Spencer Reid | Oneshots

Repentance ❤️ (M)

Summary: Spencer is confronted with his second chance at life, finding it full of regrets. Reader tries to talk him through it.

Rating: Mature (16+)

Content Warning: Suicidal ideation, discussions of death and dying, kissing, shame, depression, hurt/comfort

—————————————————

The thing about rooming with Spencer is that you never really know what you'll find when you wake up in the middle of the night. Some nights, I would glance over to find him in a silent, deep sleep in the other bed. Those nights were few and far between.

More often, he'd be slowly flipping through a book, his normal feverish pace slowed to what one might call "above average" rather than insane. His eyes would glaze over, taking their time to read the words. On those nights, it was clear he was trying desperately to distract his mind from whatever was tormenting it.

Sometimes he'd be pacing the room, lost in his own thoughts, muttering softly to himself. He always felt so guilty on those nights, because once he noticed I was awake, he would immediately start apologizing... and then talk my ear off until the sun came up.

But I'd never woken up to find he wasn't there at all— not until one particularly gloomy night, where the clouds covered the moon but still cast an eerie, sinister glow across the small country town.

"Spencer?" I called into the obviously empty room, considering his keycard was missing from the desk next to his bed. "Are you here?"

Just as I expected, no one answered. My heart leapt into my throat as I imagined all of the horrible reasons why he could be missing, but logic pushed them away. After all, if there were a struggle, I surely would have woken up.

His gun and badge were still on the nightstand, along with a tiny piece of hotel stationery marked with his familiar chicken scratch.

'Stepped out. I'll be back.'

I glanced over at the clock. The neon red LED read 1:17AM.

He was thoughtful enough to leave a note, but it didn't make me less upset with him. We were in some small, strange, backwater of a dirt-road town where there was a serial killer running loose, and he decided to just go for a midnight stroll?

Tossing my legs over the side of the bed, I tried to stretch my tired muscles that had worked themselves into knots over the past few days of cheap motel mattresses and way too much work.

It was no wonder he couldn't sleep.

My hand hovered over my service weapon, wondering if it would be a good idea for me to bring it while I searched for him. It made sense that I would want to have it, but the fact that he had left his behind told me that he must be in a seriously fragile state of mind.

I decided that it wouldn't be worth it to make him uncomfortable, slipping into something more appropriate for... well, the nobody that would be out at this hour.

The sound of crickets chirping and frogs croaking filled the air, creating an unnecessarily romantic atmosphere in this bleak little town. Without a thought, my feet began carrying me down the long row of rooms towards the church next door.

I don't know how I'd known that he would be there, but I did. And he was, his feet dragging along the dirt as he swayed back and forth on the children's swing that he barely fit on.

It would have been an adorable sight if he didn't look so solemn; he was so lost in his thoughts that I don't think he'd even heard me approach him until I was practically in front of him.