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insanebookreader · 11 days ago

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𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐈𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬, 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝐀𝐔!

Pairing: S2 Philosophy professor x Non- BAU Fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Synopsis: He didn’t originally plan on staying for so long– though he wasn’t sure he minded anymore. It was a quiet, small town with an even smaller population– the perfect escape. But when he starts reliving the same day over and over again, what was supposed to be a break from reality becomes an endless loop that tests his sanity. Everyone forgets. Even her. Only he remembers. Trial after trial, mistake after mistake, he searches for a way out. But what happens when he finds a love he never thought possible–one that follows him, chooses him, even when it doesn’t even remember him?

Key: ★❥🖤✧ (okay basically everything)

Content warnings: TW!: Mentions of attempted suicide, depression, psychological slight insanity(?), hard angst but there is a happy ending. Mentions of height difference, cheating (but past), reader has hair😭, PIV and there's implication that it's without protection but not explicility said..DON'T FOLLOW IN THEIR FOOTSTEPS. Mentions of injured kitten? Also she always willingly goes with him even though he's a stranger? Again, don't follow in her footsteps. Spencer faints from happiness? In one of the loops he love bombs(?) Descriptive scene of drowning. Broken-heart syndrome mentioned. Spencer's POV

A/N: "Fate is a tricky lady, when you try to figure her out, you just get more confused." This is a quote from 'When We First Met"- I was watching it when I was finishing up this fic and it literally like..hit me. I was like oh em gee this so fits, I had to tell you guys. The cat's name was originally "Eureua" but I changed it to "Mini-Meow" last minute when I saw an instagram reel. ALSO I AM SO SORRY, this was meant to come out...weeks ago. Weeks. But it's HERE. After so long. Much thinking into it. Much of my pussy, tears, and whatever else. Thanks to my close friend for being my BETA reader. <3 BUT YAY. IT'S HERE.

There is heavy research, weaved in themes, easter eggs, etc into this and I'm a little proud. There's two heavy.."themes?" Reasonings? That cause this and have him get out. I won't say because I don't want to spoil but I hope you get them. Might do a post A/N.

ALSO YES, there is no other interactions besides reader and Spencer because it IS MEANT TO FEEL ISOLATING! That is his world. Everything is intentional.

much love, enjoy <3 (and this is my baby, I worked so hard- please be gentle.)

Word Count: 12.6k (DAMN)

Friday Harbor in San Juan Island, Washington. It was supposed to be a break from the weight of his everyday reality. Sort of. Originally, he was filling in for a professor on sabbatical– temporary, a favor. But somehow, over time, he fell in love with the mellowness and serenity of the small, endearing town. The stillness of it. The clarity. He’d finally gotten settled. Somewhat known, but not recognized. Acquainted, but not obligated. It was refreshing. A few months had passed since he ended his semester at the local university. Just a few weeks since he decided to stay. Since he decided to call this place home. He was starting to form a daily routine, the kind that quietly fit without friction– and then… it happened.

He cracked an eye open and turned toward the nightstand, toward the soft blue glow of the digital clock beside his bed. He shut his eyes again. Letting his head fall back down onto the pillow with a long, slow sigh.

January 12th, 2025. 7:00 A.M.

It had been like this for what felt like an eternity, even though it wasn’t. He hated– no loathed it. He felt like the universe was toying with him. Was it? Had he racked up so much karma debt that this was the result? Was it this town? A glitch? A curse? The same questions, every same morning. And still– no answers. That’s what he needed. What he continuously searched for.

After he did his usual routine– shower, teeth, vest and tie, breakfast, the practiced quiet– he made his way into the living room. The space was warm, the kind of comfort you couldn’t fake. In the corner stood the mobile whiteboard on wheels. He grabbed the black whiteboard marker. Again.

Horology. He might as well be able to teach that alongside his other subjects now with how obsessively he fed his mind with it every single day– well,..same day. Closed Timelike Curves, loop quantum physics– how time and space might be fundamentally structured in a way that allowed for possible loops. Because that’s what was happening. A goddamn. Endless. Loop.

Loop Quantum Theory, Bootstrap Paradox– the scientific name for time loop. He went through this every (same) morning. Scientific overview and further investigation, some deep diving into fictional time loop theories even though he hated the fact it was fiction. Really, he just needed something– anything to grasp. To explain, analyze, debunk. He had discovered far early in his life that that is what he was best at and loved– facts, logic, reason.

By the time he came up for air, it was nearly 10 A.M. – time for his usual run to the coffee shop that was conveniently down the street, get his overly-sugared cup– and step into the bookstore that was next door to the quiet aforementioned coffee shop.

“Hi! Welcome to ‘Helena’s Book Home,’ if you need any assistance, feel free to let me know!” He knew that same exact practiced sentence by heart about now. It wasn’t the sound of your voice that annoyed him, no, never– it was the fact that he could recite your exact words in his sleep.

He decided, you know what, why not try something different today? (He always did, but usually not until later in the day.)

So, he stepped toward you, nodding with a soft, approachable smile as he slid his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. “Actually, could you lead me to where 'Strangers On A Train’ by Patricia Highsmith would be?” Okay, well..he actually knew exactly where it was. He’d been here multiple (and he meant multiple) times, even before this whole Bootstrap Paradox, time loop, whatever-it-was started.

But he didn’t mind the philanthropic smile that graced your lips as you gazed up at him, nodding willingly. “A fellow connoisseur of psychological thriller, I see. How interesting. Follow me.” You knew Highsmith? That’s what he thought to himself. Almost on autopilot, his footsteps echoed behind yours against the dark oakwood flooring.

You turned to him swiftly once you arrived at the mystery/thriller section tucked in the back of the store, grabbing the book without looking before holding it out to him with a smile, like you knew the shelves by heart. “If I told you the amount of times I’ve read this, you’d be astonished. Why haven’t I seen you here before?”

He’s not sure whether he’s hurt or agitated at the question, maybe both. Because you have seen him before. Numerous times, but then again, he couldn’t blame you.

Careful not to let his frustration slip into his tone, he took a breath– and shook his head, offering a faint smile. “I just..don’t come into town often, I usually stay home.” Wrong. Just like this goddamn time loop. Everything was wrong. And he just had this itch– this unbearable urge– to figure it out, to–

“Oh! Well..” You pursed your lips, glancing around then down at the faded, aged watch on your wrist before meeting his gaze again. A small smile crept onto your lips– the kind that pulled one onto his own before he could stop it. “If you’d like, and if you’re free, I could..show you all the hot spots. And a few of the more hidden, niche places, too? Only if you want! I just..-”

Before you could spiral into a ramble, he cut in gently, shaking his head. “I’d like that. I’ve recently moved here, so I don’t know too much about the town.” Half-truth. He had moved here recently. But he wasn’t oblivious– he'd explored nearly every inch of this tucked-away, quiet place. Of course, he couldn’t tell you that.

He saw your shoulders relax once you processed his words, like you’d been expecting him to oppose. You nodded as you crossed your arms over your chest– something he noticed you did often. Not for any particular reason. It was just you. He’d learned that through the many ‘trials,’ as he liked to call them. “Cool. Uhm..my shift ends at two. So...a bit of time. But, if you’re willing to wait,..I could get us a discount at ‘The Market Chef?’ I have a friend who works there. It’s a really good deli– has wine, bunch of other stuff. Then I could show you around town.”

Please. As if he’d object. It was almost ridiculous how hesitant you sounded asking him this– though, again, he had to remind himself that he was a ‘stranger’ to you.

