested your chin on them. You didn't move, instead embracing the ocean as stray droplets sprayed across your skin.

And when the water finally began kissing your toes, you closed your eyes and sighed as if you could infuse your very own vitality into the sea. As if it were an offering to the world. A sacrifice. A payment.

Let the tide take you. Let the ocean reclaim you. Let the water drown you.

But then, as you felt your clothes begin to saturate with salt water, you heard a noise from behind—the sound of metal chair legs scraping against wood and the sound of quiet laughter.

You whipped your head around again, your eyes widening, your mouth going dry.

The lights in the house had turned on, the deck door was open, and you could now hear soft orchestral music playing from a speaker somewhere within. Three people were on the deck. Not one of them noticed you on the beach.

You tried to call out to them.

Mom.

Dad.

Lizzy.

But you couldn't speak. And when you tried to surge to your feet to run to them, you found your body frozen on the sand. You were trapped, slowly sinking down into the tide as it rose. You could hear their chatter, their laughter, like the melody of wind chimes swaying in a whisper of a breeze.

You'd missed that sound. You wished you could burn it into your ears so you'd never forget it, even as they seemingly forgot you.

Maybe you deserved that.

And when the water reached your shoulders, a tear slipped down your cheek. The three of them began packing away their things and, one by one, filed back into the house. Without you. Leaving you to drown on the beach alone.

But Lizzy paused in the doorway, turning around to face the ocean. She was frozen in time, still the sixteen-year-old girl she was when you'd lost her. She scanned the sand as if looking for something. Your eyes locked. She didn't acknowledge you.

She had looked at you but hadn't seen you.

Lizzy turned back to the house and walked inside, closing the door behind her silently. The water was now high enough to rush around your face, to carry away your tears.