SILVER SPOON. spencer reid

22

"i've already played this game a dozen times, and i'm kind of getting sick of it."
;

SPENCER, AFTER his incredibly long shower, felt like his brain had been replenished and cleansed of any and all the negativity that had been shoved inside for the past few weeks. He was starting to feel a little better, focusing on the cases more instead of his personal life. As if he had one, though.

The only problem was, the man felt like he had eyes on the back of his head—wherever he went. Maybe the case that him and team had been working on was finally getting to him. But the most realistic conclusion was Hazel not being around, because loosing significant people in your life caused paranoia and anxiety, all according to science. Science was the solution to everything.

So when Spencer heard a few knocks on his door, he went up and slowly opened it, looking at the source before he fully revealed himself.

And at that moment, Spencer Reid felt like science, mathematics, statistics—all of those things had completely abandoned him and his knowledge because he did not expect to see Hazel Beckett standing in his doorway. He could feel his heart literally sink down into his stomach, adrenaline pumping through his veins caused by the anxiety of seeing her again.

Hazel looked at Spencer straight in the eyes, her heart immediately jumping from her chest. The man was wearing his sleep attire—a pair of sweatpants and a gray hoodie which made him look young and immature. She had forgotten Spencer wore things other than blazers and ties. He face was quite pale—almost sickly, with dark bags under his tired eyes. She felt small under his intense gaze and eyes that were almost impossible to read. "Spencer." Was all she could croak out.

Spencer snapped out of his own train of thoughts that put him in a trance, trying to figure out why she was at his home. Why Hazel Beckett had a change of thought. All the things she had done to him flooded back into his memories, making the man suddenly weary. "What are you doing here?"

Hazel gulped at his cold voice, and the realization that Spencer was actually upset at her started to sink in. He had every right to be mad at her, but she couldn't help but feel incredibly hurt at the unfamiliar hostility. "I...need to talk to you."

He raised his eyebrow, scanning her face that looked equally as worn out as his. "About?"

"A-a lot of things." She stammered, her confidence shrinking as time passed between them. Hazel drew a sharp breath. "Can I...come in?"

Spencer hesitated, wishing that she could just tell him whatever it was she needed to say, right there in the doorway. The faster she was gone, the easier it was for Spencer to let her go. He had told himself he wasn't going to fall at her feet, but right now Hazel was making it a hell of a hard time. Alas, Spencer nodded, telling himself to at least be a decent person.

She avoided his burning eye contact as the woman stepped inside. Hazel scanned his entire apartment, breathing in and savoring the familiar scent of old books and taking in all the quirky things he had laying around, most in which had stayed in the same places. It felt like just yesterday when she had been staying here because of her mother.

It only felt like yesterday when her and Spencer were having normal conversations with each other, on the dark blue couch sitting in front of his old television screen.

"What is it?" He asked, this time a little less intimidating. Hazel turned around to look at him, the two of their heights almost equal because of Hazel's heels.

She had been drawn to him from the start. Everything about Spencer—his messy hair, the amount of intelligence yet stupidity he had, his awkward habits—screamed nothing but special to her. Weird to others probably, but special to Hazel.