"of all ghosts the ghosts of our old loves are the worst."
-sir arthur conan doyle, the memoirs of sherlock holmes.
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never, always. an exploration of one of spencer reid's imagined futures.
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inspired by numerous edits from instagram users...
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content warnings: i don't think there are any. have fun reading !
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"close friends are truly life's treasures. sometimes they know us better than we know ourselves. with gentle honesty, they are there to guide and support us, to share our laughter and our tears. their presence reminds us that we are never really alone." -vincent van gogh.
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Standing in front of his closet, Spencer scanned the options of what he could wear.
Long story short, Spencer has a date tonight. One that, in his twenty-four years of life, he never thought he would ever make.
Ever since Los Angeles, Spencer has been teetering on and off the edge of indecision. He didn't know what it was that he was... undecided... about, but he just knew it was there. It made him feel sick to his stomach, like something swirling around in black waters and you couldn't see the bottom when you knew you had to dip your feet in. It made his chest tight. His head hurt. Like anytime he looked at Elle, if he ever made eye contact with her, he would crumble, but if he didn't, if he went the rest of his life walking circles around her but never crossing her threshold, she would disappear. He didn't keep in touch with Lila, no matter how many times she called, and he didn't answer, she still never seemed to get the point. Or she did, and she was simply doing it to spite him.
And it was working.
But nonetheless, there he was, sorting through the pieces he had hanging on the hangers and working them together in his head until he met a combination that appeased his desires. Reaching inside, he fished out what he needed: a dark eggplant colored sweater, thickly knit and loose; a cream colored button-up shirt that had chemical equations embroidered as a pattern and his initials monogrammed on the sleeves; a pair of olive green pants that were cropped just high enough to show off his mismatched socks- one with stripes and the other littered with stars- peeking over his cream colored Converse.
Getting himself dressed, he met his reflection in the mirror and smiled at himself as he smoothed out his clothes, making sure he looked as presentable as feasibly possible before tracking into the bathroom to tidy his hair. He adjusted his collar and pushed some stray pieces of hair into place, meeting his tired eyes with a satisfied nod. "This'll just have to do."
Spencer walked out of the bathroom and rounded the corner of his doorway, sifting his phone and wallet into his pockets as he made his way down the hallway. Reaching his door, he grabbed the keys to his apartment, his metro card (just in case), and his coat. He pulled his coat on, humming happily at the cozy warmth, and slung his bag over his shoulder, pushing his way out of the door and locking up. The keys in his pocket jingled as he jogged down the stairwell, counting each step in the back of his head and stamping his feet against the concrete when he got to the bottom with a small oof and some pep in his step. When he finally made it to his car, he got in with haste, driving off into the slowly setting sun and making his way to his destination.
