This Love: Spencer Reid

six

i volunteer to clean out your apartment.

it makes sense, i know my way around the best and i know you the best. everyone on the team insists on helping but i decide i want to do it myself. you deserved the sense of privacy, the kind you didn't always get when you were here.

i have your key in one hand, the other hand busy tossing the contents of your closet into a small bag.

the key feels like a heavy gift. no one explicitly gave it to me, but it's unspoken that it's mine. it's also a relief, in a way. a part of me kind of feared there would be a chain on your door, and another part of me would understand if there was.

i spent the last couple of days perparing myself for this. the rooms that had previously been accupied by your almost constant chatter were now eerily silent, and it felt so wrong.

the kitchen and the living room are easy. a moving crew will pick up everything in there so all i have to tend to are your personal belongings.

i still find myself grabbing items that never meant anything to you and putting them into bags and boxes, fearing that i'll leave something behind.
some part of you.

i peel a peice of tape off of a note that sticks to your refrigerator. it has little meaning, just a simple grocery list. but it's your handwriting. your words. its you. i fold it until it's a tiny square and tuck it into my pocket.

it takes me all day and i leave when it's dark outside, but eventually i have all of your stuff packed into a goodwill van, the valuable stuff packed into my car.

"hey, aren't you franny?" a neighbor calls out while i'm shoving the last trash bag of your stuff into the back seat of my car.

i give her a nod and shut the door of the car, stepping closer to her. "um, yes? i mean, i am. sorry."

"spencer, he talked about you. a lot. you must've been a really good companion to him. anyways, he always used to ask me to sit for beethoven. i would take him in, but i already have two cats and a dog that doesn't really get along with them. you know what i mean."

i nodded again, realizing with everything going on i hadn't even gotten a chance to think about beethoven. i feel a wave of releif wash through me at the thought of doing you one last favor.

and of course i say yes.
i leave your apartment for the last time, cat carrier in hand. a part of you with me.