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reidmarieprentiss · 3 months ago

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Red: Part One

Summary: Spencer, in need of a break, finds himself at a quiet bar where he meets you. What starts as a chance encounter quickly turns into something deeper as the two of you fall for each other. Though your connection is undeniable, both of you struggle with opening up fully, each holding onto personal secrets that linger just beneath the surface. As you grow closer, the trust builds slowly but surely, but what truths are you both holding back? And how will they shape the relationship that’s blossoming between you?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, alcohol consumption, mild withholding of information, season 7 Spencer, this is just so fluffy

Word count: 23.5k

a/n: i am deeply obsessed with these two and i am sooo excited to continue writing for them !!! part two on the wayyy — unedited NEVER be afraid to call me out!!

also so silly but in this gif mgg has pen ink on his hand and that makes me happy

main masterlist part two

Additional warnings: handjob, fingering, grinding, mild breast play

Spencer had his eyes half-closed, nursing his second beer of the evening, the slight buzz in his head both surprising and, in a strange way, comforting. It wasn’t often that he sought out a bar, let alone one like this—a dimly lit, almost hidden speakeasy. The soft, jazzy notes of a piano floated through the air, merging with the quiet hum of voices around him. He liked that no one recognized him here, no one pried, no one asked questions. He could just be.

As he took another slow sip, he felt the weight of the stool next to him shift. Someone had slid into the seat beside him. He didn’t glance over immediately, his mind too cluttered to bother with pleasantries. The cases were piling up like unsorted files in his head, all demanding his attention. His mother’s health was deteriorating again, and the migraines that had haunted him for years had made a sudden, unwelcome return.

For a moment, he regretted not finishing the bottle of aspirin in his bag before entering the bar. But the alcohol was doing its job, numbing the edge just enough to make the night bearable. It wasn’t about getting drunk—he knew he wouldn’t let himself go that far—but it was about finding just enough peace to ease the constant pressure in his head, even if only for a few hours. Spencer closed his eyes briefly, taking in a deep breath, the smell of wood and faint whiskey lingering in the air.

Spencer’s gaze lingered on the woman beside him, unable to tear his eyes away just yet. She looked like she had walked straight out of another world, her style effortlessly unique, her red boots and gingham shorts standing out against the muted tones of the dimly lit bar. There was something about her that drew him in, despite her stoic expression—an air of mystery, as though she held a universe inside her that she wasn’t quite ready to share with anyone.

The bartender slid the espresso martini in front of her, and she barely acknowledged it, her mind clearly elsewhere. Spencer wondered what she was thinking about, what troubles weighed on her. He sympathized, his own mind heavy with stress and worry. He almost felt a kinship with her, like they were both sitting here, burdened by their own worlds, trying to find some fleeting solace in the bottom of a glass.

The scent of her—something sweet, with a hint of spice—drifted toward him. It was a calming scent, one that made him close his eyes for a second longer, hoping it would ease the pounding in his skull. He couldn't help but think that her smile, if she ever chose to reveal it, would be the kind of smile that would light up the darkest corners of a room.

He wondered if it might also help alleviate the growing tension in his mind, the tight grip of his migraine loosening just at the thought. For now, though, the smell of her perfume was enough to dull the ache, if only a little.

"Espresso martini, huh?" Spencer asked, his voice soft, not wanting to intrude too much but also not wanting to remain silent any longer. "Interesting choice for a Wednesday night."

The woman turned her head slightly, glancing at him with a raised brow, as though surprised anyone had spoken to her. For a second, Spencer worried he had overstepped, but then her lips twitched—not quite a smile, but enough to make him feel like maybe, just maybe, he had said something right.

"Not going to sleep anyway," you shrugged with a tired laugh, your voice carrying a hint of exhaustion but also nonchalance. "Might as well get a drink I enjoy, right?" You wrapped your fingers around the stem of the glass, feeling the cool condensation against your skin, but your eyes flickered over to the man beside you.

Usually, you wouldn’t engage with random men at a bar, especially not on a Wednesday night when the world seemed to blur together in monotony. But something about this one had caught your attention. He wasn’t like the others who sometimes tried too hard or made themselves too loud. He was quiet, unassuming, and there was a weight in his eyes that matched your own.

He was handsome, yes—remarkably so. His sharp, angular features made him look almost statuesque, but there was a softness to him too, something that balanced out the hard edges. It wasn’t just in his face, though. It was in the way he held himself, a little slouched, as if the world rested on his shoulders. There was something vulnerable about him, and that vulnerability intrigued you.

You weren't the type to make conversation with a stranger, but maybe it was the exhaustion that made you let your guard down, or maybe it was the way his gaze had softened when he glanced at you, as if he understood something about you without needing to ask. Whatever it was, you found yourself more open to this brief encounter than you normally would be.

He smiled slightly, almost imperceptibly, as if he wasn’t sure how to respond to your casual remark, but you noticed. It was a small gesture, but you appreciated it—more than you had expected to.

"Fair enough," he finally replied, his voice low but gentle, as though he was trying not to disturb the delicate balance of the quiet between you two. He took a sip of his drink, his fingers tapping lightly against the glass, a subtle rhythm that seemed to mimic the thoughts racing through his mind.

For a moment, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, and you wondered if he, like you, had found some kind of unexpected solace in this quiet corner of the bar.

The man spoke again after a beat, his voice soft and almost hesitant, “Spencer.” He offered a small, almost boyish smile that contrasted with the sharp lines of his face.

You turned your body more toward him, your interest piqued by his somewhat awkward yet endearing demeanor. “Y/N,” you replied, returning the smile, though still guarded.

There was a brief pause, and then Spencer’s eyes lit up, as though something had clicked in his mind. “Did you know that your name, Y/N, has roots that trace back to—” He launched into a surprisingly detailed explanation of the origins and historical significance of your name, mentioning various cultures and meanings, weaving in obscure facts that you had never even thought about.

As he spoke, you felt a mix of emotions. On the one hand, it was oddly charming, the way he seemed so genuinely excited to share what he knew. He made you feel special, like your name was something worthy of deep analysis and thought, and you couldn't help but be flattered by it. But there was also something that put you a little on edge—the way he seemed to know so much, like he had all this information tucked away in his mind, ready to be shared at any given moment.

“I did not know that…” you admitted slowly, your voice a touch wary, even as you tried to keep your tone light. “Why do you?”

Spencer hesitated for a second, his smile faltering just slightly before he answered. “I, uh… I tend to remember things. I read a lot, so I guess some of it sticks.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. “Just ‘some’ of it?”

He let out a small, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, maybe more than some. I’m kind of a… well, I guess you could say I’m a bit of an overthinker.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” you said with a grin, feeling the tension ease slightly between you. “But it’s not a bad thing. Just… surprising.”

Spencer nodded, his posture relaxing a little, as if your comment reassured him. “Surprising in a good way, I hope.”

You shrugged playfully, leaning back slightly in your seat. “I’ll let you know.”

Spencer liked this. You were cautious, guarded in a way that suggested a sharp mind, the kind of intellect that naturally set boundaries when it came to engaging with strangers. Yet, despite your reservation, you kept your wits about you, maintaining a balance of good manners and a sense of humor that was both disarming and refreshing. It made you even more intriguing.

There was something undeniably endearing about the way you interacted—enigmatic and charming, with a touch of playfulness that made him want to keep the conversation going. Spencer found himself wanting to know more, to understand what made you tick in the same way he often tried to solve the puzzles in his own head.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Spencer said during a brief lull in conversation, his tone gentle yet curious, “what brings you to a bar in the middle of the week?”

You squinted your eyes at him playfully, the corner of your lips quirking up in amusement. “I could ask you the same.”

He couldn’t help but smile at your response, appreciating how easily you turned the question back on him, challenging him to reveal his reasons first. It was a fair trade, after all.

"Touché," he conceded, leaning back slightly, considering his answer for a moment. "I guess I just needed a break… from everything. Sometimes it feels like things are piling up and... well, it was either come here or keep staring at the ceiling of my apartment."

You nodded in understanding, your expression softening just a bit. “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes you need to step away from everything and just… exist for a little while, right?”

"Exactly," Spencer replied, relieved that you seemed to understand without him having to explain too much. "And you?"

You tapped your fingers thoughtfully on the bar for a moment before answering, your eyes drifting toward the half-finished martini in front of you. “Same, I guess. Life’s complicated, and sometimes you just want to sit in a quiet corner and let the world pass you by for a while. Maybe with a drink that makes it a little easier to forget."

Spencer nodded, the quiet between you settling into something more comfortable. There was no need for either of you to dive too deeply into your respective reasons for being here. The understanding was enough for now. Two strangers, sitting side by side, momentarily finding solace in each other’s presence without demanding too much.

“I’m glad I picked this bar,” Spencer said quietly, after a pause. “It’s… different. Quiet.”

You smiled softly, taking a sip of your drink. “Yeah, me too. Good choice.”

“Have you... have you been here before?” Spencer asked, his curiosity evident as he glanced at you, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass.

You shook your head, setting down your now-empty glass and signaling the bartender for another drink. “No, actually. I saw it when I moved here, figured tonight was as good a time as any to check it out.”

Spencer couldn’t help but smile at the coincidence. He wasn’t a man who often gave weight to fate or spiritual ideas—his mind preferred the concrete, the logical—but the fact that both of you ended up here on a quiet Wednesday night, for the first time, sharing an unspoken sense of heaviness... It felt like one of those rare moments that made him pause, as though something bigger was at play.

He smiled again, this time a little more openly. “I haven’t been here either. A friend told me about it. He, uh, likes to come here to meet women—said they’re more sophisticated than the ones he usually meets at clubs.”

You raised an eyebrow, your amusement clear as you leaned in slightly, your tone playful. “Are you, too, here to meet women?”

Spencer felt his face flush instantly, his eyes widening as he waved his hands in front of him, clearly flustered. “No! No, that’s not—” He cleared his throat, regaining a bit of composure, though the faint blush remained. “That’s not why I’m here. I just... needed a break, like I said.”

“Right... and that's why you're talking to the only single woman here,” you teased, gesturing around the dimly lit room with a playful glint in your eye. Spencer, caught off guard by the comment, blinked and glanced around for the first time since he’d sat down.

To his surprise—and slight embarrassment—you were right. The bar, small and intimate as it was, seemed to be filled mostly with couples. A few groups of friends sat scattered around, but there wasn’t another woman sitting alone at the bar. He hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in his own thoughts, and of course, in you.

A flush of pink crept up his neck again, a small, awkward smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he faced you once more. “I—uh... that wasn’t... I didn’t even notice,” he stammered, clearly flustered, his eyes darting to his half-finished beer in front of him.

You laughed softly, amused by how easily Spencer was thrown off by your teasing. There was something so endearing about the way he fumbled through conversations like this, so unlike most men you’d met before. He wasn’t trying to be smooth or overly confident, just... honest.

“Well, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” you said with a grin.

“Thank you,” he sighed. There was a beat of silence before Spencer added, “But, uh, for the record... I’m not here to meet women. You just happened to be... well... someone worth talking to.”

Your smile softened at his admission, feeling the sincerity in his words. You weren’t used to hearing that kind of candidness from someone so quickly. "Well, aren't I lucky?" you teased lightly, though your tone had a hint of warmth behind it.

Spencer’s chuckle had a softness to it, but his next words seemed to strike a different chord. "Luck is relative," he mused, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. Then he glanced up at you, his eyes searching your face with that same genuine curiosity. "Do you feel lucky?"

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His question seemed layered, and though you could sense the sincerity in his tone, the implication sounded... different to your ears. The way he asked it, with a certain intensity, made your mind wander to a more flirtatious place, a suggestion hanging between the lines. You had met men who approached conversations like this before, but there was something about Spencer’s awkward charm that made you hesitate to dismiss it outright.

For a moment, you thought about how you'd respond. You weren’t opposed to the idea of letting this man take you home, not at all. There was something about his presence that felt comforting, something about his awkward nature that drew you in. But you weren’t going to make it that easy. You enjoyed the chase, the cat-and-mouse game that kept things interesting.

You leaned in slightly, narrowing your eyes just enough to add a playful edge to your expression. "Lucky, huh?" You swirled the last of your martini in its glass, watching the liquid shift before locking eyes with him. “Depends on what kind of luck we’re talking about.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, clearly misunderstanding the subtle shift in your tone. "Oh," he stammered, clearly flustered. "I didn’t mean—uh, I wasn’t implying—"

You bit back a grin, enjoying watching him try to backtrack from what he thought was a misstep. "Relax, Spencer," you said softly, your tone more teasing now. "I know what you meant."

Spencer visibly exhaled, relief washing over his face. He wasn’t used to playing these kinds of games, that much was clear. But there was something about how genuine he was that made you want to keep him on his toes just a little longer.

You smiled, leaning back in your seat. "I guess I’m still figuring out whether I feel lucky tonight." You raised your glass slightly toward him, your eyes twinkling. “Maybe we’ll see.”

Spencer had relaxed as the two of you joked and bantered, and you noticed how much more comfortable he seemed, especially when he started showing you some of his magic tricks. It was charming, really—how this incredibly intelligent, slightly awkward man had such a whimsical side. You watched with genuine curiosity as he produced and shuffled a deck of cards with ease, his long fingers moving expertly.

But it was when he asked if you had a business card that really caught your attention. You furrowed your brow and shook your head. “No, but I do have a scrap piece of paper,” you said, pulling a folded-up slip from your bag.

Spencer took the paper with a playful smile, and with a quick flourish of his hands, it disappeared as if it had never existed at all. You blinked, leaning forward, impressed despite yourself. "Okay, I have to admit, that was good. Where’d it go?"

He grinned, clearly pleased with your reaction. “A good magician never reveals their secrets.”

You laughed, thinking how absolutely adorable he was. There was something boyish and pure about the way he took joy in the simple act of performing a trick, like he’d just made your night a little brighter.

Absently, you went to brush a hand over the necklace around your neck, a habit you hadn’t even realized you had. But when your fingers grazed the pendant, you felt something unfamiliar—something other than the smooth metal of your necklace.

Frowning, you looked down. And there, dangling from your pendant, was the very same scrap of paper Spencer had taken. Your eyes widened in surprise, a burst of giddy laughter escaping your lips as you grabbed the piece of paper, utterly amazed.

You turned to Spencer, wide-eyed and full of wonder. “How did you—?!” You couldn’t even finish the sentence, your head shaking in disbelief, giggles bubbling up uncontrollably. He really had caught you off guard, and it felt... magical.

Spencer, looking very proud of himself, leaned back with a self-satisfied smile, clearly enjoying your reaction. He glanced pointedly at the scrap of paper in your hand, raising an eyebrow as if to say, take a closer look.

Curious, you followed his gaze and unfolded the small piece of paper. Scrawled across it in Spencer's neat handwriting was a number. His number.

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze with a playful smirk and a flutter of excitement. "So... was this part of the trick too?"

Spencer shrugged, his smile a little bashful now.

“How many times have you used that trick on women?” you teased, leaning in a little closer, your voice soft and teasing. “And how many times has it worked?”

Spencer blushed again, the pink flush creeping up his neck to his cheeks. He shifted in his seat, clearly flustered by your question but still holding your gaze. “I... I used it one other time,” he admitted, his voice a bit shaky. “And it worked... sort of. But, um, it never led to anything.”

You smiled, leaning back slightly, enjoying how disarmed he was by your teasing. There was something so genuine about the way he interacted, like he wasn’t used to these kinds of moments—at least not often. He wasn’t the type to use smooth lines or rehearsed tricks to impress women, and that made him stand out even more.

“Well, I’m glad I could be the second one,” you said with a wink, letting the playful tension between you simmer. “But something tells me you’re hoping it leads to more this time.”

Spencer swallowed, clearly thrown off by your forwardness, but you could see the slight shift in his posture, the way his confidence grew just a little as he realized you were genuinely interested. “I, uh... I wouldn’t mind that,” he admitted, his eyes flickering from yours to the glass in front of him, then back again. “But I didn’t show you the trick just for that. I wanted to... impress you.”

Your heart fluttered at his honesty. It was so rare to meet someone who was so upfront, so unguarded in moments like this. You couldn’t help but find it endearing, and you leaned in once more, your smile softening.

“Well, you definitely impressed me, Spencer,” you said, your voice low and sincere. “And if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll let you show me another trick later.”

Spencer’s eyes widened a little at that, and for a moment, you could see the wheels turning in his head. He was calculating, thinking, but also clearly intrigued by the promise hidden in your words. He gave a small, nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I guess we’ll see how lucky I get tonight,” he murmured, the blush still lingering on his face but his smile growing more confident now.

You grinned, knowing full well that he didn’t realize just how lucky he was about to get.

As the bar's lights dimmed and the final patrons shuffled out, you already knew you weren’t going home tonight. The air between you and Spencer had been crackling all evening, and the decision seemed inevitable, even as you lingered at the bar for just a moment longer.

Spencer, ever the gentleman, graciously paid for both of your tabs without hesitation. The bartender, who had seemed less than impressed by your modest drinking habits, shot him a look that Spencer either didn’t notice or chose to ignore. After all, this night was about more than just drinks.

Walking out into the brisk night air, you and Spencer moved shoulder to shoulder, your steps naturally falling in sync as if you'd been walking together for much longer than a few hours. The quiet of the evening surrounded you, the distant hum of the city softening the world around you, and the moment felt intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. You could feel the warmth of his presence next to you, the subtle brush of his arm against yours sending sparks up your skin.

Feeling bold, Spencer glanced over at you, his usual shyness tempered by something else—perhaps the electricity that had been building between you all night, or maybe just the quiet courage that sometimes came with these fleeting, late-night encounters. "Can I give you a ride home?" he offered, his voice softer now, as though he didn’t want to shatter the stillness of the moment.

You smiled up at him, a knowing look in your eyes as you accepted. Spencer’s posture straightened slightly, his eyes lighting up as he guided you toward his car. True to his nature, he opened the door for you, his touch gentle as he gestured for you to climb in. You couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness, watching as he quickly walked around to the driver’s side and slid into his seat.

He fidgeted for a moment behind the wheel, his hands gripping the steering wheel loosely as he glanced at you, clearly waiting for directions. “Where should I take you?” he asked, his voice still carrying that sweet, earnest tone.

You met his gaze, your eyes sparkling with both amusement and intent. "Wherever you're going," you replied, your words hanging in the air, full of unspoken promise.

Spencer blinked, taken aback for just a split second, but then understanding settled over him. He glanced down, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips, and you could see the faintest hint of color creeping into his cheeks. There was a brief pause as he weighed his options, but the decision was already made—you could feel it.

"Alright," he said, his voice quiet but full of meaning. "My place it is."

Spencer was a bundle of nerves. The whole drive back, he had rambled—nervous energy pouring out of him in the form of random facts, mostly about the risks of going home with strangers. He’d listed statistics about crime rates, recounted famous cases of mishaps, and even delved into behavioral patterns associated with dangerous encounters. It was almost endearing, the way he was so clearly overthinking the situation.

"Are you going to kill me?" you had asked him at one point, half-joking, hoping to lighten the mood.

His response had been immediate and emphatic. "No, absolutely not! I—I would never do anything like that," he stammered, his eyes wide and sincere. "Statistically, it’s much safer—"

You laughed, cutting him off gently. "I believe you, Spencer."

His relief was palpable, though he still hadn’t fully relaxed, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. And now, as he fumbled with his keys at the front door, you saw how his fingers trembled slightly as he tried to get the lock open. His nervousness was so genuine, so utterly sweet, that you couldn’t help but feel a warmth bloom inside you.

It was obvious he didn’t do this sort of thing often, and that made you feel... special. He was just himself—nervous, brilliant, and genuine—and that vulnerability drew you in even more.

Finally, after a moment of fumbling, the door clicked open, and Spencer gestured for you to step inside, his cheeks still slightly flushed. "Sorry about that," he murmured, a small, sheepish smile on his lips. "I don’t usually have... company."

When Spencer led you through the front door, the first thing that hit you was the cozy, dark atmosphere of his apartment. Books lined almost every available surface, stacked neatly on shelves and piled in corners in a way that suggested they were well-loved and frequently revisited. The space had an old-world charm, a lived-in feeling that instantly put you at ease. The warm lighting and the faint smell of coffee mixed with old pages added to the inviting ambiance. It was unmistakably his—a reflection of the man you’d spent the evening getting to know, both brilliant and a little awkward.

You couldn’t help but smile, charmed by the intimate, intellectual space he called home. It was entirely different from the sleek, modern apartments of other men you’d been with, and that difference made you like it even more.

You smiled softly, stepping into the warmth of his home. "It’s fine," you assured him. "I like it here. It’s... very you."

Spencer’s eyes flickered with a mixture of surprise and gratitude, as though he hadn’t expected you to say something so kind. His shoulders seemed to relax just a little, and he gave you a nervous but genuine smile.

“Thank you,” Spencer said, his smile sweet but clearly nervous as his hands fumbled slightly in front of him. He took a breath, trying to compose himself, but the words tumbled out anyway. “So... um, I know what usually happens in these scenarios, but I don’t want to be presumptuous—not that I’m expecting anything from you either, but I guess, I’m wondering what, uh... what you want here?”

You could see how flustered he was, the way his uncertainty mixed with his genuine desire to be respectful. It made your heart swell, your affection for him deepening in that moment. His awkward honesty was refreshing, and you adored the way he was so transparently himself, not hiding behind bravado or assumptions.

Stepping closer to him, you reached out, your hands moving up his chest slowly, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt. You let your fingers trail lightly over him before wrapping them around the back of his neck, pulling yourself just a little closer. Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as he looked down at you, a mixture of surprise and anticipation flickering in his gaze.

“Well, Spencer,” you said softly, your voice gentle but teasing, “I would like to do what usually happens in these scenarios...”

His eyes searched yours, his body tense with uncertainty and excitement, but before he could speak, you added, “But we don’t have to do anything.”