Agreeably, he nodded, tapping the book in his hand for emphasis. “Sounds perfect. I’d be more than willing to wait for you.”

And so, now he sat in Overlook Park with a tremendous amount of papers and research in hand. It was almost noon, so he had time to kill– and what better way to do it than by trying to figure this shit out?

Look, he usually wasn’t an irritable man. He liked to think of himself as calm, collected, and rational. But anyone would be on the verge of madness after being stuck in a place that was supposed to be as close to nirvana as possible– only to realize it was samsara.

He sighed, scribbling messily across the pages in front of him, his brows drawn tightly– lips curled into a small frown that seemed permanently etched onto his face when he was alone lately. It wasn’t just the fact that he was going insane in this paradox from hell–it was the not knowing that really got him. He couldn’t figure out why. Or what. Or how. Or when. None of it.

And Spencer Reid loved knowing. He loved logic. Understanding. Clarity. He had none of that right now. Great. That, and he had zero control over any of it. Why did life have him by the balls right now?

The Law of Cause and Effect– how Karma operates on the principle that every action, thought, and intention has a corresponding consequence. It’s a casual law, not a divine judgement. That means the person in question is fully responsible for their own actions– and the outcomes.

Makes sense, right? He taught this for a living. Philosophy. So..maybe if he kept digging. If he kept solving. Searching. He’d find the answer. That’s how he looked at life: answers.

Time loops also existed in this very field, theories suggesting that all moments in time– past, present, and future– exist simultaneously. That in a looped model, these moments could continuously repeat, which creates a timeless structure where events are replayed indefinitely.

Oh god. Would that happen to him? Would he be in this until the end of said time?

No. He couldn’t stand the thought.

Okay, well..he knows how time was the comparison of one open system– aka, the clock– to another open system, where energy arrives at the observer from both open systems. Basically, this logic means reality is timeless. The loop that generates human experience of time is simply the capacity of memory– how we, as humans, imagine past, present, and future states of clocks or other quantities map to an imaginary timeline.

So which answers did this provide him?

Absolutely nothing.

As he sat across from you on the wooden bench outside the deli, he noticed things he hadn’t before. Usually, he’d only see you at the bookstore, the coffee shop– quick, convenient places. He’s never actually been with you like this before.

He noticed how your lashes were so long they kissed your brow bone, how your nose scrunched with every emotion you expressed freely– annoyance, amusement, joy, even frustration. It was endearing.

He watched how you flashed a smile and small wave to the baby nearby, sitting with its mother at another outdoor table, your eyes curling into crescent moons, full of warmth.

“You know,” He started, “Neonates often stare at people who are more beautiful. Their minds are still developing, exploring the world, practicing their visual skills, and even mirror other’s expressions. Over time, they begin to favor faces that resemble their parents or guardians– it’s a form of familiarity. It’s quite fascinating, actually. They’re already learning to recognize certain facial features. Children notice a lot– different facial or body shapes. Shiny and/or oddly shaped things catch their attention too, especially vibrant colors. That’s why kids' toys are always bold, bright colors.” He spoke quickly, gesturing with his hands as the words flowed from his mouth like a fountain of knowledge.

You looked at him with a curious tilt of your head, eyes glinting and narrowed. “Is that so? Soo..” His gaze flickered down when you pursed your lips, looking at the baby then back at him with a playful flash in your irises. “Are you calling me beautiful?”

To that, he breathlessly and shyly chuckled with a small grin, shrugging nonchalantly like his cheeks weren’t flushing. “Uhm...yeah. I guess I am.”

A small, teasing– though soft– hum left your lips as you confidently held his gaze. “You don’t even know my name.”

But he did.

“I need to know your name in order to observe the obvious? And plus, I do.” He followed up his statement with a soft call of your name, looking at you with a gentle smile as he pushed his glasses back up the curve of his nose.

The way your brows furrowed in confusion should’ve alarmed him, though he didn’t process his own predicament until the words left your lips. “How’d you know that?”

Well. Shit. It totally wasn’t because he’s been reliving January 12th for a frustratingly long time now.

He knew you. You didn’t know him. Right.

“Your name tag. Back at the shop?” What a save.

Your eyes then lit up with recognition as you pointed, nodding as your eyebrows raised. “Ohhh…okay. Yeah. That makes sense.” You took a sip of your drink before looking at him abruptly, leaning close with the wonder of a child. “Wait, I don’t even know your name.”

He pressed his lips together tightly, nodding before speaking smoothly, an edge of sorrow if you looked close. “Dr. Spencer Reid. But you can just call me Spencer.” He fidgeted with the paper napkin he had in hand, continuing. “You don’t, uhm,..You don’t have to address me so formally.”

You let the syllables of his name slowly fall from your lips, like you were testing how it felt and sounded from your tongue. “Spencer.” An almost wicked grin graced your lips afterwards. “Hm. I like it.”

Right on time, the waiter walked back to the table, ready to take both your orders.

It’d been some time since then– late afternoon now, the clock nearing the spiritual number of wholeness and balance. Oddly fitting, considering he felt just that in this moment.

You two leaned against the long, red wooden railing of the bridge that stretched across the front of the Brentwood Bay Resort & Spa, standing above the quiet waters. From the point he and you stood, you got a gorgeous view of how the sun slowly descended down the expansive, painted sky.

Another needle-like breeze swept over the two of you; January in Friday Harbor was unforgiving. He wished he’d known that before moving here– but whatever.

Thankfully (for once), given that he’s been reliving this Thursday again and again, he knew the exact weather by heart. Precipitation levels. Wind gusts and their MPH. Humidity. All of it.

Knowledge.

And because of this knowledge– something he always tightly clung to, he was prepared. Well and thickly dressed. You, unfortunately (and he guessed resentfully towards yourself), were not. A little underdressed for the cold. Though, in your defense, you hadn’t planned on ending your day like this– not here with him.

In his periphery, he caught the shudder of your shoulders and heard the faint clatter of your teeth. So, of course– like the gentleman he was– he urged you closer, already shrugging off his coat.

You immediately shook your head with a wave of your hands, smiling at him as you stepped back. “No. It’s okay. Thank you, I’m not even-”

“I insist.” He cut in, already draping his coat over you as he looked down at your shivering form. “And yes you are. Your lips are turning purple and you’re shivering. Please. Take it.”

He saw the way your breath was visible in the cold air when you sighed, nodding as you obliged– tugging his coat closer. “Thank you, Spencer.” He enjoyed the sight of how his coat was slightly (more than slightly) big on you, his build far taller than your own.

A small faint smile crept onto his as he noticed that, clearly his throat as he pushed his glasses back up– nodding diffidently. “Course.”

“Have you always lived here? You seem to know the town like you’re the mayor yourself.” He blurted out, looking to the side at you as he leaned against the railing– you now having your arms tightly wrapped around yourself, clutching to his coat.

Was he cold? Yes. Kind of freezing. Actually. But it didn’t matter to him– as long as you were okay.

Wait– what?

You shook your head, gazing at the now ember horizon, which casted a glow upon your smooth skin. “No. I, uh..” You followed with a breathy laugh, looking back up at him. “I actually used to live in New York. For a while. Born and raised.”

His brows shot up in shock, turning to face you fully as bewilderment graces his features. “Wow. That’s..uhm..”

“Yeah.” You chuckled, nodding with an amused and knowing smile. “This place is a big turn around compared to New York.”

He nodded affirmingly, chuckling as well. “Yeah. Definitely. I mean,..why? What made you move here? To somewhere so..quiet. Instead of that usual hustle and bustle.”

