Hidden // Spencer Reid

London

His eyes light up when I finally manage to open the door. "Hi, Spencer," I mutter meekly, wheeling myself backward to swing the door open enough for him to walk in.

He pauses for a moment. "I understand that, with everything you've gone through in the past couple months, you have an excuse for being upset, or quiet. Whatever reaction you have would basically be normal, for most other people. But you don't seem like--"

"It's not that I don't want to talk to you, Spencer. It's just that everything's happening insanely quickly. It's disorienting, is all."

He raises an eyebrow as he steps inside and shuts the door with a soft click. "You don't seem disoriented. You seem conflicted."

I try as hard as I can to stop myself from rolling my eyes. I want to be alone, but at the same time I'm afraid for him to leave.

"Lena, you can tell me what's wrong. I'm always here for you."

His "comforting" words seemed trite and untrue. I sigh outwardly and lift myself onto the couch. Spencer sits beside me and gently wraps his arm over my shoulder.

I love him. I know that. I love him so much, but I also love -- loved -- Derek. It was so unfair of me to do this to him-- to both of them. I felt manipulative. "Spencer, am I a bad person?" I wince as soon as the question leaves my mouth, remembering who it was that I was asking.

"Technically, nobody can be classified as a 'good person' or a 'bad person'. It is simply a matter of opinion and can therefore not be accurately confirmed or denied. For instance, based on Adolf Hitler's actions, many would describe him as a 'bad person', although some may claim he is a 'good person'. The same applies with Ghandi: many would say he is good, but there are some who would describe him as bad," he replies automatically, but then he glances down at me and blushes. "I think you're sweet."

"But not good?" I continue, leaning into him slightly, mostly because I was uncomfortable beforehand.

"I think calling you a good person implies that you've never made a bad decision."

I sigh in defeat. "Okay." It's clear Spencer thinks I made poor choices. He's right, of course, but sometimes I just want someone to reassure me that I'll be alright eventually.

An idea forms in my head, something concerning London, but I quickly push it aside.

"I love you, Lena," Spencer says suddenly, and when I look at him I notice he's studying the bookcases above behind my head.

I feel guilt twist my insides, and my chest feels weighed down with it. For some reason it makes me glance at my baby bump, which had swelled over the edge of my sweatpants' waistband. "Sorry," I apologize quickly. "I got distracted."

I feel hot tears trying to coax their way out of my eyelids. "I.. I love you too, Spencer. I love you too."

"I hope you realize that I understand what you're experiencing."

I roll my eyes and sit up, Spencer's hand falling limply onto his lap. "Spencer, you're too smart to cheat." The very word, the single syllable makes me feel more exposed than I have ever felt in my entire life, and I had once lost my bikini top in Florida. (I found it eventually.)

Spencer bites his lip, as if he's about to say something emotional. He never seemed like the emotional kind of guy. "I guess you m-made me that stupid," he stutters, blushing.

I know I'm supposed to think of it as romantic or something, but it makes me feel even more guilty. "I didn't know I was so beguiling." I try to crack a smile, but my face remains stuck between a frown and impassive.