Up in Flames | Spencer Reid x Reader |

Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Kill the Clone of You

A brisk torrent of wind whipped straight past you, forcing you to keep a bit of a Marilyn Monroe stance as you crossed the street. It was clearly fall, seeing that the pumpkins were ripe and ready out on the porch sides of the old semi-detached houses. But you really hadn't come to realize the nature of the season till you noticed the soft tastelessness in the air. It left no residue of stickiness on your flesh as the other weathers tended to do. Yet, that was one of the several reasons why you loved autumn. It frequently dug up fond memories of your childhood in Canada. The colored leaves, the long walks with the family, the extremely late night dinners. It was all so good but it felt so far from what you could recall immediately.

It was probably because there was darkness filling the vacancy of your reminiscences.

You heaved in a sigh and shook your head in an attempt to relieve the tenseness that grew in your shoulders. In a few hasty strolls, you ended on the doorway of your soul mate. After you had readjusted your dress and pushed strands of hair out of your face, you finally rang the doorbell. You even rapped on the wood, perhaps once or twice. You couldn't keep count because something rather ominous took over our mind once again.

"He's coming... you know it..."

You swallowed the lump enlarging in your throat and kept your eyes locked on the specific chip on the door.

"You can't hide the fact that it's true... he's coming, (Y/n), he's coming—"

"He's not coming!" You hollered at the delusion of the dead girl who barely twitched at your firm stare.

During your episode, you failed to recognize that Casha had already opened her door. The blonde stared at you till she noticed that your eyes widened and returned to her. "Who's not coming?" She quizzed as she quirking a brow at your figure.

You were witty to an extent, well; you were a dumb kind of witty. So responding to her didn't seem too hard, but collecting yourself was the difficult task. You gulped and chuckled light-heartedly, "The devil. He's not coming... because I brought the best wine in the city."

The woman's face broke into a grin that surely was inevitable. If you were to ask Casha about what one food item she would only eat for the rest of her life, she would say wine. Even if it's not food. "You do me well, (Y/n). You do me well. Now c'mon inside, everyone is waiting for you." She said, widening the door for you to enter. You made your best attempt to withdraw your eyes from Hilgara Morrison as you got inside the warm and cozy household. But you couldn't help but feel a drift of a breeze send spiraling shock down your spine. You knew your hallucination was gone by now. You started to unpack and take off your coat when Casha's daunted voice sparked your interest again. There was a pinch of distress that you noted since you first laid eyes on her. "So you see... we have someone over for dinner that we didn't necessarily invite. But I just wanted to warn you before you blow steam, you know what I mean?"

You furrowed your brows, glancing over your shoulder to the woman. "Who do you have over?"

"(Y/n)!" Ron, Casha's distastefully deafening husband hollered from the end of the hallway. He trotted over to you, embracing you in a manly hug. The strong scent of his Swiss cologne must have brushed on you because even after he pulled away, you could smell every inch of him. "You look not a day old. I saw you how many years ago?"

"Six."

"Six bloody years? That's insane! You look fantastic! How have you've been?"

"I'm— I'm pretty good, thank you." Your discomfiture was starting to peak up, but Casha didn't seem to mind that at all. Especially Ron, who devoured all the energy from the particles in the air, didn't notice your uneasiness. "How are you and Keria?"