“It was a lot. I mean,.don’t get me wrong, I love New York. But..after some time, I needed somewhere to breathe and just exist. I needed something different.” After a small silence, you shook your head– looking away timidly with a scoff. “It sounds silly.”

“No, no, no. It’s..it’s not.” He quickly interjected, entirely intrigued by the fact that you felt the way he did. “I completely understand. I actually came here– well, originally I came here on sabbatical and filled in for a professor for a semester. But I ended up falling in love with the.., well everything about this town. So I decided to stay. Because I needed exactly what you said. To breathe.”

You looked at him with a softened gaze, humming as you processed his words before nodding. “Professor.” You mirrored his own stance, turning to fully face him. “What do you teach?”

“Philosophy. I also have a degree in neuroscience.” He proudly stated, glad to share something he was proud of with you. He didn’t know why, but it felt good to try and impress you– as well as to share his achievements with you.

He saw the way a smile made its way onto your lips, a small affirmative and impressed hum following afterwards. “Brains, beauty, and kindness. Can’t say I find that in a lot of guys.”

And it stayed like that for a good hour or two more– close together like intertwined vines, a growing connection from the ongoing conversation being the blossoming dahlia’s.

After going to the port, sharing warm cocoa– where you had wiped some whipped cream off of his nose, and the alleyway that was infested with cute cats – you two had finally settled on your last destination of the nipping, dark night.

He hummed, nodding as he licked his thumb before dusting his hands off. “Now those are delicious. What are they called again?”

You scoffed, looking at him with widened eyes as you ate your own chocolate truffle. “You’re kidding. They’re Lindor! Lindor milk chocolate truffles. They’re absolutely delicious.”

He nodded as he stored the name in his infinite vault of memory— looking back forward at the view. You both currently sat at the edge of a rooftop, legs dangling over the concrete surface, earbuds in with some low music creating an even more peaceful ambience. Oh, and of course, a blanket draped over the both of you, given it was absolutely freezing out.

“You know, I usually enjoy classical music. But..I like this. Jeff Buckley, you said it was?” He questioned, ‘Lover, You Should’ve Come Over” flooding both your ears. A masterpiece. Truly.

“Mhm! He’s a genius when it comes to lyrics and his music. I mean– listen to it? And his vocals?” You spoke passionately, sighing like a lovesick teenager. “Ugh. Just pure perfection.”

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, a faint smile forming on the corners of his lips– to which, he didn’t even know was happening. Not until he saw your quizzical expression and tilt of your head. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

Immediately, his cheeks flushing, he averted his gaze and cleared his throat. “Nothing..just. I-..you got so passionate about his music. It was..it was cute.”

You stared at him with stars in your eyes, just like the very ones you both were gazing at– only the ones that swam in the pools of your eyes were far more breathtaking.

He didn’t process the sweet and chaste kiss you left on his cheek until he felt your lips pull away– the warmth from them gone the second they were even there.

“Thank you, Spencer.” He questioned why you were thanking him? He knew why, with the whole cute comment thing– but he felt he should be the one thanking you for giving him his own blanket which was the warmth that spread across his skin from the innocent, loving kiss.

He blinked. Once, twice, thrice– then the blurry ceiling above came into clear view. Again, on routine– he turned toward the digital clock on the bedside table.

7:00 A.M. January 12th, 2025.

For a pregnant moment, he just stared at it– wondering, is this seriously my life right now?

He groaned frustratedly, pulling at his hair before throwing the duvet off from him with a huff– getting up from his bed that he now saw as shackles.

Shower. Teeth. T-shirt and jeans. Breakfast. Forget the practiced quiet– his mind was the embodiment of what a fork in a garbage disposal sounds like right now.

As he, like always, paced the living room with his marker in hand– he abruptly stopped. A scoff leaving his lips, like he just discovered the cure for cancer.

“That’s it. I’m in a coma! My mind simply is fabricating a false reality. Hold on..” He practically sprinted to the tower of books piled up in the corner of the room, pulling out the ‘The Neurology of Consciousness: Cognitive Neuroscience and Neuropathology’ book from the middle- not paying mind to how all the others toppled in a clumsy mess.

He hastily flipped through the pages for the next 5 hours. 5 whole hours of overwhelming his already storm of a mind with a plethora of topics. He already knew most of this, given he has a great amount of knowledge in neuroscience and almost everything. But it didn’t hurt to review. To try and find answers in the cracks of the stubborn wall he kept hitting.

He was set on the idea that this reality he was reliving was Comatose hallucinations. There’s many factors as to why this may be happening, he’s possibly in the ICU which would be considered a strange, unfamiliar environment– the medications he possibly was being given.

Since even though he may be in a state of deep unconsciousness, his mind isn’t fully inactive– a knock at the door.

The hell? He looked down to the watch on his wrist– it was almost 12:30. Not only that but who could be at the door?

Another knock. He sighed, shutting his textbook after glancing at the page number before setting it down. His skin grazed the door knob after unlocking the door, opening the d– wait, why were you at his doorstep? In the number of times he’s lived this day– you’ve never come to his doorstep or to him? But he’s also never not gone to town in the morning.

You quickly looked up from having been concerningly staring down at the small, gray injured kitten in hand– eyes wide and apologetic. “Hi, I’m so sorry to interrupt your day, sir. But I..” You sighed, soothing the meowing kitten with a clutch of it to your chest.

“I was on my way to work when my boss called me to say there’s been a small flood and not to come in. I was walking back and..I saw this small kitten injured and I just knew I had to find someone quickly. Your house was the closest.” You quickly got out, looking back and forth between him and the ash gray kitty wildly.

Well that explains why you weren’t at work right now. And provided him with another piece of information to store into his mind about you – alongside everything else he learned about you yesterday– you were tender and caring, looking out for those around you, including a little injured furball.

He cleared his throat as he fixed his glasses, nodding as he stepped back and opened the door wider for you to walk in. “Yeah..yeah, of course. Uhm..shouldn’t we go to the vet or something?”

As he shut the door behind you, you shook your head– sighing and turning to him. “The vet is like..2 hours away or something. Plus, we’d have to go to the emergency vet anyway and that’s not happening.” You held the kitten close to you, having it wrapped in your now bloodied scarf.

“We’ll have to treat it a bit first then get this poor baby there later. Do you have a small cloth and possibly pet antibiotic cream or ointment?” To your question, he nodded– having you follow behind him to the bathroom down the hall.

Once you finished gently cleaning, drying, and putting some cream on the kitten’s wound– you gently started to wrap its little leg in the white bandaging. He watched how you wrapped it with such consideration and care, so delicately like you gave life to the kitten yourself. But he figured that was just your kind-hearted nature shining through.

He saw how after aiding the poor kitty, you held it to your chest– whispering some soothing words even though it couldn’t understand you, following your words with a love-filled kiss on its head.

Reminding him of your kiss on his own cheek from ‘yesterday.’

‘Uhm…I’m Spencer, by the way.” He held out his own hand to shake, surprising himself since he didn’t like doing so. But he narrowed it down to the fact that one: he grew a weird liking for you, and two: he felt he basically knew you.

Your eyes widened before you nodded, smiling kindly as you met his hand with your own, introducing yourself. “I’m sorry for not starting off with that. I probably should’ve, you know? Probably felt spooky letting a stranger into your house. It’s nice to meet you.”

He withdrew his own hand with a small laugh, nodding as he slowly reached over to scratch the kitten behind its ear. “And you willingly walked into a stranger’s home. So I guess we’re even.”

You nodded with a small chuckle, gazing back down at the kitten that was now sound asleep in your grasp. “I guess we are.”

