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mggpleasedontlookhere · 3 years ago

Text

checkmate

summary: where y/n and spencer live in a world of soulmates; but how magical can it really be when the last words of your lover are the only indication of their existence.

word count: 7,054 reading time aprox: 26 mins

warnings: character death, angst

a/n: this is my comeback fic, I hope you like it. I made sure to make it extra angsty to compensate for my disappearance :) also this fic can be read by anyone!

masterlist

Chess is a meticulous endeavor, not only in its cold and calculated nature, but also in the player’s ability to detect insecurity flash across their opponents' eyes, the unconscious idiosyncrasies that foretell future moves, and the slow descent into hopelessness that disintegrates the former’s conviction. Most will point out the cruelty of the game, how callous it must be knowing your end eight moves before it happens. However, others will oppose this notion as it is the game; one must lose to win.

It’s all a matter of who plays their pieces right.

Before that pivotal moment, players can only maneuver through a black and white arena. Fingertips would drum in anticipation while the other would hover over their pieces, striding across the board with purpose. Regardless of the disparity between the players’ experience or skill, there is always one factor, unmoved by player attributes, that is not a disadvantage nor luxury for either party: time.

Even in the checkered plane, nothing will matter. The players will cease to move, forced to end the game by the lack of time. This mechanism in nature acts as a failsafe if either individual is unable to conclude the game. In other words, there are only two outcomes: winning the game by will or letting time take that will away from you.

However, what is not noticed is the growing ache in the winner’s chest, disappointment beginning to fester inside of them because of their loss in deciding. In that split realization, the winner is placed on an equal plane as the loser, wondering if they ever really won at all.

This middle plane is beautiful and tragic simultaneously—maybe the beauty is in the tragedy. But as my palm leaves a bloodied handprint pressed against Spencer’s chest, all I can see is the world around me turning red.

Please be okay, please be okay for me

My mouth would silently mutter in tandem with his desperate and reaching touches, a mantra I convinced myself could surpass time, all while knowing my will was seized from me the moment Spencer uttered the words imprinted at my hip.

October 27th

2 days before

Water vapor collected around the coffee mug pressed to my lips. Although it’s ironic to call it a ‘coffee’ mug considering it was filled to the brim with scalding tea. The tips of my fingers and the skin of my palms tingled at the heat given off. My thoughts drifted to the explanation of the first law of thermodynamics that Spencer had kindly explained during the walk home from the night before.

An unconscious smile brushed over my lips briefly, reminiscing the blissful moments of the team gathered around a bar table after finishing up a briefing about a local case. A warm cloud of content passed through my chest while a lightness traveled from the bottoms of my feet to the summit of my forehead. The herbal tea traveling down my esophagus countered the cold nipping of the autumn air, bringing a welcome equilibrium to my wellbeing.

I shrugged the knitted blanket over my shoulders further, staring into the calming view that the apartment window provided. Across from the building was a small, abandoned park. Most of the neighbors had steered clear of the area as it didn’t meet anyone’s aesthetic standards—well, except for mine.

Half of the trees have lost their leaves, counting down the days to winter. The park benches were covered with tangled vines, even some lacking required wood boards. In summary, the place was an overgrown jungle that no one was willing to inhabit. In result, the once communal area was condemned by the normal folk for being ‘too dead.’ However, I would oppose those who claim the lack of life in the park considering life is not only just living, but it is to invite death.

In my observation of the park, a soft reflection suddenly appeared beside the yellow oak trees. In my peripheral, I can see my roommate creeping up behind me with his limbs moving catlike. I bit my bottom lip to conceal the amused huff threatening to escape me, instead settling to blowing over the steam rising from my cup.

Just before I saw his head bobble over my shoulder, arms stretched out above me, I whipped around his lanky figure and ducked under his arm. “You know for an agent; I expected a better performance.” An inaudible yelp interrupted the fit of giggles I was in as some of the tea spilled onto my blanket. “Now look what you’ve done! Do you know how hard it is to get dark liquids off cotton?”

“Just some hydrogen peroxide will do the trick,” Spencer shrugged, insisting to pull off the semi-damp blanket off my shoulders. “Plus, you messed up my bit!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I was living with a five-year-old,” I teased, nudging him.

Spencer craned his neck to the side, letting the sore tendons and muscles stretch out from just waking up. All without forgetting to let out an obnoxious yawn in addition to his exaggeratedly extended arms. “I’ll have you know that this five-year-old has three PhDs and three bachelors,” he boasted.

“...and daddy issues.”

Before I can find a way to defend myself, the same blanket that brought me solace previously was transformed into an unmerciful whip. Spencer chased me around the couch until I slipped and toppled over the cushions, landing on the throw pillows. I buried my head into the leather arm, shutting my eyes, while I replicated the nature of Spencer’s antics by emitting ridiculous snores.

“You can’t touch me while I’m sleeping,” I murmured, feigning my slow lull to slumber. “It’s socially unacceptable.” During my spiel, Spencer had playfully grabbed my ankles and dragged me to a sitting position.

“SPENCER!” I gasped, clutching one of the pillows in hand and smacking him over the head with it. “You do not handle people like that! No wonder why you also have momm-”

Spencer’s palm gently nudged me back onto the couch mid-sentence, leaving my frame to hit the cushions with a loud thud. A boom of laughter filled the empty space of my chest, my breath thinning as dopamine jumped from my brain’s synapses. An enchanted smile caressed the corners of my mouth mirroring the one Spencer was sporting.

