"If our love died young, I can't bear witness."
- Right Where You Left Me, Taylor Swift。⋆。˚ 𐀔˚。⋆。
August, 2019:
"Y/n," I could hear Derek's voice from outside my wooden apartment door. "I know you can hear me."
"Go away," I urged from the spot on my couch. I couldn't go. I couldn't do it. Going to his funeral made it real. I didn't want to live in a world without him in it, or I didn't want to live at all.
"Y/n, you open this door or I it open for you," he threatened. I know he meant well but I was agitated regardless. I sighed, then stood, walking towards the door. When I unlocked it, it was safe to say I saw a reflection of my mourning in Derek. He'd grown a beard.
"Oh Garcia will love that," I said gesturing to the facial hair with a smirk.
He laughed then said, "I finally get you to open the door AND smile. I'm on a roll today."
"Shut up," I huffed, realizing the messy state of apartment. It was half packed and half unpacked, and there were stacks of different clothing items and trash discarded around the room.
"You going somewhere?" Derek said, noting the boxes.
"I never finished unpacking," I replied, my eyes wandering to the purple monkey that sat through the doors to my room and on my bed.
"Well I hope you have a black dress somewhere in those boxes, cause I don't see you wearing one."
"Derek," I sighed, looking at him. "I can't go."
"Oh pretty girl, you know he'd-"
"Please don't call me that," I interrupted, sitting down with my face in my hands.
"Sorry," he whispered sitting beside me. He rubbed my back for a moment before attempting to reason with me again. "He would want you there." I didn't say anything. I just zoned out staring at my bookshelf. "You know he never shut up about you, even after you left."
"Really?" I rolled my eyes a little bit.
"Yeah. There was this case we had in L.A. a little over a year after you left, he was in charge of protecting this actress from her stalker. She was all over him..."
"Not helping."
"Let me finish. She was all over him. I think they even kissed and she gave him her number. But when we got back to the office, all he told me was it wasn't as good as it would've been with you."
I glanced up then, tears brimming in my eyes. Derek smiled, it wasn't as shiny or as youthful as when I first met him, it was sad. He'd lost one of his best friends just as much as I had mine.
"I just...If I go it makes it real. And what's worse is I feel like i should be the one being buried, not him." I said, finally making eye contact with my old friend. "It's my fault," I gasped out.
"Y/n, there's no right way to feel pain; there's no right answer how to move on. How you do this is up to you ultimately, but I can tell you that you don't have to do it alone. Let us all help each other through this."
"Give me twenty minutes. I'll be ready then," I said, wiping my tears and trudging from the couch and into my room. I riffled through some boxes and found the perfect dress. When I bought this dress a few years back, I never intended it for funeral use, but here I was. Life never goes how you think it will. This would be hard. This would be so extremely difficult, but I would do it, not just for Spencer, but for all the people I coincide with in grief. When I walked out of my room, Derek and I didn't say a word. We didn't on the way to the funeral either. The drive was nearly silent, James Taylor playing quietly over the radio. When we arrived at the church, it was filled with people I didn't recognize; it pained me. We'll never get to catch up. We'll never get married or have a family. We'll never get to be more than a moment.
Hotch said some words at the beginning of the service. Derek and JJ did towards the end too. I was surprised his estranged father chose to show up, but Derek would soon inform me that they weren't on as terrible terms as they used to be, but Spencer would never fully forgive him for abandoning them. I don't think his mother even fully understood what was going on during the funeral, that it was her baby boy who had passed away. Spencer had told me before his death that she'd been getting worse lately.
I sat in silence the entire ceremony, staring at the glossy black lid of his coffin. When it was finally time to bury the casket, I wanted nothing more then to leave. But then I looked at my team, and walked down the grassy area towards the tombstone reading "Spencer Walter Reid." My heart panged in my chest, knowing when I die my tombstone won't say Reid. It'll say Y/l/n or it'll be the last name of some other man who I'd end up having to pretend I love for the rest of my life. As I sat down, a voice suddenly interrupted my thoughts.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" Diana asked me with a smile. The sky was blue, the clouds almost picturesque and the sun was shining just to illuminate what my life could've been.
"It is," I nodded, and attempted at reciprocating the smile.
"You see that?" She said, pointing to a plush cloud in the sky. "That is Spencer's favorite kind of cloud."
"A cumulus cloud?" I smiled, blinking back tears at her use of present tense.
"Yes. When I miss him, I like to look out my window and look at the clouds. They remind me of him."
"The stars remind me of him," I said, reaching over and squeezing her hand a little. "He used to tell me stories of different constellations. I like to think if some sort of god existed then they'd pity what has happened and throw him up into the stars for a second chance."
"Yes, growing up his favorite constellation was the little dipper," she chuckled. "Although last I checked a few months ago he said it is now Corona Borealis."
"He has good taste," I laughed.
"He does!" She agreed with me. "He must love you."
"I'm flattered. I love him too...more than anything," I said, a single tear slowly coursing down my cheek.
I then turned and watched the group of men lowered the casket into the ground. A pastor, someone who didn't even know Spencer, said a few words and then close family and friends were called up. I waited my turn to throw some dirt onto the coffin. Diana was first, the Hank and Derek, then me. I reached down, scooping some dirt into my hand. I would inevitably be picking dirt from my nails for weeks to follow. As I was about to drop the dirt onto the casket, a beautiful purple butterfly landed on my hand. Spencer's voice played in my head as I looked at the miracle: "Energy can not be destroyed, only transferred."
I sighed and the butterfly slowly fluttered away. I finally dropped the grains of dirt onto his casket and whispered a final "I love you" hoping that by some way he could hear me.
。⋆。˚ 𐀔˚。⋆。
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