“So. Is the little guy– or girl..is it okay?” He asked with a tone of genuine worry, leaning back against the sink counter.

“Yup. He’s all good. And you were right the first time, he’s a little dude.” You met his gaze again, your eyes crinkling at the corners from your growing smile. “Thank you, stranger. For helping me with him.”

He shook his head, smiling with a scratch of his nape as he looked at the sleeping kitten then back at you. “I didn’t really do anything. I just provided the supplies.”

You shrugged, tipping your head to the side with your gaze holding his own, a warm, sunset-like feel to it. “Still. I appreciate it. That and you not murdering me.” You held up your now bloodied scarf with one hand, making sure not to wake the small malkin in the other. “I gotta run. Get this washed at home before it sets in.”

“Oh, uhm..” He leaned off the counter edge, pushing his large, dorky glasses back up. “I have a washer and dryer. You can just wash it here.”

With a small shake of your head, you kindly declined with a shy air to you. “I appreciate it but I wouldn’t want to intrude. More than I already have.”

He didn’t know what it was about you– well, besides the fact he’s learnt so much about you in the past day and has seen you over and over– that just..tethered him to you.

“Are-..are you sure? I mean, uhm. I just..well, I know I’m a stranger but..I don't know. We just saved a kitten together? So..” Okay. As the words left his lips, he realized how desperate he sounded. Maybe a tad bit creepy. He quickly fumbled, eyes wide and alert. “Wait– that sounded really w-”

“It’s okay.” You smiled up at him, though narrowing your gaze with a lighthearted, suspicious glint to it. “On the off chance that you’re not some Ted Bundy 2.0..I’ll stay. Only because my dryer is broken currently. And I didn’t have anything else planned for today. So.”

He felt his muscles relax, a tender smile forming on his lips. “Yeah. Cool..uhm.” He opened the bathroom door, leading you to where the washer and dryer were.

You two were now chatting it up in the kitchen, laughter filling the air– which mixed with the scent of the food on the stove, you were perched up on the counter while he cooked up some casual, easy to make dinner. The small kitten– that you two agreed to name ‘Mini-Meow’ – nuzzled in between your criss-crossed legs, purring and peacefully snuggled up.

“Seventeen, drunk off our asses, and walking to the 7-Eleven down the street from my house.” You spoke with disbelief, shaking your head. “It was so stupid. I don’t how we made it out perfectly fine..but we did.”

He scoffed humorously, shaking his head with a grin as he looked at you from the corner of his eye. “Yeah. Thankfully. What were you thinking?”

You snorted, “That’s the thing, we weren’t.” You continued to caress the grey ball of fur’s head with the pads of your fingers, looking down at it with a small grin.

“You know, kittens are the best thing ever.” You said, like it was the equivalent to saying two plus two equals four.

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement as he put the lid over the pot before turning to you, leaning against the kitchen counter opposite you with his hands on the edge. “I’m a cat person, too. They can actually jump up to six times their height– they’re extremely athletic.” He started doing that thing with his hands as he spoke, eyes glinting as he enthusiastically rambled on, bringing a smile to your lips.

“They also have night vision, 32 muscles in their ears along with astonishing hearing– which can rotate 180 degrees. On October 18th, 1963— a cat was actually launched to space by French scientists. The cat’s name was Félicette.” He pronounced with an alarmingly good French accent. “And there’s actually been a cat mayor. His name was Mr. Stubbs, he came to paw-litical..”

He breathed a laugh at his own small joke, grinning stupidly before licking his lips and continuing. “..power in 1997 of Talkeetna, Alaska when he was elected honorary mayor. He was an orange tabby cat. He was mayor for 20 years.”

You just stared at him in bewilderment for a long moment, completely shocked though increasingly impressed. “And you just..” You smiled amusedly, gaze narrowing suspiciously. “..Know all of that off the top of your head?”

He shrugged with a giddy nod and grin, fixing his glasses as he gazed at you proudly. “Mhm. I uhm..I actually have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187, I can also read 20,000 words per minute.”

Your jaw dropped as you gazed at him wildly, the cat also lifting its head suddenly. “So..I’m talking to a genius.”

As he went back to paying attention to the food on the stove, he sheepishly nodded, wanting to be modest but also holding some inner cockiness. “I guess.”

“You guess?” You set the kitty down on the ground as you hopped down from the counter, stepping up beside him.

“You’re literally a genius. That’s so badass.”

His brows furrowed as he looked to the side at you, his glasses fogged from the steam that rose from what he was cooking, which made you giggle, eyes squinting as you widely grinned at the silly sight.

“You think it’s ‘badass?’”

“Mhm! Totally badass. Intelligence is the greatest power, you know. I learned that in high school government class.” You peeked at the food he was making before looking back up at him.

“Huh. Badass.” He liked that. You thinking of him as something impressive and worth praising, encouraging what others usually scoffed at in annoyance.

As you two ate side by side at the island, shoulder to shoulder– he couldn’t help but forget about how his days would be a rather tortuous, dreaded feat for him. Instead, all that came to mind was the vault of moments he had with you that just kept compiling.

He wished for more. What could he do to make these moments permanent? To make it forever. To make you and him forever.

“Spencer?” Your voice and wave of a hand in front of his face snapped him from his trance, drawing his attention back to you.

“Hm?” He blinked, shaking his head to rid of the fog that clouded his mind.

You set your glass down after drinking from it, smiling at him kindly. “I was asking where you’re from originally since you said you moved here recently.”

“Oh. Uhm..” He looked down to his almost untouched food, grabbing his fork. “I’m from Las Vegas. Left when I was eighteen, lived in Virginia for quite a bit and..” He shrugged, looking back at you. “Now I’m here.”

“Huh.” You said, expression slightly surprised. “You don’t peg me as the type to be from Sin City.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. Have you ever been?”

“Mhm. I have. Once. But..” You sighed, scratching your head. “It was with my ex-boyfriend. And..not only was he super controlling on the trip with what I was wearing, going, all of that. But it was also the trip where I found him cheating on me with some random girl in our hotel bed. So..safe to say I don’t have the best relationship with Las Vegas.” You laughed bitterly. “Yeah. He’s actually one of the reasons I moved here from New York.”

He was baffled. Completely. Somebody cheated on you? Why? What could imaginably be the reason for someone to do that to someone who withholds the beauty of both the moon and the sun? Both inside and out.

After a moment of collecting his own, he softly spoke with a shake of his head. “He’s a total imbecile. I’m sorry for that.”

“Eh, it’s..” You sucked in a deep breath before sighing as you swatted your hand. “Whatever. Anyway, enough about me. I want to know about you. You have this mysterious air about you.”

He nearly shriveled under the attention. He was never too good at talking about himself. It’s not like he liked to anyway. “Uhm..” He looked away as he thought, you taking some bites of your food, letting out a small hum of satisfaction.

“I like science and philosophy jokes.”

You raised a brow with an intrigued look, swallowing your food before speaking. “Oh yeah? Hit me.”

He then straightened up, clearing his throat before speaking, already grinning like a kid at disneyland. “How many existentialists does it take to screw a lightbulb?"

You hummed, head tilted and expression expectant. “How many?”

He let out a snort, putting two fingers up. “2. One to change the light bulb and one to observe how it symbolizes an incandescent beacon of subjectivity in a netherworld of cosmic nothingness."

The only sound in his sun-bathed, humble home was the refrigerator running (lol) and the distant sound of the dryer with your scarf in it. Could he even hear the air?

One mississippi, two mississippi–

The silence was broken with a snickered, loud laugh from you as you looked at him with a wide grin– one that made your eyes crinkle– and a shake of your head.

