#ᴠᴇʀsᴇ: ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟʟʏ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss ᴇᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ

[talesofkhaos]

'ᴡʜᴏ, ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ, ɪs ᴘᴏᴏʀ?' - ᴏsᴄᴀʀ ᴡɪʟᴅᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪsɴ’ᴛ sᴏғᴛ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴘᴏᴇᴛs sᴀʏ. ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜᴀs ᴛᴇᴇᴛʜ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʙɪᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅs ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ. - sᴛᴇᴘʜᴇɴ ᴋɪɴɢ

[talesofkhaos]

Spencer had the opportunity to review Oliver's case file during a routine investigation. He wasn't prying out of nosiness, but rather driven by genuine curiosity about a case that seemed to have slipped through the cracks. As he combed through the documents, it became painfully clear that the police department had failed Oliver. They overlooked crucial evidence and ignoring the signs of abuse that were right in front of them. Spencer felt a deep sense of frustration and sorrow as he read through the details. The thought of someone so young enduring such suffering and ultimately losing their life was heart-wrenching. His profiler instincts kicked in, allowing him to piece together the psychological turmoil Oliver must have experienced. Spencer could almost visualize the fear and confusion that likely dominated Oliver's thoughts as he navigated the chaotic environment. He imagined Oliver's desperate need for help and the sense of isolation when his cries went unheard.

Spencer speculated that Oliver might have developed trust issues, finding it difficult to rely on others after being let down by those meant to protect him. He also imagined the deep-seated anxiety and hyper-vigilance Oliver would have experienced, constantly on edge in an unpredictable world. Additionally, Spencer wondered if Oliver struggled with feelings of worthlessness, believing he wasn't deserving of love or attention. Spencer continued to look over the case file, noting that Oliver was now thirty-two years old. This new information shifted his focus to understanding how Oliver's traumatic past might have shaped his adult life. Spencer speculated that Oliver might have developed coping mechanisms to survive, perhaps channeling his energy into work or hobbies to distract from lingering pain. He also considered the possibility that Oliver might have sought therapy or support groups to address his past, attempting to heal and move forward despite the scars left behind.

Spencer's research revealed that Oliver had become a well-known author, celebrated for his raw and emotional storytelling. Through his genius analytical skills, Spencer discovered that Oliver had also published several works under a pen name, with themes that mirrored his own life experiences. Intrigued, Spencer devoured all of Oliver's books in one day, finding subtle connections between the narratives and Oliver's past struggles, which gave him further insight into the resilience and strength that Oliver had cultivated over the years. Spencer felt compelled to meet Oliver in person or at least observe how he was doing in his current life. When he discovered Oliver was scheduled to lecture at NYU, he attended. It might have seemed a bit intrusive, but Spencer's intentions were purely driven by admiration and genuine concern. He had developed a deep appreciation for Oliver's work and wanted to ensure that the person behind such impactful stories was thriving. Seeing Oliver speak with confidence and passion reassured Spencer, filling him with a sense of joy and fulfillment.

Oliver's lecture was nothing short of mesmerizing, drawing the audience in with his eloquence and heartfelt delivery. Spencer found himself captivated by Oliver's ability to weave personal anecdotes with broader themes, showcasing the depth of his understanding and empathy. As Oliver spoke passionately about his journey and the power of storytelling, Spencer felt a profound connection to his words, recognizing the strength and resilience that had transformed Oliver's pain into art. However, Spencer did notice some subtle tics and gestures in Oliver, suggesting remnants of past trauma. These faint signs of possible PTSD were evident to Spencer's keen eye, but he knew they didn't overshadow Oliver's overall well-being. Despite these small indicators, it was clear that Oliver was doing alright, thriving both personally and professionally.

Spencer couldn't help but chuckle at Oliver's candid admission about preferring the company of his pets to social interactions. It was endearing to see this side of Oliver, the celebrated author who could command a room yet found solace in the simple companionship of animals. Spencer appreciated these quiet moments of authenticity, reinforcing his admiration for Oliver's genuine nature. "Animals are great listeners because they hear what's in the heart, not just the words." This sentiment resonated deeply with him, especially as he observed Oliver's fondness for his pets. It was clear that Oliver found comfort and understanding in their silent companionship, which complemented his intricate storytelling world. As the conversation shifted to Spencer's own brilliance, a faint blush crept up his cheeks. He was never one to boast about his degrees or intelligence, preferring to let his work speak for itself. Only with Morgan did he indulge in playful banter about his intellectual prowess, but that was another story altogether.