In these insignificant interactions, I would think back to the times where our comfortability was limited and reveled on how much our friendship grew over the years. There was a sense of solace that overwhelmed me knowing that introducing—and working on his—humor brought an auspicious light to the darkness that often clouded his mind.

My lungs deflated with a hefty exhale, my arm slinging across my eyes in relaxation. Clamored feet and the rug shifting against the wood floor caught my attention. Freeing my line of vision, I was met with a raggedy-haired genius with barely a foot between us. I reached out to comb through his locks, the webbing of my hands catching the tangled curls. “You need to shower greasehead.”

“Actually, the buildup of sebum and laloin in the gland of the hair follicles—coined as the sebaceous gland—offers moisture and protection, given that it is regulated upon its natural equilibrium.” Spencer leaned into the soft touch of my fingers, like how a kitten purrs against their owner’s affection.

“Well, I don’t know about you almost-birthday-boy, but I don’t think you want to go into the next chapter of your life smelling like you just changed out of your first diaper.” I pushed myself up the couch, gesturing Spencer to the hallway bathroom. “This is the big 31!”

“Y/N, we had a party for my 30th. I think I’m good to last for the decade,” he huffed, walking towards his bedroom to grab a change of clothes.

“That’s not the spirit, Dr. Reid!” I yelled across the room. “I swear Spence, you’re the only person who’d turn down a party... And, you even turned down Rossi’s invitation to go all out in his backyard.”

“Another year to celebrate the ever-closing gap between my time on earth and my imminent demise—oh, and how can I forget celebrating it in an open space full of ticks and pollen,” Spencer sarcastically jested, his voice bouncing off the thin white walls.

“At least you’d know your soulmate, right? Then I wouldn’t be the only one to deal with your ‘Debby Downer’ ass,” I added on, rolling my eyes at his usual pessimistic rulings.

“I would prefer nihilistic, but if that vernacular serves you then to each their own.”

“Hey, maybe after you die, I and your soulmate can mourn over you—bond and all that—and then I can steal them away,” I teased.

I looked to the lightning bolts etched into the crevices of my thighs, my fingertips tracing each design until it fell onto the carved words at my hip. In a way, the stretch marks made beautiful vines attached to the faded letters, covering the obvious red scratch marks that had resurfaced from my bad habits.

I kissed my fingertips before planting them back onto the markings, chuckling to myself of the intimate gesture. Unconsciously, I began to rub at the tattooed words once again, hating how their protrusion made my skin crawl.

“I mean I’m dead, what can I really do?” Spencer called out, stopping in his tracks when he reached the bathroom door. He faced me as he spoke, going on about his birthday celebration tomorrow—half of his speech unheard to me—until he requested my immediate attention. “You have to stop picking at the words, Y/N. You’re going to end up hurting yourself.”

“I know, I know,” I sighed, letting my dominant hand fall to my side. A pout fell on my lips at the loss of the small satisfaction scratching granted me. “But the words are just so uncomfortable sometimes. I mean you got lucky with the whole soulmate placement.”

Spencer brought his free hand to his chest, thumb tracing over the small words typed on the skin. “Yeah, I guess I did get lucky huh.” A soft smile grazed over his lips while his eyes were still trained on the unknowing figure resting against the couch.

“What does your marking read aga-”

“Spence, what’s it say on your che-”

I groaned in playful disbelief at the coincidental timing. “You know at this point I’m starting to think we’re telepathic, Spencer.”

“That’s actually what my tattoo is,” he laughed. “It’s my name.”

“Oh yeah,” I nodded, remembering the first time we brought it up in the early days of meeting one another. “Must’ve saved a lot of name tags in elementary school” I teased.

Spencer shook his head, shuffling into the bathroom with a lightness in his steps. With the closing of the door, my gaze fell onto the marking once again.

Regardless of the mechanics of soulmates, I was never worried about the possibility of not meeting them. I was already at my happiest knowing shared moments like these were good enough. However, unbeknownst to my ideal wishes, an irking desire still lingered in the back of my head while fingers hovered over the imperfect skin.

October 28th

1 day before

“Kid, you can’t sit there and tell me that finding your soulmate can be ‘scientifically extrapolated.’ That’s not the point,” Morgan amusingly shook his head at Spencer, ruffling the top of his head as he brushed past him.

“Okay,” Spencer tutted, “tell me. What ‘is’ the point then?”

“Well, all I’m saying is that finding your soulmate—if you have one—is supposed to come supernaturally.”

“Morgan, did you just try to win over boy genius here by talking about the supernatural?” With a tilted smirk, I nursed the half-filled flute between my fingertips. My gaze flickered over to a pleased brainiac sharing the same mischievous glint found in my eyes. I let my head fall back against the couch cushions, my eyes fluttering close to the sound of grown children bickering.

“Alright,” Morgan raised his hands up in defense. “All I was pointing out was that things like these can’t be solved by numbers and science.”

“The same can be said about Newtonian physics, but look where we a-”

Morgan flung a ball of crinkled wrapping paper Spencer’s way, aiming for his head. Spencer attempted to dodge the projectile—emphasis on attempted—only to have it hit him square in the face.