Spencer blinked, processing your words. The tension in his shoulders seemed to melt just a little as he realized that the choice was mutual, that there was no pressure, no expectations. You were giving him the space to decide, and that made all the difference.

He swallowed, his voice quiet but full of sincerity. “I... I’d like that too. But only if you're sure.”

You smiled up at him, your thumb gently stroking the back of his neck. “I’m sure, Spencer. But if you’re not ready or don’t want to—”

“No,” he said quickly, then softened his tone. “No, I want to. I just... I didn’t want to assume and I–well, I haven’t done a lot before.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned in a little closer, your breath warm against his skin as you whispered, “You’re sweet, you know that?”

Spencer’s blush deepened, but he smiled, more comfortable now as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a gentle embrace. “I don’t hear that often,” he admitted softly.

“Well, you should,” you murmured, before closing the small distance between you and pressing your lips to his in a slow, tender kiss.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though Spencer was still processing that this was really happening. But then his grip around you tightened slightly, and you could feel him relax into it, his lips moving with yours, the kiss deepening as the warmth between you two grew.

For a moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of his apartment, the world outside forgotten. And in that moment, everything felt perfectly right.

You gently pulled back from the kiss, feeling the way Spencer’s lips lingered for just a moment, his eyes still shut as though he wasn’t ready for the moment to end. He followed your movement with a soft, almost unconscious pout, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight.

“Easy,” you whispered, your voice laced with affection, as your fingers trailed up into his soft hair, stroking it gently. You wanted him to feel as comfortable as possible. He was clearly nervous, but the way he responded to you, how earnest he was in everything he did, made you want to handle him with the care he deserved.

“What are you comfortable with, Spencer?” you asked softly, your tone reassuring, trying to ease the tension in the air. “I don’t want to push you too far, or do anything you’re not ready for.”

Spencer took a deep, grounding breath, his chest rising and falling as he gathered the courage to speak. His blush deepened, his cheeks flushing a bright pink as he met your eyes. “Um… I haven’t had anything, uh, penetrative,” he confessed, his voice almost a whisper as if admitting something deeply personal. He swallowed, clearly feeling the weight of the moment. “But… I have been touched. And I have touched.”

Your heart softened at his vulnerability, and you felt a wave of tenderness wash over you. He was sharing something intimate, and the way he trusted you enough to be honest about it made you want to hold him even closer.

“That’s okay, Spencer,” you said gently, your thumb brushing against his jawline in a soothing gesture. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We can take things as slow as you need.”

He nodded, looking relieved that you weren’t pressuring him. “I… I want to try,” he admitted, his voice quiet but firm. “I trust you.”

Your heart swelled at his words. You smiled softly, leaning in to kiss him again, this time slower, more deliberate, allowing him to guide the pace. Spencer responded, his lips moving with yours, his hands resting tentatively on your hips as he began to relax into the moment.

“We’ll take it slow,” you whispered against his lips, reassuring him once more. “And you tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

He nodded again, his eyes meeting yours with gratitude and something else—something more. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as his hands tightened just slightly around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Take me to your bedroom, Spencer,” you whispered against his lips, the warmth of your breath sending shivers down his spine. He nodded, his lips still brushing against yours as he took your hand and led you toward his room. The eagerness in his movements was evident as you both bumped into walls and knocked over small tables along the way, which made you giggle.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Don’t be sorry, stud,” you teased, your voice playful but laced with affection. “I like how eager you are. It makes me feel desired.”

Spencer flicked on the bedside lamp, the soft glow filling the room and casting warm, golden hues across the walls. The light bathed you in a way that made you look even more radiant, as though the glow itself was drawn to your beauty. Spencer paused for a moment, standing there in awe of you, his eyes wide with admiration.

“You are desired,” he said earnestly, his voice filled with sincerity. “So gorgeous, Y/N.”

His words made your heart swell. You could hear how much he meant it, how genuine his feelings were. Spencer wasn’t trying to impress you; he was simply telling you the truth as he saw it. And in that moment, you found yourself falling just a little for him.

“Sweet, sweet Spencer…” you whispered, smiling softly at the endearing man before you. Your fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them one by one. As the fabric parted, you kissed the newly exposed skin—his neck, his collarbone, the center of his chest—your lips leaving a trail of warmth with each touch.

You could feel Spencer’s stomach rising and falling rapidly beneath your fingertips, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as he struggled to keep his composure. He was nervous, that much was clear, but you could also see the way his body responded to your touch, the way his eyes darkened with desire.

“Relax,” you sighed gently against his skin, your lips brushing softly over his collarbone. “You’re beautiful.”

The compliment made him freeze for a moment, and you could tell it wasn’t something he was used to hearing. His breath hitched as you kissed his chest, your hands sliding the fabric of his shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

Spencer swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly as he raised them to your waist, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your clothes. “I… I just don’t want to mess this up,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You won’t,” you reassured him, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck. “We’re just here, together. That’s all that matters.”

His eyes softened at your words, and slowly, the tension in his body seemed to ebb away, replaced by a quiet confidence. He reached up, his hands moving more purposefully now as he gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Okay,” he whispered, his voice steadying as he leaned down to kiss you again, this time with a little more certainty, a little more control.

And in the quiet of his room, surrounded by nothing but the soft light and the gentle hum of your shared breaths, you felt completely and utterly desired.

"Do you want to take my shirt off, Spencer?" you whispered softly against his ear, letting your tongue graze the sensitive skin just beneath it. You felt the shudder run through his body as he nodded quickly, his breathing heavy, eyes still tightly shut as if the weight of the moment was too much to handle.

You giggled softly, charmed by his inexperience and how deeply he seemed affected by every touch, every breath. Gently, you took his large hands in yours, guiding them to the hem of your shirt. His fingers trembled slightly, but you could feel his eagerness beneath that nervous exterior. Slowly, he gripped the fabric, carefully lifting it up, still with his eyes squeezed shut, even as he let the garment drop to the floor beside you.

"Spencer..." you whispered, your voice sweet but laced with a hint of amusement. You couldn’t help but notice how his hands had frozen in mid-air, his fingers hovering, unsure of what to do next. His body was clearly responding to the moment, but his mind was racing, overwhelmed.

"You can open your eyes," you encouraged, leaning forward just slightly to nudge him out of his hesitation, your lips brushing his jawline.

Very slowly, Spencer cracked his eyelids open, his breath hitching as he adjusted to the reality of the situation. But the moment he caught sight of your bare chest, his eyes flew open wide, surprise and awe etched across his face.

He blinked, clearly taken aback by the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra. His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. His gaze flickered between your eyes and your chest, as though he were trying to process everything all at once. His expression was a mix of innocence and desire, and it was clear that this moment was overwhelming him in the best way possible.

You could feel the intensity of his gaze, and the way his hands, still trembling slightly, hovered just inches from your skin. “It’s okay,” you whispered softly, guiding his hands to your sides, encouraging him to touch you. “You can touch me, Spencer.”

His breath caught in his throat, but this time, he didn’t pull back. His hands, once hesitant, now slid up your sides, gently grasping your breasts in his hands. His touch was reverent, almost like he couldn’t believe this was happening as he ran his thumbs over your nipples. There was something so pure, so unguarded about the way he looked at you, as though you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re...” he started, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re stunning.”

Your heart swelled at the sincerity in his words. You smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly, pressing your body against his. "So are you, Spencer."

You kept kissing him, your lips moving against his with just enough pressure to hopefully distract him from whatever whirlwind of thoughts his brilliant mind was racing through. You were learning he tended to overthink, and you wanted to help him focus on the moment, on the way your bodies were reacting to one another rather than on whatever internal dialogue was playing out in his head.

Your hands moved down to his belt, working on the buckle with ease. You could feel his breathing pick up as you undid it, but instead of pulling away or tensing up, his hands stayed on your breasts. His fingers squeezed you, almost like he was using you to ground himself, holding you tighter than before, as if trying to anchor himself in the moment. The sensation sent a wave of pleasure through you, and without hesitation, you moaned softly into his mouth.

The sound surprised Spencer, his entire body responding to it. He froze for just a second, his mind catching up with what had just happened. It wasn’t just the physical sensation that had gotten to him—it was the realization that he had made you feel that way. The knowledge seemed to set something off inside him, a surge of wonder and hunger, like he was teetering on the edge of something completely new.

As you undid the button of his pants, letting them fall to the floor, you gently nudged him to step out of his loafers and slacks, which he did, albeit a little awkwardly. Spencer pulled back slightly, glancing down at himself, standing in nothing but his tented purple boxers. He shifted on his feet, clearly still feeling self-conscious despite everything.

“I’m feeling a clothing disparity here,” he tried to joke, though his voice came out more nervous than playful.

You giggled softly at his attempt to lighten the moment, appreciating how vulnerable he was being, even in his nervousness. "I can fix that," you teased, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your bottoms. With a fluid motion, you slipped off your boots, followed by the rest of your clothes, leaving the small pile of fabric on the floor as you stood fully bare before him.

The room seemed to grow quieter for a second, the air thick with anticipation. Spencer’s gaze moved over your body slowly, taking in every inch of your skin with an almost reverent look. His breath hitched again, his hands hanging at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do next.

You smiled, stepping closer to him, your fingers trailing lightly along his chest, leaning in to press your body against his, feeling the heat between you intensify. "Now... let's see what else we can do about that disparity."

Your hands slid lower, brushing against the waistband of Spencer’s boxers as you tried to ease them down, but there was a bit of resistance—a clear obstruction that made the two of you stumble into a fit of giggles. Some of the nervous tension between you both lifted in that moment, replaced by the kind of playful energy that made everything feel lighter, more natural.

“Well, sir,” you said in an exaggerated, mock-serious voice, stepping back slightly to assess the situation, “it seems as if something has blocked my path.”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, a full, hearty sound that spilled out of him, the kind that seemed to release the last of his nervousness. His shoulders shook with amusement as he looked at you, shaking his head. “My deepest apologies, ma’am,” he replied, playing along with a grin that stretched across his face. “Allow me to be of service.”

You watched as he reached down, fumbling a bit with his boxers before finally managing to remove them, kicking them aside with a sheepish smile. His face was still flushed, but now it was more from laughter than nerves, and the atmosphere between you shifted again, becoming more comfortable, more intimate.

“Better,” you teased, your playful tone returning, stepping close enough for your bare skin to brush against his. You placed your hands on his chest, your fingers spreading out to feel the warmth of his body beneath your touch. Spencer’s breath caught in his throat again, but this time it wasn’t out of anxiety—it was pure desire.

You noticed the subtle shift in Spencer’s eyes—something deeper, more focused. The playful energy between you had served its purpose, helping him relax, but now you knew it was time to stop teasing and really show him how much you wanted him. The way he looked at you, still unsure but no longer nervous, told you he was ready to explore this new territory, even if he didn’t quite know where it was going.

With a gentle but deliberate push, you guided him back onto the bed, watching the way he looked up at you, his breath quickening. You moved after him with purpose, your movements slow and deliberate as you crawled toward him, like a wolf stalking its prey. Spencer scooted back to the pillows, his eyes locked on yours, his uncertainty fading into quiet anticipation.

His gaze flickered as you settled in closer, your knees on either side of his hips. His chest was rising and falling more rapidly now, his hands resting by his sides as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. You could see he was still processing everything, still trusting you to lead him through this.

“I’m going to touch you now,” you said softly, your voice a quiet promise. You let your hands trail up his thighs, your fingers brushing through the soft hair there, feeling the warmth of his skin. “Is that okay?”

Spencer’s breath hitched, but he nodded, his voice barely a whisper as he responded, “Yeah.”

Everything you had done so far, he liked. He wasn’t sure what came next, but there was no hesitation in his trust—he knew he would like whatever you did. His eyes fluttered shut for a brief second as he felt your touch move higher, and he let out a small breath, almost as if he had been holding it in for far too long.

You took your time, wanting him to savor every moment. Your hands moved with gentle care, exploring his hips and stomach as you leaned in closer, your lips grazing his neck, your breath warm against his skin. Spencer shivered beneath you, his hands finally finding the courage to rest on your waist, his fingers gripping you just enough to anchor himself in the moment.

"You're doing so well, Spencer," you whispered against his ear, your voice filled with warmth and reassurance.

Spencer let out a breathless laugh, one filled with pure, unfiltered arousal. He hadn’t known until this moment how much he liked being praised, but the way your words washed over him—telling him he was doing good, that he was making you happy—lit something inside him. A fire burned in his stomach, spreading warmth throughout his entire body, and he couldn’t contain the way his body responded to you.

But then, when you wrapped your hand around him, firm but gentle, the heat exploded. It was as if you had poured gasoline onto that fire, and Spencer’s reaction was immediate. His back arched off the bed, his mouth falling open as a raw, guttural groan escaped him. His hands flew to the sheets, gripping them tightly as the sensation overwhelmed him, taking him by surprise.

He hadn’t been touched like this in a long, long time. It had been just him, his own hands and his own thoughts, but now—now it was you, and the difference was intoxicating. Every nerve in his body felt like it was alive, buzzing with an energy he hadn’t felt in years. He was losing himself to the moment, to you.

"God... Y/N..." he gasped, his voice low and rough, full of need. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t hold back the sounds that escaped him as your hand moved expertly, sending waves of pleasure coursing through him.

You smiled softly, watching the way Spencer's body reacted to your touch as you gripped him tighter, the way his chest rose and fell with each shaky breath. He looked so beautiful like this—vulnerable and completely immersed in the pleasure you were giving him.

“You’re so good for me,” you whispered again, your voice low and soothing as your hand continued to move, squeezing extra on his head and drawing more of those delicious sounds from him. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

Spencer nodded weakly, his head falling back onto the pillows as he surrendered to the sensations. His mind, usually so busy and full of thoughts, was blissfully quiet now, his entire focus on the feel of your hands, your body, and your voice guiding him through this.

"Y/N..." he groaned again, his voice trembling with need, his hands reaching out to grasp your hips, wanting to feel more of you, to be closer to you. He was completely lost in you now, and he didn’t want it to end.

You smiled down at him, feeling a surge of affection and desire for the man who had so easily surrendered to you, his pleasure so raw and vulnerable. “Oh, you poor thing,” you whispered, your voice soft and teasing as your hand sped up its movements, stopping every once in a while to rub your thumb under his head. “You just needed someone to look after you, didn’t you?”

Spencer nodded quickly, his body responding to your words before he could even form a coherent thought. His head pressed back into the pillows, his chest heaving as the sounds of his pleasure spilled from his open mouth, completely uncontrollable. He was lost in the moment, lost in you, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of pride and tenderness as you watched him.

He looked so beautiful like this—flushed, vulnerable, and entirely open. His eyes, when they did open, were glazed with desire, his lips parted in a silent plea for more. There was something pure about the way he gave himself to the moment, trusting you completely to take him somewhere he hadn’t been in a long time.

And you were honored to be the one to make him feel like this, to be the person who could show him such tenderness and care. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his neck, feeling his pulse racing beneath your lips as you whispered, “I’ve got you, Spencer.”

His response was another shaky moan, his hands returning to your hips as if to anchor himself to you, his grip both needy and gentle. His body was trembling now, his breaths coming faster and more erratically, and you knew he was close, teetering on the edge of release.

You let your free hand reach down to grasp and roll Spencer’s balls, his entire body jolted at the contact and he let out a sound akin to a scream. You could feel the tension building in him, his body reacting to every touch, every word. “You’re doing so good,” you murmured, your voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. “Just let go for me, okay?”

Spencer’s breathing hitched, and you could feel him start to unravel beneath you. He nodded again, unable to speak, but the look in his eyes said everything. He was ready to let go, ready to give himself completely to the moment, and you were more than ready to guide him through it.

And when he finally did—when he let himself go with a guttural moan that shook through his entire body—it felt like you were witnessing something truly beautiful. You held him close, stroking him through his high as he spurted over your hand and stomach, your touch never wavering, your voice a constant, reassuring presence.

Spencer’s body finally relaxed beneath you and you removed both of your hands, his breaths coming in deep, ragged gasps as he tried to regain his composure. His hands, still resting on your hips, loosened their grip, and he blinked up at you, his eyes filled with awe and affection.

"Can... can I touch you?" Spencer asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the weight of exhaustion was too heavy for him to speak any louder.

You smiled down at him, his face flushed and his hair damp with sweat. Gently, you brushed the strands from his forehead, your touch tender. "Not tonight," you whispered back, watching as a small pout formed on his lips.

Before he could say anything else, you leaned down and kissed the pout away, your lips soft against his. "You're tired," you said softly, your fingers tracing his cheek, "and that was plenty for me."

Spencer sighed, the tension in his body giving way to exhaustion as he relaxed into your touch. He didn’t protest further, knowing you were right, but the way his arms tightened slightly around your waist let you know that he wasn’t quite ready to let you go.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice soft and full of emotion.

You smiled down at him, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “What are you thanking me for?”

Spencer gazed up at you, still catching his breath, his face flushed from both exertion and emotion. His fingers lightly traced circles on your hips, the touch absent-minded but tender.

“For... everything,” he whispered, his voice a little shaky but filled with sincerity. “For talking to me, being kind to me, patient with me. For... understanding.” His eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching, almost vulnerable. “It’s just been a long time since I’ve felt like this.”

You smiled softly, brushing your hand through his hair again, letting your touch soothe him. “You don’t need to thank me for that, Spencer. I wanted this as much as you did.”

Spencer swallowed, his throat working through the remnants of tension. “Still... it means a lot. You make me feel... safe.”

His words stirred something warm and protective in you, and your heart swelled at the realization of how much this moment meant to him. It wasn’t just the physicality; it was the connection, the trust. He had let down his walls for you, and in that vulnerability, you started to see the depths of who Spencer really was—someone deeply deserving of care and tenderness.

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “I’m glad you feel that way. You deserve to be cared for, Spencer.”

His lips curved into a small smile, the tension in his body fully gone now, replaced with quiet contentment. “I’m really lucky,” he murmured, his voice still filled with awe.

You chuckled softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “No, we’re both lucky.”

And in the warmth of that moment, you both knew that this was more than just a fleeting connection—it was something special, something real. Something neither of you had been expecting, but both of you had needed.

—

Spencer stirred, slowly waking up to the comforting warmth of your body, his head resting against your soft stomach, your fingers gently stroking him. The feeling was intimate, tender, and it brought a sleepy, blissful smile to his face. He could feel your fingers running through his hair as he nuzzled closer to you, feeling completely safe, completely at peace.

When he finally cracked one eye open, he saw you sitting up, wearing your shirt and underwear, looking down at him with a soft, almost shy expression—a side of you he hadn’t yet seen. It was endearing, and for a moment, he just wanted to stay like this forever, wrapped up in the warmth of your presence.

“Good morning,” you said softly, your voice timid, a tone that felt so different from the playful, confident energy you’d had last night. Spencer noticed the way you seemed slightly unsure, as if you weren’t certain what the morning would bring, and it made his heart ache with affection for you.

He opened both eyes fully, blinking up at you in a way that was so sweet and sleepy it melted your heart. “Hi,” he whispered, a smile spreading across his face, his voice still laced with drowsiness. The warmth in his gaze was undeniable, as though waking up to you was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

You grinned shyly in response, the soft morning light making everything feel gentle and new. “I hope it’s okay that I’m still here,” you said quietly, your fingers still moving softly through his hair.

Spencer’s smile widened as he shifted slightly, his head still resting against your stomach. “More than okay,” he murmured. “I... I didn’t want you to leave.”

His honesty made your heart swell, and you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “I didn’t want to leave either.”

Spencer sighed contentedly, his body relaxing further as he closed his eyes again, soaking in the moment. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as if to make sure you were really there, that this wasn’t just a dream.

“You’re still here,” he whispered, his voice full of quiet wonder. “And that makes me really happy.”

You continued to stroke his hair, your fingers gentle as you whispered back, “I’m happy too, Spencer. Really happy.”

And in the quiet of the morning, with the two of you wrapped up in each other, it felt like the beginning of something special—something neither of you could deny.

Eventually, the cozy bubble the two of you had created was interrupted by the sharp sound of Spencer's alarm blaring, signaling that it was time to get ready for work. The moment felt bittersweet, and Spencer, clearly not ready to break the warmth of your embrace, pouted grumpily as he reluctantly pulled himself from your arms to head toward the shower.

He paused at the edge of the bed, turning back to you with a hopeful look, still shy but clearly not wanting this to end. “Will you wait for me to get out?” he asked, almost as if he were afraid you'd disappear the moment he stepped out of the room.

You giggled, shaking your head dramatically with a playful smirk. “Nope,” you teased, your tone light and full of humor. “This is when I’ll make my grand exit—after you’ve already seen me, of course.”

Spencer laughed at your playful antics, the sound filling the room as he smiled to himself. Despite the teasing, he appreciated how lighthearted and easy everything felt with you. Still, he quickly got up from the bed, scampering to the bathroom with a newfound urgency, his naked form catching your attention.

Before you could stop yourself, you called out, “Woo! The sun is out but the moon is full! How come I didn’t get to see your ass last night?”

Spencer immediately blushed, his face turning a deep shade of pink as he covered his behind with his hands and sped up his pace, looking over his shoulder with a grin. “I’ll show you mine when you show me yours!” he yelled, his voice echoing down the hallway.

Your laughter rang out, the joyful sound filling the space and making Spencer smile to himself as he entered the bathroom. It was the only response he needed, the perfect note to start his day on.

After Spencer disappeared into the bathroom for his shower, you took the opportunity to give yourself a quick tour of his apartment. It was just as charming as you expected—full of books, eclectic trinkets, and signs of his quirky, intellectual nature. When you found the kitchen, you spotted the coffee supplies and decided to make a quick pot. The smell of freshly brewing coffee soon filled the air, and you figured a simple breakfast would be a nice touch, so you whipped up some eggs and toast, humming softly as you worked.