"Well, it's kind of a funny story," Spencer began, glancing at Oliver with a sheepish grin. "When I first joined the team, I was just a kid fresh out of school, and Gideon (his mentor) thought people might not take me seriously because of my age. So, he started calling me 'Doctor' instead of 'Agent' to emphasize my credentials and give me a bit more authority." Spencer chuckled, recalling those early days. "It stuck, and honestly, it did help people see past my youth and focus on what I had to offer." "Gideon was a mentor to me," Spencer continued, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "He was one of those rare individuals who could see potential in others, even when they couldn't see it in themselves. His guidance and belief in my abilities really shaped my career and helped me become the person I am today."

As they entered the coffee shop, Spencer noticed Oliver's face fall for a brief moment when he mentioned being an FBI agent. It was an involuntary reaction, perhaps fueled by past experience or the intimidating nature of the profession. Spencer offered a reassuring smile. "I promise I'm not here to interrogate you or dig into your past," he said gently. "I genuinely wanted to get to know the person behind the stories, and I think there's a lot more to you than what's on paper." Spencer nodded thoughtfully, understanding the frustration in Oliver's words. "I completely get where you're coming from," he replied, his tone empathetic. "Sometimes the system falls short, and that's why I'm passionate about using my role to make a difference whenever I can." "If I had been there, I would have listened," Spencer said seriously, meeting Oliver's gaze with sincerity. "It's important for people to feel heard and understood, and I strive to be that kind of agent. Everyone's story deserves attention, and I'm committed to making sure those voices aren't lost in the noise." "I've seen too many cases where voices get drowned out by bureaucracy or overshadowed by those with ulterior motives," Spencer explained. "Unfortunately, some officers may prioritize their own interests over justice, leading to corruption within the system." He paused, ensuring Oliver felt heard. "That's why I make it a point to listen—because understanding someone's story is the first step towards real change."

while Oliver's life had once been painted in public eye, there's quite a bit that people don't actually know about him. they know where he grew up and where he resides now, but did anyone know about the teachers in school that would look at the bruises on his body and turned their head ?? did they know Jeffrey Bloom, a renowned politician, would go around talking about his stepson and laugh at what he'd done to him ?? no, he never actually admitted to hurting Oliver as a child, but there were signs and every single person that came into contact with Oliver and Jeffrey Bloom . . . ignored every single one of them. there were moments in Oliver's life where the pain became almost too unbearable and he went to an adult, begging for help, only to be turned away. perhaps it was because people were scared of Jeffrey Bloom. he was a powerful man with a powerful name and anything that he was accused of could simply be swept under the rug while he dragged you through the mud. understandably, no one wanted to face up against him. no one wanted their reputation to be tarnished. no one was willing to sacrifice for the safety of a child for their own selfish reasons.

Oliver was only seven years old when he met his first and only friend- Charlie. this was a turning point for Oliver, because at seven years old, he would not only lose his aunt and his mother to the hands of Jeffrey Bloom, but he would also lose his uncle who was inevitably framed for the crimes. in Oliver's eyes, the police never really investigated what happened. they took the word of Jeffrey Bloom and took it as fact despite the evidence that no doubt would have cleared uncle Alden. for instance, when aunt Liyana was murdered, uncle Alden wasn't even home. Oliver remembers vividly where he was and what he was doing before he encountered his aunt's dead body and he remembers his uncle's absence. regardless, the police didn't buy his alibi -they wouldn't even hear it- and locked up an innocent man.

Charlie came soon after. it's believed that Charlie, in the shape of an innocent child, was constructed by Oliver himself because of the traumatic experiences he'd faced after finding his aunt's corpse, and, shortly after, witnessing the murder of his mother. however, the public doesn't know about Charlie. they don't know that Oliver hears his voice in his ears- nor are they aware that he also hears his mother. when Oliver was first admitted to the hospital at age fourteen, his identity was kept secret and thus, his mental instability was unknown until much later when he'd finally taken back his life by ending Jeffrey's. things shifted after that, but doctor-patient confidentiality is still a thing and unless Oliver admits to it on his own, his diagnosis remains a mystery. much like Spencer's mother, he's haunted by things that aren't there, and while there is speculation, no one knows anything for certain.