“You’re..something, Spencer Reid. I like it. One day you have to teach me all about it so I can fully grasp the nature of that joke.”

“You’re..not mocking me?”

“What?” Your voice almost incredulous. “Mocking you? Why would I do that? I mean- I may have not.. completely understood your..joke.. but I still liked it. 10/10.”

Skip.

And then one more. Two skips of his heart. How could something as simple as you laughing at his joke make him feel so seen? Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. But still. It’s hard not to feel that when everywhere else he felt so alienated. Hell, even in a room full of scholars just like himself, he felt like he was the butt of the joke.

Instead of feeling his stomach twist uncomfortably with anxiety and regret, he felt it warm with relief and admiration.

And instead of feeling his heart clench and climb to his throat like a newfound home, he felt it quicken and jump in excitement. Like it was trying to leap out of his chest to meet your own heart that he hoped was doing the same.

Your scarf had long been washed and dried. The dinner long gone, stomachs satisfied, and dishes washed. Though you still breathed the same air as him, still helped him with filling the four walls of his home with laughter and mild chaos, and still filled his nostrils with the scent of your faint perfume that was mixed with the underlying scent of just you.

Because you were still here.

With him.

You groaned in exasperation and frustration, throwing your cards down with a huff as you glowered at him. You just lost another round of poker to him.

“You have to be cheating! Are you peeking? Did you rig it?”

He laughed with a shake of his head and shrugged, grabbing the chips from the pot to where he had his whole pile of chips already forming. “Nope. Just better than you.”

You rolled your eyes with a huff before shaking your head. “It’s because your ass is from Las Vegas. I’m not leaving until I win a game.” You said as you started grabbing all the cards and shuffling them.

He snorted at that, even rolling his own eyes at your statement. Which he took as a joke. After shuffling the cards and dealing them out to the both of you evenly, you got up and pointed at him with a knowing expression. “No cheating. I’m going to the bathroom.”

Once you were down the hall, he immediately flipped your fanned deck up and peeked before nodding to himself and putting it back down. Since you were gone for a moment, he had to sit with his thoughts for a few minutes.

He didn’t want to admit it to himself but his thoughts heavily circled around just everything you. How– just like the moon upon the ocean– you had a magnetic pull, he the ocean. And how– just like the daystar– your light would peek through the cracks of even the gloomiest of days. You brought a stillness to everything. More specifically his mind. You brought a lingering silence and tranquility that he often craved– what he precisely yearned for from this town. You made and let him just be.

He doesn’t remember the last time he was able to do that.

Eventually you padded your way back into the living room and sat back down on the floor across from him, grabbing your cards from the table before looking at him slowly with a brow raise.

“You cheated.”

“What? No, I-” You were already placing your cards on the bottom of the deck and grabbing five new fresh ones from the top. Which made him visibly deflate with a huff, looking to the side with a slight pout.

“Ha! See. You being upset about me getting different cards proves it.” You gloated, wearing a smug smirk as you held your chin high.

“Why are you acting like you won already?” That immediately wiped the expression from your face as you did the same as he did– deflating with a pout. But you also glared at him from the corner of your eye.

“Just..freaking start already.” You said in a sour tone as you both placed your starting bets in the pot. Which was a chip that you both agreed was the value of ‘ten dollars.’

As the next game of poker started, he kept his gaze on you with a narrowed, analytical though easy gaze while you kept your own callous and untelling.

“I’ll raise you..” He slid five chips of 20 into the pot before meeting your gaze with his own, a cocky grin plastered on his lips– to which you stared at him with your jaw dropped and deadpan.

“You suck. You actually suck.” You sighed, sliding the same amount before looking to your own hand, studying it then looking at the community cards.

Ten minutes later. Again. Cards were heard being thrown against the table with a frustrated huff, to which he laughed in amusement.

“Ugh. This is actually bullshit. I’m never winning a game. You keep cheating and one day I’ll prove it!” You finished off with a huff, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

He continued to laugh as he fixed his glasses, bringing all the chips from the middle pot to his side. The ratio of his chips compared to yours was…..embarrassing.

“You still have yet to beat me.” His voice was completely smug and he saw the way it pissed you off even more.

With a long exaggerated sigh and roll of your eyes, you stood from the ground– stretching your limbs with a glance at the clock. “As much as I’d love to stay here and..continue getting my ass kicked by you, it’s getting late. And I love my sleep. So.”

He had been hoping that those words wouldn’t come. But he knew it couldn’t work his way, so he nodded with a forced smile as he stood as well.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I..I had fun.”

You nodded with a small grin as you started to grab your things, making sure to get everything. “I did, too. The food was delicious by the way. So thank you.”

He forced a nod and faint smile, rising from his feet as well. “Of course. Uhm..let me walk you out.”

Once you got your shoes and coat on, he opened the front door for you, you both walking out.

“I had a nice time. I’ll take care of Mini-Meow, don’t worry.” He softly spoke, not yet wanting you to go.

“I did, too. And you better. I’ll be visiting to make sure I don’t have to take full custody.” You said with an exaggerated, serious expression and pointed finger.

He was about to respond before he paused, looking around then looking back at you with his brows furrowing. “Hey, wait– are you walking home?”

You nodded with a small sigh, tucking your hands into your coat pockets. “I am. I’m not that far from here. I’d say like ten minutes.”

He immediately shook his head, shutting the door behind him and stepping closer once as he fixed his glasses. “I’ll walk you home. I don’t like the idea of you walking home alone this late.”

“Hm…okay. Thank you.” You said with a smile, you both now on your way to your home.

The walk was, like you said, ten or so minutes. It was cold and quiet, the gracings of moonlight shining on both your faces. Most of the time though, as you two talked on and on, he couldn’t help but look at you and you only.

“Well..yeah. I graduated high school at 12. Got my undergrad degree at 16. I actually gave my first lecture at 19. So.”

To which, you looked at him with a scoff, brows raised in disbelief. “You’re kidding. Holy..you really are a fucking genius. What are you? Related to Einstein?”

He shook his head with a laugh, looking down at you whilst you both walked in time together. “No. I am not but..though being a so-called ‘genius’ does have its perks. It also has it’s downs.”

With a curious and listening ear, you tilted your head in curiosity, encouraging him to continue. “Like what exactly? If you don’t mind me asking. You totally don’t have to answer that.”

“Well..” He shrugged, looking forward instead as he contemplated his words. “It’s not exactly the easiest for me to..make friends. Or relationships of any kind. I mostly just stick to logic over emotion, too. So that probably doesn’t help.”

“Hm.” You nodded slowly, staring at his side profile as he spoke before looking back forward, absorbing his words without judgement. “I think..maybe you should start listening to your heart over your mind more.”

It went on like that for weeks. Walks, dates, whispered moments mixed with giggles. He didn’t know when he let it happen but he had started to feel...very deep emotions for you. Things he didn’t even know he could. Sure, he’s had a girlfriend or two before but this was completely new territory for him.

For once, his heart was starting to override his brain. And he wasn’t sure if he minded it too much anymore, especially if it meant he got to be with you.

There was that time where you both just basked in the mutual but comfortable silence of his living room, your head on his lap with his right hand running through your hair, left holding the book he read to you, his voice being the only thing to break said silence, him being able to see how your eyes fluttered shut from the corner of his eye.

When you two walked town with ice cream, stumbling upon a group of baby ducks and their mother— you nearly exploding from cuteness overload. He had watched your reaction with a soft, loving gaze.