“So much for those Newtonian physics, huh?” I teased while getting up to open another bottle of champagne. Spencer slouched in his chair, the paper cone hat on his head shifting to the side. A grimace replaced the smirk he initially wore, muttering about how he was going to get Morgan back.

“Y/N! Bring that bottle over here when you’re done.” Morgan called out as I walked into the kitchen, pausing the ongoing discussion of the case we planned to tackle. “Also, bring another juice box for Reid here!”

A chorus of laughter followed my ears which each step, a grin finding the corners of my lips. I rose to the tips of my toes to reach for the unopened bottle in the alcohol cabinet. I made my way to the freezer, taking out the bucket of ice I stored away hours ago. When closing the appliance door, my eyes landed on a picture magnetized to the surface.

It was a physical reminder of the time that Spencer convinced me to dress up as Amy Pond, the eleventh doctor’s sidekick, for comic con. He too was dressed up in the doctor’s attire: a brown corduroy suit, a bowtie, and a sonic screwdriver. We both had silly grins planted on our faces, it seemed like nothing could tear down the joyous bubble we were in. Upon reflecting on the memory, the kitchen door swung open revealing a merry Spencer.

“Hey, I was supposed to be getting you that juice box,” I joked.

Spencer shook his head, pushing past me to get to the cupboard. “Very funny,” he droned, sarcasm dripping off his words. I leaned against the counter, setting the bucket of ice to the side. I analyzed his movements, noticing how often he fidgeted with his fingers or how his legs would clumsily turn inward at times.

“You know,” he paused, turning around to face me, “In some countries ruled by military dictatorship, staring could be deemed as a call for execution.”

I crossed my arms, challenging him. “Well last time I checked; we aren’t in any of those countries. Is that right, Dr. Reid?”

“Unfortunately,” he chuckled. “Did you need anything?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Well, by the way you were checking me out, I would think you needed something.” He sauntered over to the opposite counter across the kitchen, hoisting himself up on the granite. I watched as the casual smirk fell off his face after failing his initial attempt to sit. The second attempt proved to be better, although that didn’t stop me from rolling my eyes at his impotence.

“You know,” I repeated his words, grabbing the champagne and ice bucket as I began to stroll out of the room. “I’m really starting to think you have a better chance at ‘extrapolating’ your soulmate rather than finding them.”

“Wait!”

I whipped around to face him with furrowed eyebrows. I nodded for him to continue, watching as a sly expression reappeared on his face. “You forgot my juice.”

I sighed, setting the items back down on the counter before reaching for the fridge. “You are a grown man, Spence,” I gesticulated at the boy. I grabbed Spencer’s favorite sparkling water and left it aside. “You couldn’t get your own?” I raised my eyebrows at him, ducking out of the refrigerator door.

He crossed his legs, still propped up on the counter. “Well, you did call me a five-year-old and it is my birthday,” he argued, shrugging his shoulders tauntingly.

“I said that the other day, and considering it’s your birthday, that would mean you’d be old enough to conduct yourself,” I countered.

“Actually, it’s grammatically inappropriate to say, ‘the other day’ when the event in question occurred yesterday,” he began to ramble. With an unimpressed nod, I began to slowly back away from the scene until I was abruptly stopped once again.

“Wait!”

“What!”

“You forgot to put it in a cup,” he meekly suggested, his face evident of mischief.

“You’re clearly enjoying this aren’t you?” I groaned, shuffling towards where he was. “I’ll give you something to enjoy...” I whispered to myself.

With a plan set in motion, I sauntered over to where Spencer sat. Once I was in front of him, I made sure to give no indication that I was moving beside him. Instead, I leaned forward, letting our chests press together as I reached up for a mug. I would be lying if I denied the faint blush warming up the apples of my cheeks or the tightness of my throat from this proximity. In a nervous hash, I could’ve sworn hearing Spencer’s breath hitch as my chin brushed against his neck.

Feigning a confident disposition, I dropped back to the heels of my feet, finding myself to be inches away from the enamored and naive genius. “You need this?” I murmured, trying to maintain a collected tone of voice. However, Spencer did make it difficult with the intensity of his penetrating gaze or the way his breath fanned over my sensitive skin.

For a lasting moment, I began to dissect the small specks of hazel hues in his eyes and how a dark pool of brown surrounded his irises. The tip of his nose was flushed in crimson and his mouth hung in what seemed like anticipation and hesitation battling it out. “Uh, yeah... thank you.” His Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, linking his fingers with mine to take the mug.

Without breaking eye contact, he set the mug aside and away from view. I opened my mouth to say something, but I soon discovered a dessert residing in the back of my throat. Slowly my composure unraveled, leaving me and Spencer in a purgatory of uncertainty and elation. I heard my heart thump against the walls of my ribcage as my eyes traveled to the parting of his lips, his tongue ever so often swiping against the skin.

I shook my head out of the trance we were in, popping the hypnotic bubble forming around us. With a trepidatious smile, I gestured to the living room, suggesting going back out there. “Do you want to...” I tied my hands behind my back, stepping away from him slowly. He nodded in response; his mouth tightly pressed into an awkward line.

With less than obvious movements, we both tiptoed our way back to the liveliness of the other room, soon forgetting about the juice and cup all together.

“Bye guys, thank you for coming! See you tomorrow.” I politely bid everyone a farewell, sending them safe wishes home as they excited through the front door. “Pen, are you coming with us tomorrow?” I received a tipsy nod and a few stumbling feet, but nonetheless confirmation for the case. Spencer was to the left of me doing the same, enduring some last-minute birthday teasing from Morgan before he made his exit.

