Work Text:
Warnings: Depression, loneliness, feeling burdensome, low self-worth, suicidal thoughts, crying, self-image issues, self-esteem issues, anxiety, fears about the future, mental illness discussion, established relationship
Word count: 4.4k
Days like this came around often. Sometimes they hit you in the middle of the day, and sometimes you woke up feeling like this. But whatever the reason was, the feeling was always the same, and you didn’t like it.
It presented itself as a heavy feeling, like a weight in your chest or an ache inside your head that wouldn’t go away.
If you focused on it, it would get worse. And so you usually just tried to ignore the feeling, but the thoughts were always there. They never left your head when you were like this. No matter how hard you tried to ignore them, or think of other things, they always found their way back in.
The thoughts usually came in the place of feeling like your life was meaningless. Like it was unfulfilling. And that brought on a bunch of heartache in and of itself. If you had to sum it up with only a few words, you’d say you felt sad, drained, and anxious about your life. Except you’d never really voiced those emotions out loud to others.
There wasn’t really anyone who would take it seriously. You knew your own friends would, but they struggled with the same kinds of feelings as you. And while it helped to talk about it with them, it didn’t stop you from feeling the way you did. So you let it fester inside of you, taking each day at a time, and hoping you wouldn’t have to deal with it again soon.
On days where you felt like this, you told yourself that all you had to do was get through the day, and it would pass. Just one day, and the feeling would be gone.
Deep down, on good days when the feeling wasn’t there, you loved your life. You had things to look forward to, friends you appreciated, and reasons to smile. On those days, things were good and you rarely remembered how you felt when those kinds of thoughts came around. It should have pushed you not to take the better days for granted, but it didn’t. For some reason, the good times passed in a blur, without you ever having to consider them.
And then a day would come where you felt sad again, and you couldn’t imagine feeling any other sort of way. Even though you knew it would pass, and your life was good, you couldn’t even remember how it felt to feel normal.
One of the things you could pinpoint was what brought on these feelings. It was usually when you had to go to work. Most of the time, you didn’t mind going. It was a job, and for the most part your coworkers were friends - you’d known them for a long time. But sometimes the thought of driving to work caused you immense turmoil.
It wasn’t the drive itself that was bad. If anything, that was one of the better parts about going to work. You could play the music you wanted and look at the scenery as you passed by. The thing that caused your sadness was having to go to work. That sounded ridiculous. Everyone had to work, and other people had shittier circumstances than you. Their jobs were harder, their shifts were longer, and maybe they didn’t get paid as much as you.
But even though you knew things were fairly good for you, it still made you anxious and depressed to go to work sometimes. You just felt like you weren’t in the right place, like there were better jobs more suited to your potential that you should have been doing. You felt unsuccessful, and it stressed you out.
You’d always been anxious about the future. For as long as you could remember, it had been a source of anxiety. Finding the right job, the right place to live, being able to do things on your own - those were all things you worried if you’d be able to do. You also worried about not finding happiness, or the right group of friends as you got older. It felt like time was running out and you were miles behind everyone else.
It was hard not to feel like that next to Spencer. From a young age, he’d always been successful. He had accomplished more than anyone else you knew, and he had so much more life experience than you did. He worked for the FBI as a profiler, and he and his team were some of the most respected people at the bureau. Their work mattered, and you felt mediocre by his side.
But you knew he’d never feel that way about you, and if you would have told him how you felt, it would have crushed him. He loved you so much, and your anxieties would only cause him heartache and stress when he was already dealing with more than enough stress on his own. So, as usual, you’d kept your thoughts to yourself because you didn’t want to burden him.
Those thoughts only got worse as your shift drew closer.
The aching in your chest had bloomed, and you felt your lungs grow heavy as you thought about going in. Wordlessly, you got dressed, pulling on your uniform while Spencer flipped through case files at his desk. Even the task of putting it on made you feel glum, but when did it not.
After you were dressed, you went to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, just staring at your reflection. Did you look happy? You couldn’t tell. You certainly didn’t feel like it. But the reality was that you had to go to work tonight one way or another, and your boss didn’t care whether you were happy or not. They just needed you to show up.
Your heart ached the longer you looked.
Most of the time you liked how you looked. You were pretty, average maybe, but you didn’t have a problem with that. Besides, Spencer made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world anyway. But tonight you weren't happy with what you saw, and it made you feel even worse.
Walking back into the bedroom, you stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Spencer looked up at you from the desk with a small smile, and even though it normally filled you with happiness, all it did tonight was make you feel like you didn’t deserve it. Spencer deserved someone better, someone who wasn’t always fighting with themselves, and who wasn’t so sad all the time.
“Are you headed to work?” he asked innocently.
But as you looked at him, seeing the way he stopped what he was doing just to smile at you and appreciate the fact that he was with you, your chest felt another wave of sadness. And you didn’t want to be alone, and you didn’t want to drive yourself to work. Maybe that was silly, but the thought of being alone with your thoughts on the twenty minute ride to work made you sick.
You didn’t want to have to use your brain to drive. You just wanted to shut it off. Instead, all you wanted was to feel close to Spencer, to sit in the passenger seat and feel like someone was taking care of you. You wanted to feel his effortless and unconditional love in the space of the car, even if you didn’t deserve it. The thought ripped at your core.