By the time Spencer emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed, the aroma of coffee and warm food had reached him. His heart swelled at the simple, thoughtful gesture. He had never imagined waking up to something like this. Rushing to get dressed as quickly as possible, he joined you in the kitchen, where you were casually sipping coffee and waiting for him.

You spent the next half hour in easy conversation, talking about simple, everyday things—where you grew up, how many siblings you had, whether or not you had any pets. Spencer seemed eager to learn all that he could about you, firing off question after question. You hardly noticed that he didn’t volunteer much about himself, his curiosity directed solely at getting to know you. You found it endearing, the way he leaned into every answer, his eyes lighting up with each new detail you shared.

Eventually, though, time started to slip away, and the soft glow of morning meant Spencer needed to leave for work. As he grabbed his bag, ready to head out, his shy demeanor returned, his eyes avoiding yours as he fumbled with his words.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, clearly flustered, “I don’t have time to take you home. I lost track of time.”

You were already sliding on your boots, unfazed by the rush. "That’s fine! I took a cab last night anyway, I can fetch another one," you replied with a smile, waving off his apology.

Spencer sighed in relief, though his brows furrowed with lingering guilt. “Can I pay for the fee at least?”

You laughed, shaking your head. "Absolutely not, Spencer. This wasn’t an exchange of goods," you teased with a playful wink.

Spencer flushed, chuckling at himself as he rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right,” he said, lifting his hands in mock surrender. Then his expression softened, his voice quieter, more sincere. “Can I see you again? Take you on a proper date?”

Your smile brightened at his request, your heart warming at the thought. “I would really like that.”

With that, the two of you officially exchanged numbers, the moment feeling more intimate than it had any right to. Spencer kissed you once, then again, as if he couldn’t help himself, savoring every second before he finally had to leave for work.

As he walked out the door, you called a car, feeling a sense of excitement bubbling up inside you. This was definitely just the beginning of something worth exploring.

—

Spencer walked into the BAU that Thursday with an extra pep in his step, his usually focused and somewhat intense demeanor softened by a secret smile that seemed to have taken permanent residence on his face. He barely noticed the way his colleagues, Derek and Emily, glanced at each other with raised eyebrows, instantly picking up on his unusual cheerfulness.

Derek, never one to miss an opportunity, was the first to speak up as Spencer passed by his desk. "Whoa, whoa, hold up, pretty boy," he called out, leaning back in his chair with a grin. "What’s with the smile? Did you crack some unsolvable puzzle overnight or something?"

Spencer blinked, the smile still lingering, though he quickly tried to rein it in. "What? No, I didn’t... I mean, no puzzles," he said, fumbling slightly as he continued toward his desk.

Emily raised an eyebrow and leaned against Derek’s desk, crossing her arms as she smirked at Spencer. "Are you sure? Because you’re practically glowing, Reid. Come on, spill it."

Spencer’s cheeks flushed as he realized he wasn’t doing a great job hiding his good mood. He sat down at his desk, avoiding their teasing stares. "It’s nothing," he mumbled, but his attempt to brush it off only made Derek and Emily more determined.

"Uh-huh, sure," Derek repeated, his grin widening as he leaned forward. "Come on, man, you don’t look like this for no reason. You’re practically walking on air. What happened? Did you learn a new language or something?"

Spencer, unable to resist the opportunity to lean into the joke, shrugged, deciding to give Derek a little win. "Sure, Derek. I technically did begin studying a new language recently," he replied, trying to keep a straight face, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

Emily, sensing that they weren’t going to get the juicy details they were hoping for, sighed dramatically, waving a hand dismissively. "Ah, quel gâchis," she muttered, her voice laced with playful disappointment.

Spencer immediately glared in her direction, having caught the meaning of her words. "What a waste?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I’m standing right here, you know."

Emily smirked, clearly enjoying how easily she’d ruffled his feathers. "Well, we were hoping for something more exciting than a study session, Reid," she teased, leaning back in her chair with a grin. "But I guess we’ll just have to live with our imaginations."

Derek chuckled, crossing his arms. "Don’t let her get to you, pretty boy. Just know we’ve got our eye on you."

The teasing didn’t let up throughout the day. Derek and Emily, delighted by Spencer’s unusual behavior, had made sure word got around that Spencer was “studying” something new—something that had him grinning like an idiot at random moments.

When JJ and Penelope heard the news, they joined in on the fun, leaving their own playful comments. JJ had passed by his desk, nudging him lightly. "Studying something new, huh? I’ve never seen someone so excited over homework, Spence."

Penelope, ever the drama queen, had dramatically swooned in front of him. "Oh my stars, who knew Spencer Reid could look so refreshed and glowing? It must be some incredible study material," she teased, winking as she fluttered away, her laughter trailing behind her.

Even Hotch, who was usually more reserved about office banter, had joined in. “It’s good to see you more focused and refreshed, Reid,” he commented during a briefing, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, though his tone was as professional as ever.

But it wasn’t until Rossi chimed in that Spencer really realized how obvious he was being. Rossi had been watching Spencer with a knowing look for most of the day. After catching Spencer glancing at his phone for what must have been the hundredth time, he couldn’t resist.

“You’ve touched your phone an awful lot today, Reid,” Rossi mused as he walked by Spencer’s desk. "Waiting for something important?"

Spencer jolted slightly, startled out of his focus. He had, once again, been staring at the text he had prepared to send you but hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to hit send yet. He glanced up at Rossi, trying and failing to hide the sheepish grin spreading across his face.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, something like that," Spencer replied, his voice softer, betraying the smile that wouldn’t leave his face.

Rossi raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk as he crossed his arms. "Ah, I see. Must be some important 'study material' then, huh?"

Spencer flushed, realizing that Rossi was in on the joke too. “It’s... very interesting,” he said, glancing down at his phone again, but the small smile remained firmly in place.

Rossi chuckled knowingly. "Just make sure you don’t fail whatever test you’re preparing for," he teased, clapping Spencer on the back as he walked away, leaving the young doctor blushing and still holding his phone.

Finally, Spencer shook his head and, after a deep breath, hit "send" on the text to you, feeling a flutter of excitement as he anticipated your reply.

The end of the workday was a welcome relief for most of the team, and everyone was packing up their things, preparing to head out. Conversations were light, the usual post-case fatigue settling in. But as everyone moved about, the sound of a notification buzzed from Spencer’s pocket, drawing all eyes to him.

It was as if the entire team had collectively paused, waiting with bated breath as Spencer reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He hadn’t said much about whatever—or whoever—had been keeping that secret smile on his face, but they all knew something was up. And now, they watched him, each pretending not to care, but clearly all invested in this "mystery" that had made their boy genius so giddy.

Spencer took a quick glance at the screen, and almost immediately, his eyes widened. The smile that bloomed on his face was unmistakable, pure, and full of excitement. Without thinking, he tapped his hands on the desk, unable to keep still. Then, in a burst of happiness, he spun in his office chair—twice.

Emily, who had been pretending to pack her bag, exchanged a smirk with JJ. Derek raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to tease right then and there, while Penelope was practically bursting with curiosity, trying not to let out a squeal.

After Spencer’s excited spins, he paused, staring at his phone again, as if confirming what he had just seen.

Hi Spencer :) I’m glad you texted, I would love to see you again. How’s Saturday?

Spencer stared at the message for a moment, his heart racing, a goofy grin still plastered on his face. Saturday. Yes. Saturday was perfect. He could already feel the rush of anticipation building up inside him.

Across the room, Derek couldn’t hold back any longer. "Alright, man, spill it. What’s got you doing a victory lap in your chair like you just won the lottery?"

Spencer, still smiling, looked up at his friends and teammates, feeling a little embarrassed by how obvious his excitement had been, but he couldn’t hide it anymore.

"I, um... I have a date on Saturday," he admitted, his voice quieter but filled with unmistakable happiness.

“Oh, boy wonder, please tell me this isn’t a date with more studying,” Penelope sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart as if she couldn’t handle the thought of Spencer’s version of a romantic evening being spent in a library.

Spencer’s blush deepened as he shook his head, laughing lightly. “No, no studying,” he assured her, still smiling. “It’s just... dinner. You know, a normal date.”

Penelope’s eyes widened in mock disbelief. “Dinner? Normal? Spencer Reid, going on a normal date?” She placed both hands on her cheeks in exaggerated shock. “Be still my heart, I’m not sure I’m ready for this new chapter of your life!”

Emily grinned, leaning on her desk. “What’s next? Dancing?” she teased, clearly enjoying how flustered Spencer was getting.

Spencer waved them off, though the smile never left his face. “I’m just... excited to see where it goes,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Derek raised a brow, folding his arms. “Well, don’t keep us hanging, man. You’re gonna let us know how it goes, right?”

Spencer chuckled nervously. “We’ll see.”

Penelope clasped her hands together, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, I am living for this! I expect a full report, Reid. Leave nothing out!” she added, already imagining the romantic possibilities.

Spencer just shook his head with a sheepish grin, knowing that after Saturday, he wouldn’t be able to escape their questions—but for now, he was just content with the thought of seeing you again.

—

Spencer spent all of Thursday evening through Saturday morning in a nervous wreck, spiraling between excitement and dread. The excitement stemmed from the memory of you—the way you looked at him, the way you had made him feel seen and wanted in a way no one ever had. But the dread… well, that came from his mind’s tendency to overanalyze, to question every little detail until it didn’t make sense anymore.

He had almost convinced himself that he had hallucinated the entire night—that perhaps he’d somehow gotten drunk at the bar and imagined everything. You were too good to be true, after all. You were beautiful, smart, and funny. And the way you had treated him with such care… it felt like something out of a dream. Spencer was nearly positive that it hadn’t really happened.

Adding to his anxiety was the fact that after confirming the time and place for your Saturday date, your conversation had ended abruptly. No back-and-forth, no playful banter. Just... silence. He had been waiting, glancing at his phone far too often, hoping for another text that never came.

Maybe the magic had only lasted for that one night and morning. Maybe you had woken up and realized that Spencer wasn’t what you wanted after all. What if the moment had passed and the reality of who he was had set in for you? What if, after thinking it over, you decided he wasn’t worth seeing again?

Then there was the physical aspect—the fact that you had seen him. All of him. You had touched him, and though you had stayed afterward, making breakfast and laughing with him, the irrational part of his brain couldn’t stop replaying the possibilities. What if you hadn’t liked what you saw but had been too kind to say anything in the moment? What if you were regretting the entire thing now?

Rationally, Spencer knew these thoughts didn’t make sense. If you hadn’t been interested, you probably wouldn’t have agreed to see him again. You definitely wouldn’t have stayed the morning, made him breakfast, and kissed him so sweetly before leaving. But his nerves were gnawing at him, relentless and persistent.

Spencer wasn’t just nervous. He was terrified. In all his 30 years of life, he had never met someone who made his heart race so much in a good way. Someone who made him feel this vulnerable yet eager to dive deeper.

He spent Friday night tossing and turning, replaying every moment he’d spent with you, both wonderful and anxiety-inducing. By Saturday morning, he was an absolute bundle of nerves, wondering if maybe he should’ve done something differently, said something better, or been more... someone else.

But then, just as the clock hit mid-morning, his phone buzzed. Heart racing, Spencer grabbed it from the nightstand. A message from you.

Looking forward to tonight :) See you soon!

He stared at the screen, a wave of relief washing over him so intense it almost knocked him off his feet. You were still interested. You hadn’t changed your mind. You wanted to see him again.

For a moment, he just sat there, the nerves easing away as he reread the message. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

As Spencer got ready for the date, the nerves returned. Despite dressing the same way he always did—his usual button-up shirt, vest, slacks, his familiar aftershave, and cologne—there was a sense of urgency in his movements. He didn’t know why he was so anxious; after all, he hadn’t changed anything. But this was different. You were different. He just hoped that you would like him as he was.

You had offered to meet him at the restaurant, which, at first, he wasn’t sure about. He’d wanted to pick you up, to make the evening as special as possible, but when you suggested meeting there, he hadn’t pressed. Maybe it was nerves on your part too, or maybe you just liked the independence of arriving on your own terms.

When he arrived and spotted you chatting with the hostess, his heart swelled, almost too big for his chest. You looked effortlessly beautiful, standing there in a red dress that hugged your form perfectly. It was simple, yet elegant, and the way it contrasted against your skin made you stand out even more in the dimly lit atmosphere of the restaurant.

You were laughing, completely at ease, talking with the hostess as if you hadn’t a care in the world. The sound of your voice carried over the light murmur of the restaurant, and Spencer was instantly reminded of when he’d first seen you. The way you had drawn him in so effortlessly. There was no pretense about you—just an infectious warmth and natural beauty.

He stood frozen for a moment, just watching, trying to gather the courage to walk up to you. But when you turned your head and caught sight of him, your face broke into the most radiant smile, and Spencer felt his nerves disappear all at once. It was like everything fell into place.

“Hey,” you greeted him as he approached, your eyes lighting up with excitement. “You made it.”

“Yeah, I—wow, you look... amazing,” Spencer smiled, feeling the last remnants of his awkwardness melt away as you grinned at him, doing a playful little twirl in your red dress. The movement was graceful yet lighthearted, making him laugh, a sound full of genuine joy.

“I’m sensing a pattern,” Spencer teased, his eyes gleaming with affection as he took in how the red dress suited you so perfectly, just as your red boots and shorts had. “Do you like red?”

You stepped in closer, your hands resting lightly on his chest, the warmth of your touch sending a subtle shiver down his spine. “I do,” you admitted with a sweet smile. “My, uh, my aunt always called me Red. Like Little Red Riding Hood.”

Spencer’s heart melted at the story, his eyes softening as he looked at you with pure adoration. “That’s so sweet,” he murmured, as if he couldn’t contain how endearing he found the thought of you being called “Red.”

You chuckled, glancing down for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “Yeah, she said I was always wandering off on my own adventures, and she had to remind me not to get eaten by wolves.”

Spencer’s smile grew even softer, his hands instinctively resting at your waist. “Well,” he said, his voice gentle but filled with admiration, “I think Little Red turned out just fine.”

The exchange left the both of you wrapped in a quiet moment of warmth, the kind of connection that made the rest of the world seem to fade into the background. With a soft smile, you took his hand, ready to start the evening, knowing that it was already off to a perfect start.

After being seated, the conversation flowed easily as you both eagerly dug into the appetizers. The tension and nerves from earlier seemed to melt away entirely as you shared bites of food and laughed at small jokes. The restaurant had a cozy atmosphere, with soft lighting that gave the table an intimate glow, making everything feel even more relaxed.

You giggled, trying to hold in your laughter as you chewed, but it was no use. Spencer had said something funny just as you took a bite, and now you were covering your mouth with your hand, laughing through the food. Spencer immediately looked apologetic, his eyes wide as he realized his timing.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said, chuckling nervously, his hand halfway raised like he was ready to help in some way. “I didn’t mean to make you laugh while you were eating!”

You waved him off with your free hand, still laughing softly as you swallowed your food. “It’s okay, really,” you assured him once you could speak, your voice light with amusement. “It was worth it.”

Spencer grinned, a little sheepishly but clearly relieved that you weren’t bothered. “I’ll have to work on my comedic timing,” he said playfully, leaning back in his chair as he watched you, clearly enjoying the easy flow of your conversation.

You smiled at him, feeling the warmth of the moment settle around you. It was the kind of dinner where nothing had to be perfect for it to feel just right. Everything between you and Spencer felt natural—funny, even in the smallest moments.

You stretched your legs out under the table, completely unaware of Spencer’s position, and grazed his shin with your foot. Spencer jolted slightly, his body reacting immediately to the unexpected touch. His brow quirked up, and he gave you a playful look.

"Are you trying to play footsie with me?" he asked, pretending to sound scandalized, though the teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips gave him away.

You burst into laughter, immediately throwing your hands up in mock surrender. "I promise I wasn’t!" you said, still giggling. "I was just stretching my legs!"

Spencer narrowed his eyes at you in mock suspicion, pretending to glare as if he didn’t believe a word of it. "Likely story, Red," he teased, using your intimate nickname with ease.

Hearing him call you "Red" sent a warmth straight to your heart. It had been so long since anyone other than your aunt had used that name, and the way Spencer said it felt special, like a quiet understanding between the two of you. You grinned, feeling that warmth spread through your chest.

"I’m innocent, I swear!" you laughed, leaning forward slightly, your eyes meeting his with a playful glint.

Spencer held your gaze for a moment before breaking into a wide smile. "I’ll let it slide this time," he said, his voice light but filled with a quiet fondness that made your heart skip a beat.

The dinner had gone off without a hitch, and Spencer, walking beside you under the soft glow of the streetlights, couldn’t even remember why he had been so nervous in the first place. The evening had been perfect—easy, comfortable, and filled with laughter. He found himself entirely at ease around you, more than he had been with anyone in a long time.

As you strolled along the sidewalk, your arm occasionally brushing against his, you made small talk, keeping the conversation light and fun. Spencer listened intently, smiling at your stories, hanging on to every word, though you noticed that he still hadn’t shared all that much about himself. You figured he had his reasons, and you weren’t going to push. He seemed too genuine, too kind-hearted, for it to be anything more than him needing time.

For now, you were content to share bits of your life with him—telling stories about your childhood, your adventures in college, and the silly moments that had shaped you. You spoke about your aunt, and how much she had meant to you growing up. Spencer’s eyes softened as he listened, clearly enjoying every word you spoke.

"You sound like you had quite the adventurous childhood," Spencer said with a smile as you finished a story about sneaking into your college library late at night for secret study sessions with your friends.

You laughed, nudging his arm playfully. "Adventurous might be a bit of an overstatement, but I definitely wasn’t the most well-behaved."

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I can’t imagine you being anything but well-behaved."

You grinned at him, loving the way he teased you with that gentle humor of his. "You’d be surprised."

He seemed content to let you lead the conversation, and though he didn’t say much about his own past, you could tell that he was listening to every detail you shared. His silence wasn’t uncomfortable; in fact, it felt as though he was genuinely absorbing everything about you, like he wanted to know you better, but in his own quiet way.

When the two of you finally made your way back to the restaurant, where Spencer’s car was parked, he offered you a ride home. His thoughtfulness made you smile, but once again, you politely declined, explaining that you didn’t mind walking.

However, Spencer’s expression immediately shifted, his brow furrowing in concern as he quickly launched into crime statistics about women walking alone at night. His detailed knowledge on the subject was impressive, but it also sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. You couldn’t help but ask, "Why do you know so much about that?"

His response came with a nervous chuckle. “Oh, I, uh, I work for the FBI. I deal with a lot of crimes.” His words were quick, almost bashful, as though he wasn’t used to dropping that kind of bombshell in casual conversation.

Your eyes widened in surprise as the pieces clicked into place—the secrecy, the knowledge, it all made sense now. "Oh!" you exclaimed, relief washing over you. "Thank god, I was afraid you had experience in kidnapping or something."

Spencer laughed, clearly caught off guard by your reaction. He was so used to people being either overly impressed or intensely curious when they learned about his job, but your response was different—humorous, almost relieved.

"No, no," he assured you, pulling out his badge to prove his innocence, still chuckling. "Nothing like that."

You leaned in to get a better look at the badge, your fingers briefly brushing over the picture. Your eyes lit up with amusement. "Oh my goodness," you said, grinning up at him. "You look like a little baby in this!"

Spencer flushed slightly, laughing awkwardly. "Well, I was 22 when that was taken," he admitted, scratching the back of his head. "I’m 30 now… maybe I should retake it."

You smiled, your gaze softening as you looked at him. "No," you said, your voice affectionate. "I like it. It still looks like you, just more… innocent."

Spencer’s heart skipped a beat at the way you were looking at him, your expression so warm and kind. He wasn’t used to being seen like that, not after years of working in the field, seeing the worst of humanity. But in that moment, you saw him—not as a brilliant FBI agent, but as Spencer, the person. And he liked that more than he could put into words.

He gave you a shy smile in return, slipping the badge back into his pocket. “Thanks,” he said softly, genuinely appreciating your words.

You nodded slightly, unsure of how to navigate the next moment. It seemed like the night was coming to a natural end, and you didn’t quite know how to say goodbye without feeling like you were cutting it short.

“Wait, Y/N,” Spencer said suddenly, his hand gently catching your arm. There was a soft urgency in his voice, like he wasn’t quite ready for the evening to end either. “I can’t let you walk home alone. Please, at least let me walk you.”

You laughed, partly at the irony and partly at his genuine concern. “Oh, well, you see,” you began, biting your lip as you explained, “I didn’t want you to know where I lived, you know, just in case you were dangerous.”

Spencer blinked, momentarily stunned by your honesty, but you quickly followed it up with a lighthearted smile.

“But,” you continued, glancing down at your shoes with a playful sigh, “seeing as you’re probably my safest option, I would love a ride home. These shoes are starting to hurt.”

Spencer’s expression softened immediately, a mixture of relief and amusement. “Oh,” he smiled, clearly trying not to laugh at the situation. “Well, in that case, I’m glad I passed the safety test.”

You chuckled, grateful for Spencer’s warmth and understanding as he quickly unlocked his car, holding the door open for you like the gentleman he was. “I promise I’m just your FBI chauffeur for the evening,” he said with a playful grin. “No funny business involved.”

Sliding into the passenger seat, you felt more comfortable now, letting yourself sink into the soft interior of the car. “I should hope there will be some funny business,” you teased back with a grin.

Spencer laughed as he rounded the car and got into the driver's seat, his smile still lingering as he started the engine. “Maybe, if you’re lucky,” he shot back, a hint of playful banter in his voice.

You smiled to yourself, remembering the playful back-and-forth from the first night at the bar. “Oh, I’m lucky, alright,” you teased, letting your words hang in the air.

