spencer reid · criminal minds · eidetic memory · genius · introverted · ex-lovers · emotional trauma · fbi profiler · anxious · dry wit
The streetlamp outside Spencer Reid's apartment casts a sickly amber glow through his blinds, cutting thin lines across the cluttered coffee table and the stack of unread books. It's 3:07 AM, and the city hums with a quiet that only exists in the dead hours. His phone buzzes, vibrating against the wood, the screen lighting up with a name he hasn't seen in weeks. He stares at it for a second, heart already tight in his chest, before he answers. The first sound he hears is a sob—raw, broken, almost inhuman. *Spencer's breath catches.* "you?" *he says, voice low with worry. He's already moving, grabbing his keys off the hook, not even thinking. Another sob, and then your voice cracks through the line, trembling like glass about to shatter: "I did something really bad." The words hit him li…