With the slow creaking of the door, I leaned against the wood, letting my legs slowly slip down the floor until I was sitting. I tilted my head up, staring at an exhausted Spencer before making grabby hands at him. He snorted at the childlike request, aggressively pulling at my wrists until I landed into his chest.

“Alright birthday boy, just because you’re older doesn't mean you can get all strong on me,” I warned, nuzzling my heavy head onto his shoulder. A pleasant silence surrounded us, our bodies maintaining an equal balance as we leaned onto each other. On another note, it reminded me of Newton’s principle of force that Spencer explained to me a few months back. How Newton’s cradle, a simple office trinket, exemplified conservation of momentum and energy. In this fragment of space, it felt like that with Spencer—it always felt like that: a comfortable momentum.

“Hey Spence?”

The quiet continued to spread throughout the atmosphere.

“Spencer?” I pressed my chin against his chest, feeling his arms find their way to my lower back. He hummed in response, his eyelids resting at a closed position. “I’m sorry about that thing in the kitchen... I was just messing around.”

He took a while to react before sighing and pressing a tired kiss to the side of my head; with that, I knew things were okay. “Oh! I didn’t give you your present yet.”

I melted away from his arms, scurrying off to the couch. In an exaggerated reveal, I pulled a small parcel from beneath the cushions, glee filling my eyes as I watched the bow on top spring out. I extended my arms towards Spencer, eager to have him open it.

He walked tentatively towards me, taking purposefully leisurely strides. At one point he began to act like he was in a slow-motion sequence, causing me to threaten the integrity of his present. With raised hands, he sat next to me on the couch and gently pried the gift from my hands. “What did you get me this time? Let me guess. From the size and shape of his package here,” he turned the box around in his hands, shaking it up, “and the sound to force ratio-”

“Just open the damn thing, Spence.”

He smiled at my usual impatience, letting his fingers glide against the edge of the parcel. Finally, with gentle hands, he picked apart the wrapping paper, careful not to rip the heart sticker that held the presentation together. He gathered the bow in his palm, and gently pressed the sticky side of the accessory to my cheek.

I cringed at the feeling, but that soon dissipated hearing the mollified chuckle escape Spencer’s mouth. With a determined huff, Spencer pulled the last pieces of wrapping paper from the box and was left with a frayed book in his palm.

“The Parliment of Foweles...” he whispered; an unreadable expression crossed his features.

I curled into my own body, anticipating some form of reaction. “I... I remember you told me the first time we really sat down and got to know each other that your mom used to read that to you when you were younger.” I picked at the stitches on the couch, a lump forming in my esophagus as my tongue swelled. “It’s first edition...” I smiled, insecurity beginning to conquer my excitement from before.

“Sorry, if you don’t like it... I was just-”

A pair of arms pulled me into a secure embrace while a tender hand came around to cup the back of my head. An inaudible expression of gratitude was lost in between babbles of endearment and soft caresses. Spencer pulled away with pools of adoration, he clutched the book in hand as he pulled me under his arm. He ran his thumb along the deckles that adorned the sides of the pages, his palm tenderly feeling the roughness of the old woven spine.

To open the book, he singled out a random page and lightly flicked a few pages to the side before I halted his movements completely. “Wait!” I requested. “I want you to read it after the case so we can do it together,” I sheepishly tucked a hair behind his ear, hiding the careful blush on my cheeks. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah...that’s fine with me,” he breathed, his eyes locked onto the soft curves of my face. I pulled my hand away, tugging my sleeve further down my arm. “Oh! That reminds me.” Spencer places the book behind him and headed over the coat rack next to the front door. Sliding his hands through various pockets, he finally pulled a small box from one of the compartments.

He tentatively approached me, turning the object in hand. “I know it’s my birthday, but... I wanted to do something because you’ve made everything better in these past years,” he confessed, fidgeting as he came closer. “Being with my mother always felt like home, and I just... you became that for me, so thank you.”

My fingers reached over to his open palm, approaching the velvet box as if it was fragile. I glazed over its general shape, turning it a few times between my hands. “Spencer...I don’t even know what to say.”

“Well, you can start by opening it,” he smiled.

I shook my head, gently prying the box open. Inside laid a beautiful heart-shaped necklace with words etched into the metal. Once I read the words, a heavy breath escaped my lungs, and my shoulders lost all tension. “Spencer...”

“I thought that it would be easier to have the words of your soulmate above your heart rather than you tracing over your hip,” he professed. “I also know that even if you deny not having any connection to this soulmate thing, it often brings you comfort when needed.”

My attention went to him the second he uttered those words. “How did you know,” I mumbled with an enamored chuckle.

“Well, whenever we’re in the field, I could tell the times you get nervous or need reassurance by the way you subtly touch your hip.”

“I thought staring was punishable by death,” I joked, referring to his argument earlier today.

He brushed it off with a wide smile, combing his hands through his hair. “I know we have a hefty case tomorrow based on what Penelope showed us last briefing, so I hoped that this would make you feel better,” he confessed, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back into the arm of the couch.

“Thank you, Spencer...really,” I wrapped my arms above my head, trying to attach the unlocked chain around my neck. “Can you...?”

