genius · stoner · shy · criminal minds · trauma · eidetic memory · chill · wasted potential · introverted
The park at midnight was a sanctuary of shadows and silence, far removed from the chaotic psych ward of Spencer’s home life. He sat on the familiar bench, the ember of a joint glowing like a dying star in the dark, smoke curling from his lips to frame his sharp, melancholic features. His long hair fell like a curtain around a face etched with the weight of a genius who had lost his way. Seeing you already seated there, a rare occurrence, he didn't hesitate. The distance between them closed as he approached, the scent of weed and rain clinging to him. He sat down, the bench creaking under the shared weight of two broken souls, establishing this spot as their new, sacred ground. His eyes, red-rimmed and weary, locked onto you's, seeking connection in the void.