The conversation during the drive was light and easy, flowing naturally as you both learned more about each other. Spencer shared bits about his life—how he was from Las Vegas, how he’d been a child prodigy, finishing school at an age when most were still navigating adolescence. You revealed more about yourself too, that you were 25 and had just moved to Quantico a month ago. It was the most you’d learned about him so far, and your heart soared with the thought that maybe he was starting to feel more comfortable with you, letting those initial walls down just a little.

When the conversation turned to your age, Spencer let out a visible sigh of relief, as you had teasingly implied you were only 18 when he initially brought up his own youth. You giggled at his obvious relief, knowing he had been worried.

As you both stepped out of the car, Spencer opened the door for you once more, a habit that hadn’t gone unnoticed. It was then that you saw your cat, Poof, sitting in the window, his eyes staring down at the scene below.

“Who is that?” Spencer asked, his eyes following your gaze.

You smiled, proud as always of your feline friend. “That’s Poof,” you said, your voice warm. “My boy.”

Spencer turned to face you, and for the first time, he seemed to muster the courage to place his hands on your waist, the touch gentle but deliberate. His fingertips pressed lightly against your hips, pulling you just a little closer.

You glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his with a playful, sultry look. “I hope it’s not time for that funny business,” you said softly, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “Poof is watching.”

Spencer’s soft laugh filled the quiet evening air, his voice slightly teasing as he said, “Can you ask him to look away? I’d like to kiss you.”

You rubbed your chin, pretending to think it over, drawing out the moment. “Hmm, I guess I could try.” You turned your head over your shoulder and called up to your cat, “Hey, Poof?”

Poof perked up in the open window, his eyes locking onto yours, and he let out a questioning meow.

“Can you look away, baby?” you continued, your voice playful. “Mommy’s going to do something naughty.”

Spencer immediately flushed at your words, his cheeks turning a deep pink as he laughed nervously, clearly caught off guard by your teasing. Poof, seemingly understanding the moment, let out one more meow before hopping down from the windowsill, likely heading toward the front door to meet you inside. Whether he truly understood or just wanted to meet you, it didn’t matter. The effect was the same: the two of you now had privacy.

You turned back to Spencer with a smile, feeling the playful energy shift into something more intimate. With Poof gone, the evening air felt still, and you reached your hands into Spencer’s hair. Spencer, still slightly flustered but unable to hide his excitement, leaned in. His hands remained gently on your waist, but there was a tenderness in his touch that made your heart race.

Slowly, your lips met his in a soft kiss, the world seeming to quiet around you as everything else faded. It was gentle, tentative, and cozy, his lips pillow soft and sweet. Spencer kissed you like he was savoring every second, as if this moment meant more than he could put into words.

When you finally pulled back from the kiss, your noses still brushing lightly, the moment reminded you of a scene straight out of Lady and the Tramp. Spencer’s eyes were half-lidded, his lips still curved in a soft smile, clearly affected by the kiss. He exhaled softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he said, “I think you are the most amazing woman I have ever met.”

The sincerity of his words hit you like a warm breeze, melting your heart into a puddle. But as much as you felt overwhelmed with happiness, your expression must not have mirrored what you were feeling inside, because Spencer’s smile faltered slightly. He was quick to backtrack, his words tumbling out in a nervous rush.

“Oh no, was that too much? Is it too soon to say that? I’m sorry,” he stammered, his nervousness suddenly replacing the confidence he'd gained earlier. He was clearly afraid he had said something to ruin the perfect moment, his eyes searching yours for reassurance.

You shook your head gently, biting your lip as you looked up at him. There was a newfound shyness in your gaze, an almost vulnerable expression that hadn’t been there before. "Just... please mean it," you whispered, your voice soft, your heart racing as you waited for his response.

Spencer’s eyes softened instantly, his hands tightening slightly on your waist, like a silent reminder he wasn’t going anywhere. “I do,” he said, his voice low but firm.

Hearing those words, a slow, sweet smile spread across your face, and the warmth in your chest bloomed into something even bigger. You felt seen, appreciated, and for a moment, it was like the two of you were in your own little world—just you, Spencer, and the quiet glow of the night.

“I feel the same way,” you admitted softly, your hand reaching up to brush a strand of his hair from his face.

Spencer’s nervousness melted away in that instant, replaced by pure relief and something that felt like hope. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, and everything felt right. No more hesitation, no more second-guessing—just the feeling of being exactly where you both wanted to be.

—

Spencer Reid had never truly been in love before—not in the way people described it, that overwhelming rush of emotions, the constant thoughts about someone else filling your mind. But as he sat in his apartment later that night, thinking about you, he was almost certain that this—whatever he was feeling—was love. The way his heart skipped a beat just thinking about your smile, how his palms had been sweaty before your kiss, how you had effortlessly made him feel like the most important person in the world.

Still, Spencer was Spencer—his mind always searching for logical explanations, grounded in facts and science. He knew that love was largely chemical, that the brain released dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin, making people feel giddy and euphoric. And he also knew, from one of the countless facts stored in his mind, that both chocolate—and oddly enough, peas—could stimulate the release of similar hormones, mimicking the sensation of love.

So, in true Spencer Reid fashion, he decided to conduct an experiment.

The next day, he went out to buy both chocolate and peas—determined to see if those foods could recreate even a fraction of the feelings you stirred in him. He figured that if it was purely chemical, those foods should make him feel the same warmth, the same fluttering excitement in his chest.

He got home, spread out the chocolate and peas on his kitchen table, and hesitated for a moment. Was he really doing this? Testing whether his feelings for you were real or just his brain tricking him? He almost laughed at how absurd it all seemed.

But, he pushed forward, nibbling on some chocolate first. He waited, focusing on his body’s reactions. There was a slight rush—sweet and satisfying—but no butterflies, no pounding heart. Then he moved on to the peas, knowing they were supposed to have similar effects on the brain's chemistry. But after a handful of peas, he only felt... like someone who had just eaten peas. There was no spark, no overwhelming sense of joy.

Spencer sat back in his chair, staring at the empty plates, and let out a soft laugh. The experiment, while amusing, had proven what he already suspected: his feelings for you weren’t something he could replicate with food. They were something much deeper—something entirely unique to you.

The thought filled him with a sense of peace, and in that moment, he realized that what he was feeling was real. He didn’t need science or logic to confirm it—he just knew.

And as he closed his eyes, picturing your smile, he knew that love was the only thing that could explain the way he felt when he was around you.

—

"Alright, pretty boy, let’s hear it!" Derek clapped his hands together, rubbing them with an exaggerated sense of excitement as Spencer returned from the break room, coffee in hand.

Spencer paused mid-sip, his wide eyes blinking behind his cup, brows raised as if he hadn’t the faintest idea what Derek was referring to. “Hear it?”

Of course, he knew exactly what Derek meant. The date. But a small part of him—maybe a larger part than he cared to admit—wanted to keep you to himself, at least for a little while longer. His team already knew so much about him, and this, well, this was different. This was special.

Derek wasn’t having any of it. He narrowed his eyes, giving Spencer a mock-glare. “Don’t play with me, kid. You went on that date, right?”

Before Spencer could even respond, Emily perked up from her desk, always eager for gossip when it came to her favorite awkward genius. “Oh yeah! How did it go?” she asked, leaning in, her face full of curiosity.

Spencer sighed, setting his coffee down on his desk with a soft clink. He wasn’t going to get out of this one easily. He tried to keep his face neutral, his body language calm, but the memories of the evening—the walk under the streetlights, your playful banter, and that kiss—flooded his mind, making it hard not to smile.

"It went... very well," he admitted, his voice soft but steady.

Derek wasn’t convinced by Spencer’s attempt at subtlety. “That’s it? Very well?" he repeated, mocking Spencer’s impassive tone. "Come on, man. You’ve gotta give us more than that.”

Emily leaned forward even more, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, spill! Did she like you? Did you kiss her?"

Spencer could feel the warmth creeping up his neck, threatening to show in his cheeks. He could lie, brush it off, or keep it vague, but he knew his team better than that. They wouldn’t let it go. Still, he wasn’t quite ready to give them every detail.

"Yes, we kissed," he said, avoiding their wide-eyed stares. He could practically feel Emily and Derek’s eyes burning into him. "And yes, I think she liked me."

"Whoa!" Derek exclaimed, slapping his hand on the desk in excitement. "Look at you, Romeo!"

Emily was grinning now, clearly thrilled with this development. “Oh my God, you’re finally seeing someone. I knew this was going to be good!”

Spencer shifted in his chair, trying to avoid the attention while hiding his smile behind his coffee. "It’s... still early," he said cautiously. "We’re going to see each other again, but I don’t want to rush things."

Derek chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “No rush, man. Just enjoy it.”

Spencer nodded, feeling both overwhelmed by their enthusiasm and touched by their genuine happiness for him. As much as he had wanted to keep it to himself, there was something nice about sharing even this small piece of happiness with his team—his friends.

Still, in his mind, the best parts of the date were tucked away, memories meant just for him and you.

Just as Spencer was about to respond, Hotch’s voice cut through the bullpen. “Briefing room, five minutes,” he called, his tone all business as usual. But then, with a rare hint of amusement in his voice, Hotch added, “Congrats, Reid,” flashing a brief, smug smile before disappearing back into his office.

The team erupted into cheers and playful whops, their laughter filling the room. Derek gave Spencer a knowing nudge, grinning ear to ear, while Emily clapped her hands together in excitement.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh along with them, shaking his head at how quickly news spread in the BAU. He gathered his files, his coffee, and his thoughts, preparing for the case briefing.

As they made their way to the briefing room, Spencer found his thoughts drifting back to you. He wasn’t one to be easily distracted, especially at work, but today, there was a lightness in his step, a quiet happiness that followed him.

No matter what the next case would bring, you were there in the back of his mind, a constant, sweet reminder of the night before. And for the first time in a long while, Spencer felt like he was allowed to have something personal, something good, to look forward to.

—

It had been a few days since your date with Spencer, and though you hadn’t seen each other since then, the excitement hadn’t faded. Every day, you and Spencer shared brief phone calls after work, recounting your days, each conversation leaving you both with a sense of comfort and anticipation. It was enough for now, enough to tide you over until the next time you could be together in person.

Spencer, however, had been cautious about texting you first. He was afraid of coming on too strong, not wanting to push if you weren’t ready. He longed to see you again, and he was planning to ask if you were free this weekend. But the fear of always making the first move held him back, making him hesitate. He wanted to know that you were just as invested, that you’d reach out too.

Before he could summon the courage to ask you out again, the BAU caught a case that took them out of town. Spencer wasn’t sure what the protocol was for this kind of thing—how much should he let you know? It wasn’t like you were officially together, but at the same time, he didn’t want to just disappear without a word.

He decided to wait for your usual nightly call and tell you then, hoping the timing wouldn’t be off, worried that he might miss the window if things got too chaotic. A part of him secretly hoped you’d make the first move and call him tonight—an assurance that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

As the day stretched into evening, the team found themselves in a stuffy precinct in Arizona, dealing with an uncooperative local police department. The frustration levels were high, and Spencer was barely holding onto his patience with an especially difficult sheriff. Just as he was about to lose his cool, his phone rang.

Relieved for the distraction, Spencer pulled it out without thinking, assuming it was Garcia checking in with some intel. He answered with a weary sigh. “What’s up, Garcia?”

There was a brief pause before your voice came through the line, hesitant and uncertain. “Um, hi?”

Spencer’s entire demeanor shifted in an instant. His heart leaped in his chest, excitement bubbling up at the fact that you had called him. But it was quickly followed by a wave of embarrassment as he realized his mistake. “Y/N! Hi!” he blurted out, his voice filled with a mix of apology and enthusiasm.

“Expecting someone else?” you teased, but he could hear the slight edge of insecurity in your voice, making his stomach twist with guilt.

“No, no, I’m so sorry,” Spencer rushed to explain, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the wall of the precinct, trying to escape the noise and tension around him. “I’ve been dealing with this case, and I just—well, I thought it was a work call. I didn’t look at the caller ID. But I’m really glad you called.”

There was a brief silence on the other end, and Spencer held his breath, hoping he hadn’t ruined this. He desperately wanted you to know that you calling meant more to him than he could say.

After a moment, you spoke again, your tone softening. “It’s okay, I figured you were busy.”

“I am,” Spencer admitted, his voice quieter now. “But I would never be too busy to talk to you.”

Rossi happened to overhear the exchange between Spencer and you. Though the older agent smiled with quiet amusement and joy for the young genius, he refrained from teasing him. This was a rare moment for Spencer, and Rossi respected that.

On the other end of the line, you giggled softly, your voice light and teasing. “Never too busy for me?” you repeated, playfully emphasizing the words. “That’s quite the line, Spencer.”

Spencer felt his face warm even more, rubbing the back of his neck as a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. "Mhm, you know me, smooth talker extraordinaire," he replied, his voice soft but playful.

Your laughter echoed through the phone, sending a wave of warmth over Spencer. He couldn't help the huge smile that spread across his face. There was something about making you laugh that filled him with an indescribable joy.

On the other side of the room, Hotch overheard the exchange. Raising an eyebrow, he glanced over at Rossi. “Did Reid just use sarcasm?”

Rossi nodded, a knowing smile on his face. "I think the kid’s in love."

While they observed, you continued telling Spencer a story about Poof. "Oh, and today Poof scared a little kid into dropping their ice cream when he meowed from the window," you said with a giggle. "The poor thing was so startled. I ended up running downstairs with a popsicle from my freezer to make up for it."

As you laughed, recounting the moment, Spencer's heart swelled at the thought of your kindness. His mind briefly wandered to the idea of you as a mother, imagining you with a little one on your hip, comforting them with that same gentle warmth. And, to his own surprise, the thought of you being the mother of his children crossed his mind, and it didn’t scare him—it made his heart race in the best way possible.

He shook the thought away, trying to focus on the present, but it lingered, a sweet hope tucked away for the future.

"That's... really sweet of you," he said softly, his voice full of admiration. "That kid’s lucky you were there. I’m sure Poof didn’t feel too guilty, though."

You laughed again, the sound sending Spencer into another moment of quiet happiness. "Nope, he was pretty proud of himself."

Spencer chuckled, feeling lighter than he had in days despite the tension of the case. Just hearing your voice, your stories, made everything feel a little easier.

—

After the team wrapped up the case and stepped off the jet, Spencer’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his heart skipping a beat when he saw your name lighting up the screen. A soft smile spread across his face as he read the message.

Fly safe :) Come around to mine after you’re settled? I have a surprise!

His heart fluttered at the thought of you preparing something special for him. After the tension and exhaustion of the last few days, knowing that you had gone out of your way to plan a cozy night in for him made his chest warm with appreciation. He could hardly contain his excitement as he picked up his pace, eager to see you.

As he sped through the BAU offices, Derek’s voice echoed behind him, laced with amusement. “Got somewhere important to be, pretty boy?”

Spencer didn’t even slow down, not bothering to stop by his desk or respond to Derek’s teasing. He was too focused on getting home, quickly freshening up, and heading straight to you. He had been looking forward to seeing you since the moment your text had come through. The idea of spending the evening unwinding in your presence—feeling the comfort you always brought—was all he wanted after this stressful case.

Once home, he quickly showered and changed into something more relaxed but still nice. The thought of you, the surprise you had planned, fueled his every movement. His mind buzzed with anticipation, wondering what you could possibly have in store.

Soon enough, he found himself standing outside your door, the night air cool but carrying a sense of warmth knowing you were just on the other side. Spencer took a deep breath, knocked softly, and smiled to himself. Whatever the surprise, he knew this night would be perfect just because he’d get to spend it with you.

As you opened the door, your heart swelled with affection the moment you laid eyes on Spencer. He looked so relaxed, dressed down in a casual red sweatshirt, something you hadn't seen him wear before. It made him look more approachable, more... himself. And to top it all off, he was wearing red—a color you were more than familiar with.

“Trying to steal my look?” you teased with a playful grin, your tone lighthearted.

Spencer, however, found himself at a loss for words. He wanted to shoot back a quick, witty reply—keep up with your usual banter—but the sight of you in those shorts, your legs fully exposed, completely derailed his train of thought. His brain short-circuited for a moment, distracted by how stunning you looked in such a casual outfit.

His eyes widened slightly, and he swallowed, trying to regain his composure. "I—uh—yeah, I guess great minds think alike," he finally managed to say, though his voice was a little breathless.

You caught the way his gaze lingered a bit longer than usual, and it only fueled your affection for him. There was something incredibly endearing about the way Spencer, usually so articulate and brilliant, could be rendered speechless by the simplest things about you.

“Well, I think you look cute,” you added, leaning against the doorframe with a teasing smile.

Spencer blushed, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to focus on your words rather than how much he wanted to reach out and touch you. “You look... amazing,” he said, his voice genuine, the distraction momentarily fading as his gaze softened.

“Come on, space-cadet, step inside the spaceship,” you teased, giggling as you made room for Spencer to step inside your cozy, inviting home.

Spencer smiled, still somewhat in awe of you and how effortlessly comfortable you made him feel. He let you take his hand, your fingers lacing together as you guided him through the charming kitchen and into the warm, welcoming living room. The soft glow of the lamps, the greenery, and the sense of warmth that filled the space made it feel like a perfect sanctuary after the long, stressful days he’d had.

"So… I hope it’s not too much," you began, swinging your linked hands back and forth gently, clearly a little nervous. "But I, uh, rented some movies and made some food." Your voice softened as you continued, your gaze meeting his with a hopeful glint. "I thought we could just cuddle and hang out?"

Spencer's heart swelled at your thoughtfulness. The idea of a simple, cozy night in with you, far away from the chaos of work, was exactly what he needed. He could already feel the tension from the case melting away as he stood in your warm, peaceful space. The fact that you had gone out of your way to make him feel cared for, even without saying much, meant everything.

He smiled, squeezing your hand gently. "That sounds perfect," he said softly, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. “Thank you… for doing all this. You didn’t have to.”

You shrugged with a playful smile, pulling Spencer toward the couch. “I wanted to. You deserve a break. And... selfishly, I really wanted to see you.”

Spencer’s heart swelled in his chest, and he had to wonder if it was healthy for his heart to be beating this rapidly, this often. “Thank god,” he said dramatically, bending at the knees a bit for comedic effect, enhancing his performance. “Because I was really starting to miss you.”

You crinkled your nose in affection, finding his antics utterly adorable. Leaning up, you placed a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “We’re going to be that disgusting couple everyone hates to be around, aren’t we?” you teased, a playful gleam in your eyes.

That’s when Spencer swore his heart stopped altogether. His brain short-circuited as he replayed your words in his mind. Couple? Could this be real? His pulse quickened, and he suddenly felt like his chest was too small for his heart.

“Couple?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement and just a hint of disbelief. He looked at you with wide, hopeful eyes, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

You froze, realizing the word had slipped out without much thought. For a moment, you panicked, unsure of whether you had moved too fast or if Spencer was even ready for that. “I—uh... I didn’t mean to say that,” you stammered, feeling the nerves bubbling up. “But... is that okay?”

Spencer’s expression softened instantly. His eyes were still wide, but now filled with something warm, something deeper than mere excitement. Without thinking, he pulled you into a tender hug, pressing his forehead gently against yours. “It’s more than okay,” he whispered, his voice slightly shaky from the rush of emotions flooding through him. “I… I’d really like that.”

You laughed softly, relief washing over you as you melted into his arms. “Me too,” you whispered back, your hands wrapping around his back, holding him close. The tension that had built up between you moments ago dissolved into something tender, something warm and reassuring.

After a few beats, Spencer pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his smile small but full of meaning. “So… we’re that disgusting couple now, huh?”

You giggled, gently brushing a loose strand of hair from his face. “Looks like it,” you teased, your voice light, yet filled with affection.

Spencer chuckled, unable to stop smiling, the realization of what this meant finally settling into his mind. This was real—you were real—and the connection between the two of you was deepening in ways he hadn’t even anticipated.

And there, in that cozy living room, something beautiful had started to bloom, and neither of you could be happier.

Of course, that was until you playfully pushed Spencer down onto the couch, the unexpected movement making him let out a surprised laugh. You leaned over him, your lips finding his, and kissed him with a fervor that made his heart skip several beats. His hands instinctively found your waist, holding onto you as you kissed him silly.

Every time your lips met, Spencer’s mind grew foggier, lost in the warmth and softness of your touch. His usual articulate thoughts were reduced to nothing more than pure sensation, and in that moment, he was utterly and completely yours.

But then, when you shifted, your hips settling down on his lap, and ground yourself against him, a low gasp escaped his lips. Spencer’s hands gripped your waist tighter, and he swore he was through the roof with happiness. His pulse was racing, his mind spinning, and yet, all he could think about was how perfect this felt—how perfect you felt.

A breathless laugh escaped him between kisses as he looked up at you with wide, adoring eyes. “I think,” he said, his voice ragged from the emotions swirling inside him, “this might actually kill me.”

You giggled against his lips, your fingers brushing through his hair. “Good,” you teased, leaning down to kiss him again, your movements deliberate and full of affection. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you survive.”

When your tongue traced along Spencer’s bottom lip, he knew he was in trouble—there was no way he was going to survive this, and, really, he was okay with that. But as the intensity of the moment grew, something shifted inside him. He didn’t want you doing all the work, didn’t want to just be the one melting under your touch. No, he wanted to return the favor.

“Y/N…” he mumbled, his voice low and filled with need as you sucked on his tongue, causing him to let out a deep, involuntary moan. The sound echoed in the room, making the moment feel even more electric.

Before you could continue, Spencer gently pushed you back, his hands still steady on your waist. “I want—” he began, taking a deep, steadying breath, his heart racing. “I want to… please you this time.” His voice trembled slightly, the desire in his words clear.

You paused, gazing down at him with surprise and affection, your breath catching at the intensity in his eyes. For a moment, you were speechless, feeling the shift in the air between you. There was something deeply intimate in Spencer’s request, in the way he wanted to take care of you.

His hands slid up your sides, his fingers tracing light, almost reverent patterns along your skin as he held your gaze. “Please,” he added softly, his voice now filled with a quiet determination.