There was that time you had– he still didn’t know how– successfully convinced him to go roller skating with you. The night had been filled with clumsy falls, boisterous laughter, and bruised butts. He still remembers how your hand felt in his.

Oh! And that moment when you two slow danced to some 60’s music atop the same roof you two once star gazed at, him stepping on your foot a few times. He memorized the sound and feel of your steady breathing, the scent of your shampoo, how your warm body snugly fit against his.

Of course, these moments were never permanent in time as how they were in his mind and heart.

Currently you two were laying on a blanket on a grassy hill, him pointing out the constellations. You two had just gotten back from having a nice..unexpected, dinner together.

“Okay, and you see those stars right there?” He pointed North, your heads directly near each other so you could see from one another’s view.

“Mmmm..” Your brows furrowed, trying to decipher the exact star he was referencing. “Oh! Yeah, I see it.”

He then started to lead his finger along the stars which formed the shape of Ursa Major. “Follow my finger. Mhm, that’s Ursa Major.” He looked to the side at you, making sure you were following along– only continuing when he was sure you saw it, too.

“It’s one of the oldest constellations. Its right ascension is 9 hours, 46 minutes, and 31.7 seconds. Its declination is about 57 degrees positive from the celestial equator. It contains a nebula, a double star, and several distant galaxies that can be seen with a telescope. And the big dipper? Seven of the brightest stars in Ursa Major shape it.”

Your head turned away from said constellation, looking at him instead with a delicate smile and curious gaze. “You really just know all that off the top of your head?”

He didn’t know why but that simple sentence brought a great amount of deja vu to him.

His gaze drifted to your own with a mirrored smile, nodding proudly though obliviously. “Mhm.”

He watched as you turned onto your side to face him, each individual eyelash visible from how close you two had been. “Huh. You truly are a wonder, Spencer Reid.”

His stomach flipped with his lips parting in surprise, breath hitching with this decipherable flicker of awe and longing in his eyes.

To him, the words that fell from your lips weren’t just a simple compliment– they were a smooth, angelic melody of praise that only mattered because it was from your lips– one that he’d gladly drown in indefinitely, one that he’d bathe in to wash away his terror and tragedy, the very one he’d consume as his sustenance, one that he knew he couldn’t survive without.

There was words he so desperately was trying to pull from his throat– but for some reason he was just..frozen.

When he finally was able to open his mouth and barely get a word out, he was cut off by the feel of your lips on his own. His eyes had widened, even more stunned than he previously was.

Before he could even react and kiss you back, you had pulled away with a breath– leaving him disappointed and with a small frown. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been really wanting to do that all night. And then you were just staring at me and not saying anything, so I–”

His lips collided with your own, tired of simply wondering what your lips tasted like and how they’d feel with his. Instead wanting to figure it out on his own.

It wasn’t long before your own lips started to move with his, one of his hands moving to brush some hair from your face and find place on the smooth skin of your cheek, thumb slowly rubbing back and forth absentmindedly.

He could feel his heart skip a beat when he felt you smile against his lips, one of your hands tangling in his own hair as he shifted to slightly lean over you.

His hands were shaking with need and desperation as they traced your skin so tenderly, lips slowly dragging up the side of your neck– almost reverent – one of his hands finding home at your hip, gripping and holding it down firmly against the mattress.

The bedroom was solely illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the curtains of his window but it was enough for him to see how your head tipped back against the pillows, chest heaving with your face beautifully contorted in pleasure.

“So..” He panted against the shell of your ear, his hand by your head fisting the sheets beneath you both, inhaling your scent deeply. “So good..you feel so good.” His voice came out breathless, completely desperate, pronounced with a soft whine.

Your own hips jolted in response to his wantonness, goosebumps littering the expanse of your skin, hands threaded tightly in his hair. “Spencer,” you moaned breathlessly.

“I know..I know.” He then lifted his head to look down into your eyes before meeting your mouth with his own again, his eyes shutting as he brought his hand from your hip to the side of your face, the other tangling in the strands of your hair.

His hips met yours over and over in a deep, achingly slow pace that made it sure for you both to feel every inch of one other.

One of your hands dragged down his back, nails leaving red streaks as your breath mingled together, skin pressed flush against each other.

With his hand in your hair, he angled your head to have more access to your mouth, his tongue delving past your lips against your own, earning a groan straight from his chest at the taste of you.

Swallowing his groan, you breathed your words against his lips, the hand that was still in his hair gently tugging. “Faster..need more. Please.”

“Mm. Yeah?” He pulled away, watching how a sleek string of saliva connected your tongues before it broke. “I’ll give you anything you need.” His gaze drifted down to where both your bodies met, his hand from your cheek slowly and gently moving down to the small of your back, leaving a lasting, hot trail of goosebumps.

A soft, needy gasp left his own lips with his eyes fluttering shut when he compiled to your words, once more slotting his lips against your own in a deep, all-consuming kiss as your bodies met deeply.

He revelled in the way your legs tightly wrapped around his hips, his fingertips massaging your scalp gently as the room started to fill with heavy breathing and the moans that left both of your swollen lips.

His body shuddered as a slow, tantalizing shiver coursed through his body from the way you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, his fingertips pressing into the skin of your back as his movements gradually started to grow frantic.

Your own mouth fell open in a gasp against his, pleasure leaving you incapable of doing anything but turn into a growing mess beneath him.

“Like that..don’t stop..god, don’t stop,” you fought to get out, which was nearly impossible with how your body was practically vibrating with burning, overwhelming need.

He was only able to weakly nod in response, completely overtaken by the feel of you around him, the mewls and soft sighs that fanned across his skin from your own lips, and just the way you sounded. So desperate, breathless, and utterly sinful.

But it was just also the fact that he finally had you. He had you in his arms, as close as physically possible, there with him. You were so beautiful he felt it was absurd you didn’t have people bowing at your knees as you walked.

He felt himself grow verklempt with gratitude and infatuation. He felt so privileged that it was him you were with.

To his own thoughts and feeling of your body wrapped in his, he couldn’t help the string of moans that left his lips- which mixed with your own as he held you tightly to his skin, his breathing ragged. “I..-”

The words 'I love you' hung on the tip of his tongue, which surprised him greatly. He never thought of himself as someone to get emotional during sex. He hadn’t even fully known he loved you yet.

He quickly caught himself, knowing he couldn’t say that to you since you barely knew him. So he opted for a breathless plea against your neck. “I..I need you. So badly.”

Your back started to arch off the mattress with your own body coiling up, nodding quickly with your arms holding him close like a lifeline.

“Me too..Spencer, I..,” You gasped, throat bobbing as you thickly gulped.

A low, guttural moan pulled from the back of his throat as his hips stuttered, feeling his stomach start to tighten as his movements only grew more feverant. “Could listen to the way you say my name all day..”

He noticed the way your thighs tightened around him, hips lifting with sweet, needy noises leaving your plump lips that made you sound like you hadn’t ever properly been touched. He knew you were getting close.

His hand trailed from your back to your hip bone, his touch featherlike and slow. “I know. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” He whispered between kisses against your collarbone.

Your hips jolted with a gaped moan as his fingers grazed over your clit, the tips of them moving in tight, slow circles in time with his hips.

The sound and sight of you in itself sent a sensual, slow shiver down his spine, which made him tremble and nearly come undone right then and there.

He moved his free hand to your chin, tipping your head up so your eyes can meet his as he continued to get you closer and closer, his pace and fingers unrelenting. “I got you. You’re doing so good.”

And thanks to his eidetic memory, the feeling of your walls clenching around him as you approached your orgasm, your calls of his name would forever be burned into his mind.

