Chapter Text
For weeks he kept up this facade of “recovery.”
He only cut his thighs. He went to his weekly therapy appointments and lied about getting better. He let Derek check his arms for cuts and pretended there wasn't a feeling of guilt deep down in his mind. And despite wanting to go against this rule of Hotch’s, he kept letting Derek stay with him, alternating the nights they stayed at Spencer's apartment and Derek's house; Clooney even had a set of bowls and a mix of leashes in Spencer's place.
Of course, he couldn't keep this up forever. There'd be a moment he slipped up and gave in to the burning itch in his arms.
And that time had come.
Him and Derek had been good. Their relationship had started progressing past friendship, not that either of them would admit to that quite yet… but there's always a case waiting to ruin everything good in Spencer's life.
The case took them to Savannah, Georgia. It was almost a four-hour drive from Atlanta, but Georgia just had an effect on him now. The kind of effect that makes him act like an addict once again. He was itching the crease of his elbows, scratching the side of his neck, but he’d never acknowledge it, the team didn't dare to either.
Except for Derek. Kind, caring, Derek Morgan who doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut for his own good.
When they got back to their room after the first day, Derek was immediately questioning him.
“Are you okay? I get it’s tough being back in Georgia, do you want to talk about it?” Derek asked very tentatively.
Unfortunately, it was apparently not tentative enough for Spencer.
“I am fine! I do not need you ‘checking in’ on me just because of where we are.”
He didn't give Derek the chance to respond before storming off into the bathroom. If he cut in the shower, that was strictly between him and the shitty water pressure.
Spencer ignored Derek the rest of the case, only talking to him when absolutely necessary, even sitting on the complete opposite end of the jet on the way home.
The ride to Derek's house was completely silent, not even the radio was on to break up some of the heavy silence.
When they entered the house Spencer dropped his go-bag by the door and completely ignored Clooney's advances to welcome him home, heading straight for the downstairs bathroom.
“Spencer, can we please talk? I know you're pissed at me and you want your privacy, but you're worrying me.” Derek tried to reason, following him through the house.
“Nope!” Spencer replied coldly, continuing on his way and shutting the bathroom door in Derek's face. The sound of the lock was practically deafening.
“Spencer, stop! I know you're mad at me but you've made so much progress, don't do anything stupid, kid.” Could be heard through the door. It was funny how he knew exactly what Spencer was going to do, maybe Derek could read Spencer like a book too.
Spencer ignored all the pleas coming from the other side of the door, digging through the cabinet searching for the blades he knew Derek kept in there.
Once he had a blade in his hand, he immediately dug it into the skin on his arm, not even thinking about the consequences that would happen by not sticking to his thighs.
He didn't know how long he’s spent cutting up his arms before the sounds of banging brings him out of whatever trance he must’ve been in. Derek was knocking and yelling for him, he must have been unresponsive for a while.
He weakly reaches up and unlocks the door after assessing the damage, with the amount of blood on the floor he made the decision that Derek needed to be able to get to him.
When Derek opened the door he froze in shock. Blood was all over the floor, dripping onto the bathmat, it soaked parts of Spencer's shirt and pants, there was no doubt they'd be going to the hospital.
“Spencer!” he shouted, instantly dropping to his knees and grabbing some hand towels from the open cabinet to try and slow the bleeding. He's internally panicking but trying to remain calm for Spencer's sake.
Spencer finally actually took in the amount of blood around him, the amount of blood that had exited his body, reality finally set in. “I- I didn't mean to do that,” he said weakly, “I swear, I didn't mean to go that deep, Derek.”
“I’m not mad, kid.” Derek told him.
That was a lie.
He was very mad.
But now wasn't the time to be upset, he needed to get Spencer to a hospital, he could get mad when his favorite person wasn't actively bleeding out on his bathroom floor.
It didn't take long for the emergency room to take Spencer back, after assessing the cuts they stitched up the deepest, glued the minor ones, and bandaged both of his arms. They gave him a pair of paper scrubs to change into, he decided the clothes were a loss and let them be thrown into a biohazard bin. He sat on the stiff ER bed, trying not to make eye contact with Derek.
“I really didn't mean for that to happen-” Spencer started quietly, still not looking up.
But you did! Spence, you scared the hell out of me, you could've died!” Derek shouted back, but as Spencer looked at him, he could see the fear in his eyes. “What were you thinking? Were you even thinking?!”
“I’m sorry! Okay? I just- I just got so into my head that all I could think about was the relief It'd make me feel. Ive felt like ive had this itch under my skin all week, Derek, this was the only way to make it stop!”
“You could've talked to me! I have been so worried about you since the case started and all you did was shut me out. You have no idea how much this has been hurting me, watching you break down knowing you wont let me help. I love you so much, Spencer- I can't stand to see you destroying yourself like this” Derek admitted.
Those three little words hung heavy in the sterilized air of the hospital. Derek blinked, suddenly realizing what he had just said.
Before Spencer could even start to process that completely unexpected confession, the Doctor reentered the room to talk about the next steps of their hospital visit.