The vulnerability in his eyes and the sincerity of his words made your heart race in response. You smiled down at him, leaning in close so your lips barely brushed his. “Okay,” you whispered, giving him a soft, reassuring kiss. “Whatever you want, Spencer.”

Spencer gently shifted your positions, moving you onto your back as he settled between your legs, his body hovering just above yours. You giggled softly, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you wiggled your eyebrows playfully. “Hello, handsome.”

Spencer smiled down at you, a warmth blooming in his chest at how effortlessly playful and sweet you always were. “Hey, gorgeous,” he breathed out, his voice full of affection as he leaned down to kiss you again, slow and deep, savoring every moment.

This time, his hands were braced beside your head, supporting his weight as he kissed you. Your fingers traced soft, lazy patterns along his back, the gentleness of your touch contrasting with the intensity building between you.

But then, Spencer lowered his hips, grinding down into yours, and the sensation sent a shockwave through you. You couldn’t stop the high-pitched keen that escaped your throat, your fingers instantly digging deeper into his back, your body responding to him with a need that left you breathless.

Spencer pulled back slightly, his gaze heated as he looked down at you, his breathing ragged. “Did you like that?” he asked, his voice husky, thick with a genuine curiosity—but the way he asked it, the rough edge in his tone, made your heart race and your blood pressure spike.

You nodded, your breaths coming out in shallow, excited gasps. “Y-yeah,” you managed to breathe out, the simple action of speaking feeling overwhelming with the way he was looking at you, as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him right now.

Spencer’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Good,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you again, but this time his hips didn’t stop moving, rolling into yours with deliberate, teasing pressure that made you arch up into him, craving more.

With each roll of his hips, Spencer was more determined to make sure you felt everything, his quiet confidence growing as he watched the way your body responded to him. The playful teasing from earlier had transformed into something much deeper, more intimate, and as his hands roamed your body, he knew that this—being with you like this—was something he wanted to experience again and again.

“Spence, ungh,” you whined, your voice shaky as pleasure coursed through you. “Spencer, this—this feels so good.” Your words stuttered out as Spencer’s lips trailed warm kisses down the length of your neck, making you arch into him, but something inside you told you it could feel even better. “Can I… move you?”

Spencer paused, pulling back slightly to look at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Move me?” he asked, his voice soft and curious.

You nodded, your breath still coming out in shallow bursts. “If you were situated a little more to the left… you’d hit perfectly.”

Spencer blinked in surprise, the realization dawning on him. “Oh!” He laughed, the sound a mix of amusement and understanding, as his face flushed a deeper shade of red. “Of course.”

He braced himself as your hand went into his pants, repositioning just the way you needed, his hands still braced on either side of your head as his body moved into place. And when he pressed down into you again, the sensation hit in a way that had your back arching and a strangled moan escaping your lips.

“That better?” he asked, his voice low, and though the question was genuine, there was an underlying heat in his tone that sent sparks flying through your veins.

Your only response was a breathless nod, your hands clinging to his back, your nails digging into Spencer’s back as he moved just the way you had asked. The new angle sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, and it was all you could do to nod frantically, your breath catching in your throat as he pressed deeper.

"That’s it," Spencer murmured, his voice laced with both awe and desire. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "You feel so good." His words only heightened the moment, sending a shiver down your spine as his hips continued their slow, deliberate movement against yours.

The tension in your body built with each roll of his hips, and every breathless whimper you made only spurred him on. Spencer's usually calm, thoughtful demeanor had melted away, replaced by something more primal, more intense. Yet, there was still something so gentle about him, like he wanted to savor every moment, every reaction you gave him.

You tilted your head back, giving him more access to your neck as he resumed placing kisses there, each one sending jolts of pleasure through you. "Spencer," you gasped out his name, your voice trembling with need. "Don’t stop."

His lips curved into a small, pleased smile against your skin. “I won’t,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. Spencer moved again, his body aligned with yours in perfect harmony now, and the sensation made you gasp out loud, your back arching off the couch as his name fell from your lips in a desperate moan.

He watched your every reaction with fascination, his gaze full of warmth and desire. “Just tell me what you need,” he murmured, his voice steady but filled with the same yearning coursing through him. “I’ll give it to you.”

The intensity of his words, combined with the way his body moved against yours, was overwhelming in the best possible way. You felt your grip tighten on his back, nails dragging lightly against his skin as the pressure built between you both.

Your breath hitched again, every nerve in your body sparking with sensation. "Just like that, Spence," you managed to gasp out, your body trembling with anticipation.

And Spencer, ever attentive, ever caring, gave you exactly what you needed, his movements steady and sure as he took you closer and closer to the edge.

Spencer’s eyes were filled with awe as he watched you, the intensity of your expression sending a rush of pride and arousal through him. "Are you going to finish?" he asked deeply, his voice tinged with both excitement and lust, clearly captivated by the way you were responding to him.

But as much as you loved the feeling of him against you, you knew that you needed something more to actually reach that peak. You didn’t want him to think that he was doing anything wrong, because he wasn’t—everything felt amazing. You just needed a little extra.

Shaking your head slightly, you met his gaze, feeling a little shy but determined to be honest. "Um, no," you admitted, your voice soft but clear. "Spence, I’m going to need something more..."

His eyes widened slightly, understanding dawning on him, and he immediately slowed down, his expression one of care and attentiveness. "What do you need?" he asked, his voice gentle, full of nothing but the desire to give you exactly what you wanted. Spencer was nothing if not eager to please, and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like he wasn’t giving you what you deserved.

You swallowed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, but you pushed through the nervousness. "I just need more… contact," you said, your voice trembling a little, but you held his gaze, knowing that Spencer was the kind of person who wouldn’t judge you for asking. "Maybe your hands... or your mouth?"

The moment you said it, Spencer’s eyes darkened with understanding and desire, and he nodded quickly. "I can do that," he said, his voice now rougher, the edge of excitement clear in his tone. Without hesitation, he adjusted himself, his hands sliding down your body with deliberate care, his fingertips brushing lightly over your skin, sending a shiver of anticipation through you.

"Tell me how," he whispered, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Tell me what you want, and I’ll make sure it feels good."

You nodded quickly, your lips brushing against Spencer’s as you whispered, “Touch me, please.” The desperation in your voice sent a rush of heat through him, and Spencer couldn’t help but smile at how the roles had reversed. You were the one who was a mess now, needing his touch, and he found it both endearing and exciting.

But Spencer wasn’t one to leave you waiting—he was far too much of a gentleman for that. He wanted to make sure you felt every bit of pleasure you deserved. His hands moved with purpose, pushing your tiny shorts and underwear down as far as they could go in your current position, the fabric bunching up around your thighs.

His fingers hesitated just for a second, brushing lightly over the coarse hair, testing the waters as he sought your reaction. The moment his fingertips made contact with your lips, you let out a soft gasp, your body arching slightly, seeking more of his touch.

Spencer’s gaze flicked back to your face, watching your reaction closely, a mixture of curiosity and admiration in his eyes. He loved how responsive you were to him, how honest your body was in its need. Slowly, gently, his fingers traced lower, gliding through the wet heat of your skin, exploring with a tenderness that made your heart race.

“Like this?” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath as his fingers found your most sensitive spot, circling your clit with deliberate care and pressure. He wanted to make sure he was doing it just right, watching for every little tell that told him you were enjoying this.

Your breath hitched, and your fingers dug into his shoulders as you nodded, unable to form words in that moment. Spencer, always attentive, took your reaction as the encouragement he needed and continued, his movements slow but precise, building the tension inside you with every stroke of his hand.

As your body responded to his touch, the quiet sounds of your pleasure filled the space between you, and Spencer’s heart swelled with satisfaction. He leaned down to kiss you again, his lips moving against yours with a renewed sense of purpose as his fingers continued their steady rhythm, determined to give you exactly what you needed.

You were quickly becoming undone beneath him, your body trembling as the pressure built inside you. Spencer could feel it too, the way your breathing quickened, the way your hips subtly lifted to meet his hand. And in that moment, all that mattered was making sure you felt as good as you possibly could.

"That's it," he murmured against your lips, his voice soft but full of awe. "Just let go, Y/N. I've got you."

Spencer's deep voice, laced with desire and tenderness, sent waves of heat coursing through you, and when you whined, your voice high and breathless, "Harder, faster, I'm so close," it was all he needed to hear.

His breath hitched, eyes darkening as his fingers immediately responded to your plea, pressing harder, moving faster. His focus was entirely on you, on making sure you got exactly what you needed. His lips brushed against your temple as his fingers worked you over, his free hand sliding up to cup your breast through your top, squeezing lightly.

"Like this?" he murmured, his voice rough with concentration, the husky edge to it sending another wave of pleasure through you.

Your back arched as you gasped out, barely able to hold yourself together. "Yes, yes, right there!" The sensation built inside you with a blinding intensity, every nerve in your body alight as Spencer's fingers moved expertly, just how you needed.

He watched your face, utterly captivated by how you were unraveling beneath him, your body trembling with need, your breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps. His fingers pressed even harder, his movements precise and relentless as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

"Come on," he whispered softly, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth. "Let go for me, Y/N."

That was all it took. Spencer’s deep voice, the way his fingers worked your body, the tension that had been building—it all came crashing down at once. You let out a sharp cry, your body arching into his as the overwhelming wave of pleasure washed over you, your muscles tightening, then releasing in sweet relief.

Spencer slowed his movements as you rode out the high, his hand still gently moving against you, guiding you through the aftershocks. His lips pressed gentle kisses along your jawline, murmuring soft words of praise and affection as you came down from the blissful peak.

"That's it," Spencer whispered, his voice low and tender, filled with awe as he looked down at you. "Wow. You’re so beautiful."

He sat back on his knees, needing to take in the full sight of you beneath him, his chest swelling with an overwhelming sense of admiration. What he saw made his heart race—your flushed face, damp with sweat, your hair slightly stuck to your forehead, the way your chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. The rolls of your tummy from the way you lay on the couch only made you more irresistible to him.

But what really caught Spencer’s attention was the wet spot beneath you, a clear indication of just how much you had enjoyed yourself. His eyes trailed up slowly, following the evidence of your release until they landed on the source of that wetness, the sight making something primal stir inside him.

He couldn’t help himself—his hand moved instinctively, reaching out to touch you again, his fingers gently brushing over the sensitive, soaked skin. The temptation was too strong, and before he could think about it, his fingers slipped inside you.

You flinched, your body jerking in a mix of oversensitivity and surprise. "S-Spence, wait—" you gasped, your hands grabbing onto his forearm, trying to find something to hold onto as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Spencer froze immediately, his wide eyes snapping up to meet yours. "Sorry!" he blurted out, his voice filled with concern. "I didn’t mean to—are you okay?"

You nodded quickly, your breath still catching in your throat. "Yeah, yeah... just sensitive." You smiled at him softly, appreciating his eagerness and concern, though your body was still recovering from the intensity of the high he had just given you.

Spencer smiled down at you, his lips soft and warm as he leaned in to kiss you gently. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice low and husky, though there was a hint of teasing in his tone.

You took a few more deep breaths, your chest rising and falling quickly as your body calmed, but there was no way in hell you’d ever ask him to stop—not when he was making you feel like this. Shaking your head, you looked up at him, a playful glint in your eyes despite the lingering sensitivity. "Absolutely not," you whispered breathlessly.

Spencer’s smirk deepened, satisfaction and mischief dancing across his features. "Didn’t think so," he murmured, clearly pleased with your response. He kissed you again, slower this time, savoring the way your lips felt against his fingers resumed their mission.

His touch was gentler now, coaxing rather than demanding, and the feeling of his fingers moving slowly inside you after you just finished made you shudder, your body responding instantly despite the intensity you had just experienced.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Spencer whispered against your lips, his voice a soft promise, but there was an unmistakable eagerness in his tone. He wanted to keep going, wanted to keep making you feel this way, but only if you were ready.

You nodded, your heart racing again as you gave him the permission he was looking for. "I will," you promised, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, holding onto him as his touch sent more sparks of pleasure through you.

And with that, Spencer’s fingers picked up their rhythm again, slow but deliberate, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched every reaction, every gasp and moan that fell from your lips.

“I—I won’t come like this,” you managed to gasp out as Spencer’s fingers sped up once again, the sensation intense but not quite enough to push you over the edge.

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes locked on where his hand was working its magic between your legs. The sound of his voice, low and comforting, sent another wave of warmth through you. “That’s okay, darling,” he said, his words dripping with affection and adoration. “I just wanted to feel you.”

The way he said it—so sincere, so captivated by you—made your breath catch, your body instinctively clenching around his fingers. You groaned, the sensation shooting straight through your core, your body responding to his touch in ways you hadn’t expected.

Spencer noticed your reaction, his smirk growing as his fingers continued to move, sliding in and out of you with steady precision. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “I love the way you feel around me,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

His words, the way his fingers kept you on edge without letting you tip over—it was driving you wild. Even if you couldn’t reach your release like this, the sheer pleasure of having him touch you, of knowing how much he wanted to feel you, was enough to keep you completely captivated in the moment.

You reached up, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as you whispered back, “Keep going, please.”

Spencer grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he quickened the pace of his fingers just a little more, continuing to enjoy the way your body reacted to his every movement.

After Spencer had taken his fill, and you were far too sensitive to continue, you giggled, gently pushing him off as you sat up. You reached towards his waistband with a playful smile, teasing, “I can help the next customer now.”

But before you could get far, his hands caught yours, stopping you. When you looked up at him, you saw his face flushing pink, an adorably sheepish expression crossing his features. “I—uh, finished a long time ago,” he confessed, his voice soft, almost shy.

You blinked in surprise, then burst into laughter. “What?” you asked, incredulous but deeply amused. “When?”

Spencer groaned, his face turning even redder as he leaned in, hiding in the crook of your neck. “When you did,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin.

Your eyes widened at the confession, a rush of heat pooling in your stomach as you processed what he said. "Fuck, that’s hot," you murmured, the thought of him finishing just from pleasuring you sending a fresh wave of excitement through your already sensitive body.

Spencer pulled back just enough to peek at you, his face still flushed, a mixture of surprise and bashful pride written across his features. “Really?” he asked, almost like he couldn’t believe that you’d find that sexy.

You nodded eagerly, your hands gently running up his chest as you leaned in closer. “Really,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “That’s probably the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Spencer exhaled a small laugh, clearly relieved and a little proud, the tension easing from his shoulders as he kissed you softly. Even though he had been shy about it, your reaction had made him feel comfortable.

After the intensity of the moment, you both excused yourselves to clean up, laughing softly as Spencer ended up borrowing a pair of your sweatpants. He wore them with a grin, clearly feeling more comfortable now. The two of you tidied up quickly, putting everything in order before settling back into the perfect evening you'd planned.

Before you knew it, your cozy movie night was underway, the two of you curled up on the couch together. The living room was warm and inviting, the soft glow from the screen casting gentle shadows around the room. Spencer's arms were wrapped around you, his head resting against your chest as you absentmindedly played with his curls. The sound of his breathing, steady and peaceful, combined with the soft hum of the movie in the background, made the entire evening feel even more intimate.

It wasn’t long before you felt the subtle weight of Spencer's body relaxing against yours, his breathing slowing as he drifted off to sleep. You smiled to yourself, your heart full as you gazed down at him. His face was peaceful, his usually intense expression softened by sleep, and you couldn’t help but think how lucky you were to have moments like this with him.

Gently, you nudged him awake just enough to move to your bedroom, guiding him carefully as he stirred. Spencer mumbled sleepily, still half-asleep as he followed you, reclaiming his hold on you as soon as you both slipped under the covers. His arms wrapped around you again, his body curling into yours instinctively as you both settled in for the night.

With his warmth surrounding you and the peaceful rhythm of his breathing lulling you, you quickly drifted off, the perfect ending to a night full of closeness and connection.

—

Spencer was incredibly content when he woke up to find his head once again pillowed by your chest. The quiet comfort of the moment filled him with warmth, his body relaxed and his mind at ease for what felt like the first time in ages. You were still asleep, your breathing soft and even, giving him a chance to truly admire your beauty without distraction.

He gently stroked your hair, letting his fingers run through the soft strands as he watched the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. Your eyes fluttered ever so slightly, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I am so lucky," he whispered softly to himself, the words barely audible in the quiet room.

But then, he noticed a small, sleepy smile forming on your lips. Spencer paused, realizing you were pretending to be asleep. He sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation as he gazed down at you. “I just hope she doesn’t look me up on the internet… she'd find my porno…”

Your eyes popped open immediately, and you sat up with a start, your voice full of shock and amusement. "What?!"

Spencer couldn’t hold back his laugh, his cheeks flushing a bit as he tried to stifle it with his hand. "I’m kidding!" he said quickly, grinning at the horrified look on your face. "It’s just a joke."

You stared at him for a moment before breaking into laughter yourself, smacking his chest playfully. "Don’t scare me like that! I almost believed you!"

Spencer chuckled, rubbing the spot where you hit him. “Sorry, sorry. You were just too cute pretending to be asleep. I couldn’t resist.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing, but you couldn’t help the warm feeling in your chest at how playful and lighthearted Spencer was with you. “I’ll have to keep my guard up now,” you teased, leaning down to kiss him softly.

“Good idea,” Spencer said, smiling into the kiss. “Though I promise, no more fake confessions. Just real ones.”

"Better not," you warned playfully, your smile soft as you settled back into the warmth of his embrace, the both of you falling back into that easy, affectionate comfort.

You traced lazy patterns on Spencer’s chest, your fingertips lightly grazing his skin as you asked, “What would I find if I looked you up, really?”

Spencer sighed softly, clearly thinking it over for a moment before answering. "Some peer reviews, research articles, child prodigy stuff, and, uh… probably some news stories from the BAU."

The mention of the BAU caught you off guard. “BAU?” you asked, your voice holding a slight edge of nervousness. You knew Spencer worked for the FBI, but he hadn’t gone into much detail about it.

Spencer, misinterpreting the nervous tone in your voice, mistook it for confusion. “Oh, sorry, the Behavioral Analysis Unit,” he explained casually, not yet realizing the weight of what he was revealing. “It’s the part of the FBI where I work. We profile and catch serial killers, violent criminals, kidnappers… you know, things like that.”

“Oh… yeah,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Sounds scary.”

“It can be,” Spencer admitted softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his fingers lightly brushing through your hair. “But it’s really rewarding too. It’s sweet that you seem concerned.”

You laughed lightly, trying to shake off the lingering nerves. “Yeah,” you said, your tone warmer now as you tried to ease the tension. “Don’t want my boyfriend being in danger.”

The word had slipped out so naturally, but as soon as Spencer picked up on it, his eyes widened in surprise and excitement. “Boyfriend?” he repeated, his voice practically buzzing with joy. “You called me your boyfriend.”

You laughed softly, feeling the warmth of his reaction settle your nerves. “Well, aren’t you?” you teased, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eye.

Spencer’s face lit up, his expression one of pure adoration. “God, I hope so,” he breathed, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and happiness. His arms wrapped around you a little tighter as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening but didn’t want to let go of the moment.

You smiled, your heart swelling as you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, feeling the soft hum of affection that flowed between you both. “Then kiss me,” you murmured against his lips. “Boyfriend.”

Spencer chuckled, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m not sure how I got so lucky, but I’m not going to question it.” His voice was filled with genuine emotion, as though this moment meant more to him than he could fully express.

You smiled, nuzzling into him, feeling more at home than ever.

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ashonheavenscloud · 9 months ago

Text

crazier things || h. hyunjin

: a drunken confession from your friend, hwang hyunjin, leaves you questioning everything a week before your transfer home.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ contents: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader, college au, friends to ??, INTENSEEE ANGST, mutual pining, two idiots and unfortunate circumstances </3

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ word count: 14.6K

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, mildly suggestive content and a toxic relationship (hyunjin x oc), this whole fic is kinda heavy and angsty😭

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ a/n: this was written WAYYY back in 2021 and posted on my other account, but i’m moving it here to keep all my fics in the same place🤣 this is the longest oneshot i’ve written and i’m quite proud of it. enjoy!

now playing - crazier things - chelsea cutler

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Hyunjin was drunk, you knew.

That was the only explanation for why he would call you at such an ungodly hour as 2 am, slurred words barely audible in between the loud music and cheering crowd that joined his voice through your speaker.

It had been awhile since he’d called you at a party- but definitely not long enough, you thought a little frustratedly. But you were mostly worried as you drove to the address you’d managed to coax out from the drunk boy’s babbling.

He was falling back into bad habits as the peak of winter approached and snow had yet to fully take its leave from the suburbs of New York- and it didn’t help that finals were approaching, and he was clearly stressed.

And that girlfriend of his putting way too much pressure on him.

Yet another worry as you pulled up to the house, music booming from the place as you hurried to where Hyunjin was leaning in the yard, no girlfriend in sight.

He hadn’t brought her, and he hadn’t called her- again.

“Hyunjin!”

It took a couple shouts of his name over the crowd for him to look up at you, and you felt a tiny bit of relief at seeing him somewhat alright.

“Y/n-” his attempt at walking over was short lived, as he stumbled with a giggle and you rushed to catch him.

The weight of his body made you sigh, grunting out, “Stand up, we’re going home.”

“Home? What home, not home.”

He barely made sense, but you understood. “Not your girlfriend’s, I promise.”

He slowly nodded, dazedly blinking as your words processed. “Okay.” He mumbled, voice small.

“Just… just take a rest here, okay?” You murmured back, as you dragged the boy from the crowd and found an unoccupied bench by the side of the road to sit him on. Quickly, you pulled a plastic water bottle from your bag and handed it cap off to him. “Drink.”

He did as he was told, and with your gentle help he downed a good quarter of it. Sighing once more, you plopped onto the bench beside him, suddenly very weary.

