How Dare You [ReidxReader] - 2nd Edition

(11) Relapse

"Spencer!" You repeatedly knock on his door. You saw it in his eyes when you got off the jet from Huston. The self-doubt. The pain. He hates himself because you caught the bullet for him. You tried to talk to him on the way back to Quantico, but you could only say so much with the rest of the team around.

"Spencer, I know you're home." You knock again.

"Please, leave." His quiet voice comes from directly behind the door.

"Let me in." You try to persuade him.

"Leave." Spencer's voice is less pleading now. Almost angry.

"No. Open the door or I will fucking kick it down." You insist. You could never forgive yourself should he take something now.

It's silent for almost a minute. Then you hear the lock of the door klick.

Spencer looks disheveled, having a half stern, half sad look on his face. His vest is unbuttoned, and his eyes are sunken in. When he doesn't move and just stares at you, you squeeze by him and enter his apartment. It looks better than he made it sound. It's dark but full of books. Like a secret library in a basement of an old building. You like it.

When you turn around to look at him, he sighs and closes the door. You observe him quietly. He doesn't show any signs of being intoxicated. Nevertheless, you ask: "Did you take anything?"

Spencer's lips tighten, but he tells you: "No."

"Are you planning to do so?"

"Why would I do that?" He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

Your heart starts to ache. You have to blink away tears: "I saw it in your eyes."

That seems to take him off guard and his mouth falls open: "You saw it in my eyes?" His voice is softer now.

Your voice trembles and more tears form in your eyes. This isn't what you wanted. You threw yourself in front of him without thinking. You just had to make sure that he doesn't get injured. Otherwise, they would have given him painkillers...It could have been disastrous. You much rather get literally shot than let that happen.

"Yes, I saw it. Please, talk to me." You reply to his question.

Spencer uncrosses his arms and steps closer. He sees the tears swelling up: "Please don't cry."

You rub over your face to dry your eyes: "I'm trying."

"You want to sit down?" He points at a small sofa between the chaos of books.

When he keeps standing in the same spot, you ask: "Sit with me?"

Hesitantly, he walks over. It's cramped so you cannot avoid your legs touching. You look into his eyes until he starts to talk.

"You're right. I thought about using again. I felt...I feel overwhelmed."

You furrow your eyebrows: "By what?"

Spencer looks at his hands, fidgeting with the fabric of his pants.

"You don't have to tell me." You assure him. "Let's just talk about how you feel and what we can do to change that."

His head shoots up: "We?"

You give him a smile: "Why do you think I'm here?"

Now he looks like he is about to cry.

"Okay." Spencer nods.

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"When you fell into my arms," he tells you, "for a split second I thought you died. I was so convinced that even when you were fine, I went into shock. I couldn't see properly and my heart... I- I didn't know what to do."

The pain in your chest intensifies: "Spencer, you had a panic attack."

"Oh." For some reason, he seems surprised.

"I'm sure you read almost everything there is about that kind of stuff. Why didn't you recognize the symptoms on yourself?"

Spencer stays silent for a moment and just looks at you.

"Denial." He eventually admits. "I never saw anyone else on the team react like that...and I-"

"Felt ashamed?" You finish his sentence.

Again, he stays silent. This time longer than before.

You grab his hand to encourage him to talk. Last time you did it, as wells as now, you forget that he doesn't like that. When you remember, you go to take your hand away. But Spencer stops you. You caress his thumb with yours and observe his face. He seems to be debating internally.

"You." He eventually mumbles.

You furrow your eyebrows: "What?"

He takes a deep breath and looks at you: "I feel overwhelmed by you."

You lean back. That's not what you intended. Shit. Maybe you went too far. Fuck.

"I'm sorry." You immediately start to apologize. "Sorry." You get up and this time Spencer lets go of your hand.

"Sorry, I was in no position to push you like that. Sorry. I didn't mean to force you to talk to me."

Spencer just stares at you. Is that confusion on his face?

"I'm really sorry, Spencer. Please, call an emergency number and talk to someone qualified."

Before he can say anything, you're out the door.

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You hold it together until you enter your apartment. Then you sink to the floor and start to sob. What were you thinking? He clearly didn't want you to intervene like that. Reid probably wanted to talk to a professional or someone who knows him better. Like JJ...

The train of intrusive thoughts pulls you into a devastating spiral. You feel like an idiot. Trembling your check your phone, secretly hoping for a message from Spencer. Of course, there is none. He is probably glad he got rid of you. Your chest fills with pain, and you let out another sob. How could you be so stupid? Someone as smart and pretty like Reid...He would never want to be as close to you as you assumed you were. It was probably the drugs that let him tolerate your affection.

Your cell tells you that it's Tuesday. Everyone has tomorrow off because you were on a case during the weekend. You try to calm down, but nothing works. Not knowing what else to do, you take a sleeping pill. Laying down on your bed, you wait for the void to suck you in.