DISTRACTION | Spencer Reid Fanfic

33

My best solution was to hide.

That was the best idea I could come up with. Better to drown my sorrows alone. I couldn't find the words to explain it, but inside me I knew that any trigger would set me off. I know myself. I had to hide. From everything and everyone.

And that's what I did, for what seemed like weeks, but was rather just days, before Y/N was sick of my self-inflicted exile, and personally came over and began barging down my door.

"What is wrong with you?" She thumped me as she pushed me back. "You can't just... just disappear off the face of the earth? You didn't even have the courtesy of one message. Are your fingers broken? For all we knew you could have been dead. I thought that you ..." She hesitated.

I saw it in her eyes. Had her faith in me dwindled? All this time she had been the one that believed in me. If she didn't feel that anymore then what was the point. Was she even who I thought she was? Had I been projecting onto her all this time? "What?" I narrowed my eyes. "...that I relapsed?"

She blinked at my bluntness. "Yes actually."

"Don't worry I haven't disappointed you yet," detest dripped of my words.

Y/n was taken aback. "Are you for real?" She scoffed. She began hysterically laughing. "and to think I... I fucking cared. FOR WHAT?" Her face dropped. Her smile faded instantly. "You know what... Fuck you. Sorry for caring." She spun on her heels barely stepping into my apartment in the whole encounter.

I could hear her stomping away. "Shit." I slammed my fist against the door. That wasn't exactly how I had wanted that conversation to end. But instead of running after her and stopping her like I should have. Instead of taking her face in my hands and apologising. I gormlessly slammed the door and through my fist at it again, the pain turning my knuckles red, small prickles forming form the splinters of the wooden door.

I wasn't sure what she was thinking. Was she waiting for me to follow her? Did she hear me close the door? Of course she did. That was a stupid thought. The whole building heard the door close. I slid down to the ground. My back resting against the door and I watched, absentmindedly, as the sun set and the golden hue spilled in through the window, slowly retreating before disappearing entirely.

Once it was dark, I forced myself off the floor and into my bedroom, falling chest first into the crumbled comforter and cowering into it. For some reason this was the first-time sleep called to me.

For a moment I thought that it was because I had begun to sever my connection to Y/n, but the cruel reality was that my brain wanted to torment me.