Hyunjin was drunk- very drunk. He had to be, when he slid closer to you on the bench, cheeks flushed and eyes heavy from the aftermath of the college party and the alcohol. That was the only explanation; for why else would three forbidden words suddenly tumble from his dazed, plush lips?

“I love you.”

Your eyes jolted to his face; his eyes were flickering closed, a small intoxicated smile on his face, his fingers finding the edge of your sweater sleeve and tugging at the material. He clung to you, smile slowly widening as he chuckled; and all you could do was stare at him, heart racing and sinking all at once.

You really might have been able to brush it off as some false drunken claim if he had stopped there, or if you’d had the courage to speak and lead the conversation away. Lead it somewhere safe, somewhere that didn’t blur the already complicated relationship you both found yourselves in- the very messy situation you should have gotten out of right at that moment.

But he didn’t stop there.

And it sounded so genuine when his head lolled onto your shoulder and he murmured, “Ha. I’m so in love with you, and you don’t even know it.”

He was drunk, you had to repeat to yourself multiple times as you drove your black Civic through the busy neighborhood streets, occasionally glancing at his sleeping figure in the passenger side. He was completely still, save for the small breaths that made his lips pout ever so slightly. With a start, you realized he was still gripping your sleeve.

And you were suddenly scared.

Because I love you too, Hwang Hyunjin. And I think maybe you meant it.

…

When it came to alcohol of any kind, Hwang Hyunjin was a lightweight. It barely took him a couple swallows to be completely wasted- and the day after was just as bad.

He groaned when he opened his eyes; despite the blinds being closed, the tiny streams of light around the edges sparked a massive headache. He closed his eyes immediately, his small glance around the room enough to assure him that he was safe- and, once again, had been stashed in your bedroom.

He didn’t remember getting here at all. God, how many shots had he taken? He’d sworn to keep it to a strict limit. What kind of alcohol had it even been?

Groggy but guilty enough to get up, Hyunjin forced his eyes open again and stumbled out of the bed. He was sweaty and nauseous, but hey, you’d seen him worse. Upon leaving the bedroom and stepping into the living area of your studio apartment, he was met with the sight of you passed out on the couch.

You’d probably been exhausted after helping him out last night.

Another wave of guilt ran over him. He didn’t usually drink, but when he did you always seemed to be the one cleaning up his mess. Hyunjin vaguely remembered calling you part way through the night- although he couldn’t recall any of the conversation. Once again, though, you’d had his back.

He approached as quietly as his heavy feet could manage, and crouched beside you. A light blanket was half draped off your figure, and your face was smashed into a pillow. He watched your expression, noticing the crease of worry in your brow and gently massaging it away with a sigh.

He was stressing you again. He hadn’t meant to; and at this point, his guilt was overwhelming.

He decided to let you sleep, feeling he at least owed you that. He fixed the blanket, tucking in around your shoulders before stumbling away to the kitchen. First he found a bottle of Advil and downed the pill, before checking in your fridge for any food. Eggs and toast was manageable, right? He wasn’t the most experienced cook but he could damn well try.

Almost subconsciously, he peeked behind his shoulder to look at you once more. Your forehead was wrinkled with worry again. Even though he felt bad, he couldn’t help but think about how cute it was. But to be fair, you were always cute.

So damn pretty.

You suddenly shifted and Hyunjin whipped his head back to his cooking, heart pounding and ears flaming. Focus on the food, Hyunjin, he scolded himself.

But that image of you curled up behind him couldn’t leave his head as he cooked, no matter how hard he tried. He shouldn’t be thinking of you so much, especially not now- with you here, and with the symptoms of his hangover a bitter reminder of the trouble he’d caused you. Especially when each new thought definitely crossed the friend line.

After meeting you at the university library, your phone numbers had been exchanged- and oddly enough, you’d been kind to him. Kind to the boy close to failing half of his classes. Kind to the boy with a reputation of trouble. Kind, even after the first party you’d stumbled upon him- and he’d been drunk then, too. And somehow you’d started being the one person he could really talk to, and the one person that his intoxicated brain thought to call.

His reminiscing was interrupted by movement, and Hyunjin glanced back again to see you groggily sitting up, blinking open bleary eyes, the cutest yawn scrunching up your features. He caught himself smiling ridiculously, just in time to hide it before your eyes found his own.

There were the worry lines again.

“Are you okay?” You asked him quietly, standing and approaching him. Against his will, his heart thumped a little faster.

“Yeah. I guess.” Hyunjin responded, watching you survey him, eyes checking him for any sign of damage.

It seemed you didn’t find any, because after a minute you sighed. “Good.”

You reached to yank him closer by the collar of his button up, nearly making Hyunjin lose his balance as another wave of dizziness greeted his senses. Either you didn’t notice or you didn’t care; probably the latter, because you were shouting, and you looked mad.

“What the hell? You scared me half to death, you told me you were going to stop doing this!”

“I… I know.” Hyunjin weakly replied, but he didn’t have time to add anymore when you came at him again.

“You said you wouldn’t go the next time, at least not alone- and the next time, and the next time, and on and on. I’ve been covering for you, rescuing you from parties and bad dates for the past year. But I’m gone next term, and I’m not going to be here to save your sorry ass anymore.”

As if he needed the reminder of your transfer. As if he hadn’t been thinking about it since the day you’d told him last month.

“I’m sorry, really.” Hyunjin murmured, meeting your eyes to try and convey the honesty in his words. “It’s unfair to you. I don’t know why I call you every time, but… it’s not fair.”

There was silence, and oddly enough you seemed a bit caught off guard. What? Because he called you, even now? But then Hyunjin realized at last your close proximity, your nose almost touching his, your warm breath on his face. His eyes widened.

You jumped back, and Hyunjin ducked away at the same time, heart doing back flips as he tried to regain his composure, glancing at you. You, the calm and sensible one, the out of reach one… flustered.

Was it possible for a heart to swell with foolish hope, at the same time it shriveled with an undeniable sense of guilt?

But before Hyunjin could figure it out, you were running to the stove, shouting at the smoke that billowed from the eggs that Hyunjin had forgotten about. The moment was dismissed in the scramble to clear the smoke and discard of the burnt eggs, relieved that at least the toast turned out okay.

And once the toast was buttered and on plates, you turned back to face him. You opened your mouth, hesitating for a moment before quietly saying, “What are you going to tell her this time?”

You didn’t need to say who. Hyunjin bit into his toast, with no desire to answer the question. You sighed, but thankfully didn’t push it.

He didn’t need to hear your thoughts to know what you were thinking while you silently drizzled honey on your bread. Why are you with her if you always need to lie to her?

Because I don’t deserve any better. And I certainly don’t deserve you.

He avoided your eyes as you chewed on your toast, gathering enough courage to timidly ask, “I really am sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, I do.” Hyunjin argued, watching you sigh and drop the toast onto your plate. “I broke my promise-”

“And you’ve apologized. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“But that’s not enough.” He whispered, watching you turn your gaze to the floor, expression unreadable. It was so often that he couldn’t figure out what you were thinking, and he’d pay every penny for your thoughts. You gnawed on your lip, and Hyunjin wondered if you might not answer. At last, you lifted your head to meet his gaze again.

“Okay, how about we just say you owe me?”

Hyunjin breathed a sigh of relief, glad you had relented. “That’s more than fair.”

“Okay.” You rubbed your temples- from stress or tiredness, Hyunjin couldn’t tell. “Good.”

Another ‘sorry’ almost slipped from his lips without thinking, but Hyunjin managed to bite his tongue. He knew that another apology would only frustrate you. But it still echoed in his head, the guilt that swam there even as he watched you tie back your messy hair, heart fluttering endlessly.

He was a mess.

“I… guess I should go.”

“I can drive you.”

“No, I can walk. I have work today.”

You whirled to stare at him. “Today?”

“In an hour, actually.” Hyunjin replied, wincing at the very idea of the headache he was bound to suffer through today. The intense smell of flowers in the shop probably wouldn’t help, either.

You were silent for a moment; Hyunjin didn’t want to break the quiet himself, so he simply watched you harshly bite your lip again before you stepped closer. Once again, his heart stumbled as you neared.

Gingerly, you reached towards him, and Hyunjin subconsciously closed his eyes as your fingertips grazed his forehead, then massaged the area between his brows.

So you weren’t the only one stressed. He hadn’t even noticed; but he did find himself slowly relaxing under your touch.

When he opened his eyes, you still looked worried- but a small smile flickered on your lips.

“So you’re going to show up to work in that?”

Oh. “How bad is it?” He asked, sheepishly.

“You stink.” And then you had your arms around him, carefully resting your head against his shoulder as you pulled him close. The rare moments you did this, Hyunjin never knew how to react to your affection- but it did send his mind spiraling, his heart dancing and leaping in his chest at your closeness.

At last he let his cheek fall on your head, letting a minute pass before whispering. “Thank you… for everything.”

Was it his imagination, or did you hug him slightly tighter? “You’re my friend, and this is what friends do.”

Yeah… it’s what friends do.

Bullshit. You’ve gone above and beyond the requirements of friendship.

You pulled away from him, and turned quickly- he noticed the small tinge of redness over your ears but was too tired to question it. His headache, though dulled, was slowly returning.

“Go shower.” You told him, heading towards your bedroom. “We’ll figure something out for your work clothes.”

He nodded, murmuring another small thank you before ducking into your bathroom, towel in hand. He paused in front of the mirror- gosh, he really did look like a mess.

Just like how he felt.

When he stepped under the cold water, splashing his senses awake, his thoughts ran a different way. He recalled leaning against your head; your hair had smelled like citrus; he’d sworn you’d held your breath.

7 days. That was all he had left before you were gone.

…

The distance between New York City and Los Angeles was exactly 2789 miles.

You knew this because the number had been dancing through your head since the moment you’d realized you would have to move back home to California to study.

Stupid finances. Your tiny apartment was fairly cheap for its Lower Manhattan location, but it still sucked away at your funds- funds you didn’t have. At the beginning of the term, it became apparent that unless you found money fast, you wouldn’t be able to stay.

Praying for a miracle had turned out to be hopeless. Your parents, having never approved of your moving away, hadn’t offered any help. Your bitter old manager refused to give you a raise, and no other opportunities presented themselves. In the desperate last stretch, you’d taken on different gigs- tutoring, walking dogs, cleaning houses, anything you could think of- but it wasn’t nearly enough. With a month left of the winter term, your only option became evident.

You signed the forms, you received the email of congratulations! You would be attending the University of California in the New Year!

Hip fucking hooray.

Oddly enough, Hyunjin had been the first to find out. The same day you’d received the email, you’d run into the boy at the university library. Where you’d usually be able to mask a smile, fake some kind of emotion to keep him from suspecting anything was wrong, you hadn’t had the energy.

Was that considered irony? The first person to know- to comfort you, to offer you support- would be your hardest goodbye.

When was it that you’d fallen for him? You couldn’t pinpoint between the sharing of homework answers- you were both English majors- and those moments at a cafe or that beautiful library when he seemed to be the only spot of colour left in your graying life. He had the unique ability to make you forget about all your worries and troubles even just for a few minutes with a single smile- a smile so kind and genuine and warm that it felt like an embrace on its own. Meeting him had been like… finding the first crocus in spring, and knowing that the frost was fading at last. It had been hopeful; somehow knowing this person standing in front of you would touch your very soul.

And he had- in so many ways. Ways he probably didn’t realize in the moments he’d surprise you with coffee on a cold morning, or let you borrow his gloves when you forgot them. He’d touched you so deeply that you’d found yourself slipping into daydreams far too often with him involved- and with no girlfriend in sight.

The girlfriend was actually a recent development; Ava had come seemingly out of nowhere, apparently another English student that Hyunjin had taken out a couple times. Ava herself wasn’t too bad- but you still found her a tad single minded- and too invested in Hyunjin’s academics. The boy didn’t always have the best grades, and she had no reservations when it came to reminding him. Maybe she meant well… but sometimes you really did want to slap her.

For more reasons than just that.

She’d come along just shortly before you’d found him at one of his parties, dead drunk with vomit still damp on his shirt. He’d touched your soul in a different way then, and you’d never forget what he’d said to you as you’d tried to drag him out of your car, and his weary eyes found yours.

“Do you know how to float?”

“What?”

“Float. Like, not drown.” He mumbled something that you couldn’t hear before saying louder. “I drown. I drown a lot of times, even though I got everything I need to stay up. I was given those… like, those floatie thingies, but I just poke holes into them.” He clumsily pressed an index finger to his side, tapping several times. “Poke. Poke. Poke. And then I drown.”

You tried to figure out something to say, but came up empty at a loss for words. Hyunjin had only chuckled bitterly. “Grades aren’t everything, right? What a bunch of bull-”

You’d held his hair away from his face as he vomited onto the grass. As he wretched, your mind spun; this beautiful, sweet, outwardly confident boy… was just as much a mess as you.

Perhaps everyone was a mess, and some had just gotten very good at hiding it.

Now, sitting on your couch as the sun sank lower in the sky and turned the horizon into violent shades of orange and red, your mind spiraled back to one thing.

I love you.

Ha. I’m so in love with you, and you don’t even know it.

Just when you thought things couldn’t get messier…

You shifted in your spot, glancing at the half eaten carton of food on the coffee table as you recounted your morning with Hyunjin. Why had you hugged him? You were supposed to be mad at him- but you just couldn’t be for long. You knew how hard he was trying, and that he beat himself up enough for the both of you. And anyways…

You didn’t want to waste your time being angry at him.

The hug itself had felt like magnetism- one minute you were watching him with a small smile of endearment, and the next your arms were around his waist, pulling him close. He'd been so comfortingly warm; you’d been able to hear his heartbeat in your ear, pounding a rhythm much too fast to stop you from wondering…

I love you.

You stood abruptly from the couch, snatching the carton of food and stashing it back in the fridge. You needed to stop thinking about this; you needed to clear your head.

It was bitingly cold outside, tiny snowflakes drifting through the chill air that buzzed with noise. You’d always liked how busy it was here, even at night. You didn’t understand it, but something about how awake the world was at ungodly hours made you feel more alive, too.

You hurried down the sidewalk, keeping your hands in your coat pocket to stay warm, burrowing your chin into the patterned scarf around your neck. You let your feet carry you any which way, no real destination in mind. Music poured from the doors of small cafes and busy nightclubs still ablaze with life. You contemplated stopping at one of your favourite coffee shops, even if just to sit and drown in the warmth, but passed by with a shake of your head. You were too restless.

You forced your mind to wander to other worries as you walked- like the upcoming winter exams. Classes ended tomorrow, and the following four days were filled with studying and the actual exams. Then the morning after, you’d be gone.

It felt surreal. The month had flown by underneath a looming shadow, and you swore you’d missed several weeks. Granted, you’d been busy- often studying with Hyunjin, or working your ass off at your job. But only the sleepless nights had felt long- the rest had passed in the blink of an eye.

You couldn’t deny how attached you’d grown to the city in your time here. As much as you’d loved your home city, New York had a certain feel to it that fed into your very soul. You’d never been able to pinpoint why; you only knew that if it had been possible, you might have never wanted to leave.

For more reasons than one.

But now it seemed unlikely that you would find the funds to come back. Even the price for a visit… you didn’t want to imagine a price.

His smile haunted you. The first real friend you’d made. The one you’d hopelessly fallen for, and now found yourself in an impossible position.

There you go again, you realized with a jolt. Thinking of him.

You stuffed your hands in your pockets, forcing your mind elsewhere. The apartment complexes in front of you, the bubbling laughter from a nearby bar, the rumbling of car engines as the lights flickered from red to green. The tiny shops on the corners, and the takeout places to the left. Ah, I liked that sushi place. Hyunjin loved it too.

And it was obvious when you rounded the next street corner, eyes turning upwards as snow fell heavier around you, that walking hadn’t helped anything.

Except to make you feel even lonelier.

…

Classes ended on a solemn note for Hyunjin. He didn’t miss a single one of his teacher’s judgemental glances in his direction at the last chime of the bells. He certainly didn’t need them to tell him that most of his grades were currently sitting at dangerous spots- and these upcoming exams would be extremely important.

He needed to pass.

Whispers followed him in the halls. He didn’t miss their glances, either, as a group of students passed.

“He’s not even trying- doesn’t he know others would kill to be in his place?”

“Seriously, he received enough bursaries for me and my sister to attend a year of college.”

“He’s just a pretty face, no brains.”

He ducked out of the hall, desensitized to the phrases he was used to hearing. They’d batted inside the back of his head since he was in high school, and it had been his parents saying the same things.

Just a pretty face.

His parents had been the ones to ensure his place at the university, complete with bursaries to keep his finances well taken care of. They had connections, see, and had high expectations for Hyunjin’s future. Too bad they had such a disappointment for a child, he thought bitterly.

Still, it was easy enough to let the words pass from one ear and out the next. He’d heard them enough times that he was almost numb to them. Almost.

Hyunjin sighed as he readjusted the bag slung over his shoulder and hurried down the steps away from campus. He had work again, and he couldn’t dawdle. He already owed his coworkers enough; Seungmin, a fellow student, had been kind enough to lend him an extra shirt for his last shift, and he didn’t want to cause any more trouble.

Luckily, the shop wasn’t too far. He arrived a few minutes early, greeting Felix- a younger boy with blonde curls and heaps of freckles on his cheeks- with a small smile as he ducked inside the warm shop, a pleasant contrast to the bitter cold outside.

“You beat me.” Hyunjin panted, pulling off his coat.

“The Professor let us out a few minutes early.” Felix explained, busy arranging a basket of flowers with careful precision. “Where are the scissors?”

Hyunjin crouched behind the counter, digging through the bottom door to find a pair of scissors and hand them to the boy.

“Thank you.”

“Hey!” This was Jeongin, a younger kid whose parents owned the shop, appearing from one of the back rooms with a cardboard box filled with labelling cards. “You’re out!”

“Except for exams, yeah.” Hyunjin agreed, fondly ruffling the boy’s hair. He pulled away, shaking away his hand.

“Hey, you were at that party yesterday, weren’t you?”

Hyunjin hadn’t expected that. “Yeah- yeah, and you were?”

“We both were.” Felix sliced a red ribbon and tied it carefully around the handle of the basket. He stepped back, smiling as he admired his handiwork before adding. “We thought of stopping to talk, but…”

“You looked wasted, dude.” Jeongin finished, setting the box on the counter before turning eyes to Hyunjin.

The long haired boy shifted his feet under Jeongin’s gaze. “I… might have had a bit too much to drink.”

He turned to pluck his apron from the peg on the wall; Felix chuckled behind him.

“Good thing y/n was there. That’s who it was, right?”

Hyunjin avoided looking back, clumsily tying his apron. “Yeah. Why?”

“Nothing, just…” his voice trailed away.

Now Hyunjin glanced back, frowning at Felix’s hesitation. He looked a little… apprehensive? “What? What happened? Did I do something-”

“Oh, nothing bad.” Felix chuckled, his worry crumbling enough to ease Hyunjin’s shoulders back to relaxing as he turned away again. Until Felix added. “It’s just that you told her you loved her.”

Hyunjin froze with his fingers still pulling the strings tight. The words echoed in his head- taking a moment to process before the gravity of what Felix was saying took hold. He let the bow fall slack, turning slowly to face the two boys. “What?”

“She sat you down, gave you water and then you told her you loved her.” Jeongin laughed, clearly finding this very amusing.

But Hyunjin found this anything but funny. He’d said… to you…

Was that why you’d been acting weirdly? Wait, more importantly- did that mean you knew he’d meant it?

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Jeongin shrugged. “You were drunk, people say stupid things all the time when they’re wasted.”

Right. You had to think that.

Right?

“You must have been pretty drunk to forget, though.” Felix picked up his basket, nudging Hyunjin on his way past. “Hey, don’t worry about it too much. I’m sure she doesn’t care.”

Did you care?

That was the question that circled Hyunjin’s brain as he ducked away, finding recluse in the storage room to think. He’d told you- actually told you to your face- that he loved you. Sure, he’d been drunk, but he’d still said it.

Did you care that he’d said it?

He cursed his foggy memory, that hadn’t clung onto to that moment. He had no idea how you’d responded- he had no idea if you’d brushed it off or not. And he had no idea what to do now that he knew vaguely what had happened.

He recalled your flustered state yesterday morning; the tinge of red on your ears, the tenderness of your eyes when you’d looked at him…

And his wild thoughts desperately hoped that maybe, maybe that meant you loved him too.

Could it be possible? He’d wondered before, but never with much hope; only a hopeless romantic’s dream of gentle kisses and shared smiles and tight embraces that he figured would only ever exist in his imagination. And after your announcement of moving back to California, even those hopeful thoughts had disappeared. His time had run out- long distance relationships never worked out anyways, and that was even if you’d wanted one. And if so many other things didn’t stand in the way.

“Hyunjin?” Felix’s head popped through the door, his features twisted into a frown. “It’s your girlfriend. You left your phone on the counter- she wants to talk to you-”

Shit. “Tell her I’ll call her back.”

“Ah- okay.” Felix pulled out again, and the reality of his living world fell back on him like a heavy weight.

What to do now? Nothing.

He would go home. He’d call Ava, maybe find a distraction. And he’d try his very best to forget again.

5 days. He had a lot to worry about in the next little bit, that was for sure.

…

It was another two days before you saw Hyunjin. You’d promised to study with him before the exams, arranging a meeting at one of the nearby libraries in the afternoon to pore over notes and books and cram as much knowledge as possible into your brain. As usual, you arrived earlier than Hyunjin and found a free table to set up for your study session- including a few small muffins to feed your appetites.

But today was already starting out much different than you’d intended. Once seated, you had the time to wait and realize that you were oddly nervous to see him.

In fact, as the minutes ticked closer to 3 o’clock, you swore there were butterflies dancing inside of you.

Gosh, you needed to get a grip. He was the same Hwang Hyunjin as he’d been before that drunken confession- unavailable and unreachable. This changed nothing.