"i'll be honest, i don't communicate very often," he says, slightly sheepish and embarrassed as he readjusts his satchel once again. "all my conversations happen with my pets. i have two dogs and two cats; despite our intense intellectual conversations, they tend to be one-sided." he chuckles a little at that, shifting his gaze to look at Spencer. he's quite enjoying the conversation they're having; he might not have many of them, but it helps stimulate his brain and gives him something more to think about. human beings are social creatures- despite the fact hat Oliver is alone the majority of the time, he too craves social interaction, even if he doesn't go out on a limb to get it. he too wants to have that relationship, he just doesn't know how to reach for it. he once again finds himself grateful that Spencer reached out first; this interaction may never have happened otherwise.

Oliver listens as Spencer accounts for all of his achievements in life, staring in awe of him. "whew, that's quite a mouthful, isn't it ?? is that why you're referred as "Doctor Reid", then ?? you've achieved a lot in your lifetime thus far, i'm impressed." what he says is honest and true, he is indeed impressed by Spencer. he was before he knew all this anyways. his first impression of Spencer was a positive one. from the moment he sat down in his lecture hall, Oliver found himself impressed by his very being. there's just something so magnetic about Spencer that draws him in- it's not just his mind that attracts him, there's something else, too, though Oliver wouldn't be able to tell you what that is. not yet anyways- maybe he'll figure it out in time.

Oliver's expression falls for a moment -only a brief moment- as Spencer admits to working for the FBI. his steps falter, nearly coming to an abrupt stop, as his gaze falls away, before continuing on after Spencer. he exhales through his mouth, contemplating what he wants to say to that. all he can come up with a simple, "ah," as he furrows his brow, chewing on his bottom lip. he inhales a large breath of air and exhales, longer than the last, before he clears his head and continues on with a roll of his shoulders. "can't say i'm that surprised. most people who know me by name wouldn't ask to share a cup of coffee. i appreciate the transparency; it makes it a lot easier than to have to explain myself when you already know all the answers." he pauses then, lifting his eyes to look at Spencer again, his expression softening, though there's a clear crease in his brow that indicates his nervousness. "although, i will say, i would have appreciated the help from the FBI when the police failed to do their job the first time." his lips quip upwards into a smile as he stops at the front entrance of the coffee shop, opening the door. "but i don't think the FBI would listen to a seven year old."

[talesofkhaos]

Spencer, too, faced his own challenges growing up, though they differed from Oliver's. As a child prodigy with an IQ of 187, he lived with a mother newly diagnosed with schizophrenia. His father, unable to cope with his wife's mental decline, left them, leaving Spencer to navigate his extraordinary intellect and complex emotions amidst a fractured family. Spencer not only took on the responsibility of caring for his mother, managing her episodes with patience and understanding, but also excelled academically, graduating high school at the remarkable age of 11. His intellectual prowess led him to further his education at Caltech, where he continued to push the boundaries of his knowledge and abilities. Despite the challenges at home, Spencer's dedication to both his family and his studies set him on a path to achieve greatness.

So when he had to put his mother in a care facility it was both a heart-wrenching decision and a necessary step toward pursuing his dreams. Balancing his academic aspirations with his responsibilities at home was never easy, but Spencer knew that in order to provide a better future for both himself and his mother, he had to make sacrifices. This decision marked a turning point, allowing him to focus fully on his studies while ensuring his mother's needs were met. It was the toughest decision Spencer had ever faced. It felt like he was abandoning her, despite knowing it was the best way to ensure she received the care she needed. Guilt weighed heavily on him, but he also understood that this step was necessary for both their futures.

