RUBATOSIS. spencer reid

| twenty eight

SPENCER REID.

        JUST ONE MORE WAKE UP
call, ruining the moment.

I thought things were going so good back there—I mean, Sylvia and I acted like we were friends, (minus the attempted kiss of course), and I just felt so...happy like that. She seemed like she enjoyed being with me for once (even when we screamed at the other only a week ago); whether it was just an act or not was for me to think and wonder about later.

Because right now, I was learning about Tim Tim the Crackhead and how he'd somehow blew up into some star in the span of two months and was hanging around Sylvia again. It made me absolutely burn with jealousy—because of course, Sylvia would let him back in. She'd basically let anyone into her life but me. How could she? Why did she give everyone chances, but shoved me away the moment I messed up?

Now, it was just so painful to even be in the same room as her—I just felt like I was suffocating with worry, wondering what was wrong with me. It was like every time Sylvia was around it was either one of the best feelings ever, or one of the worst ones. There was just no in between, ever.

I invited her tonight in hopes to restore at least some of my mental health, because she just made me feel so good when we weren't fighting. But right now, I was feeling the exact opposite, and Sylvia was winning over me yet again. It was as if she controlled me at this point—all of my emotions and feelings—and all I wanted to do was just escape it, because it was so damn toxic.

When I realized I could barely even breathe out of anger, I stood up from the couch—the three of them sitting there looked up at me with confused expressions.

"I have a headache, so I'm just gonna go take a nap." I lied, "You guys are free to stay however long." I grumbled miserably, retreating to my bedroom without another word. The fact that none of them protested made me feel even worse.

I closed the door, reaching down in my mini-fridge and cracking open a bottle of beer. I opened my balcony door and stepped outside—fresh air filled my lungs and I let out a heavy sigh, staring up at the stars.

I stood there, still trying to find out what everyone else in Sylvia's life had that I didn't. Why she wouldn't let me in, why she seemed to pick out every single one of my mistakes and magnified them all. I couldn't stop thinking about her and why she didn't love me back.

It was making me miserable—all over a stupid girl. At times like these, I wished that I could shut off my brain and just think about nothing—because overthinking and over-analyzing absolutely everything was just so mentally exhausting sometimes. It was like my brain was wired to tell me that it everything was my fault, and that nothing was perfect because of me.

When I heard a noise behind me and I flinched with surprise, my heart pounding in my chest as I turned around. Part of me wanted it to be Sylvia, but that hope quickly diminished when I saw Derek standing there, wearing a blank expression.