the love that lasts the longest is the love that's never returned

the love that lasts the longest is the love that is never returned

She couldn't help but feel a bit bitter. She should be the one across from him, giving him a dazzling smile and making him stutter over his words as they talked and laughed.

At the end of the night, she could tell that he was beaten down, a tiny part of him gone. A bit of the sparkle in his eyes had disappeared, and she wanted nothing more than to slap Cat for causing him more pain than what he had already been dealt.

____

Prison came like a whirlwind to her. She knew that the genius she loved was innocent, she knew it all along. Because she knew him, and he was the last person on the face of the Earth to be able to commit such a crime, no matter the amount of drugs in his system.

She visited him the most out of everyone, going off of the schedule the lovely Penelope Garica had designed for them, unable to breathe unless she saw him as often as she could. He appreciated it every time, half-heartedly joking about not doing her job correctly due to focusing so much on him that she knew was really just his way of saying thank you.

When they found out that Catherine Adams was behind his wrongful arrest and not Mr. Scratch, she wanted to scream. Scream because of course, of course it had to be the person who had gotten under his skin more than anyone else from a single, one night interaction. Of course, it had to be the unsub who had made her boil over with hate from the very beginning. Of course, it had to be her.

Seeing him again, cuffs and prison uniform free for the first time was like coming up for fresh air after thrashing beneath the water's surface for so long. She saw the confusion in his eyes when both her and JJ stood in front of him, but when the blonde told him what was happening and she saw the pure relief shining in his seas of hazel she felt like she could finally breathe again. He hugged JJ first, holding onto her for dear life before moving on to her, hands balled into the fists of her jacket as if he let go she would disappear.

Watching him and Cat from the other side of the one-way glass sparked a sense of jealousy over her whole body. It was a ridiculous thought, she knew that. He was playing into the woman's game, extending the fantasy to fit her immense satisfaction.

When Cat sprawled herself across his lap she felt the overwhelming urge to throw the door open and rip the former hitwoman off him. But instead, she stood idly by, hands clenched into fists at her side, nails bleeding into her skin as the brunette traced her slender fingers across his face and chest, lips brushing against his ear, placing tiny, barely there kisses on his skin. It made her mad, cursing at the world, wondering why her of all people got to do the things she had only been able to dream about.

But the thing that set her skin ablaze was the fact that Spencer didn't look repulsed by her being there. He was uncomfortable, the unwanted and unplanned touch setting something off inside of him. The stiffness was still there, that part was obvious, but he made no move to show that he physically felt repulsed by her, even going as far as to look her directly in the eyes. She couldn't help but wonder why —why he didn't look like he wanted to throw her off of his body and scrub himself clean. Why didn't he, when she did?

The two words that fell from the women's lips made her heart stop in her throat, because no —no it couldn't be true. That woman couldn't have done something so cruel, something that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

In the end, when they were dancing, she felt her peak of jealousy. Because he told her that he didn't dance. He only danced with Maeve in his dreams. And yet, there he was, dancing with her.

The words he was saying sounded so real that she didn't even know if they were real or not. He told them otherwise, but the pure emotion behind them had herself questioning if he really did believe that. If he really did believe that they deserved each other.