With his newfound focus, Spencer immersed himself in academia, earning multiple degrees in fields ranging from mathematics to engineering, psychology, and more. By the time he was 16, his extraordinary achievements had caught the attention of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, who were impressed by his analytical skills and unique insights. However, his young age posed a challenge, and although Spencer wasn't yet able to join the team, the interest from such a prestigious organization only fueled his ambition further. At 21, Spencer was encouraged by Jason Gideon, one of the founding members of the BAU, to join the FBI and bring his unique skills to the team. This opportunity not only allowed Spencer to utilize his exceptional intellect but also fostered his emotional growth as he learned to navigate the complexities of human behavior in high-stakes situations. Through his work with the BAU, Spencer found a sense of purpose and belonging, transforming his personal challenges into strengths that helped him connect with others on a deeper level. Spencer's mind was constantly challenged as he delved into the twisted psyches of serial killers, seeking to understand their motivations and patterns. His ability to analyze and empathize allowed him to provide insights that were crucial in solving cases, often explaining the complexities of human behavior to his team. This work not only honed his analytical skills but also helped him grow emotionally, as he learned to process and articulate the darkest aspects of humanity.

Spencer nodded thoughtfully and responded, "Oscar Wilde once said, 'We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.' It's true that our past can cast shadows, but it's also a part of what propels us forward. While the darkness can be daunting, it's the pursuit of light and the stars that keeps us moving, helping us to grow and find meaning." Spencer found himself drawn to Oliver's unique perspective and the depth of their conversation. Despite their brief acquaintance, Oliver's way of thinking resonated with Spencer, sparking a connection that he rarely felt with others. Engaging in such stimulating dialogue was not only intellectually rewarding for Spencer but also emotionally fulfilling, as it allowed him to explore new ideas and insights alongside someone who shared his passion for understanding the complexities of the human mind. Spencer mused, "As Socrates famously said, 'The unexamined life is not worth living.' Engaging in these deep, intellectual conversations is what truly makes us human. They challenge us, inspire us, and ultimately, help us better understand ourselves and the world around us."

Spencer walked beside Oliver, listening intently as he spoke about his other work. Though Spencer was already familiar with Oliver's projects through his own research, he couldn't help but smile at Oliver's genuine enthusiasm. It was a rare pleasure for Spencer to share this moment with someone who shared his intellectual curiosity. When Oliver asked about his impressive skills, Spencer modestly replied as they reached the nearby coffee shop, "I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute." Spencer shrugged it off, emphasizing that true understanding and wisdom come from how we apply our knowledge and connect with others. Spencer then shared with Oliver, "I've been fortunate enough to pursue my interests academically, earning PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering. Additionally, I hold BAs in Psychology and Sociology, and I'm currently working towards completing a degree in Philosophy." He paused, adding with a smile, "But what truly drives me is the endless pursuit of understanding and the opportunity to connect with others on a deeper level."

"However," Spencer continued, his tone more serious now, "there's something important I should tell you. I work for the FBI and am part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit." He glanced at Oliver, wanting to gauge his reaction. "I hope this doesn't make things awkward," he said, "but I believe in transparency and didn't want to keep you in the dark."

Oliver's life was shaped by many instances in his life, that including his childhood traumas. however, there were instances in his life that weren't as traumatic that helped shaped who he is. his mother, for instance, was a lovely woman who loved him with her entire being despite the horrors her son had faced day in and day out living in that home. her fear for her own life and for her son's is what kept her tied to that home, unable to leave the terror that binds. she is the one that inspired him to write- he used to tell her stories that he would construct with his own mind, fabricating illusions and tales to brighten her world. and in turn, she would share her own stories and together, they would build a world of their very own. it helped navigate the reality that Oliver is now in. despite her short existence in this life, she left a lasting effect on his own life. because of her, he's succeeded in becoming a renowned author, regardless of the horrors he had once faced thanks to the hands of Jeffrey Bloom.

Oliver is unaware of Spencer noticing him. he remains ignorant to his perceptive gaze, though he acknowledges his eyes with a hesitant smile. now that the room was quiet, other than the sounds of their voices, Oliver was able to release some of the built up tension in his shoulders, exhuming a sigh as tension breaks, slumping in relief. he looks at Spencer with a certain interest he rarely conveys for anyone- something about Spencer Reid was special and even Oliver was able to acknowledge that. he chuckles quietly as he gathers his things together and throws his satchel over his shoulders, ready to get going. "our past can shape us into who we are; we just have to be careful to not let the past overwhelm us. sometimes that darkness can be suffocating. it's important to remember there's always light at the end of the tunnel. nothing stays in the dark forever. while some flowers can grow in the darkness, they still yearn for the light."