Your chest rose and fell in short, heavy breaths as your head tipped back with your eyes shutting, breaking his gaze as you did so. “Oh..oh my god. I’m gonna..”

A deep groan escaped his lips as he had to keep himself from spilling himself inside of you, his nose tracing the angle of your jawline, nodding quickly. “I got you. Come for me. You’re doing so good.”

His words were what caused the string in your lower stomach to snap– the sting from your nails clawing at his back and gripping of your thighs around his hips was enough for him to know you were coming and it only brought him closer to his own orgasm, his breath catching in his throat as his hips stuttered and vision went black, spilling his release into you with a moan of your name.

“Shit..,” He breathed against your neck, his body collapsing atop yours after a few seconds. “That was..”

You nodded as you moved some hair away from his face that was sticking to his skin with one hand, doing the same to yourself with the other. “Amazing.”

He smiled against your skin, planting a sweet, gentle kiss– taking a few minutes to catch his breath and just bask in the afterglow before slipping himself out of you and standing from the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

But before he could get away, you tugged him back down into a heated but sweet, blazing kiss before letting him go, flashing that wicked grin at him.

With a cheeky, shit-eating grin he stepped out and just like he said, he quickly returned, now with a warm damp cloth and glass of water.

He cleaned you up, had you rehydrate- to which he insisted were necessary-, and you both now were tangled in the sheets and in each other’s arms.

His gaze drifted to the side at the digital clock beside his bed, smiling to himself triumphantly. 1:37 A.M.

Did he beat it?

With this newfound victory, he looked back down to the side of your head rested on his chest, his fingers delicately running through the strands of your hair, sighing softly at the way the moonlight accentuated the lines of your face, which was an arresting sight.

The comfortable, mutual silence was broken by the soft, low sound of your voice. “You know..”

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze with your own. “I don’t..usually have sex on the first date. But..” You shrugged, sitting up a bit.

“I really like you,” You continued, his own gaze slightly widening as he felt his own heart nearly beat out of his chest.

‘Yeah?” He asked with a hopeful tilt to his voice and loving gaze.

“Mhm,” You carried on. “And..I don’t know.” He watched as you shrugged, moving closer with an almost endearing glint in your eyes. One that was directed at him.

“I would..really like to see where this could go. You and me. How..about you?”

He nearly choked on his spit, his heart melting into a puddle with his eyes forming into those usual puppy eyes of his. “I..” a smile grew on his lips, one that he couldn’t control. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Yeah?” You questioned with a mirrored smile and wide eyes.

“Yeah. I really would.”

He pulled you closer, arms wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, almost like he was seeking shelter.

The sensation of your fingers running through his hair casted a blanket of fuzzy warmth around him, making him hum in contentment as he listened to the sound of your soft breathing and heartbeat.

He really can’t remember the last time he felt like this. He doesn’t know if he even ever has. Being with you, learning every little detail about you, sharing moments together has been something he really can’t put into words.

All he knew was that it felt like drinking hot coco in warm blankets while watching movies on a rainy day. It felt like watching the sunset from a hill while being entangled with the person you love. And it felt like learning a language he didn’t ever want to forget or share with anyone else.

Really, it felt like coming home.

You and he remained like that for a few more hours, entangled in the sheets with shared, small giggles and smiles, staring at the ceiling together with tired, barely audible words exchanged, Mini-Meow lying between the both of you at one point- learning about each other even more as well as your lives that he hoped would continue to twine together.

The soft, gentle feeling of your hands in his hair paired with the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips as he ran them up and down your smooth, warm skin brought his mind to a quiet peace, eventually putting him to sleep.

It was the best sleep he had in ages.

The next morning when he woke up, everything was reset. Again.

And when he realized this, he cried for hours. Sobbed, actually. He didn’t know if it was from frustration, anger, sadness, desperation– maybe all and more. He felt so pathetic. But he was just so done. He was also kind of scared.

He didn’t care how sloppy he looked with his pjs still on, hair tousled– he just knew he had to stop by the bookstore to check if you really–once again– forgot who he was and everything that happened between you both. Everything that was intimate, so beautiful, so delicate between the two of you.

He cherished it.

Would you?

Only life didn’t work that way. And his certainly didn’t.

When he heard the same, daunting greeting you’ve told him a million times before- like he was no one to you- he almost collapsed. And he wasn’t exaggerating.

He swore he felt his last breath escape his lips, he should've died from broken-heart syndrome right then and there. The cause of death where someone literally dies from a broken heart, where an abrupt surge of stress hormones are produced that disrupt the heart's normal function, ultimately ending up in death.

Yeah. That.

From then on, he spent his days wallowing in self pity. Drowning in his misery. Near agony. At first, it started with the constant searching for answers. By nonstop..he meant non. stop. He wouldn’t change out of his clothes, didn’t shower, didn’t even stop to eat or drink.

He was desperate but he didn’t care. He used this manic state to touch every subject, book, online resource, literally everything possible related to time, physics– hell, he didn’t care. Anything to figure this shit show out.

Then eventually, he had another idea and tried tried to leave town. He had packed all his necessities, everything he needed for Mini-Meow, and left. Booked a flight and just left.

That didn’t work.

And there was that one time, where he saw you and some guy walking into some bar when he was walking home.

Of course, he followed you both in. Totally innocent.

The night ended in him drunk from drowning himself in hard liquor in the corner of said bar.

Why?

Oh, maybe because you were singing karaoke with your date. Practically perched on his lap. With the occasional– not so innocent- kiss.

God, he was covetting so hard. It actually hurt.

After the hangover that transpired the next morning, it completely went downhill.

One day, he poured his heart out to you– confessed his love like a crazy obsessive stalker, because- well - hell, why not? It’s not like it’d fucking matter in the end.

He told you about all the past times you had together, everything he knew about you, all the love that he had bottled up in every atom of his body for you. It was pathetic to him, and definitely terrifying for you.

Whoops.

Then, there were other times where he begged on his knees for you, tried to play hero when the flood happened in the bookstore to get your attention- to which he ended up making it worse, one time where he was drunk and passed out right in front of you before he could even get a word out.

So, he decided to simply just watch you from afar because he knew you were something he could only admire and yearn for. Not actually have.

He would say he lost you, but you can’t lose something you never had.

And that fact only haunted him every second, of every day.

So then, the next cycle started.

Science and everyone else would call it depression.

He called it life on hiatus.

He still kept up his mild research, which reduced in size day by day– only it now would be in his bed.

On and on, your song would be on-loop, like a maddening background to his endless suffering.

Broken down and hungry for your love

With no way to feed it

Where are you tonight?

Child, ya know how much I need it

“Fuck,” He muttered to himself, looking down at his shirt that he now stained by dropping a spoonful of ice cream on.

With a sigh, he got up from his bed, trudged out of his room while peeling off his shirt, and to the laundry room.

He opened the washer, throwing in the shirt with a frustrated grumble, soap, and so on. Once he got the cycle running, he turned to the dryer, opening it to make sure nothing was in it for when his shirt was done washing.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head.

When he saw your scarf in there, he wanted to punch a wall. Simultaneously, he also wanted to ball up and sob until he had no more tears to shed.

His hand shakily reached out, grabbing it– to which he sort of struggled with how blurry his vision was from the wall of tears that rapidly transpired.

A broken, absolutely devastated and defeated cry left his lips when he inhaled its scent. He didn’t know how it still held your scent. He didn’t even know how the scarf was still there. He didn’t even fucking know how the cat was still there with him for christ’s sake!

