Closer - A Spencer Reid story (2)

8

The air felt heavier around Yn as the pressure of the situation began to settle in. The unsub's games weren't just distant taunts anymore; they were creeping into her personal life, into her thoughts, making it harder to focus on anything else. The messages Spencer had been receiving, the way he always seemed distracted, his quiet avoidance of certain topics—it all pointed to something deeper. The unsub wasn't just playing with Spencer. She was playing with both of them, and that realization made Yn's skin crawl.

She had spent the last few days cooped up inside her apartment, trying to drown out the noise in her head by throwing herself into her work. But it was getting harder to ignore. Every time her phone buzzed, her heart would skip a beat, expecting another cryptic message or a veiled threat. She hadn't received anything yet, but the silence felt more ominous than comforting.

One afternoon, while Yn was sketching at her desk, her phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number. Her heart raced as she hesitated, hand hovering over the screen. It wasn't the killer—it couldn't be. But the paranoia had already set in, making every small thing feel like a threat. After a few seconds, she steeled herself and answered.

"Yn," Spencer's voice came through, strained but steady.

She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Spencer. What's going on?"

"Can we meet?" His voice was quieter than usual, almost pleading.

Yn paused, unsure if she should say yes. But the weight of everything—the unsaid things, the tension between them—was becoming unbearable. They couldn't keep avoiding it forever.

"Okay," she said softly. "Where?"

Spencer suggested a quiet café on the outskirts of the city, far from the places they used to frequent together. As she made her way there, Yn felt a strange mix of apprehension and curiosity. She hadn't had a real conversation with Spencer in years. Their recent encounters had been strained, overshadowed by the case and the danger lurking in the background. But this... this felt different.

When she arrived, Spencer was already seated at a corner table, his face drawn and pale. He stood as she approached, offering a small, nervous smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Thanks for coming," he said, his voice soft but sincere.

Yn nodded, sliding into the seat across from him. "I figured we should talk. There's a lot going on."

Spencer looked down at his hands, fidgeting slightly before meeting her gaze. "Yeah... there is."

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words. Yn wasn't sure how to start. She didn't know if she should ask about the case, the killer, or if she should dive straight into the personal mess they had been tiptoeing around.

Finally, Spencer broke the silence. "I'm sorry."

Yn blinked, taken aback. "For what?"

"For everything," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "For the way things ended between us... for not fighting harder to keep in touch. I didn't handle things well when you left."

Yn felt her heart tug at his words. She had always wondered what had happened on his end after she'd left for Hong Kong. It had been a mutual decision—well, mostly. She needed a fresh start, a chance to figure things out for herself. But that didn't mean it hadn't hurt.

"You didn't have to handle anything, Spencer," she said gently. "I was the one who left."

Spencer shook his head, his expression tight. "You left, but... I didn't. Not really. Not emotionally, at least."