their conversation stimulates a part of Oliver's brain that rarely sees the light, igniting an interest in him that Oliver can't help but gravitate towards. he's intrigued with this man and the way his brain works, finding himself wanting to pick at it and discover all the different ways he can make it move. the feeling is scarce; unknown to him as he delves deeper into this conversation, his interest officially piqued. he's unaware of what this feeling in his chest is, but it lights him up on the inside out, swarming like moths to a flame, the more he finds himself craving the attention. he's not normally like this; he doesn't know why Spencer is special, but he realizes it in that moment as he smiles down at his hands, feeling his face flush yet again. perhaps it's simply because he doesn't get out very often- he doesn't converse with others very frequently and this would be his first real conversation with someone willing to give him the time of day in a long time. or maybe it's just Spencer.

Oliver meets his eyes again, briefly, as he mentions the possibility of already finding his pen name. he gives him a curious look, head cocked to the side in wonder. he'd been so careful to hide his identity, he even attempted to find a different writing style to articulate the difference between himself and Amadeus Carlisle. however, it would be unsurprising if someone were to connect the dots. he's sure there's theories out there, too, if he looked in the forums long enough. still, he lets out a breathy chuckle and tightens his hold on his satchel's strap, fidgeting with his hands. "maybe you have. i tend to write in the same genre. mystery and horror is where i find the most comfort- it's a common practice for authors to write what they know, after all." while Spencer hints at his knowledge of Oliver's pen name, Oliver himself hints at the darkness that hangs over his name, like a dark cloud lingering in the shadows of the day. it's evident now that perhaps he would like to explore just what Spencer is aware of, yet he makes no attempt to open up that door. soon, he thinks, but not yet. not yet is ready to speak of the horrors that have befallen him, nor is he ready to divulge in the horrors of his own mind.

Oliver follows after Spencer, allowing the taller man to lead him to the nearest coffee shop. of course it would be on campus, he muses- it would make sense for them to go there. he listens intently to every word that Spencer speaks, watching him as he situates his satchel on his side. he's almost enamored with the knowledge that spills from the man's mouth, continuously intrigued with everything he says. perhaps he falls a little bit in love with the way he speaks. "no, i didn't know that, but i guess it makes sense. forgive me for asking this, if it's breaching some boundary, but you seem to really know what you're talking about- just how smart are you?" he could be reading the situation completely wrong, but considering their conversation thus far, he's certain he's encountered probably one of the smartest people he's had the grace to meet, and he wants to be Oliver's friend.

[talesofkhaos]

Spencer smiles warmly, a hint of surprise in his eyes as he takes in the compliment. He nods appreciatively, clearly pleased to have made such a positive impression. "Thank you," he replies, his voice steady and genuine. "I find these discussions invigorating too, especially with someone who values the intricacies of the mind as much as I do." For Spencer, conversations like these are a rare delight, an opportunity to delve into the depths of human thought and creativity. He relishes the chance to engage with someone who doesn't shy away from complex topics, finding a kindred spirit in those who appreciate the subtle nuances of psychology in storytelling. Such exchanges fuel his passion and ignite his curiosity, making him feel understood and connected on a deeper level. For Spencer, intellectual connections provide a sense of fulfillment and belonging that he rarely experiences elsewhere. He values the opportunity to engage in meaningful dialogue, where ideas are exchanged and challenged, fostering mutual growth and understanding. The prospect of exploring such a connection with Oliver excites him, as he hopes it could lead to a deeper friendship built on shared interests and a genuine appreciation for each other's perspectives.

Spencer nods thoughtfully, his eyes reflecting a deeper understanding. "That's quite profound," he replies, leaning forward slightly. "As King himself said, 'Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.' But it's clear you've learned to keep them at bay, Oliver." Spencer's expression softens, his empathy evident. "That's a powerful insight, Oliver," he says gently. "The past may shape us, but it doesn't have to dictate our future. With resilience and the right support, we can craft our own path forward." "As Oscar Wilde once remarked, 'We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars,'" Spencer adds, his voice filled with admiration. "It reminds me that while we may struggle with our own demons, there is always a brighter perspective to strive towards. It's heartening to see you embracing that outlook, Oliver." "Literature has always been a guiding light for me," Spencer continues, his eyes alight with enthusiasm. "It's incredible how the words of great authors can illuminate our own experiences and provide clarity in moments of uncertainty. They teach us to explore the depths of our emotions and emerge with a deeper understanding of ourselves." "Your book, Oliver, captures that essence beautifully," Spencer compliments sincerely. "It's not just a story, but a journey through the human psyche that resonates on so many levels. The way you weave psychological insights into the narrative is both enlightening and compelling."

