Neighbors (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Eight

It had been six months since your outburst. You'd convinced Spencer to help you get into a mental hospital, and it helped. You got set up with a therapist, and finally had a chance to unload everything. Of course, you still got nightmares about the night. The look of horror on Spencer's face when he put the pieces together would haunt you for the rest of your life. So would the state of your apartment. He wrote occasionally. He'd straightened up your home. With your permission, he'd dug around in your family and personal history to find the root of your disorder.

It was genetic, apparently. It was why your mother had run off. She couldn't stand living with your father and his outburst. You had no idea if she was even still alive but hardly cared. A mother who could abandon her children was no mother at all.

Today you were leaving. When you stepped outside, you were surprised to find Alex's brother. "Hey! Aaron, right? It's been a while." He nodded and awkwardly handed you a gift bag. "Alex's car is in the shop and he couldn't get off work. He asked for me to come get you. It's just a bunch of chocolates from him." You nodded and let him lead you to his car, asking about his wife and kid. It was a little difficult to get the ball rolling, but once the two of you got used to the other's presence, the easier the conversation flowed. Aaron was easy to be around; you felt you could trust him.

Half an hour into the drive, Aaron halted the conversation. His tone of voice switched to one of seriousness. "Why were you in the ward?" The question caught you off guard. Honestly, you'd assumed Spencer had told someone. After six months, had he really kept it a secret? "Y/N. Why were you in the ward for so long? I only ask because one of my agents has been adamant that it was unimportant, yet he won't say a word about the night he admitted you. I want to make sure he's safe," Aaron explained. Not a single word? You hadn't told Alex because he was unaware of your past and you wanted to keep it like that. "L/N."

The sternness in his voice pulled you out of your thoughts. "Sorry. What do you know? Or was he completely silent?" No answer. "He didn't tell you what happened? Like, at all?" A head shake. "All he would tell me was that you had a family history of mental health issues and a mental breakdown." Why had Spencer protected you? Was he actually telling the truth when he said he had feelings? You still couldn't forgive what he said. It didn't make you angry anymore, just sad. If he really loved you, he wouldn't have treated you like that. The question was- No. This wasn't the time or place. You would see Spencer soon enough.

"You want the whole truth?" He nodded. "It goes back to childhood. My father had mental issues. He'd snap at the smallest thing." You flashbacked to him hitting your brother. "He didn't beat us." Him refusing to let you leave the house until you were an adult. "But he did beat mom." Your mother, sobbing in the kitchen, her face bruised. You let outa deep sigh, glad you would never see him again. "He was a horrible father, and he drove my mother off. I was fourteen. It messed me up. I started acting out, fighting back more. When I was seventeen I found someone, thought it was an escape. I was stupid. Getting into a relation right after escaping an abusive household is the worst thing a person can do. He took advantage of how vulnerable I was. I stayed with him for a year, taking his abuse, until he tried crossing a line. I snapped. Blacked out."

It had been a horrible night to live, but reliving it just made you grin. "He's a horrible man, and he got what he deserved. I apparently beat him within an inch of his life; from what I hear he crawled to the police station. I was in prison for a few years. It wasn't supposed to be that long, but someone pushed me, egged me on my first year. I attacked half my cell block and four guards before I was sedated. That was the last time I threw a punch." Until six months ago. "How long ago was that?"

"Two years. I'm twenty four." Aaron nodded. You hadn't realize how much time had passed as you spoke. He was pulling into your parking lot by now. You waited for him to park before finishing. "I was angry because of something Spencer said. He came to my place to apologize, but it was too late. I was already mad, and the poor guy was only saying things that would set me off even more. I punched him in the jaw, then locked myself in the bedroom. I called the police, but he took over when they arrived. I was calm by then. Full of guilt, but calm. Me and him talked, I told him I needed help. You don't need to hear that conversation, not yet. Maybe never. He agreed to take me to a ward. And now we're here."

Aaron put a hand on your shoulder, offering a comforting smile. "Thank you. I'm sure that was hard. It's late, you should get some rest. Good luck, Y/N." You nodded and got out of the car, grabbing the gift bag. "Thank you for asking, Aaron. Good luck to you." He nodded and left. With a small breath to help relax, you turned around and headed up the stairs to your door. Spencer's door was right there, right next to yours. It would be so easy to knock, to talk to him, to-

"Y/N?"

Oh.