Mental Health x Criminal Minds

D- S.R

This depression - it's been eating you up. The world no longer seemed magical. The sky no longer seemed limitless. The chirping of the birds no longer a music to your ears. It's very dark in here. Not from the practical point of view, but from your mental state. The tears want to roll down, but they are too stubborn. They just wouldn't come. Your face wants to grimace and contort into a painful expression, but the fake smile that has been plastered for years seems to have frozen in place. It's all too painful; your pain is never-ending.

Today was that day of drowning. You didn't want to get up, you didn't want to move at all. You felt dead inside.

Why continue on in this cycle?

You looked at the bottle of prescribed pills. Anti-depressants. Why take them? It never seemed like they worked...

You were too lost in thought to process your phone had gone off. Two messages from Hotch and five from Spencer.

He was worried about you. Out of everyone, he noticed your change in mood and noticed the signs of depression. He never wanted to accuse you of anything because that wasn't right. He knew the affects of the medication couldn't of been helping you but you needed to take them.

From personal experience he thought you could either feel embarrassed, ashamed, or feel unworthy. He just wanted to let you know he was there.

Spencer walked to your apartment door and quietly knocked. He waited a few minutes and still received no answer. He turned around and glanced to see if anyone was watching. He turned back and lifted up the mat, picking up a spare key. He unlocked your door and quietly walked in.

He set the key on the table, his bag on the ground, and took off his jacket, taking a look around. Your apartment was messier than usual. Books were scattered across the room, blankets and unfolded clothes on the floor, the dishes hadn't been washed in a few days.

He sighed and made his way to your bedroom, giving a small knock on the doorframe. He saw you jump but make no attempt to move. The meds sat on your nightstand looking untouched.

It looked like you had crawled inside some invisible shell and no matter what anyone would try, you were unreachable.

She moves her eyes more slowly, like they're heavy, an effort to move. I want to crack my rare jokes but I know she won't laugh. I'm standing right by her but she might as well be on the moon.

"Y/n?" He softly asked. He hesitantly walked to your bedside and moved the blanket away from your face.

"Can you tell me what you're currently feeling? You can tell me anything and I'm not going to pressure you, I-I would never." He moved a strand of hair behind your ear. You still made no effort looking at him.

"I'm fine." You bitterly replied, trying to pull the blanket back over your face.

"You're not." He grabbed the blanket and halted your movement. "You've been in bed all day and by the looks of it you haven't eaten anything today."

Spencer knew about depression and all the different types. The persistent feeling of sadness and/or loss of interest, the change in sleep, behavior, energy level, self esteem, the list continues. He also knew depression could lead to thoughts of suicide. He wanted to help you before that point, if you weren't there already.

He wasn't going to slap a few therapist's numbers on your nightstand and leave to go to his own apartment and call it a day. He knew how hard it was to ask for help in your current state.

"I'm here and I'm more than happy to sit by you and listen to your problems." He softened his eyes and you finally looked into his.

She looked at me like the fire in her eyes had been dowsed with ice water. I wasn't used to it, I was unnerved. But she needed me more than ever.

"I used to be happy. Um yeah, past tense. Sucks I know." Spencer cupped your cheek that wasn't touching the bed and lightly caressed your skin. "Something inside me just... broke. That's the only way I can describe it..." You quieted your voice.

"I-I don't know. It's not you it's me... I don't see the light in things anymore, there's no optimism, there's no point.. I can't escape it." He wiped your tears away and readjusted his sitting position on the floor.

"I know this is hard. You've done hard things before and I believe in you. I know it's hard to see good in this situation but we can make sense of it okay? You're important to me and you are not alone." He eyed the meds to his right and you followed his gaze.

"I can't take those." You whispered.

"They were recommended sweet girl. Did you take any today?" You shook your head shamefully. "What if from now on, whenever you have to take your meds, I'll take mine. It'll be our little routine if you can't do it by yourself. I love you y/n, I love you so much. I'm never leaving your side." He smiled and hoped you would take his offer. You did.

The solution to depression was to treat the person with compassion rather than telling them that their brain is defective.

Spencer got up and went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. He also searched his messenger bag for his medication. Spencer came back and reached for your pill bottle. He slowly helped you sit up and lean against the headboard.

"We can take them together, okay?" He held his medication in his hand with water in the other.

You nodded and slowly unscrewed the bottle. You grabbed the prescribed dosage and held it in your hand, waiting for him.

"Ready?" He put his pills in his mouth and you watched him swallow them. You did the same, slightly angling your head back as you brought the water to your lips. You swallowed and looked at Spencer. He was smiling.

"We can do this." He squeezed your leg and you smiled. "Uhm." He nervously ran his hands up and down his pants.

"Do you want me to stay? I-I can read to you." He put his hands in his pockets and looked over at you.

"Yeah Spence, that'd be nice." You flashed him a quick smile and he got up.

"Alright book! Coming right up!" You chuckled as Spencer ran out of the room and searched your bookshelves. He found your favorite book and smiled. He loved how your eyes lit up whenever you talked about the plot with him. He didn't even have to read it himself to understand, if someone asked him he could give a good general description.

"I found one." He held up the book with a huge grin. His eyes scrunched up slightly and his teeth showed. He was so happy to see your reaction.

Spencer situated himself under the covers and sat against the headboard right next to you. You wrapped your arm around his bicep and pulled him closer so you could rest your head on his shoulder.

He chuckled and opened the book, slowing his reading so you could keep up with your eyes. He changed his voice and mood depending on how the character felt and their actions and you couldn't help but giggle. His head slowly fell onto yours and your eyes grew heavy.

You couldn't fight the sleep much longer and it eventually pulled you in. Spencer continued to finish the book because he found it quite interesting. He couldn't wait to talk about the plot when you woke up.

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"There is hope, even when your brain tells you there isn't."
-John Green