Two Existentialists | S.R.
  • Reads 2,577,357
  • Votes 70,402
  • Parts 68
  • Time 6h 10m
  • Reads 2,577,357
  • Votes 70,402
  • Parts 68
  • Time 6h 10m
Complete, First published Aug 12, 2020
"How many existentialists does it take to screw a lightbulb?" Spencer asked with a small laugh. 

Once again the room was silent. You faintly heard Agent Rossi mutter, "Don't."

"2. One to change the light bulb and one to observe how it symbolizes an incandescent beacon of subjectivity in a netherworld of cosmic nothingness," he said. The room was silent still, until you laughed. His eyes looked up at yours in confusion. 

"Wouldn't they sit in the dark and hope that the bulb decided to light again? An existentialist would never change the bulb. He would allow the darkness to exist," you questioned.

-

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"Why didn't you wait for backup?" He yelled. "I didn't want him to get away." I said, walking further into the room. "You disobeyed my direct order." He said, still yelling. "Would you have rather me let him get away?" I said, getting louder. Not quite as loud as him. "You could have been shot." He said, still yelling. He took a step closer to me. "I know." "You could have been killed." He said, softer. "I know." I said, almost a whisper. "Your insubordination could have ended in death Catherine." He yelled inches away from my face. "I know." I said, getting louder. "I don't know how you could be so careless." He said, continuing to yell. "I'm sorry." "You're sorry?" He said, yelling. He put his thumb and middle finger on the bridge of his nose. "Hotch, I-" his lips came crashing onto mine.