checkmate

025 » THE WRECK

When I wake up, there is a moment of peace before the memories of yesterday crash back into me like a fucking truck. Dull pain throbs in my head and every sound is both amplified ten times and muffled completely at the same time. Though, thankfully, it is not a nightmare that has woken me, which is surprising. There was not a single bad dream that plagued my sleep tonight.

A quiet groan slips past my lips as my eyes flutter open to the bright light that spills through the gap in the curtains. My eyebrows furrow as I squint, shifting myself to lift my head. The first thing I notice is the blanket that Reid has placed over me, and I can't help but immediately smile slightly.

"Hey, you're up," Reid says, keeping his voice soft, when he notices I am awake. He has changed out of the comfy clothes from last night, but his new outfit is still casual. It is still strange to me, seeing my colleagues in non work attire.

"Mhm, barely," I mumble, rubbing my eyes. "What time is it? How long did I sleep for?" My voice is hoarse as I speak.

"It is..." He glances at his watch. "... Nine forty-one. You slept for—,"

"Nine forty-one?" I almost yell, suddenly very awake and bolting upright. "Why didn't you wake me up? Hotch is gonna kill us! We'll—,"

Now is his turn to cut me off. "It's Sunday," he interrupts, a slight smile flickering across his face. "We have today off."

"Oh," I respond, allowing my body to relax again. I smooth out my hair, hoping that I do not look utterly ridiculous. "Right."

"How's your head?" Reid asks, obvious concern in his eyes.

Horribly painful.

"Sore," I mutter. "But I'll be fine."

His eyebrows furrow into a slight frown, and he questions, "Are you sure? I can still go get you some painkillers if you want."

I shake my head, rubbing my eyes. "Don't. I'm fine, and you've already done enough for me, Reid."

He studies me for a moment, his eyes flickering from my own to the cuts on my face. "You sure? It's no big deal, really. I mean, there's a conveni—,"

"Spencer," I cut him off, and his first name sounds almost foreign coming from my mouth, "I said I'll be okay. Don't worry about me."

"I can't help it," he replies, his gaze softening slightly as he looks at me. "Your boyfriend hit you, choked you, and stole your gun, just because you broke up with him. I'm obviously going to worry."

I breathe out a sigh, rubbing my eyes again. He is right. I know it, he knows it. It's an undeniably worrying situation, but the idea of having people worry about me is uncomfortable; I can sort everything out by myself. I do not need other people to be worried about me or my 'situation', I do not need other people to rely on.

"Well, don't, okay?" I mutter, pressing my palms against my eyes in a feeble attempt to stop the itching in my mind that accompanies those loud, loud thoughts. "I don't need you to worry. It's pointless. I can handle myself."

"Y/l/n, I'm going to be worried, whether you like it or not." His eyes are fixed on me, and it feels as if he is picking apart my brain under that ever intense stare of his.

I fidget with my hands, picking at my nails. "I know."

I glance around his apartment, taking in my surroundings, seeing as I was not really focused on that last night. It is a nice place; olive green walls and dark brown furniture. There are multiple bookshelves, each full of many, many books. There is a circular table with a chess set on it, a wooden chair tucked neatly beneath it. I notice he has a fish tank, with a few fish swimming around inside. The apartment, overall, looks pretty similar to the last time I was here, not that I remember much. My drunken state combined with my focus being elsewhere, specifically getting Reid's dick inside of me, so I was not very eager to look at what his apartment looked like.