That day of you bringing in that damn kitten in, all wrapped up in your scarf, the dinner, poker, him walking you home– it was ingrained in his mind like a damn tattoo. Both a blessing and a curse.

The intimate night you shared burned onto his eyelids so every time he shut his eyes he’d see you so beautifully splayed out beneath him. The events that led to that moment– how beautiful the night sky reflected onto your features.

He almost hated you for running through his mind so endlessly. Almost. But he knew he couldn’t. Not ever.

So I'll wait for you, love

And I'll burn

Will I ever see your sweet return?

Oh, will I ever learn?

Oh-oh, lover, you should've come over

'Cause it's not too late

It’d been a few days, he had slept with that scarf every night with Jeff Buckley playing on repeat through the earbuds he also went to sleep with.

He hadn’t seen you in ‘weeks’ since he didn’t leave at all. His only company ‘Mini-Meow.’ Which..still pained him. Considering you were both his ‘parents.’

He didn’t really hear the sound of his own voice as often now. Which only heightened the silence and isolation that he felt was perpetual.

He still searched for answers. Only..barely now.

He was starting to lose hope. Not only in finding said answer but in..everything. He didn’t understand why he had to start reliving this same day over and over if it meant he didn’t get to change anything. He always ended up in the same spot.

Yes, it was the reliving the same haunting day over and over that brought an unsoundness of mind to his soul, but it was- and he’s told himself this before- the fact that he couldn’t. do anything. about it. He didn’t know anything. He was lost.

He was completely lost and he had no idea what else there was to do. No answers. No possibilities for him.

But he knew.

He knew there was one thing he didn’t try.

He was terrified.

Staring down at water below him as he stood atop the very bridge you two once stood together at. Poetic, right?

It was night– so no one would bother him or try to interfere. He wanted this.

Right?

A shiver ran down his spine from both fear and the breeze that nearly swayed him off the edge.

He did think it over for a few minutes. Was this the right thing to do? Or was it just a mix of helplessness and a need for answers dwindling together that got him here?

He knew the answer, he just wouldn’t say it aloud. He really didn’t care anymore. He was in a never ending broken record-like world of agony. Shortened version? He was dead inside.

He was empty. His soul was void of any light; void of you, his heart was simply functioning, not really beating. The oxygen he breathed in felt like something he needed to eradicate. Because what was the use?

Living was simply torture at this point. It was if the grim reaper himself had his throat tightly in his grasp, taunting him. Teasing him with death above ground.

“Okay,” He whispered to himself. Almost a promise. For what? He didn’t know.

Tightly, he shut his eyes. Taking one last, deep, shaky breath. And leaned forward.

The cold wind blew against his skin and pushed his hair back as he descended with an increasing speed.

And he saw it, the ‘life flashing before your eyes' thing people always said.

All he saw was you.

He saw your radiating smile that always reached your eyes when it was directed at him. He heard your boisterous laughter, the way your head would tip back as your eyes shut. He saw the glimmer in your eyes when you talked about something you loved or even when you listened to him talk about something he loved. He saw your puffed out cheeks when they were stuffed with food and he remembered how it would make him laugh endearingly.

He remembered how your lips felt on his cheek that first night. How he felt your warmth radiating off your own skin and onto his when he touched you, or when you held him and vice versa. He remembered how your scent was so distinguishably you, it always mixing with the perfume scent he loved.

The way you said his name. How it’d sometimes have a teasing edge to it. Or how you shouted his name in a laugh when he accidentally pulled you down with him while you both roller skated. You had ended on top of him, the crash being a mix of ‘ow’s’ and laughter, only for you two to be yelled at since you were in the middle of the rink in people’s ways.

He suddenly realized that you were the one constant in his life. You tied everything together. He needed you.

No.

No. No, he didn’t want this anymore. He couldn’t do this. He wanted to go back. He’d make it work. He had to.

The water had slowly, but very painfully filled his lungs. It was a burning, flame-like sensation. His body jerked and he clawed at his throat as he panicked– suddenly forgetting how to swim. He began to have hypoxic convulsions, his muscles spasming as his screams got muffled by the water.

He grew disoriented, thrashing around, not even knowing which way was up anymore because it was pitch black. Because it was fucking night.

He could feel himself slip away, losing consciousness, body going completely numb.

And then–

He abruptly sat up from his bed, coughing and gasping loudly which woke up the kitten beside him.

His wide eyes searched the room as he threw the duvet off himself, turning to the side and looking at the blue numbers he always did.

Of course. Same time, same day.

How?

How wasn’t he fucking dead?

After an hour or so of just..staring at the ceiling..questioning his sanity and just simply repeating the same question in his mind; what the fuck, he quickly dressed, cleaned himself up and burned everything.

He burned his research books, threw out his whiteboard, whatever else he had that related to his research that he busted his ass on.

“Bullshit.” He threw out another book. “Bullshit.” Another. “Bullshit!”

He huffed, slamming the door behind him, taking a deep breath and strided to town. Where did he find this newfound courage and confidence? Who knew. He certainly didn’t.Maybe it was the basically dying. But whatever.

With his chin high, tailored slacks and purple tie, he got his coffee (tipped the barista), walked to the neighboring bookstore and–

Shit.

“Shit.”

He stared at the sign that read ‘Helena’s Book Home,’ suddenly frozen in place, to which a few people had to weave around him. His breath left his lungs, the sensation akin to the one he felt ‘last night.’

He was terrified because he didn’t know if he could take it again. You looking at him with zero recognition. Because to him, you were the love of his life. You were his life. You were his safe haven, his lifeline, you were- as typical as it sounded- his everything.

You were what he lived for.

But the thought that resided at the forefront of his mind was..

What if he continued to just be nothing to you?

With a shaky hand, he stepped forward, entering the bookstore where– he had come to realize a while ago– it all started.

The bell rang above the door, it softly closing shut behind him. He felt his throat go dry when he seen you behind the front desk, his body feeling like it wasn’t his and coiling up, his anxiety spiking.

Then a gasp. “Spence!” You practically crashed into him, arms wrapping around the back of his neck.

He looked at you with wide eyes, his heart rate quickly escalating, his breathing growing erratic, and-

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed, immediately kneeling down to cradle his fainted form.

As his eyes slowly peeled open, he immediately winced from the bright, fluorescent hospital lights, starting to sit up.

“Woah! Hey, easy.” He felt hands push him back down gently, those hands belonging to you. And when he realized that, he felt like he might faint all over again.

“I..” His brows furrowed as he looked around, inhaling deeply. “Did you take me to the hospital?”

You breathed a small laugh, shrugging with a sheepish expression. “I didn’t know what else to do. I was so worried and..and I remember hugging you and then..and then- you just..you fainted! So–”

He pulled you down into a sweet, deep and needy kiss with his hands on your jaw. He needed this. He needed you. After everything, he knew he just needed to take. To feel. To want.

How were you here and still remembering him? He didn’t know. But he honestly didn’t care. Not anymore. He was done racking his brain with trying to find the logic in things. With driving himself crazy. With demanding instead of living. With searching instead of feeling.

That changed now.

Because all he cared about now was the smile he felt against his lips from yours– the kiss deepening for a few more seconds before you pulled away- to which he chased your lips with his own before he relented.

“Someone’s happy. What’s all that about?” You inquired with a teasing hilt to your voice, gazing at him softly with your thumb gently caressing his cheek.

“I’m just..” He shook his head, staring up at you with a wide smile, trying to gather his thoughts into words.

He inhaled deeply, holding your gaze– yours reflecting love and endearment back at him.

“I love you.”

'Cause it's not too late

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