Spencer then clears his throat, a sheepish smile crossing his face as he realizes he's been talking quite a bit. "Sorry, I tend to get carried away when discussing literature," he admits, chuckling softly. "But your work really does deserve the praise, Oliver." Spencer leans back, still smiling. "And yes, I did my homework," he affirms with a playful wink. "I can honestly say there's never been a book I've read that I didn't love in some way. Every story has something unique to offer, just like yours." "I'm not busy," Spencer said, his eyes twinkling with genuine interest. He was thrilled at the prospect of getting coffee with Oliver, especially since he'd taken the day off just for this meeting, though he wouldn't reveal that detail. "I'd love to continue our conversation over a cup of coffee," he added, eager to delve deeper into Oliver's thoughts and insights.

he chuckles quietly, the color on his face darkening. he hadn't expected someone to be so forthcoming, so straightforward with him, but he appreciates it nonetheless. it was refreshing almost. "well, you can take apart any story and see the psychology intertwined in it. psychology is a very important aspect when it comes to writing, especially about the human mind. you almost can't write a story without it," he says, head cocked to the side as he looks at Spencer with an uncertain expression on his face. it's clear his guard is up- that he doesn't know how to react to the other man, yet he also seems almost eager to participate in this conversation, like he's hungry for intellect. he chuckles again, scratching at his cheek absently- there's a faint scar where he scratches, most likely caused by his stepfather. "you're very enthusiastic," he compliments. "that in itself is refreshing. it's been a long time since i've had a chance to speak to someone else about the way i think when it comes to writing." sure, he talks to his therapist three times a week, but really, that's an entirely different thing. he pays his therapist to listen to him ramble; at least now he's the one getting paid to have people on the other end of the line, though this conversation would prove to be more than just money in his pocket. he could see a friendship with Spencer, if he's to be honest with himself- it shocks him to see how quickly he's fascinated with the other man, usually not so straightforward himself.

shaking his head, Oliver listens to Spencer 'ramble' as he puts it, and offers a sincere smile that almost reaches the light in his eyes. it's still guarded, but for a brief moment, Spencer almost succeeds in breaking through the barriers. "i appreciate the sentiment," he says, leaning back in his seat as he places the papers on his makeshift desk. scrawled on the front of the top paper was his name and the day's date, and numerous notes he'd taken while lecturing. there's also some doodles at the edges, showing that even a professor as renowned as Oliver is, can get carried away with his thoughts.

his lips twitch at the mention of his past, but he doesn't immediately say anything. his breath catches in his throat, but he's unsurprised by the mention of it. he was expecting more questions about his time away, but clearly many people had forgotten about his ordeal with his stepfather. besides, he'd been released years ago. he wasn't headlined in the day's paper. he exhales a calming breath and folds his hands into his lap underneath the desk, fiddling with his fingertips. "yes . . . well, there's a reason i emphasize heavily on Stephen King's works. trauma plays a big role in his novels, such as IT, in which Pennywise symbolizes childhood trauma. as someone who was abused as a child, i can say with certainty that what happened to you doesn't have to define you. you can move forward with the right tools in your possession. i don't let my past define me. if i did, i wouldn't be here."

another exhale- and then a smile, abashed, as he looks up at Spencer from underneath his eyelashes. "you've clearly done your homework," he says, clearing his throat as he looks back down, biting at his bottom lip as he considers his options. he looks down at his wrist, looking at the time on his watch, and looks back up a moment later, his smile still prevalent on his face. "are you busy now?"

[talesofkhaos]

"Well, your reputation certainly precedes you, Professor Bloom," Spencer began, shifting slightly as he adjusted his satchel strap. "I've always been fascinated by the intersection of literature and psychology, and your work in both fields intrigued me." He hesitated, then added with a small, sincere smile, "Plus, I've heard you're quite a storyteller, and I couldn't resist the opportunity to learn from someone who combines both art and intellect so seamlessly." "Literature offers a window into the human psyche, much like psychology," Spencer continued, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "It's fascinating how stories can reveal subconscious desires and fears, a concept Stephen King often explores in his novels. He once said, 'Fiction is the truth inside the lie,' which perfectly captures how narratives can illuminate truths about human nature. Your lectures seem to delve into that same territory, blending the analytical with the creative, and that's something I've been eager to explore further."

