coolest person I've ever met - spencer reid/oc

Chapter Eleven: *fun stuff pt.2*

Spencer had apologized to her, but that didn't mean he'd suddenly overcame his addiction. Though Amy did notice that when he was tense he paid extra attention to never being rude to her. Unfortunately the same didn't go for Emily, who still received veiled affronts from time to time.

Amy considered herself to be Spencer's friend, so ignoring the problem wasn't even an option. But she also knew that Spencer probably would've denied everything if confronted. Especially if she tried to talk to him during the high. Also, she didn't know what exactly he was addicted to. After studying the symptoms she figured it must've been an opioid, but she really hoped it wasn't the opioid, crap she couldn't even say it. Imagining Spencer... no... she couldn't.

She had to... she wanted and needed to somehow reach out to Spencer without giving him a chance to tell her she was wrong.

Amy had an idea.

She loved writing anyways.

.

When Spencer got home that night he put his satchel on the ground and went to wash his hands. The risk of getting a disease just by being outside was astonishing, so washing his hands every chance he had was an habit of his.

After he was done he sat on his couch, grabbing a book that he'd left on the table. He started reading at his usual speed.

The flashbacks didn't take long to come back. How could they come so soon? They made his head hurt. It was even hard for him to process the words in front of him.

He tried to fight it, he tried to push it back.

But he just couldn't.

He went to look for the pills in the satchel, he didn't remember in which compartment he'd put them. So he tried feeling the curves on the bag to guess where they'd ended up. But he felt an unexpected bump in a pocket where he usually never put any books.

Weird.

He took the book and read the title.

Les Paradis Artificiels, Charles Baudelaire

He'd never seen it before, he was sure of it.

When he got to read the subtitle his heart jumped.

Opium et Haschisch

Where did this book come from? He didn't buy it. He did not buy it. Could someone had lost it? No, why- how would it end up in his bag? And he really found it at an... appropriate moment, right when he was about to... Someone knew? Did someone know? Someone mus-

A sheet of paper fell on the ground.

When Spencer picked it up, he found himself reading a letter.

Dear Spence,

"A book is a garden, an orchard, a storehouse, a party, a company by the way, a counselor, a multitude of counselors", Baudelaire says. I think it's true. And I think you need a book, this one in particular. I care about you and your well-being Spence, deeply, and I really need you to be honest with yourself and the team. The details about what you're going through don't matter to me (unless you want to tell me, in that case they'll become of utmost importance), but the details of how you behave and how you feel do matter, and they never go unnoticed. By now you should have learned I love to profile your little quirks, you know, as you do mine. So I know you need help, and I want to be there for you. You're better than what you make yourself to be. You're better than who you become after it. You can be the best person I've ever met Spence, you have been, so be that person right now. Call me if you need to, don't if you need someone who's more competent in this field, but please, please work as hard on yourself as you would on solving a case. Because I, but most importantly you, need to be the Spencer I know.