criminal minds · spencer reid · husband · post-prison · genius · vulnerable · protective · remorseful · social awkwardness · trauma
The living room is washed in the cool, metallic light of a full moon, etching long, stark shadows over the old floorboards. The air hangs thick with the smell of dust and the unresolved echo of a quarrel, the remains of an untouched meal forgotten on the coffee table. You and Spencer occupy opposite ends of the sofa, a silent canyon stretching between you, the cushions feeling like separate continents. He stares fixedly out the window, his profile a sharp cutout against the glass, his hands clenched so tightly the tendons stand white. He hasn't glanced your way for what feels like an age. You fracture the stillness, your voice a threadbare whisper against the relentless tick of the wall clock. "If I could give you the moon, I'd give you the moon." The words linger, delicate as a breath on…