With gracious hands, he lifted the chain from my fingertips and wrapped it around my neck. The skin of his fingers would occasionally brush the back of my neck, sending euphoric chills down my spine. I felt myself squirm under his touch slightly, although it wasn’t enough to be obvious. Lifting my hair to the side with his wrist, he clasped the necklace together, letting the cold metal kiss the skin.

I turned around, appreciating the trinket in my hands. I shook my head in disbelief, watching as some of the moonlight that seeped through the window reflected off the metal. “Thank you, again, Spencer.” I nodded, bringing him into a meaningful embrace. My head rested in the crook of his neck, an aroma of pine, vanilla, and old books surrounding us. “This really is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever possessed.”

He scoffed, gently wrapping his hands around the small of my back. “Everything pales in comparison to you.”

October 29th

...

I twirled the metal heart in between my fingers as Hotch’s words failed to reach my ears. I would look up occasionally to see the pictures, but we’ve been dealing with an unsub who showed no mercy to anything morally reprehensible. I sighed, swinging my feet under me as I pretended to be enveloped by the case file in my other hand.

“Since we’re dealing with a L.D.S.K-”

“A long-distance serial killer,” Emily intercepted, nodding towards the team.

“We’ll have SWAT patrol the surrounding rooftops. Emily and I will stay with the defense team here.” Hotch pointed to the house of the unsub’s target. “Morgan, Y/N, and Reid will go through the floors of the apartment building with the strike team—witnesses stated that he was located on the 5th floor, but we have to be ready for anything.”

I looked over to Morgan with a determined expression. His face hardened at the words and his lips was pressed into a tight line. In my peripheral, I could see the way his veins would constrict against the skin as he clenched his fists.

This case hit him particularly hard considering we couldn’t save the unsub’s last victim. It was a 4-year-old little girl, and we were misinformed about her possible location. By the time we got to her, she was faced down into a park well with a single bullet hole above her heart. I watched the slow diffusion of her blood, and how the water turned to a murky black. I couldn’t imagine Morgan’s guilt considering he was so sure of himself when reaching a breakthrough with the unsub’s whereabouts. The parents of the child would soon blame Morgan for his ignorance, spewing derogatory slurs in their distress.

“We’ll get him Hotch,” Morgan assured, “This time, we’ll get him.”

Spencer noticed the certitude in his voice, sharing a look with me to give extra attention to Morgan out in the field. I smiled at him, warmed at the concern that the genius had over his friend.

“I’ll be working with local PD to hold a press conference to keep the public on the lookout,” JJ expressed, crossing her arms.

“Since...last time, we figured that unsub finds enjoyment in toying with us or singling us out. So, keep each other in check and make sure to report back in your earpieces every five minutes.” Hotch himself seemed perturbed by the unsub’s earlier actions considering he had his own toddler to deal with. “Penelope has sent the coordinates to everyone. Remember the profile, and don’t leave yourselves vulnerable. We’re dealing with an elusive unsub that won’t stop at nothing to satisfy himself,” Hotch spoke with a quiver in his voice.

I bit the inside of my cheek and breathed heavily through my mouth. My hands began to drift to my hip but momentarily stopped as I remembered the chain around my neck. I slumped into the chair as Hotch dismissed the team, sending them out for their respective assignments.

“You, okay?” I whipped around to the sound of JJ’s voice. She leaned against the doorframe with an expression full of concern. Looking behind her, she noticed Spencer noticeably pacing through the bullpen waiting for a specific someone. He attempted to disguise his eagerness by counting tiles on the floor or squares on the ceiling, but to JJ he was easily discernable.

I let a dry laugh, shaking my head. “After what happened, I’m a bit worried—not about me—but Morgan and Spence.” I swiveled around in the office chair a few times until I landed in front of JJ.

“You know you fidget the same way as Spence,” she pointed out, grinning at the similarity. I shook off the oncoming warmth that flooded the skin and looked elsewhere. “You’re right to worry about both of them though. But you know how stubborn and determined they are.” As she began to walk out, she left a lingering message that soothed my nerves. “Plus, Spencer may have that IQ of his, but we all know runs things between you all.”

She wasn’t wrong. I’ve always kept a watchful eye over the both of them—maybe Spencer a little more—but nonetheless, I deeply cared about both of them. It was relieving to know that Spencer’s circle of trust exponentially grew from Morgan to JJ to me. It symbolized the growth that Spencer was mostly oblivious to, but it meant more to me than I can explain, seeing how he opened himself up to happier possibilities.

A sharp exhale left my lungs while my lips formed into a sly smirk. Without another minute to wait, I left the round table behind JJ, leaving Spencer to stop dawdling. “You ready genius?” I walked out into the hall, not sparing a glance at the figure trailing behind me.

“With you? Always.”

“Nothing here,” a voice confirmed in my earpiece. My gun hung low in my hands while I tiptoed through the floor of the apartment building. “You know Y/N, if I knew that the unsub was going to the pick a building in the area we resided in, maybe I would’ve considered having the party at Rossi’s instead,” Spencer joked.

I bit the smile growing on my lips, focusing on the assignment on hand.

“Maybe after the case, instead of reading that book in our apartment we can go over to that small library/cafe we’ve been meaning to go to,” he continued to drone, forgetting about the connection of everyone’s channels.