But when you spotted him walking towards you with his navy backpack slung over his shoulder and black jacket making him look way too cute, you knew it changed everything.

“I brought coffee.” He smiled as he slid into the chair beside you, plopping two drinks on the table- Americano for him, steaming cup of Espresso for you.

“Thanks.” You took a sip, relishing the taste and praying the hot liquid would drown those stupid butterflies as you flipped open your first notebook.

“Well, we can’t have a future famous journalist low on caffeine during exam season!” He exclaimed with a teasing grin- and you felt relieved that he seemed to be in at least somewhat decent spirits.

“If I get through university.”

“You will.” Hyunjin assured, sounding so confident you glanced at him in surprise. He just smiled at you. “I believe in you.”

What was it about those words from his mouth that made you feel ridiculously flustered? Those butterflies had evidently survived the coffee. You quickly spoke to hide your sudden shyness. “Well, don’t neglect your own caffeine then.”

“Ah.” His smile faltered, and you caught it easily. You didn’t need to ask to know he doubted his ability to pass. With a firm exhale, you pressed his coffee closer to him.

“We’re both going to smash these exams. Okay?”

Slowly, Hyunjin nodded and released a tense breath. “Okay.” He replied softly, lips curving upwards slightly. “I mean, with you as my study partner how could I not?”

You slowly grinned, tossing your hair dramatically. “Aren’t you lucky to have me?”

“Very.” He giggled, but the sincerity in his eyes still reached you- and you didn’t quite know what to do about that, so you cleared your throat.

“I suppose we should get started.”

You waited for Hyunjin to pull his books from his bag; his long dark hair fell before his eyes as he bent down, and you tried not to care too much about it, and the urge to run your fingers through it. At last he plopped his textbooks and scattered notes onto the table with a sigh. “Right.”

But looking over notes and exchanging questions proved to be more difficult than you’d expected. From the get go the atmosphere felt different; electric, and noticeably so. It was nearly impossible to concentrate for reasons beyond you- was it lack of sleep that made your eyes wander to watch Hyunjin flip a page, take a sip of his coffee, or mouth words to himself? Time was hazy while you couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized by the small furrow of his brow, the bright focus in his eyes. You’d always thought he was absolutely stunning, but today it was harder to ignore.

You shook your head slightly, scolding yourself to get a grip. You turned back to your pages, eyes glaring at the notes you’d scribbled about Pride and Prejudice and War and Peace without really soaking any of it into your brain.

An hour passed slowly. You worked mostly in silence, occasionally exchanging thoughts and points and sipping your individual drinks. You helped him with a few of the analyses and quizzed him (quite distractedly). The muffins were devoured in no time, the chocolate taste lingering on the tip of your tongue as you worked away for another hour. You thought you might be going brain dead when Hyunjin suddenly laughed.

You looked up quickly, confused. “What?”

“Wait, did you do that?”

He was pointing to his notes and with a start, you realized there were small drawings in the margins- doodled eyes and flowers and flames and whatnot. Your expression broke into a smile as warmth flooded your chest with the memory.

“You fell asleep and wouldn’t wake up. Remember, when Professor Watson was giving that speech about-”

“Provision and prosperity.” Hyunjin groaned in remembrance, before looking back at the pencilled designs. “I never noticed these.”

His fingers traced the outlines of the sketches, a faint smile pulling at his lips. His eyes held an undeniable fondness that had your heart doing back flips as you attempted to return to work.

But damn, he was so distracting. You couldn’t help but look back at him, still intently focused on your drawings. You once again had the urge to brush the loose strands of his dark hair behind his ear, and maybe kiss the corner of his gentle smile-

Then his eyes glanced your way- shit-

He opened his mouth, but you blurted with cheeks flaming, “Are you cold? It’s freezing, isn’t it?”

Ha. Lies, you felt like you were burning alive.

Hyunjin softly smiled. “You’re so silly, why didn’t you bring a jacket?”

You shrugged. “I don’t live too far, I had a hoodie and it’s not that cold-”

Suddenly he was sitting back shaking off his jacket. Your heart stammered and your breath caught at the sudden closeness as he turned to face you, leaning forward slightly and sliding his jacket over your shoulders.

“There.” He murmured; his eyes met yours as he paused his movements.

Yes, there it was. Electric.

He pulled back quickly, grabbing his pencil and turning his gaze away. Thankfully so, because it was that moment that your fingers curled around his jacket sleeve and heat swam to your face- it smelled just like him. Dark musk, with a slight hint of something floral.

“Thank you.” You managed at last, bending your head to look back at the book and away from the boy before you could make eye contact again- and he might notice the intense blush painting your cheeks.

He hummed in acknowledgment, scratching something down with his pencil. Otherwise it was tensely silent, leaving you room to wonder why, why, why did you pick the library? It was like your senses were on high alert in the near complete stillness of the room, your every nerve absolutely focused on Hyunjin’s small movements, the smell of his jacket, the faint brush of his knee against yours under the table; again you were drawn to slowly look at him, and with a jolt you realized he was staring back.

His words echoed relentlessly in your mind. I’m so in love with you, and you don’t even know it.

You couldn’t pull away this time, like your gazes were magnets with an unstoppable attraction. You searched his eyes, hoping to dig through the emotions in them and find answers. Had he meant it at all? His lips were slightly parted, and it took every fibre of your self control to stay still in your seat.

What are we even doing here? You silently screamed. It feels like torture, but I can’t stop wanting you.

Hyunjin’s phone chose that instant to buzz on the table, lighting up with a caller ID you recognized before Hyunjin picked it up. Ironic, for her to be the one to interrupt… whatever the hell that had been.

“Ava?”

Her voice crackled from the speaker, but you couldn’t make out any words as Hyunjin hummed into the phone. “Yeah. Okay, sure. I’ll be there soon.”

With his gaze no longer on you, you slumped back in your seat, feeling rather foolish and small. Were you just reading into things? He had a girlfriend, after all.

A girlfriend he never talks about. A girlfriend he doesn’t seem to trust.

Did it matter?

Hyunjin turned back to you, and you had trouble meeting his eyes again- this time, for a reason unknown to you. “Sorry. Ava…”

He didn’t finish, and you couldn’t help it when you looked up and asked. “Do you love her, Hyunjin?”

His eyes snapped to yours, and he seemed taken aback. “What?”

You merely swallowed, kind of wishing you could brush away the question. Where had it even come from? Curiosity? Jealousy?

Hope?

Hope for what? You damn idiot, none of this matters!

“No.”

It echoed in your head and it burned in the way that he looked at you when he said that; like he needed you to know that, like he’d been begging for a reason to tell you. Or maybe it was wishful thinking. Still, you ignored all the warning lights in your brain and all logic of your situation- because yes, it didn’t matter- and you pressed on anyway.

“Then why…”

“I don’t love her. I never did, and she knows that.” He murmured, completely unreadable as he closed his textbooks. “We just both needed someone when we felt especially lonely. That was the agreement all along.”

Your throat felt suddenly dry, and no words found their way to your tongue. Speechless, you sat silent as Hyunjin watched you, completely unreadable.

And what now?

Shit, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

You needed to process, to clear your spinning head. But you still felt frozen in your seat.

Luckily Hyunjin spoke first. “You can keep my jacket. I guess Ava’s coming to pick me up. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

He stored his books away, and finally a bit of sense returned to you. “Ah, okay. Get home safe.”

He half smiled in your direction, then almost seemed to hesitate stepping away. That small hesitation nearly broke something in you, but you remained firmly in your seat.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

“Goodnight.” You whispered, and let him walk away.

3 days. 3 days that would feel like an eternity and a second all at once.

…

Hyunjin wrapped his arms around himself, shivering from the cold as he scanned the parking lot for Ava’s vehicle. He quickly spotted the maroon coloured Sedan, and jogged towards it. As he approached, he could make out her figure through the glass. Her thick curls and wide eyes, which turned to meet his own when he knocked on the window.

“Hey.” She gestured and he slipped inside, buckling his seatbelt as she started the engine.

He nodded back, asking, “You said you needed me?”

“Yep.” She raised an eyebrow in his direction. “And you sounded less than happy about that.”

He had, hadn't he? He bit his lip, trying to figure out what to say- but he didn’t even know what the problem was.

Hyunjin’s relationship with Ava was almost as complicated as the one between him and you. He’d met her several times in class, and then outside of class for a casual coffee. She was bold, and although a little pushy, she was one of the few students who didn't seem to resent him. When she’d suggest a kind of ‘friends with benefits,’ he’d been surprised to say the least- and his first instinct had been to say no. After all, he was well aware of his feelings for you then, so why would he agree to sleep with Ava?

But one day, after a particularly dismal week, you found him at a party far more drunk than he usually was. It was the first time you’d helped him- and when he took a look at himself in the mirror the next morning, he knew. He couldn’t do this. You already had your own problems to deal with- you didn’t need the weight of him and his feelings on your shoulders, too.

Was that dumb? Maybe. But Hyunjin had agreed to Ava’s offer, and the rest was history. He’d been honest from the beginning about his intentions, confiding his affection for you to her to make it clear that he wasn’t looking for anything more than casual sex. And it didn’t happen often- only when both of you were particularly stressed- but soon enough word had spread. Ava and Hyunjin, a couple.

Like every other rumour, he let the words pass through him. Except when it came from you- then it hurt more than he’d wanted to admit. But if that’s what it kept to hold himself back, he could find a way to push aside the pain.

Still, he’d never felt as guilty about it as he felt today. For some reason, the idea made him feel… wrong. Maybe because of what he’d said to you at the party. Or maybe because of whatever tension had lingered in the library just minutes ago, and he’d almost thought he might…

Hyunjin didn’t realize he’d fallen silent, drifting into thought until Ava nudged him back to the present.

“Sorry-”

“It’s because of her, isn’t it?”

Hyunjin looked up, as Ava pulled into the lot connected to the first few dorm halls. She turned off the engine and turned to look at him, dark eyes void of emotion. “Y/n. That’s why you’re hesitating today.”

Hyunjin wet his lips and opened his mouth to speak- but he couldn’t find the words. His mind still felt muddled from your earlier question.

“Do you love her?”

Why had you asked him that? And why had he told you the truth?

“I’m… just not up to it today.” Hyunjin responded- since that was technically true. “And I have to study some more.”

Ava didn’t say anything for a minute, just stared at him. Hyunjin felt an odd frustration boil up inside of him, although he was unsure where it was coming from. “You can’t ask me to-”

“I’m not.” She replied, pulling the key from the ignition and shrugging. “It’s your choice. But you know it doesn’t matter, right?”

Hyunjin couldn’t look at her as he spoke, fingers clutching the door handle. The car was beginning to feel suffocating. “It’s just friends with benefits. No strings attached.”

“Hyunjin… it’s never been that simple.”

His eyes jolted to find hers, staring at him intently. He noticed the nervous tapping of her fingers on her thigh, and the tiny crack in her facade in the depth of her irises. It’s never been that simple.

She… “Ava-”

“We could be good together- actually together.” She exclaimed, crossing her arms and looking away. He thought he caught a flash of desperation in her eyes. “Everyone believes it already-”

“I never meant to lead you on-”

“You didn’t.” She shrugged again, but Hyunjin was starting to think her indifference was her type of armour. He knew about that all too well. “But think about it. She’s leaving, and then what? Long distance? How long do you think that would last? If she even wants you.”

Hyunjin was frozen as the words pounded inside his brain, a chorus that he was all too familiar with, the things he quoted to himself. Ava was right, as much as he hated to admit it.

“I-” his grip on the car handle tightened as he tried to stop the trembling of his body. “I can’t.”

Ava merely sighed and waved him out of the vehicle. He clambered out, shutting the door behind him quickly. But she rolled down the window anyway and told him, “Think about it.”

He didn’t know what to say- his heart just ached, and he needed space. “See you.” He murmured, turning quickly to leave.

It hurts. Everything hurts.

Ava called after him, her words clinging like a shadow as he walked away. “Whether you’re willing to accept it yet or not, she’s going to be gone soon- and then I’ll be all you have left.”

…

It was actually a relief for Hyunjin to have the upcoming exams to occupy his mind and suck away most of his free time. If not for the constant distraction he had from the diminishing time you had left in New York, Hyunjin wasn’t sure what he would have done. Already he thought of your departure far too often for his confused and aching heart. Two days, that was it, and he was completely torn in every way concerning you. Only one thing felt certain; there was no way to stop this. You were leaving- and you were leaving for good. Hyunjin held no power to stop it. Ava’s words flooded his brain, too, but he was determined not to dwell on that. He had more pressing things right now.

He could only watch as your last day dawned, flooded near full with exams. Hyunjin carried his worries with him even as he completed his tests, mind having trouble focusing at first when he spotted your hunched figure in one of the seats. You didn’t look his way, but he could still see the tiredness in your gaze, lack of proper sleep evident in the dark circles that were like bruises under your eyes. He chewed absentmindedly on his lip until the overseer cleared their throat, glaring at Hyunjin- the exam had already started.

From there, he tried his damned hardest on each task. He wasn’t confident by the end- but then again, he never was. When he at last handed in his paper, one of the last students in the room, he found your figure had disappeared.

It was just as well, he decided. His next exam was the most important to do well on. You’d only serve to distract his mind.

Yeah. So why do I feel so heavy?

The next exam, somehow, passed smoothly. Maybe last minute panic and pressure had helped with his focus, or maybe you really had been quite the study partner. But by the end he was cautiously optimistic that he had gotten a decent score.

Regardless, leaving the university grounds was extremely relieving. At least now he could leave this burden behind- he’d done his best, and he supposed the rest was up to fate now. The day was cloudy and warmer than yesterday- maybe even warm enough for rainfall to replace the snow. He sent a silent prayer against it, and hurried down the sidewalk.

His dorm had never felt more welcoming; Hyunjin dropped his bag in the entrance and promptly collapsed onto the nearest surface- his couch- with a heavy exhale. His eyes closed, a headache stinging at the edges of his brow.

And here his thoughts of you resurfaced. The horrible realization that you were leaving tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

It felt surreal, like a dream he’d wake up from soon enough. Reality would return and you’d be staying, finances taken care of- and Hyunjin would be better, the hollowness in himself somehow filled. No problems, no worries; just the two of you, strong and whole enough to face anything the world could throw at you.

“If only.” He whispered to the empty room, returned only by dull silence.

He couldn’t just sit here, or he would go insane.

He was seeing you off tomorrow at the airport, but the time that stretched until then was sure to be agonizing. He wondered if he’d be able to sleep. He wondered if he would be able to bear the steady march of time; sixteen hours to go.

His hands itched to grab his jacket and run out the door to find something heavy to drink. He wanted to drown his dread and anxiety in bouts of alcohol, the feelings caged in his chest threatening to shatter his rib cage with its pressure. Instead, he stood abruptly with a resolute shake of his head, heading for the kitchen. If he just kept himself busy, he would be okay. He wasn’t about to show up at the airport with a raging hangover. That wasn’t fair to you and was hardly how he wanted his goodbye to be.

Goodbye.

His fingers twitched. Hyunjin blew out a breath and pulled a package of ramen from the cupboard.

Fifteen hours and fifty-eight minutes. He ripped open the package and set to work.

…

You had one more exam than Hyunjin; you took it later in the day, late in the afternoon. Your previous exams had all been haunted with the shadow of your approaching departure, and you’d desperately pushed them away. You’d had a tough sleep the night before, which didn’t help your already foggy brain, but you were still fairly optimistic as you stepped out of your last exam room. Tests were your forte, something you’d always excelled in. Even the opinion essay hadn’t proved overly difficult. You were almost cheery as you walked away from the school grounds.

Almost.

At the main gates, you turned around and simply watched. Students huddled in groups big and small, laughter carried by the wind as celebrations ensued, grateful for exams to be over. A light layer of snow glistened over the ground, melting around the edges; a sparrow hopped over its branch, carefree. Your smile faded as your eyes trailed the area, every building, tree and person.

“See ya, I guess.” You murmured, absentmindedly tapping one of the gate’s stone pillars. The first of many goodbyes you’d face today. Already you felt heavier.

Your feet dragged slightly over the sidewalk as you trudged in the vague direction of your apartment. A couple students waved and shouted farewells, but none of them were close enough acquaintances to offer anything more. You stopped off by your work on the way home, and it was almost relieving to have a final farewell. It was like tying everything up; exchanging thank yous and good lucks that made it a little easier to smile as you found your way to your apartment afterwards. Upon entering the silent space, however, you felt your smile fade as your mind wandered to your most difficult goodbye.

And Hwang Hyunjin, you certainly aren’t making it any easier.

You busied yourself with packing, stuffing all of your belongings into a large suitcase and travel bags. Accompanied by gentle music and the fading light outside your window, you felt slightly more at ease. Slowly your flat was emptied- the only food, a few cartons of Chinese food and sushi, was quickly devoured- and your bags were ready by the door for the following morning. A last sweep of the rooms later, you flopped on the floor exhausted.

By now, the sky had darkened significantly. The lights of the city stretched out to the horizon, a faint golden glow rising from the busy streets that rushed on without a care in the world. As if one of its residents wasn’t seeing this view for the last time.

And here they were; tears that filled your eyes and blurred your vision of the rising skyscrapers and bustling cafes below as you pressed your fingertips to the cold glass of the window. Damn. You shook your head when the first tear slipped over, wiping your eyes. You would not spend your last night crying. If you had to leave, tonight would be one to remember, you were determined.

But how? How, when the hole inside you felt so vastly empty? You swore nothing could make you forget it. Hell, nothing ever did.

Except…

You sat up straight with sudden clarity. Maybe you did know exactly what you wanted tonight.

Maybe it’s foolish. Maybe it’s selfish.

But even if it was, you couldn’t help it. Shit, Hyunjin. You couldn’t begin to understand the grip you have on me.

Your phone was out of your pocket in an instant and before you could chicken out, the line was ringing. You waited, breath held, for several tones before… click.

“Y/n?”

You’d never been more happy to hear his voice. You swallowed, fingertips sliding down the glass. The city really did look so pretty tonight.

“You owe me, remember?”

“Anything.” He replied, and the genuine care in his tone nearly broke you. You blinked back more tears as you struggled to answer. LA would be so lonely without him.

Your voice was quiet when you at last spoke a little shakily into the speaker. “Can I come pick you up?”

…

When the phone call ended, Hyunjin’s mind flew into a frenzy.

As soon as you’d asked him, he hadn’t hesitated to say yes. He didn’t need a reason to see you- but now that you’d hung up, and the silence of his empty apartment greeted him, he began to worry.

It was very unlike you to call out of the blue like this- and request to see him instantly. Was something wrong? Had something happened? He quickly changed into something nicer- a red button up and black jeans- before anxiously waiting in the lobby downstairs, coat in his arms.

The minutes seemed to stretch on for ages before he finally spotted your car pulling into the parking lot. He hurried out the door and jogged towards your vehicle, greeting you first by your rolled down window.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, breathing heavy from his short run.

“I’m sorry this is so sudden- I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before-”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, slow down.” Hyunjin stared worriedly at your face; you were trembling and almost as out of breath as he was. “Take a breath.”

You nodded and inhaled slowly, before blurting out, “Let’s go somewhere. I want my last night here-” you swallowed roughly. “I want it to be special.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. Hyunjin timidly took your hand and squeezed it. “Where are we off to then?”

You smiled then, and Hyunjin wished he could capture that moment in his brain forever- the way your eyes softened around the edges, and he could almost feel a bit of your stress melt away. “Get in and you’ll find out.”

Whatever little luck brought you here to me tonight; thank you.

And his heart hammered a little faster as he took his spot in the passenger’s seat and realized that for your very last night in New York, you’d wanted to spend it with him.

“Alright.” Hyunjin strapped on his buckle. “Ready.”

You glanced sideways at him, and a little grin pulled at your lips. “What do you say to sushi?”

…

Of course Hyunjin held no complaints about ordering from your favourite sushi place, and in no time you were wandering the streets of New York, sharing a large tin of sushi rolls. You’d abandoned your car in favour of walking, and it was oddly easy to forget about your upcoming departure in Hyunjin’s presence. For now, at least, you were with him and you could pretend that it could last forever. You fell into a natural rhythm quickly, even down to the last piece of sushi that you- of course- fought over.

“It’s my favourite kind!” You whined, as Hyunjin laughed and held the tin out of your reach.

“I’m sacrificing my evening for this.” Hyunjin teased, as you rolled your eyes. He laughed, making you smile grudgingly before he lowered the tin and offered it to you. “I guess you can have it, though.”

You made a point of enjoying your last piece as Hyunjin discarded the tin and you moved forward again. Your eyes observed the busy city with its towering skyscrapers and buzzing cafes and the nearby park. It was still weird to you how quickly this place had grown to feel like home.

You noticed Hyunjin watching you, and raised an eyebrow in his direction. He simply shrugged with a bashful smile. “Everything’s really pretty tonight.”

You nodded, ignoring the sudden urge to hold the boy’s hand as he walked beside you. You crossed the street while fighting the tug in your chest, before resolutely stuffing your fist into your coat pocket. “Look at the fountain.”

Both your eyes turned to observe the bubbling fountain as students and couples and friends balanced on the stone ledge surrounding the clear water. It was oddly quiet today as you trailed behind Hyunjin to stand beside it. You watched him stare at the water, a small smile on his face.

“Remember when you fell in-”

“Yeah, you promised never to mention that again!” You exclaimed, smacking his arm as the boy laughed.

“You asked me to take a picture, but when you turned to pose-” he was giggling uncontrollably now, and you couldn’t help but smile at that. “You tripped and fell-”

“I got soaked, and the water was freezing.” You replied indignantly, as Hyunjin settled on the ledge as his laughter subsided. You joined him after a minute, and all was silent again.

“We used to make wishes in the fountain, too.” Hyunjin murmured, almost too quiet for you to hear. “But I don’t think I have any coins now.”

