#wooow maeve wrote something sad with no happy ending

[reidology]

One last time, teach me how to say goodbye (Hotch x Reid)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Hotch sacrificed himself to Foyet in order to save Haley and Jack. Spencer lays in bed one night, plagued by the memories of Hotch’s death over the phone and missing the feeling of laying next to him. 

Word count: 1.3k

Content Warning: Hotch is dead, crying, agony (can I tag agony? I’m going to bc that’s what I felt while writing it), death

One last time, teach me how to say goodbye (AO3)

Spencer knew this was coming. He was no stranger to trauma or sleepless nights. Nor was he a stranger to losing the people he loves. After all, he is Spencer Reid and everyone eventually leaves without a goodbye. It’s just, he was hoping to have a few more days of blissful numbness.

But tonight the pain hits him like a meteor punching a hole straight through his heart.

Another silent sob wracks through his body as he tosses on the bed, pulling the sheets that had once smelled like his lover closer to his face, almost suffocating. He hadn’t dared change the sheets or even pick up Hotch’s dirty socks and sweats from the floor. For a second he panics, fumbling around the mess of sheets for Hotch’s sleep shirt. It had to be here somewhere, where is it— his shaking hand wrapped around the soft fabric at the foot of the bed.

Feeling the soft cloth between his fingers and bringing the shirt to his cheek, he remembers what it was like to lay his head against Aaron’s chest. He used to trace patterns on his stomach as he counted the older man’s heartbeats until sleep caught up to him. Sometimes Hotch would wrap him up tightly in his arms and tuck his chin in Spencer’s warm neck. Spencer used to complain that his breath tickled his neck and push him away, but now he would do anything to have Hotch curled around him, breathing evenly, safe in his arms.

“Please. Let my family go. You have me.” Hotch’s voice was ragged, calculated. Always calculated.

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that, Aaron? Then they won’t see what I’m about to do to you.”

At the first gunshot Reid’s lungs collapse. Everyone in the SUV holds their breath, there is a beat of silence on the other end of the line. Then, “RUN! GET OUT OF HE—” And the unmistakable sound of Hotch crying out in agony. He’s been tackled, the sounds of their grunts indicating a physical fight.

Spencer’s mind was absent, but his ears picked up everything. Every. Single. Sound. The sound of Aaron and Foyet tumbling down the stairs. The sound of Hotch knocking Foyet’s head into the ground over and over, screaming like a monster. An animalistic sound he’d never heard from his boss before. Then, the heavy panting of a broken man exhausted beyond relief. The whispered “He’s dead… He’s dead. Jack… Haley…” The sound of pained shuffling, Aaron getting up to find his son. Then… Then...

Spencer’s body ached with the loss of his soulmate. The only person he’s ever loved. The man with a heart of gold and unwavering loyalty. There was nothing left for him. He had been on autopilot for a week, hadn’t shed a tear since the attack. Until today. He crawled into bed soon as he got home from the funeral, not even taking his shoes off, and began crying.

The sun had now set, he must have been there for hours. He whimpers in the dark, curled around himself and Hotch’s old shirt. How is he meant to fill this hole? How is he meant to accept that Aaron is gone forever? How is he supposed to keep going when the light of his life has been extinguished?

Just one kiss, just one more touch to his cheek, just one more goodbye. All he needs is one more hug, to feel the reassurance of his warmth. His runny nose and tears mix on the sheets, Spencer closes his eyes and remembers.

The smell of coffee and pancakes wafting through the air, the faint tune of jazz playing in the kitchen. Aaron always loves coming home to breakfast after his weekend morning runs. Well, that’s what Aaron says, but Spencer knows it’s really the sight of him in only boxers and an apron that Aaron loves.

Like clockwork, Aaron bursts through the door at 9am and makes a beeline for the kitchen. He takes in the sight of his boyfriend cooking away and slips his arms around his narrow hips, placing a sweet sweaty kiss to the back of his neck.

“Mmm pancakes,” he mumbles into his skin, willing Spencer to turn his head for a kiss, but the hazel-eyed man just giggles, “What? Too sweaty?”

This time Spencer turns around and leans up to peck his lovers lips sweetly, “No, you just do the same thing every week, haven’t you noticed?”

Aaron grins his breathtaking grin, showcasing his irresistible dimples and soft gaze.

“Maybe I’m trying to Groundhog Day you, ever thought of that?”

He pulls Spencer softly into a longer kiss, one that says ‘I know I’m ridiculous, please still love me’. One hand caressing his cheek, one cheeky hand slithering its way under the apron. Spencer pulls away, smiling giddy, “Okay now you’re stinky, go shower. Pancakes are almost ready.”

With a final peck to his lips, Hotch is off to the bedroom and Spencer is a little bit more in love than he was 5 minutes ago.

The happy memory burns sour in his mind. Thinking about the good times almost hurts more than thinking about the emptiness of the bed. A bed suddenly overflowing with old memories. Their first time sleeping next to one another, first time waking up in each other’s arms, first time discovering each other’s bodies like eager teenagers. He would never feel Aaron kissing down his chest again, the scruff of his stubble scratching and leaving irritation marks between his thighs. He’d never experience the feeling of Aaron on top and inside of him, hot above his body and intense gaze directed straight at his soul. He’ll never hear him moan Spencer’s name again.

He will never hear Aaron say ‘I love you’ again. He will never be able to tell Aaron he loves him again.    

Then… The single most agonizing sound Spencer had the misfortune to commit to memory. The excruciating wails of his one true love being stabbed in the back repeatedly. Seventeen times, Spencer would later find out. Seventeen deep, violent, fatal stabs to the back. Aaron, who had been too weak to get away from Foyet. Who had cried out in agony for two minutes before going silent. But the sound of a knife plunging into flesh has persisted, accompanying Foyet’s tired grunts. The sound only stopped when they finally arrived on the scene, Spencer running as fast as his feet would take him but still seemingly in slow motion into the house. He shot one, two, three, four, five, six, seven— until Morgan knocked the gun out of his hands and pulled him to his chest.

“He’s gone! He’s gone, Spencer! He’s dead!”

But Spencer couldn’t hear anymore. He could only see Aaron’s lifeless body. He was too late.

It’s too quiet now… not even the sound of Aaron’s breathing fills the space of the room. He can hear the buzzing of the refrigerator, and if he focuses he can hear Foyet’s taunting voice, his satisfied sigh as he killed and killed and killed.

He tosses to the other side of the bed again. Sniffing and breathing harshly, but the sobs have stopped. He’s tired enough to fall into a restless sleep. Soon he will lose the smell of sawdust and leather. One day he’ll forget just how deep the browns of his irises were. He’ll forget the touches, the gruff voice, the timid laughter, and eventually he’ll forget every memory they ever made together.

So for one last time Spencer closes his eyes and clenches his fists around Aaron’s shirt. He will dream of his lover where he can say goodbye for the rest of time.