Spencer Reid: Oneshots

5 Stages

Summary: Reader moves on from loss.
Warning: Mentions of death and grief

I will love you until death do us part.

That was something that everyone vowed when they formally became one with the person they loved the most.

Until.

Not after. Just until.

I so clearly remember that day.

It had been exactly 52 months, 1 week, and 3 days since the last time our waking hands touched, the last time I heard your sweet, melodic voice, the last time I felt your teardrops fall onto my frail and cold skin, and the final time I took a breath.

I always believed I got the short end of life's straw by being the one it took so young until I saw you in the time that followed.

At first, you only stayed in bed.

At some point, you began to eat in small amounts, watched every movie that I knew always brought you comfort, and you slept through a whole night without reaching for my side of the bed.

Then you began to shower regularly, you allowed your family and friends back into your life, and you began to make changes.

You quit that office job you always hated, taking a chance on the artistic dreams you talked about so often.

I remember that day you got the job. That smile that helped me fall in love with you came back for the first time since I left you.

You cleaned out my side of the closet for the first time. I watched as you buried your face into each shirt, vowing that you'd let them go for donation but quickly slipping them back into the closet.

You still slept in them.

But time passed.

You used to refuse to watch movies that I loved, eat meals you knew were my favorites, or listen to songs that reminded you of us. But one day, you ate at my favorite restaurant with friends. You saw my old favorite movie at a drive-in movie with your brother and his wife. And you introduced your newborn niece to our favorite songs.

I should've felt upset when I saw you clean out the closet again, discarding all of those shirts but one. One I knew you loved most, but I couldn't help but smile.

Then came that day.

You had always stuck to routines when we were together. Wake up, eat if you had time, get coffee, go to work.

But on today's run to coffee, a man gestured to your socks, complimenting them. I watched a soft smile spread across your face as the two of you began talking about them. The smile grew larger, your eyes scrunching when you laughed, the man laughing just as much. You seemed relaxed.

He left with your phone number on the back of his hand.

I watched you dance around your apartment, holding up different outfits and observing yourself in the mirror.

I watched you get frustrated by the shaky eyeliner or scrunched mascara.

I watched you walk out the door to meet this man without even glancing at the photo of the two of us on the cabinet.

You had gone out with friends and colleagues many times since I had been gone but never with a guy in that way, but you seemed...comfortable.

You made jokes, listened to what he had to say, chimed in at times, even debated with him, but the colour of your cheeks only grew pinker.

He kissed you 8 days later.

You hadn't kissed anyone on the lips in over 4 years, but you melted into his touch. The little giggles that you used to let out after kissing me returned with him.

He asked you to officially be his girlfriend the next morning.

You accepted within a heartbeat.

I watched you grow from dressing up to simply watch a movie at your place, getting anxious when sitting next to him, and nervously make a small move to just kiss him to no longer care about appearances, not freak out, and be intimate with him with ease.

I wish I could blame your higher level of happiness on your friends, how well your job was going, and your baby niece growing up.

But it was him. I knew it was him, I just didn't want to admit it.

I watched as he introduced you to friends and family, you officially becoming a part of his life as much as he was a part of yours.

And then it happened.

You told him about me.

I watched his clueless expression morph into a sympathetic one, his arms holding you tightly.

I wanted to be him so badly, I wanted to smell your shampoo again, and I wanted to be yours again.

I loathed him.

How could he take you away? How could you let him?

Why were you forgetting me?

You interrupted my thoughts after he left that night. You held the photo frame in your hands.

"If you're listening...I just hope you know that I still love you. I always will, but...I really love him too. He makes me happy, he makes me feel how you used to. I miss you and love you." Your lips pressed against the photo as you placed it in a drawer.

Every physical evidence of my presence in your life was packed away.

It hurt.

It hurt so badly.

Until he came over one day.

You had run to the store to grab dinner, leaving him inside. He went into your room, taking the frame.

"Hey...I know that I'm probably talking to myself here, but...I love her. I love Y/N so much, and I want you to know that I'm taking care of her. I promise you that, and I want you to know that before I ask her to live with me."

I wanted to hate him, but I knew he was right.

He was taking care of you as much as you were taking care of him, and that's all I could ask for.

They say the final stage of grief is acceptance, and I believe it applies to the person who dies as much as the one who loses them.

I accepted that you lived with him, went to sleep next to him every night, and woke up with him every morning.

I accepted that he proposed to you, and you said yes.

I accepted that you both found out that you were going to be parents to a wonderful and lucky child.

And as you walked down the aisle, looking like a real angel in that dress, I accepted one last thing.

Spencer was perfect for you.

He brought the light back into your life, you brought it into his, and you were both happier than ever.

I couldn't be angry at either of you for finally being happy.

I am your past, and Spencer Reid is your present and future.

ah shit that was depressing as hell sorry about that but ty for 31k! mwah:)