"Sorry if I'm rambling," Spencer chuckled nervously, glancing down for a moment before meeting Professor Bloom's eyes once more. "I tend to get carried away when discussing subjects I'm passionate about." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, adding, "I hope I didn’t overstep or monopolize the conversation." "I just wanted to express my admiration for your work," Spencer continued, softening his tone. "I know it must be overwhelming, especially given everything you've been through." Spencer's curiosity had been piqued by the rumors surrounding Professor Bloom's past, the whispers of an incident that had left a shadow over his once-illustrious career. It was a question that lingered in the back of his mind—was it a tragic accident or something more sinister? Despite the uncertainty, Spencer couldn't help but admire Bloom's resilience and determination to rebuild his life through teaching. However, Spencer remembered the case all too well, as he had been one of the agents assigned to investigate it. It was, after all, one of his first major cases, and the details etched themselves into his memory.

The mystery surrounding Professor Bloom captivated him from the start. Now, standing before the man himself, Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to uncover. "Sorry if I brought up any difficult memories," Spencer apologized softly, sensing the tension in the air. "I didn't mean to pry or make you uncomfortable. Perhaps we could continue this conversation over coffee sometime? I'd love to hear more about your thoughts on literature and psychology, and maybe pick your brain a bit, if that's alright with you." Spencer really hoped he hadn’t messed this up, as he genuinely wanted to forge a friendship with Professor Bloom. Despite the rumors, he saw potential for a meaningful connection rooted in their shared interests. He smiled warmly, hoping his sincerity would ease any lingering tension.

it was Oliver's first lecture back in the classroom. he'd been asked by NYU to make an appearance as a guest lecturer and how could he turn it down ?? despite all that he'd done all those years ago, he was still seen as a respectable author and it seemed as though no one wanted that to go to waste. then again, it helps that the reason he was gone for so long was because he'd killed his stepfather in self defense . . . there's a difference between killing someone in cold blood versus killing them in self defenses, he supposes. if he had killed him in cold blood, he wouldn't still be standing there. he still had the scars to show his defensive wounds, hidden underneath his sleeves. he'd rather not show his battle scars today. instead, he wanted to show off as professional as he could and hopefully no one would ask him what he'd been up to all those years he'd been gone.

the lecture was fun. it's been a while since he stood in front of a classroom full of young minds wanting to learn as he held his yard stick in his hands and explained away Stephen King's great mind and how he emphasized his likeness in his own writing. he even quoted him a few times, as well as his own stories, in hopes it would catch the class's attention. it seemed to be doing well, considering there was one student in particular that seemed rather excited to hear Oliver speak. it amused him, lips twitching every time the other raised his hand to answer a question that Oliver posed to the class. he couldn't help but accept him, wanting to laugh at the torn expressions on the others' faces. it was amusing to say the least.

by the time class is over, he's unsurprised to hear footsteps approach the desk as he looks up and meets Spencer's eyes very briefly before looking away and back down at the papers in his hands. he shuffles them awkwardly, feeling his own cheeks heat up in embarrassment at all the attention he was receiving. it's been a while since anyone has showed any interest in him- even if it was about his work as a teacher and as a writer. he wasn't used to it, that's all there is to it. he clears his throat and looks back up, seeing the blush on Spencer's face, and offers a soft, embarrassed, smile of his own. "Doctor Spencer Reid," he reiterates slowly, tasting his name on his tongue. "what brings you to my lecture, Doctor Reid?" he sits up a little, still holding onto his papers. the way Spencer had complimented him had him even more embarrassed, but he doesn't mention it. he doesn't even know what to say to that, so he puts the attention on the other man instead, focusing his attention solely on him while the other students file out of his room. he doesn't miss the looks some of the girls throw his way, but all it does is confuse him as his eyebrows furrow, pulling his attention away. "this is my first lecture in -god knows how long- i'm surprised there was such a big turn out."