Spencer Reid | Oneshots

Diamonds ☁️ (G)

Summary: Spencer comforts Reader when they have a bad pain day.

Rating: G

Content Warning: Pain, crying, internalized ableism, shame

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There are some days where my body aches from shackles that don't exist. Heavy wooden doors might as well be prison cells, and smog scented city air feels like poison on tired lungs. Days where the days feel limited, where the clock feels more like a bomb than a harmless little middle man between me and the universe.

Some days, I am too tired to even make it to the bench. I find myself on the curb, with my head in my hands and hoping that no one might find me there. I want to be as lost as I feel, left alone in my pity party with an attendance of half a person.

It was all going according to plan. Until my boyfriend had to go and crash my party.

When he joined me on the curb in the parking garage of our office, I was comforted by one simple fact: On days like these, Spencer knew better than to ask me how I am.

I was never able to figure out if it was just his way of avoiding acknowledging the pain. If I had the energy, I might be hurt by the idea of him wanting to ignore my reality. But I was tired, and I thought it would only be fair for one of us to get to live in blissful ignorance.

I was grateful for his company, too. It was especially nice in these moments, where neither of us knew what to say, so we both chose silence, instead. We listening to the wind whipping between concrete barriers, and we stared forward at the empty spaces before us.

Spencer's hand reached out for mine but stopped short. He stalled there, noticing how I'd failed to move at all in response.

"Can I touch you?" he asked.

Four simple words that threatened to break the rest of me down.

With the tiniest nod, I tried to give him an answer that would be intelligible. Because I knew if I opened my mouth, all that would come out were sobs and screams that would echo through the structure until they hit me again just as hard.

I was trying to spare us the sound, but it didn't work. The second that he touched me, the moment his arms wrapped around me and pulled me closer, I lost it. The tears that had felt nonexistent were pouring out of me with no sign of stopping. Like a heavy raincloud who'd finally had enough, I emptied my sorrows into his arms while I listened to the sound of the heavy heartbeat that I'd caused.

Together, we wallowed. We grieved. We did what we had to in order to lose the extra weight I'd carried for just a few hours too long. When it was over, and some time had passed, Spencer broke the silence with a soft, pitiful timbre.

"I'm really sorry," he said like it had needed to be said by him and not me, "I should've paid closer attention."

"Don't apologize for not noticing something I didn't want you to notice," I sighed in response. I'd hoped he wouldn't press it any further, but I should've known better.

With just enough offense to notice, he whispered, "Why don't you want me to notice?"

And I, with an excess of exhaustion, answered, "I don't want you to think I'm weak."

At first, it seemed like Spencer had accepted the answer with grace. However, a few seconds later, he gave a distinctly ungraceful snort. I turned up at him with a pout, and he did his best to ease it away. He brought his hand to my cheek, brushing his thumb over my lips until they settled back into their frown from before.