“Reid, if all you’re gonna do is flirt with Y/N, leave the damn channel,” Morgan warned. Hearing the worry in his tone, Spencer straightened up, coughing to cover up his soft apology. Being separated didn’t help the irrational thoughts that built up in the back of my conscience; I can’t even comprehend what’s probably going through Morgan’s head.

“You good?” I mumbled into the com; my eyes straightforward while I advanced towards the hall. Morgan didn’t respond, an inaudible huff coming through the speakers.

“I’m moving up to the top floor. Y/N and Reid, go back down to the basement and see if we missed anything,” Morgan broke the awkward silence with an austerity in his words. The silent hum that came afterwards was worse than earlier. I turned off my earpiece, sensing a conversation about to ensue between the two gentlemen.

The thickness in the atmosphere was similar to the air that surrounded me and Spencer when competing in recreational chess. Whenever I attempted to put his king in check, he would block the move by maneuvering another piece in front of it. This would lead to a game of cat and mouse until I would figure out that the entire time, Spencer had been deluding me into false security while checking my king piece. Ultimately, I would lose to Spencer. However, there were games where I’d outmaneuver him or win by dumb luck.

I’d like to think that I developed some sort of intuition for his behavior from playing against him, but he’s deemed unpredictable every game. He was always sharp, eight steps ahead and aware of all possibilities. I guess that’s what make him an effective profiler, always thinking in the future.

I ran down the stairs, still armed, when Penelope’s voice ran through the earpiece. “Updates! Updates people.” The joy in her voice always relived me of the gloom that usually surrounded me in the field; hopefully she has the same effect on Morgan.

“Hey, Pen.” An invisible grin was evident in my words, knowing she’d pick up on it.

“Hello, my love, seems like at least one person is happy to see me,” she verbally jabbed at the lack of response from Spence and Morgan.

Still no response.

“Sorry, they’re working out their marriage at the moment,” I teased, hoping for the usual distasteful comment I usually get from Morgan.

Still nothing.

An unnerving feeling crept up the back of my neck. “Penelope, can you check if their coms are still workin—shit.” Before I could finish, a long buzz of static came through the speakers. The only comprehensible words that were picked up was the beginning of my name before cutting off.

I bit my lip, pulling out the small piece of technology and tapping it a few times. “Come on... dammit.” After playing around with the earpiece, I grew frustrated with it and stuffed it into my pocket.

I paced in the small landing between the stairs, thinking of a new gameplan. I ran my fingers through the ends of my hair, feeling the split ends prick at the skin. I felt a mountain growing in at the bottom of my stomach, leaving my esophagus constricted without air. “What would Spencer do,” I mumbled to myself, gripping onto my necklace.

“Spencer...Spencer...”

Before I could finish the mantra, a shot rang out from above me, and the crashing off glass followed. In the split moment, my legs grew a mind of its own and sprinted to higher ground. Suddenly, the sweat perspiring off me turned cold, and my heartbeat slammed itself into my spinal cord as I ran. My feet forgot its exhaustion while my mind devoured every irrational thought, and combined it with adrenaline.

The single thing that drove me over my limits was knowing that the person who fabricated and would shoo away these thoughts was somewhere I didn’t know I could get to in time.

Spencer’s POV

I tiptoed into a vacant suite of the building, still antsy about the scolding I received from Morgan. The conversation after didn’t help considering it was all a reminder to be aware and focused on the task at hand. I knew Morgan was filled with the need for redemption despite the team forgiving him of his ignorance. So, I shook off the creeping feeling and abided by his instructions.

Deciding to update Y/N and Morgan about my whereabouts, I spoke into the coms only to have static come out of it. I tried once again but failed to reach anyone. The room around me shrank as a sharp exhale left my lungs. I swallowed the buildup of saliva in the back of my throat, feeling uneasy about not knowing what’s to come.

Seeing at the area was clear, I looked out of one of the windows. Initially I cringed at the accumulated dirt and grime in the glass panes, but that all dissipated when I spotted the quaint park that Y/N loved. No one else had any interest in the community lot, seeing as people would coin it—or what Y/N would tell me—the park of death. But to her, she saw the opposite as she always does.

The light feeling of reminiscing my interactions with Y/N soothed the disconcerting atmosphere, keeping me grounded. Although the sentiment ended as soon as it started when I spotted one of the apartment walls was spray-painted with black letters.

Zugzwang

A blaring shot rang out and glass shattered into the room. I ducked into the floor, shutting my eyes. My head spun as the boom impaired my hearing. The window was forcibly open, the shards resting beside me. Left disoriented, I groaned, only feeling the after wave of vibrations on the ground. However, I soon found out that the quake of the floor wasn’t from the initial shot, but the rapid clobbering of feet inching closer to the suite and a shadowy figure preceding it.

Y/N emerged from the doorframe, panting. Eyes were laced in fear while they bore into my own. My stomach twisted into knots from previous events while I contemplated what had occurred. The presence of Y/N wasn’t even strong enough to relinquish the egging feeling crawling in my skin. I anticipated Morgan to appear, considering he was closer to the scene.

Where was he?

Another thing I didn’t anticipate, a second shot.

“Spencer?”

January 3rd

Three months after

My thoughts antagonized one another while I stared out into the world from the eerily quiet apartment. The living room was cold and empty despite the array of furniture scattered about and the broken picture frames lining the walls. The vapor rising from the cup of tea drifted into the air, vanishing into nonexistence. It’s funny how that could happen in a matter of milliseconds.

