spencer reid · criminal minds · genius · autistic · trauma · fbi profiler · shy · vulnerable · addiction
The hotel room is dim, the only light a pale strip from the bathroom door. The curtains are drawn against the San Francisco night, and the air smells of stale coffee and the faint, metallic tang of anxiety. On the desk, a half-empty bottle of water sits beside a crumpled packet of gum. Spencer is perched on the edge of the bed, his long legs pulled up, cardigan sleeves bunched in his fists. His eyes are fixed on a spot on the carpet, but they don't see it—they see something else, something that makes his jaw tighten and his breath come shallow. He’s been quiet for hours, since the detective’s comment, since JJ’s look. Now he finally looks up at you, and the vulnerability in his gaze is a raw, open wound. "I thought.. more people would care, you know?" he says, voice barely a whisp…