does your heart still remember my name - criminal minds oneshots

so small and so quiet

tw homophobia/internalized homophobia

ralvez if you really squint 

*

Spencer Reid first realized he was gay when he was eight years old.

He didn't think much of it, it was just another label to add to the plethora he already knew of himself – genius, nerd, schizo, weirdo, Einstein, freak, loser, every other insult the other kids at school would throw his way. Gay was just another word, whether it was directed as an insult or as something truthful. It didn't really matter.

He was eight when he was forced into watching the school's water polo game instead of sneaking off to the library. He was eight when fourteen-year-old Bradley Walters emerges from the water, dripping and shaking his hair out, grinning so bright Spencer thinks his cheeks might crack open. He was eight when he realized his attraction towards a man. Of course, Bradley never even looked at him, and he didn't mind. He didn't like Bradley. Bradley who pushed him into lockers and laughed when he held Spencer's books way above his head. Bradley who called him a fag and introduced him to the darker side of being gay.

He was ten when his father slung the same insults at him that his bullies did.

"You can't possibly expect me to stick around when you're too weak to leave your bed and my only child is gay."

He was ten when his father walked out the door and never returned.

He was twelve when he told his mother.

He was good at staying in the closet, it's not like he had any friends. He couldn't date because everyone he knew was years older than him and hated him. Most people called him gay without realizing the truth to their attempts at knocking him down.

His mother sat him down one day, more lucid than she's been in a long time, and told him a story about how she met his father and their love. She asked if anybody made him feel like that. He laughed and told her that he didn't even have any acquaintances let alone anyone to consider for a date. He was about to leave for college, anyway. He admitted, in a quiet voice, that the only crush he'd ever had was on the knights of the roundtable.

His mother had laughed. "Which knight?"

"King Arthur, duh," he said, laughing. And then he went quiet, shy, and his voice was barely a whisper when he said, "Mom, I think I'm gay."

"I know, honey."

"How?"

"A mother always knows."

He was twenty-three when he finally found people that he trusted enough to be himself around. They might still mock his ramblings, tell him to stop when his nervous habits get to be too much for them. They might tell him to shut up, sideline him, and make him feel just a little bit like an outsider. But they're family.

"I'm gay," he told Gideon with no preamble, standing in the door to his office.

Gideon squinted up at him, pushing his glasses up his nose. "You know I don't care, Spencer, but I think it would be better if you were to keep that a secret for the time being. It would be better for the team, for the press, for the bureau, if we didn't have ties to people like you."

"People like me," Spencer echoed. "Yeah, for sure."

And Gideon had gone back to looking at his reports.

At twenty-four, he's kidnapped.

At twenty-five, Gideon left him.

The closet had never felt so safe.

He's twenty-seven when he's trapped in a church with Emily, no way to escape hearing about the sins he's committed simply by being who he is. He's not called out personally, but when he throws up behind the SUV when they make it out, Emily must have an inkling why. Though she doesn't say a word to him or anybody else.

He's twenty-seven when he has to face his father again who takes one look at the way he's dressed, the way he's grown up, the way he carries himself, that he's still the same gay kid he always was. He throws the word around casually, picking at Spencer's sweater vest and muttering it under his breath.

He's twenty-seven when his best friend, the first friend he'd ever made, is sitting on the other side of a glass door, making promises Spencer isn't sure he can keep. He's twenty-seven and scared when he tells Morgan the truth about himself, the one thing that he buries as deep as he can and feels shame for in every waking moment.

"I'm gay, Derek," he says, refusing to look, using the glass as protection from the possibilities of violence that can come with this confession. He doesn't think he'll make it past the glass alive anyway.

"Okay, Pretty Boy," Derek says like it's the easiest thing on the planet.

"Did you not hear me? I'm gay." And he says it like it's been said to him. An insult, something to be ashamed of, something he should hide away forever, something he'll be hated for.

But Derek doesn't falter, he never has in his unwavering loyalty. "I know, Spencer. I heard you. And it's okay."

It's okay.

When he wakes up in the hospital room, he begs Derek not to tell a soul.

(He's thirty-four when Derek leaves him too.)

He's twenty-eight when he confides in Emily.

"I'm gay."

"I'm bi, Spencer."

And he feels more comfortable in his skin than he ever has before. He feels like it's okay to be who he is for the first time in his life.

And he's twenty-nine when he loses Emily too. It's his fault. He shouldn't have told her.

He's thirty when he tells the team.

When he stands in front the people he calls family and admits to the truth he hates most about himself. They threw him a birthday party. The least he can do is tell them who he is.

"I'm gay."

And nobody seems to blink an eye.

Garcia hugs him so tight he thinks his ribs might break and JJ presses a kiss to his forehead. Rossi and Hotch give him proud fatherly nods.

He's thirty-five when Hotch leaves.

However, he's thirty-five when he meets Luke.

He introduces himself in the way he always wished he had. "Hello, I'm Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm gay and I've been with the BAU for eight years."

And Luke smiles, doesn't try to shake his hand, and introduces himself as, "I'm Luke Alves, I'm bi, and this is my second week."

He's thirty-five when he doesn't feel like his skin is crawling.

He's thirty-five when he goes to prison. He's thirty-five when he gets out. He's thirty-five when he lets everyone in, lets them understand him, lets them be his friends with no walls, no boundaries, no secrets.

He's thirty-six when he gets into his first long-term relationship with another guy. A wonderful guy who loves him more than anything.

He's thirty-seven when he moves in with his boyfriend, when he finally has the guts to say I Love You without wanting to throw up, when he doesn't hate himself when he looks in the mirror, when admitting to himself that he's gay doesn't make his lungs cave in, when gay isn't an insult nor does it define him, it just is.

He's thirty-seven when he feels happy. 

____

it's lyss 

back with unedited spontaneous garbage

hi 

welcome to the club 

:)