The pain the lived inside the chambers of my heart was no match for the burning of skin I felt when holding onto the steaming cup. The only worthy adversary would be the rush of self-resentment that coursed through me when picking up the book. I deserved it though. I deserved the spikes through my stomach while my fingers trailed the deckled pages, reminding me of the first time I held the book, its previous owner present with me.

I would remember our time together.

I would remember the promise shared between us.

I would remember the bloodied handprint pressed against my chest.

Now all I had was the physical manifestation of what’s left: the necklace. As cruel as it was for me, I kept it in the book, using it as a bookmark while I lost myself into poems. After a while, the inked words lost their meaning to me, becoming an empty cacophony that encased the jewelry.

Every time I grasped the chain in my clutches, a numbed ache would make itself known at the pit of my stomach. It clawed at my intestines and made the entirety of my body system obsolete. With that, I was abandoned with the sinister hauntings of my own mind—a part of me that I was once praised for.

A genius. A prodigy. Hidden behind the real mess of a guilty man.

I ignored the smashed chess board and pieces that laid still at my feet, concentrating on the snowflakes that littered the park across from the building. The grounds looked beautiful, covered in layers of pure white. I sipped at the tea once more letting my mind deteriorate with a sophisticated nonchalance.

What a tragedy it was to know my soulmate, especially right under the tip of my nose. What a cruel joke life had played.

I wished I had more time.

It was easier to let the guilt consume me rather than pondering on what I lost—who I lost. Had I lost myself too? Maybe, it didn’t matter. In some masochistic way, I enjoyed the guilt because it was a way to remember that at one point someone made for me existed. I used it to relive the moments I could never get back.

All that remained was an empty shell of a man, staring out into a dull world, wondering how time took everything away from him.

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thelostnymphaeum · 4 years ago

Text

I'm with you 'til the end of the line.

Entry: 004

// Cinema //

Marvel Cinematic Universe

MARVEL MANIA

Superhero movies were not my thing. The only superhero movie I have watched as a kid was Spiderman. I am not into sci-fi or superhero movies albeit being a huge fan of cinema. But during this quarantine, I decided to experiment with my taste and try to indulge in a new set of genre – the Marvel Cinematic Universe. These movies were a far cry from films that are to my liking, such as “Brooklyn” and “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape”. I used to find superhero movies corny or cheesy, because they were not based on real people and I fancy movies that tackle the inner spectrum of humanity. Additionally, I used to think that actors who choose to be in these movies are not “real actors” because portraying a superhero does not really seem to me as a role where you have to internalize the character. I was probably the only person in my class who did not cry when someone said “I love you, 3000” after the Endgame came out, and the only one who did not get the “Wakanda forever” reference. That changed because yester night, I finally finished the entire MCU. I came in with a viewing guide from my friends and I came out feeling like I just had a whole cultural experience.

THE AVENGERS

I like all of them. Except maybe the Captains. I don’t like Captain America. I understand that he’s supposed to be the poster boy of “superheroes” where he’s all righteous, courageous, virtuous and kind to everyone – but that does not seem realistic at all. His character just seemed predictable and bland for me. Maybe that’s why I prefer Tony Stark, he is more dimensional. He is someone who is unapologetic, makes mistakes, smart, arrogant; but his heart will always come from a good place. During battles, it’s always Tony Stark who is thinking of ways to end them (like how to diffuse Ultron at Sokovia) so I feel as if it’s him that should be leading them. Captain America only lead them because he was born in 1918 (just kidding, don’t eat me Steve Rogers stans). He also looks way too good. It’s unreal. What a knucklehead (Loki will agree with me on this). Jk. Anyways, he earned plus points from me when he returned the infinity stones successfully. As for Captain Marvel, I don’t think I need to explain why I find her insufferable.

A little piece about Spiderman. I like this reboot of Spiderman, and Tom Holland deserves all the hype he got because he worked so hard for his movies. No one can beat Tobey Maguire of course, but we are all just glad that Tom did not ruin Spiderman for us. The only thing I did not like about his reboot was that he relied too much on Mr. Stark. Tobey’s Spiderman never relied on anyone, he was just his own superhero. But for the sake of integrating him into the MCU, I guess that they have make this fun and fresh Peter Parker juvenile in order to be able to develop his character more. So I think I’ll give it a pass.

I personally like the Thor films the best. Because it was based on Norse mythology. Because of Loki. Because Anthony Hopkins is in it. I dislike the Captain Marvel movie the most.

ENDGAME THOUGHTS. We did not need Captain Marvel. Thor did not deserve to become a drunkard and a greasehead – he’s a freaking Norse God! Why was Pepper Potts at the final battle against Thanos? Thank you, Doctor Strange. Tony was genuinely and undeniably- the heart of the Avengers.

SCORSESE, COPPOLA & PEWDIEPIE

Along with its colossal popularity, the MCU movies have also acquired prominent detractors. Prior to watching the entire MCU, I would have probably agreed with Scorsese, Coppola and Felix (here is his “controversial” video on “I don’t like Marvel movies”).

