(spencerreidxreader)

-16-

TW// violence- sexual assault (this chapter is also shorter than most of my other ones)

Oh, the sweet agony of seeing Spencer, standing in the doorway with nothing but his boxers and not being able to do a thing. You wanted to grab him, kiss him, hold him "You're killing me, Spence," he smirked, "at least try for me." He shook his head as he pulled his pants on "nope," he said smiling like a devilish child, his lightly toned muscles mocking you. You rolled your head back against the headboard. "Im going out today, I feel ready, I can function on my own," you said stumbling out of bed, Spencer flashed you a worried glance "Spencer, I am fine." You said walking over to him "don't worry, I won't be voluntarily going on a run or anything." He stared down at you, a soft smile on his lips.

"I love you, stupid." He said pressing a kiss on your forehead "I love you too, boy genius." You admired him as he buttoned up his shirt and pulled on a dark purple sweater. "Staring is impolite, Y/N." You felt heat rush to your cheeks. He chuckled and smiled awkwardly  "Have a good day, stay safe wherever you go." You nodded. Swallowing the bubble in your throat, the letter, long gone into the garbage chute, still haunted you. Spencer, the man you loved, could be in danger and you were doing nothing... the urge to get your life back shockingly out weighed your anxiety about the whole ordeal, although you felt that decision would come to haunt you.

The calendar that hung on your kitchen wall, with April 2 circled in red ink, stared at you while you pulled your coat on. The weather wouldn't warm up until early may at this point. Grabbing the pepper spray, gifted to you by the famous Penelope Garcia, you pulled on your converse and promptly left, perhaps you would get coffee, maybe a scone or a bagel. It wasn't until you had glided through the glass doors of your apartment lobby that you got the sick feeling you were being watched.

You glanced around the street, busy faces, young and old surrounded you, but no one you seemed to know. No man with blonde hair and grudge, no vigilante hit man in a dark suit. Nothing stood out to you, everything was uncomfortably normal. You picked up your phone, perhaps hoping to see a missed call or any excuse to get you out of your anxiety induced paralytic state, but there was nothing. Suddenly you saw a friendly face peeking out of a car window, one you recognized, one that you had known for years. It dawned on you that this is who hurt you, this is who took away your life, but this didn't occur to you until you were in the backseat with a gun being held to your head.

—
Sometimes the pain, wether internal or external, is easier to bear when your mind isn't sane. Sometimes the truth, no matter how sharp and clear, doesn't make sense. None of it made sense, not a single thing. Everything had happened so fast, they had taken you to secluded area, like in all the movies. they it felt so funny to think, all this time it had been them the least likely duo of them all. You hadn't even known they knew each other, but alas, they had pinned you down, as he touched you, as he hit you, as he extinguished the light at the end of the tunnel. There were no marks to prove they had taken you, there was no memory in your head, again, of who, perhaps it was that pill they shoved down your throat, that blended all the colors together like spilled water on a painted canvas. The way you stood in front of your apartment, for hours, in the dimly lit hallway, to afraid to open the door and face the truths you would have to tell Spencer. The way he held you as you collapsed into his chest, sobs erupting from your mouth, your voice still lost in the abyss of torture you had been put through.

It all came crushing down on you in that moment. The moment when Spencer lay on the cool tile of the bathroom floor with you, the smell of vomit wafting from the toilet, his arms wrapped around you. It came crushing down like a building finally giving way to the weight of the world. You cried. You cried soft at first, then harder, and harder. He still didn't know what had happened, your voice was still stolen, but it was clear he didn't want to know. It was clear he already knew. Something bad had happened. the details of which, neither of you really knew.

AN: sorry if this is weird but it took me a while to write and i like it so.. yeah (: thank you for 1k reads ❤️ you all mean so much ❤️