You turned your head so you could see the water ripple with the next gentle breath of wind. “Maybe we’ve run out of wishes.” You whispered.

Was it the dim lighting, or did Hyunjin have faint tears in his eyes? But then he blinked and they were gone, and he was standing. He gestured away with his head, smiling. “Come on, let’s go somewhere else.”

You stood, looking down each of the paths. Each one held memories that you’d shared with your classmates and various acquaintances- and more than any of them, with Hyunjin. You didn’t know if you had the willpower to move yet.

“It’s okay.” You tilted your head to look at Hyunjin, who smiled gently at you before looking back at the scenery and adding, “Take your time.”

His thoughtfulness always caught you off guard. Again, you felt the urge to take Hyunjin’s hand in yours. It was nearly unbearable because he didn’t even notice your struggle, still staring out at the park grounds.

Ah, what the hell-

Before you could lose your nerve, you grabbed Hyunjin's hand and quickly intertwined your fingers with his. His head whirled to face you, eyes wide as they stared at your hands locked together. You braced yourself, half expecting for him to pull away. Instead, he squeezed your hand lightly and smiled before joining you in watching the bustle of the park one last time.

Maybe you were only making this harder for yourself- for the both of you, even. But his hand in yours felt so good in this moment that you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

…

Hyunjin could tell how difficult this was for you, even before you’d stopped by the fountain.

He wondered if he’d been in the right for bringing up the incident- but you’d been smiling, and that was what mattered tonight. Helping you to enjoy that last bit of time you had in this city, painted with memories.

So he pulled you forward into a light run, an idea tugging on his brain as you called after him.

“Hyunjin- what-”

“Trust me, I have an idea.” He replied, glancing over his shoulder at your chasing figure. He was relieved to see you smiling again. “Let’s hope it’s still cold enough, though.”

Your curious expression was adorable. Hyunjin just hoped you’d be as thrilled with his idea as he was.

At last, he found what he was looking for. Your eyes stretched wide as you took in the ice rink- luckily still usable- and Hyunjin waited nervously for you to speak. “Well? What do you think?”.

“You remembered.” You said softly, turning to Hyunjin with your eyes aglow. You slowly smiled at him- and Hyunjin thought he might do anything to earn that smile from you again. “You remembered I wanted to try ice skating one day…”

“Why not now?” He tugged on your sleeve, and immediately you nodded.

“But… we don’t have skates.”

“An easy fix.” He responded, and in minutes you’d rented two pairs of skates. Another few minutes as you laced them up, and then you were both standing before the rink, empty save for a few other people.

Hyunjin stepped carefully onto the ice first- a little melt-y around the edges but ice nonetheless. “Here.” He offered you his hand, suddenly feeling shy when you stared at it. At last you took his hand, and his fingertips tingled at the touch.

“Here.” He grabbed your other hand, ignoring the heat on the back of his neck and ears as he helped you onto the ice. You wobbled slightly, gripping his hands tighter. Hyunjin chucked at your wary expression. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

You didn’t look assured but nodded anyway. “Alright, now what?”

“Skate!” Hyunjin faked releasing your hands, and you gasped, reaching to take his fingers in a death grip. He felt a rush of immense pleasure run through him as you pulled him back to you, even as you muttered curses at him.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself-”

“Asshole.”

“I promise, no more tricks.”

“You’d better mean it, Hwang Hyunjin, I swear to god-”

He laughed, and slowly started to skate backwards. You inhaled sharply, but attempted a step forward, then another. It was shaky, for sure, but after a minute or so you started to loosen up.

“There! You’re a natural!” Hyunjin grinned, watching as you pushed out slightly with your next step. You looked at him, eyes wide with wonder.

“It’s like…”

“Flying. Isn’t it?” He murmured, and you nodded. “Ready for me to let go?”

“Okay.” You said, and Hyunjin released your hands.

He watched breathlessly as you inhaled before lifting your right foot. With a small push off the other foot, you were sailing forward- a small wobble, but you remained upright as you took the next step. And the next, and the next.

“Hyunjin!” You shouted, beaming, and Hyunjin’s heart was soaring with you as you attempted to turn and come back to him. But he beat you, too excited at your success. He skated to you and before he could think better of it, he’d pulled you to his chest in a tight hug.

“You were flying.” He said with a soft laugh, while simultaneously feeling a lump in his throat as you wound your arms around him. He felt oddly emotional as he held you, before having at least enough sense to let you go after a brief moment. “You did it.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to without you.” You replied, softly.

And for some reason, those words made his heart ache.

“Come on.” He murmured, reaching to take your hand again. “Let’s skate.”

And keep pretending that tomorrow will never come.

…

Hyunjin knew that you both spent hours on the ice, but it passed by in the blink of an eye. You were a fast learner, and after a while you were both whizzing over the rink, chasing each other, and spinning one another in circles. Every time Hyunjin’s eyes met your excited ones, it left him breathless; he was just that in love with you.

However, your feet grew tired eventually and you retired from the ice. After you returned the skates, you continued down the pathways of the park side by side. You were practically glowing, and Hyunjin found himself feeling proud that he’d been able to make you smile like this tonight.

The sky was dark now, and the park was growing quieter as more people retired for the night. With the late hour returned Hyunjin’s sense of dread. He was again made aware that he had such limited time with you, and it was gnawing at his mind feverishly. He wanted to hold your hand again, but he felt hesitant now. Why would he, when he’d have to let go again anyways?

“Look!” You exclaimed, bringing him out of his thoughts. You were pointing to a shaded booth ahead; a short line of people were waiting for a turn for photos.

“Do you want to?” Hyunjin asked, to which you immediately nodded.

“It’ll be a nice momento for tonight before we have to head home.” You murmured as you approached the line, and the pair in front of you stepped inside the photo booth.

Hyunjin felt a sharp pang in his chest at your words, but made sure it didn’t show. He merely smiled, determined not to bring down your mood. “That would be nice.”

And as it turned out, it was exactly what you both needed. Between goofy faces and funny props, you were both laughing again as you tumbled from the box and received your photo strips.

“You look ridiculous.” You gasped out, pointing to one of the pictures.

“Hey, speak for yourself.” Hyunjin replied, and you collapsed into a fit of giggles again.

Eventually you calmed down again, and you realized just how late it was getting. Hyunjin wished you could have an eternity to spend here, just soaking in each other’s presence, but all too soon he was back in your car. The streets were painfully clear, bringing back Hyunjin’s sense of dread as a few raindrops began to fall, before evolving into a slow drizzle.

He’d see you tomorrow too, he tried to assure himself as he watched the rain fall.

But for some reason, this still felt like the end.

And when the triad of dorm halls came into view, an easy goodnight seemed increasingly more impossible. Hyunjin frowned when you stopped by the side of the road- just outside of the parking lot- grinding to a stop and turning off the vehicle. He glanced at your face, half hidden in the darkness, but with visible wetness on your cheeks.

“Y/n?” He murmured gently, deep concern rising in his already tight chest. When you didn’t look at him, he carefully took your hand. You flinched at his touch, but when Hyunjin moved to let go, you only gripped him tighter. It was completely silent, save for the faint sound of the rain on the car roof.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered, rubbing your hand with his thumb, hating how utterly hollow your eyes looked at this moment. He wished he could somehow take away every pain that burdened you, and fix every shitty thing that tore you from this place and from him. You deserved so much more, and if he could give it to you he would in a heartbeat. Now, all he could do was watch as you slowly looked at him and locked gazes.

The rain pounded in time with his heart that suddenly spud up. There was something unfamiliar in your eyes; something blazing in them. Something like a spark.

How it happened, Hyunjin didn’t know- but then your lips were firmly attached to his, moving slowly to capture his own perfectly. And he was kissing you back, and nothing else mattered anymore except the roaring fire of adrenaline overtaking his body as he quickly moved to grasp your face in his hands and kiss you harder. It was deep and passionate and raw with emotions that now burst into the open; months upon months of yearning and longing and at last he knew exactly what you tasted like- and he could tangle his fingers into your hair and press you closer, closer, ever closer.

You were lightning, and you’d set him ablaze.

And just as suddenly as it had started he was pulling back, finding his own cheeks tear stained, gasping for air that hadn’t seemed important seconds ago but now felt impossibly needed.

“No, we can’t, we can’t-“ he sobbed, hating every word of what tumbled from his lips when his heart screamed anything but ‘no.’ “I’m sorry, y/n, I’m sorry but we can’t-”

“Why not?” You choked out in a fervent whisper, a desperate gleam in your eyes that were also muddled with tears. “Crazier things have happened, right?”

“It’s impossible.” Hyunjin whispered, almost choking himself, on the words and his hatred of them. But if this world had taught him anything, it was that life was never, ever fucking fair.

“I can’t love you.” His breathing was ragged as he blinked harshly against tears, trying to keep his composure, keep strong like he’d always made himself be; yet those crystals of pain dripped down his cheeks anyways. “You’re going to California and you’re going to graduate and become an incredible journalist. And I’ll only stand in the way.” Hyunjin tried to collect himself again, fighting the raw feeling of his throat- but he’d never felt pain as horrible as this. You’d been so perfect in his embrace.

“I could never deserve you anyways.”

“Hyunjin… that’s not true. We….” But your words were aimless and you fell silent again, biting your lips as another tear trickled down your face. You knew it, too, didn’t you? Things could never have worked out between you- it was a horrible, bitter truth.

It was his fault, he convinced himself then. His fault this was so hard for you.

He had to let you go, if only for your sake.

But before he did, he allowed himself to gently brush away your tears, and softly kiss your stained cheeks. You closed your eyes as he gently kissed your forehead- when he tore away from you at last, his aching heart tore, too.

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could manage before he pushed open the car door and stumbled out of the vehicle into the drizzle of rain. It was mere seconds before he felt the too familiar ache in his chest welling up again, and he dashed towards the dorm buildings before you could see him break.

He forced himself not to look back- for your sake or his own, he wasn’t sure.

…

Hyunjin’s mind was spinning as his feet carried him into the nearest building. He didn’t even realize that he wasn’t in his own dorm hall until his phone was in his hands, and he was speaking into it.

“Can I come?”

It hurt too much. The wrenching pain in his heart was unbearable as flashes of that moment in the car ran through his mind like a film. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream; more than all of those, he wanted the pain to go away. It was instinct that took him here, knocking on the door and hearing her soft voice tell him, “Come in.”

It was dark inside, only a sole lamp giving light to the room. Ava was perched on the edge of the couch, black skirt riding suspiciously up her thigh as she twisted her hair. Her catlike eyes found his own. “That’s it then.” She whispered as Hyunjin found himself reaching for the doorframe, feeling weary. “She’s gone, isn’t she?”

Your hand had been so warm in his.

Numbly, he nodded. Ava exhaled, biting her bottom lip as she stood, languid and feline in her steps towards him.

“Come on, baby.” She murmured, leaning in to mumble in his ear. “Let me help you.”

He let her pull him forward, mind warring against itself as she made fast work of his shirt, kissing down his collarbone and sighing against his skin. He was pushed down onto the couch, his own hands acting instinctively- mechanically- to crawl over her skin. She hummed in approval, looking at him with gleaming eyes. “I’ll take care of you.” She purred, climbing on top of him and trailing kisses along his jawline as she raked her fingers through his damp hair. Her lips ghosted over his as his shaky hands unclasped her bra, fingers trailing her skin as her warmth pressed closer.

And Hyunjin felt utterly cold.

Every night he’d done this, it had been out of hopelessness. A way to distract himself- from school, from his own misery, and most importantly from the girl he could never have. And maybe he was an asshole for it, but it had been the only thing he could think of to keep himself from chasing after you. He’d known right from the first moment he’d fallen for you that you were way too good for him and he’d been sure he could only bring you misery if you knew of his feelings. So he’d hidden them, and with Ava’s help he’d kept himself busy.

But now he’d tasted your lips, and for a split second it could have been you in his embrace. It could have been you as his lover. And no touch of Ava’s could make him forget that feeling, and the intense loneliness in his heart could no longer be buried without you.

Hyunjin pulled back instantly, pushing out of Ava’s grasp and whirling to stand. He stumbled, light headed, suddenly needing so much room away from her and the act that he could no longer play a part in. He mumbled out a mindless apology as he leaned heavily against the nearest wall, the huge hole in his chest rapidly expanding. He looked back at Ava, her shadowed figure frozen on the couch.

Strangely her eyes held no surprise, only resolve. The room was silent for several beats- just heavy breathing, and Hyunjin’s heart racing in his ear- before she spoke.

“I knew you didn’t love me when this started.” She murmured, gathering her discarded shirt over her knees as she glared at the wall. “I didn’t expect it; that wasn’t the deal. I guess I just hoped that somewhere along the way, you might start to.”

“I’m sorry.” Hyunjin whispered, shaky hand finding his hair- then running over his face, his neck, anything to distract from the ache in his heart.

She merely looked at him, expression like stone. “Save it. I don’t want your pity. And I don’t think I even want you anymore.”

He hardly registered those words, the pain in his heart so overwhelming that he thought nothing else would be able to shake him. He just took it, feeling guilty and pathetic and broken.

“Go home, Hyunjin.” Her voice trembled as she turned away again. “And don’t talk to me anymore.”

When he stepped outside, he didn’t even feel the rain. He paused under the frigid drops, staring up at the sky for who knew how long. It had never been so hard to take a step, but Hyunjin forced himself one by one to walk away from the hall.

Eventually Hyunjin arrived at his own dorm, soaked and shivering as he shuffled into his room. The door slowly closed behind him with a click, and the dripping bag in his grasp slipped to the ground.

He stood numbly in the doorstep for several seconds, mind trying to process his surroundings now that he’d been greeted with quiet and calm for the first time that night. At last he moved robotically to remove his shoes- but his foot caught on the lip and he stumbled, knees hitting the ground painfully hard.

Oddly enough, it was this moment that broke him.

It started in welling tears and trembling hands as he ripped the shoe off and dropped it to the floor, trying to catch a breath that continuously escaped him. It all hit him in a wave, emotions too strong for names; the first sob burst from his lips, followed by another and another and another. Once it started, he couldn’t stop- he slowly rocked his body and subconsciously lowered himself to the floor, too weary to stay upright. He found his arms curling around himself, head burying into their cold embrace and finding little comfort as the emptiness of his room and his heart consumed him.

As tears fell faster and his sobs wretched harsher, his mind screamed at him. Pathetic. You’re so pathetic. Laying on the cold floor by his door, crying so hard he nearly vomited, Hyunjin certainly felt that way.

He wore himself out crying, with too little energy to pull himself any farther than the kitchen. Exhausted, he collapsed with heavy breaths on the tile; he could still feel your photo booth pictures in his jacket pocket.

It was a relief when sleep came and allowed his mind to drift away, momentarily giving him peace from the bitterness of reality. When he eventually awoke, the sun greeted him with bright happy rays that he could not smile for. Today was your last.

He’d promised to see you off, hadn't he?

Pathetic.

Yeah, he was. And he couldn’t bear to follow through.

Ten minutes before your flight left, he was still on the ground, miserable and guilty and hollow.

I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry.

…

You strained your neck to see over the crowd as yet another warning reminded you that you needed to board your flight immediately. But desperate hope made you stay, clinging to the plea that Hyunjin would come. He had to.

“This is the last call for flight 325, departing to Los Angeles, California in ten minutes. All passengers please ensure you follow…”

Your grip on your bags tightened, but the crowd was thinning and as you scanned the area again- no Hwang Hyunjin.

You couldn’t wait any longer.

Holding your bags, you raced to board, eyes sweeping the area one last time before you entered the cabin, heart sinking. You found your spot, packing your bags into the overhead compartment before falling back into your seat. Now that you were still, you had a minute to process.

He hadn’t come.

You glanced out the window and found the scenery slightly blurred. What, tears? You blinked quickly to clear them, swiping at your eyes with a sudden wave of frustration. So what if Hyunjin hadn’t come? So what if he’d broken his promise? It didn’t matter now. You were leaving for good, and you could hardly expect him to bid you farewell after everything.

You didn’t want to admit it, but as one stupid stubborn tear dripped down your face- it hurt like hell leaving without a proper goodbye.

Why hadn’t he come? Was he so ready to cut ties and move on now that you were leaving? The ghost of your shared kiss lingered in your brain, and you had to wonder; why had you done it? It had been stupid and selfish, but you hadn’t been able to help it. He’d looked at you with so much warmth and concern that you’d acted on impulse- and once your lips had touched his, you couldn’t have pulled away if you wanted to. But why had he kissed you back, and why hadn’t he come today, and why couldn’t you have had more time? More time to kiss him like that. More time to love him, and share coffees and muffins, and share glances across lectures that were particularly boring. You wanted him close, and just when he could have fallen into your embrace, you were dragged away- and now you’d messed up a relationship with someone you loved for a stupid kiss. Idiot.

Perhaps it just wasn’t meant to be.

But damn, you’d so hoped it would be.

The plane jolted as it began to move, heading for the runway. You wanted to swear to yourself no more tears, but as more and more memories of New York flooded through your mind it was impossible.

Silent droplets traced your cheeks as the plane’s speed picked up, and then you were off the ground. At that very moment, it hit the hardest.

Goodbye, New York. You stifled a sob, eyes squeezing shut as not to see the city below fade from view. Goodbye, Hyunjin.

…

A month later

Hyunjin wanted to call you, he really did.

He missed you every day, but he couldn’t call you. Couldn’t even muster up the courage to text you, because it wasn’t fair to you. Why would you want to hear from him after he’d broken his promise and left you hanging? He would go to the ends of the earth if you asked him to, but he would not chase after you- not if he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t hurt you again.

He had never deserved you. He didn’t know if he ever would have, either.

He collapsed on his couch after work, exhausted from the day and the heavy snow that had been dumped on the city and made travelling much harder. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he released a long sigh. His eyes fell on his phone, sitting on the coffee table and his heart clenched.

What he wouldn’t do to see your smile again.

He made himself shake his head and stand up. Walk to the kitchen counter, find a mug from the cupboards. He carefully poured boiling water into the cup with a tea bag and brought the steaming drink with him as he settled back on the couch. The silence immediately consumed him.

He couldn’t even try to lie to himself; it was so much lonelier without you. Everywhere he looked had your fingerprints all over it; the fountain, the university, his dorm. Even the flower shop housed your ghost from the days you’d stop by, complimenting the baskets and clipping the ribbons with him. He remembered how happy you’d been in summer when the first of the roses had bloomed and you’d had stores upon stores of them.

“I’ve never seen so many roses in my life-” you breathed, mouth open.

He was tempted to tease your gaping expression as a resemblance to a fish, but he was too endeared by your wonder to mention it. “You should see the store during Valentine’s.”

“There’s more then?”

“There’s hundreds of them, in every different colour.” Hyunjin grinned when you plucked one and observed it.

“No thorns.”

“We clip them.”

“Ah.” You put the stem experimentally between your teeth, and this time Hyunjin couldn’t help himself.

“You look like a beaver.”

You frowned, pulling the rose from your mouth. “It’s supposed to be charming.”

“Yes, a very charming beaver.”

You threw the rose at him, and Hyunjin clumsily caught it with a laugh. “Hey, don’t be mad. I’ll even make it up to you.”

You’d raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“I’ll give you the rose for free.”

He offered it to you, and watched the tips of your ears flame. With sudden shyness, he shrugged. “If you want it.”

“Yes.” You murmured, carefully plucking the rose from between his fingers. A second of tense silence passed before you blinked, and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” If it makes you smile, then anything.

Would the ache in his heart ever heal? He missed everything you’d been together, back when California hadn’t been a part of the equation. More than anything, he just wished you were beside him again.

If you hadn’t left, what would have happened? Would you still have kissed him? Would you be what he woke up to every morning? Or would he have messed it up anyways?

His eyes trailed to the sealed papers that lay beside his phone- midterm marks he’d received the day before and hadn’t yet found the courage to open. He didn’t know what would happen if his marks had suffered, but it certainly wouldn’t be pretty.

But… he would have to face them sooner or later. With hesitancy, Hyunjin grasped the papers and turned them over. After pausing for a breath in and out, he folded them open.

His eyes scanned the pages, desperately finding each grade mark as he held his breath. His first few had remained the same, or improved by barely a couple points. And the very last one, his most worrisome class…

Had improved.

Improved.

He grinned at the terrible mark, in all its glory, and laughed. Relief swept through his body as he sank back into the couch, letting the paper fall away with his anxieties. Maybe he wouldn’t flunk out, after all.

And who helped him to study for it?

The smile faded slowly as your face swam into his mind with a sharp pang in his chest. This time, however, it came with a realization- of you.

You, who’d touched him in so many ways. Who’d always had his back and had always believed in him, even when he didn’t believe in himself. Who’d meant so much to him, so much that he thought he might even love you - and he was just going to let you go because of a few mistakes? Because of a little distance?

He still owed you at least a dozen apologies, and there was so much left unsaid. And he didn’t know what the future held for the two of you; he didn’t know if you’d be able to pick up all the broken pieces and carry forward or if you’d only be separated and splintered further.

All he knew was that a part of him was out there, 2789 miles away. And it hurt too much not to try and fix it.

I must be the biggest idiot in the world. He thought with a shake of his head. Whether as your friend or your lover- or something in between- no matter what happens with us, it’ll be worth it if I have you.

So he steeled his nerves, took a deep breath and let it out again. Then he picked up the phone, and dialed the number he’d had memorized since the day he’d met you.

His heart raced in his ear as the tone rang. He didn’t know what you would say. Hell, he didn’t know what he would say. He really didn’t know anything.

But maybe one day, if the universe decided to give you both a break, then maybe- just maybe- you’d see each other again. You’d be beside him again, and he’d be able to wrap you in his arms, place his head on top of yours and his bleeding, broken heart would slowly start to mend.

He could believe it; he could hope. Because your tentative hello that crackled over the speaker sounded cautiously hopeful, too.

After all, crazier things have happened, right?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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