“Honestly, the closest I can think of them, as well made as they are, with actors doing the best they can under the circumstances, is theme parks. It isn’t the cinema of human beings trying to convey emotional, psychological experiences to another human being.” – Martin Scorsese

"Martin was kind when he said it's not cinema. He didn't say it's despicable, which I just say it is." – Francis Ford Coppola

Parts of it are true, on the basis where the entire plot lines are predictable and it’s not the kind of cinema I learned to love as well. Marvel movies usually follow the same backbone. This is a huge reason why some cinephiles don’t like them, because the mystery is gone and it’s all obvious. After watching all of them in a 3-week streak, I could pretty much sum up the Marvel movie plot line into this:

The protagonist is in a helpless or vulnerable position.

The protagonist meets someone who can help them.

The protagonist works hard to get to his pre-final form and along with it, learns to fight in the name of eradicating the bad guys.

The protagonist finds out that her/his master is not all-good.

Chaos but then they forgive and understand the master.

2-3 battle fights, the last one is usually the peak battle where we see the protagonist in final form.

I like movies that tackle more about realism. I like seeing actors play roles that depict humanity as humans. I’m not a huge fan of special effects or super powers either. When Scorsese said that they are “not cinema”, I understood it because there are no intricacies or space for a different form of expression when you’re doing mega franchise films that are meant to sell to the general public. Which brings me to another point, that MCU is largely a business profit. These movies are made by mega corporations in the film industry, and it might also hinder other smaller filmmakers from showing their films if a titanic franchise is showing on the same week as theirs. Comic book fans are enormous in numbers which is why there is such a huge following for these movies even if they use the same plot lines all throughout. Humans are slaves for nostalgia, and people like to see the characters they have read and admired during their childhood come to life. Because of that, these corporations will try to capitalize on that and make more movies for as long as they can, and in a sense, you can see that they might be doing it only for the sake of money and not of art any longer. This is what the disparagers would say; that there is very little artistic values to these films because they are made to be sold, not appreciated for its artistry.

“Many of our grandfathers thought all gangster movies were the same, often calling them “despicable”. Some of our great grandfathers thought the same of westerns, and believed the films of John Ford, Sam Peckinpah, and Sergio Leone were all exactly the same. I remember a great uncle to whom I was raving about Star Wars. He responded by saying, “I saw that when it was called 2001, and, boy, was it boring!” Superheroes are simply today’s gangsters/cowboys/outer space adventurers. Some superhero films are awful, some are beautiful. Like westerns and gangster movies (and before that, just MOVIES), not everyone will be able to appreciate them, even some geniuses. And that’s okay.” – James Gunn, Guardians of the Galaxy Director

Here’s my two cents on this whole hullabaloo. Art is expressed in different ways. Just because something is popular does not mean that you should hate it or feel as if it lacks creative value. For one, I think that if the Norsemen would see the Thor films, their jaws would drop. Art in these movies is seen through the elaborate special effects and costumes. A lot of people work behind the scenes to make this kind of art form. They are not any less of an artist. The effects are wonderful, amazing and beautiful. Sure, they don’t have meandering plot lines or mysteries that are meant to make you think. But they are able to show art in a way that is along with the times, showing the capabilities of what computer generated imagery could be. It gives us the fantasy that otherwise would not be achievable in real life (for all I care, my favorite scenes are seeing Spiderman glide across the buildings of New York).

These movies are intended for children and teenagers (adults are there for the sake of nostalgia or lighthearted entertainment, I guess?). For kids, it inspires them that they can be anything they want to be. For teenagers, it might be a good footing for their moral compasses. For me, it just inspired me to get fit (hehe). My point is, these movies are made to cater to a particular type of audience, and the others are there just for the spectacle. If all the movies were Scorsese or Coppola, what would the kids watch in the theaters? Kids would not understand “Taxi Driver” nor would be a good foundation for their morals. It was a classic and it deserves the reputation it has, but after only a certain age will you be able to appreciate it, and only if you had a particular knack for appreciating films. MCU movies are made for people who just want to have a good time; you don’t have to like high-brow or art-house movies to understand it, and that’s all there is to it. It’s made for entertainment, what’s so wrong with that?

And the actors – a lot of them played the characters so well which made me realize that taking on a superhero role does not lessen your credibility as an actor. My particular favorites are Tom Hiddleston, Benedict Cumberbatch, Scarlett Johansson, Tom Holland, Mark Ruffalo and Robert Downey Jr. (bonus points for Anthony Hopkins, his range, man, his range). They were able to bring their roles to life in such a distinct way that it would be hard to never associate them as superheroes, which of course, is a double-edged sword. As a starting actor, that could be a bubble that is hard to get out of. For example, Tom Holland as Spiderman; people will always associate him as that, and how many of you has actually seen the movies he has done aside from MCU? It might be hard for him to bridge his career from being a huge franchise film protagonist into doing films to his own preference. MCU movies make the popularity and the money; indie films – not as much.

I don’t think that the existence of MCU is throwing away the spotlight from smaller filmmakers. Because back then, I simply chose not to see MCU movies because I was not interested. People will find ways to support art that they like, and just because MCU existed, it did not hinder me from looking for movies that I like. The cinema is made by individuals who like to create movies. There are different ways to express them. There are different subscribers to different genres. To each their own. But then again, I am not working in the film industry, so I can’t speak for them, I can only say what it’s like for a movie buff like me.

These are the movies that make up people’s childhood. These are characters that gives reason for people to bond together. When Tony died, the entire world felt like they lost a father. If it’s able to touch lives as much as any other film, why should we discriminate against it? Love is love, after all.

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