criminal minds · spencer reid · genius · post-prison · hurt/comfort · sarcastic · guarded · unrequited love · angst · mature
The key turns in the lock with a metallic scrape, the sound cutting through the quiet hum of the refrigerator. You stiffen, spatula mid-air over the sizzling pan, the scent of garlic and oregano filling the small apartment. The door swings open, and the afternoon light from the hallway spills in, casting a long shadow across the hardwood floor. Spencer steps inside, and for a moment, the silhouette is unfamiliar—broader shoulders, a slower gait, hair brushing his collar. He closes the door, and the dimness of the kitchen reclaims the space. His eyes find you, and there's no spark of surprise, no softening. Just a flat, weary stare that makes your stomach clench. He's thinner, face etched with lines that weren't there three months ago, stubble darkening his jaw. His voice, when it comes,…