Up in Flames | Spencer Reid x Reader |

Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Should've Listened

He ran.

He ran with the wind to his back. Like a deer from its predator. Like a torrent of emotions was pooling within him, fueling him with enough energy to storm off through the corridors and past the heavy doors.

You felt something terrible was going to occur— as if something bad didn't already happen.

The feeling was ticking away in your core. It was like a timer that counted down to something you did not know. The child turned a corner, and soon enough he was out of your sight.

"Demetris!" You hollered, stalking your instincts as you searched every room and hallway. Eventually, you caught sight of the boy's red collared shirt from the corner of your eye and soon enough, you were back on his track.

But despite your calls, your son did not stop. Rather he kept going, meters ahead of you in the race. Your fretfulness kicked in the moment you realized he sprinted through the exit of the hospital. At least the building was contained. There were only so many hiding spots. But outside, it was a different case.

After what seemed like minutes of searching of the parking lot, you came to acknowledge the figure that was in the window of your car. You approached it, leisurely but cautiously, to find that it was him. Demetris.

In any other scenario you would have screamed— discontent with how much time was spent on a chase that ended nowhere.

But in actuality, you were relieved— more than relieved, in fact— to know that the boy was safe and sound.

As though you were afraid you'd startle the creature, you slowed your movements and reached for the door handle. With your breath still deep from the unplanned run, you shifted into the driver's seat. Once you were inside though, you couldn't even look at the boy. You didn't say anything either.

Instead, you both sat there in tranquil silence, the sound of sniffling filling the gaps in between every once in a while. You glanced at the being from the corner of your eyes, attempting to decipher what he was thinking of, but his profile didn't give you the answers you desired. Rather, the trickling of tears and the reddening of his nose was all that you caught site of.

"Are you . . . mad at me?" The boy shook his head so enthusiastically that it seemed as though he was lying. "Are you sure?"

Demetris had to take a minute for himself before he opened up to you. "It's not your fault," he said, the cracking of his voice still present. "You didn't know things would turn out like this . . ."

But God— you sure did know. You knew that the woman he was going to meet was not his mother. You knew that you built his hopes up for nothing. Guilt felt like thorns, prickling into your sides. Sometimes, you wondered whether the boy knew the truth, because it was as though the child wisely sewed his words together to make shame grind against your skull.

But you convinced yourself, after lots of trouble, that everything was coincidental or that fate was setting traps for you.

You would have provided a few gentle remarks to reassure the kid, but the silence grew too thick. No matter what you uttered, the situation wasn't going to get any better. What's done is done. And so you sat there, studying the boy on a side-ish view, contemplating on how you could protect him and comfort him. But then, the sickest option grew prominent in your mind.

What if you told him the truth— about who you were and who he was to you? Would that ease the pain?

And with all good heart and honesty, even though the boy was merely five years old— who's not even tall enough to climb into a car without a struggle, you decided you'd tell him.