Aaron Hotchner x Reader Fics

I Don't Love You

Summary - Hotch x GN!Reader that is just straight sad. The reader is in an unhealthy relationship with Hotch some time close after Haley's death. 

Trigger Warnings - vague descriptions that could be interpreted as ab*se, vague depictions of an extremely unhealthy and unloving relationship, but overall just extremely sad and emotionally taxing

Word Count - 999

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You stared at nothing in particular, just wondering. Your eyes were hot, stingy, and red, and they hurt, bad. You had been crying for...well, you didn't really know how long you had been crying. You just had been. Not in front of him, of course. You knew better than that. But there were no more tears left. Your body had exhausted every last one left in you and now you were just numb, but hot all over, a statue on fire.

You wondered if he felt the same. You wondered if he felt anything about you at all. If he ever did.

You wanted to say that it happened out of nowhere, that it was a complete shock to you, that nothing, nothing, could have prepared you for it, but that would have been a lie. The signs had pointed to this forever, but you pretended like you always did. You chose to walk with hands over your eyes, knowing deep down that you would fall. And you did.

But you never thought, or some hopeful part of you did, that he would actually say it. That he would mean it. That you could believe it.

"I don't love you. I've never loved you. And I will never love you."

It wasn't the heartbreak that hit you first. It was the smooth calmness of his voice that did. There was no hesitation, not even a hint of regret. You couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe he had been saving these words. Keeping them locked up tight behind his facade, just waiting for the right moment to say it. The words slammed around in your head, "I don't love you" echoing in your skull. You knew the words "I love you" had impact. Why didn't they tell you that "I don't love you" had more?

Then your throat closed up. All of the breath you were filled with before was sucked out of you until there was nothing left. You could feel your soul clawing at you from inside your body to be let out. Felt it screaming, rattling at the bars to be freed. But nothing, no words or sounds would come out of your mouth, they were too hard. Instead, you just let the silence speak for you. It didn't say anything.

Your body shook when he slammed the door. It was an all too familiar sound, but this time, it rattled you. You stood there, blinking and silent, because that was the only thing you could do. The door would open. It had to. It wasn't going to end like this. It couldn't. But it didn't open.

You tried to justify it at first. He didn't know what he was saying. It wasn't him. He was drunk or hurt or confused. But that wasn't it. You knew all of those excuses you made for him weren't true because for once, he had looked you in the eyes when he spoke to you. He hadn't done that for so long.

He was angry. He was always angry these days. It was rarer to see him happy than not. But even happy days weren't immune from his anger. It was crazy, to you at least, how much things changed without you even noticing. How a simple smile, that not long ago was just the norm, had turned into a prize. How ordinary it felt to go to bed never happy, never smiling. How even a speck of love would be the cliff you held onto while everything else crumbled around you, convincing you that it was okay. That it would always be okay and it would get better. But it never did.

You told yourself that it was you. That you were the problem. Maybe if you changed, then he would stay. That maybe if you were more like her then things would be good. What did you have to do for him to see you? Did he ever see you? Or were you a poor knockoff replacement for someone he still loved that was taken too soon?

No matter how hard he tried to fit you into whatever Haley-shaped hole he had, you never could fit just right. You didn't look enough like her, you didn't sound enough like her, you didn't feel enough like her. You weren't her. But you tried so hard. You tried because he still wanted her but all he had was you. You tried because it was good in the beginning, it was so good, so maybe if you just gave a little something up, then it would be good again. And it worked so well, he had a smile he only reserved for when you reminded him of her. So you kept giving and giving and giving to see that smile until there was none of you, the real you, left.

You wondered if any of it - one word, one smile, one touch - had ever been real. If there had ever been a point where the two of you had actually been really, honestly happy. Or if it had always been like this and you had just been too blind to see it.

You looked at the empty apartment around you. It looked like it always did, but you saw it for what it was now. No more rose-tinted glasses. No more silver lining. A house, not a home; a prison, not a paradise.

When your tears had long dried up, leaving streaky marks down your cheeks, you found the words you couldn't speak before. The truth washed over you for the first time in a long time.

I knew you were using me, I just didn't care.

But realizing the truth didn't make it hurt any less. Because you still didn't care. You knew what you had wasn't love. You knew he could never really love you, but it didn't matter. You didn't want love. You just wanted him. Even if it meant losing yourself in the process.