nemesism // spencer reid angst

demons

When Spencer opened his eyes the next morning, Derek wasn't beside him anymore. He frowned at the loss. The bed was still warm, and he could hear movement outside of his room, so he knew that Derek was still there. Spencer stretched carefully, wincing when he felt the cuts on his arm stretch in tandem.

"Derek?" His voice came out husky, a result of leftover sleep and the damage his throat had sustained from the yelling of the previous night. The noises of movement stopped suddenly. Spencer furrowed his brow, wondering what his friend was doing. He was halfway out of bed when Derek walked in.

"Hey, good morning, pretty boy," Derek smiled, "how'd you sleep?"

"Fine. Just sore now." Spencer reached up and pushed the heels of his palm into his eyes, rubbing softly.

"How about you let me make you some breakfast while you rest on the couch?" Derek nodded towards the door.

"Are you sure? I can do that, it's no big deal." Spencer was out of bed and on his way to the kitchen in seconds. Derek had already done enough for him, and he wasn't sure how much more he could handle being taken care of before he lost all of his self-respect.

"No, no, it's okay! I've got it. If you're in pain, you should rest." Derek followed Spencer out of the room.

"Derek. I've got i-" Spencer stopped dead in his tracks. He heard Morgan stop short as well so as to not run into him. He had forgotten what a mess everything was. Spencer felt himself panicking at the tight space and turned around swiftly.

"You know what? I think I'll take you up on that. I need to shower anyways." Spencer felt frazzled. He needed to get to the safety of the bathroom as quickly as he could. He looked at Derek, noticing the concern on his face. He couldn't blame him after yesterday.

"Is that the best idea right now? You seem upset." Derek questioned.

"I'm fine, Derek, stop profiling me. We agreed not to do that. I just need a shower." Spencer sighed and headed back to his room to collect a change of clothes.

"Can you-"

"No, I will not leave the door open. I'm not comfortable with that. I'm fine being alone, okay? Stop worrying so much." Spencer cut Derek off before he could get any further.

"Spencer, I understand wanting privacy, but I don't think you being alone is the greatest idea. I'm going to worry, and you can't change that." Derek leaned on the doorway, arms crossed in front of him.

"You know I could make you leave, right? Don't make this harder than it has to be. Please just let me shower with privacy. This isn't a mental hospital." Spencer huffed, pushing past Derek and entering the bathroom.

"Fine. But if it takes longer than fifteen minutes, I'm coming in. Don't even think about locking the door on me." Derek ran his hands over his face. "I'm going to make some breakfast."

"I'll be out soon." Spencer closed the door swiftly and held his breath, waiting to hear Derek walk away. After a few seconds, he heard footsteps slowly begin to head toward the kitchen. Spencer locked the door as quietly as he possibly could. He took off his clothes slowly and examined his body in the mirror. He tried to look at it like an outsider would, someone who had never seen it before.

Spencer's eyes scanned his body, trying to imagine what Derek would think if he could see how damaged he was. He grimaced at the thought. The anxiety he had felt at entering the kitchen was beginning to bubble over, compounded by seeing himself in the mirror and knowing that Derek was waiting for him outside. So he did the only thing he could think to do; he reached for the drawer containing his blade. Spencer knew how horrible of an idea it was, but he couldn't help himself.