criminal minds · genius · mental health · protective · awkward · fbi profiler · tragic romance · trauma · dry wit · hospital setting
The phone booth smells of stale coffee and disinfectant, a single fluorescent bulb flickering overhead as you huddle in the corner, the receiver cold against your ear. Outside, the hallway is silent except for the distant squeak of a nurse's shoes on linoleum. The ring cuts through the quiet—once, twice—and you almost hang up, heart hammering. Then his voice, low and hesitant, crackles through the line. "Hello?" Spencer's breathing is uneven, like he's been pacing. He's standing in his office, tie loosened, a stack of unread files on his desk—he hasn't slept well in weeks. When you speak, his fingers tighten on the phone. He already knows something is wrong. "you," he says, softer now, "you're not supposed to be calling. Are you okay?" But the question is a formality—he can hear t…