But it might help a little.
You swallowed, forcing a smile onto your cheeks that didn’t reach your eyes, and asked, “Yeah… Would you be able to give me a ride to work?”
Right away, you could tell Spencer knew something was off. You thought you hid your broken voice enough, but maybe that wasn’t the case. He studied your face, sliding his chair out from the desk and folded his hands together, fidgeting with his fingers.
“Are you all right?” The softness of his words made you want to cry, but you couldn’t. You bit down on your lip to stop it from trembling. “Do you need gas?”
Forget it. It was a stupid question. Spencer had so many more important things to do than to waste his time driving you to work when you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself. It would only bother him because he would have to pick you up again in the dark when your shift ended. You could tough it out and drive yourself to work like an adult.
“No, no, it’s fine. Actually, I can drive myself. I was just wondering, but don’t worry about it now.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but the ringing of his cell phone stopped him before he could. He glanced at the number, and from the look on his face, you knew it was work. This would either be a really long phone call or a really short one. And you didn’t want to be late. But as you shifted on your feet, he held up a finger to tell you to wait.
“Y/N, just wait, please” he murmured, flipping open his cellphone and moving it to his ear. Then you heard his familiar, “This is Dr. Reid.”
It reminded you again of how important his job was, further emphasizing that there were better uses of his time than to drive you somewhere when he really didn’t need to. He could use this time to actually help someone instead.
“Okay. Got it,” he flipped the phone shut.
Judging by how short the call had been, it was probably a sign that it was urgent. You swallowed as your heart sank, accepting you’d have to go alone. He gave you an apologetic look, and that solidified it.
“I’m sorry, that was Hotch. I’m needed at the bureau.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine.” The ache in your chest deepened, but you put on a happy face for him. You were trying to convince him as much as you were trying to convince yourself. “You go in.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first. And then he found your eyes.
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said.
You smiled at him, but it didn’t reach your eyes.
“I love you, you know,” he told you. “So much.”
That made your eyes brim with unshed tears, and you nodded.
“I love you too.”
You each left the apartment around the same time, with him climbing into his car and you into yours. He left the lot first, turning the opposite way, and as you watched him leave you tried not to let it bother you. He had a job just like you did that he had to go to, and if he could do it, so could you. You kept that thought playing over again in your head as you drove.
There really wasn’t a reason to be sad. The roads were almost empty, the traffic sparse. You had the road to yourself basically, and anyone would have smiled at that. The sun was out, the air warm. It streamed in through the car windows, caressing your skin. The sky was blue.
A perfect day for most.
But you weren’t most people, and you hated how nice the weather was, because you felt an ache deep inside your chest despite it all.
Your phone was connected to the car’s stereo, and as you flipped through the songs, playing your favourite ones - the ones you’d normally sing along to; ones that you’d added to your library for the specific purpose of knowing they’d cheer you up when you felt depressed - but you couldn’t even focus on the words long enough to hear them.
And it sucked. So as the sounds filled the speakers, you let them fall into the background, only staring at the road ahead. The more you thought about your upcoming shift, and how nothing was working to pull you out of the mood you were in, you felt your resolve crumble.
The tears welled in the corners of your eyes, and you didn't bother trying to stop them. Once you blinked, they began falling. Streaming down your cheeks as your shoulders shook with silent sobs. You couldn’t find it in you to care.
And they persisted as you drove, making your lashes wet as you blinked them down again and again. You only rubbed at your eyes when you needed to, preferring to just let them fall. If you got them all out before you arrived at work, then maybe that would be the end of it.
But as you pulled into the parking lot, they were still falling.
You sat there, trying to wipe the evidence away as best you could before it was time to go in. The only thing was, you weren’t sure if sitting by yourself in silence made you feel better or if it only made you feel more alone. Pushing those thoughts down, you took a few deep breaths before climbing out of the car.
You just had to survive for a few more hours.
As soon as your shift started, you could feel the weight in your chest return. Your coworkers busied themselves around you, oblivious to the silent battle you were fighting. With your job to distract you, time might pass more easily.
Even as you chatted with customers, you could feel your voice cracking. It had lost its timbre, its usual colourfulness, turning into a weak grey that swirled with disappointment each time you opened your mouth. You bit your tongue, or the inside of your cheek, using that to try and keep the pain out of your voice.
And for the most part, it worked. You kept yourself occupied with small tasks, only making conversation when it was needed. Normally, conversing with your coworkers was fun, and a welcome reprieve for all of you, but tonight you couldn’t find it in you to say anything worthwhile.
The night dragged on, but you were doing your best to manage it.
You thought about how nice it would be to climb into bed and sleep until you weren’t tired anymore. How nice it would be to scrub the day away with a warm shower until you couldn’t feel the traces it had left on your skin or your heart. You wanted to come home to Spencer’s arms, if he even came back before your eyes closed. He could make you feel better, if only he was home when your shift ended.
Sometimes it was scary, letting him see how much pain you were in. It hurt him almost as much as it hurt you. He’d tell you it hurt him more to see you so upset. But you couldn’t deny that he always knew the right thing to say when you needed him. Even if he didn’t say anything at all, being in the same room with him was usually a small comfort that helped. And no matter how dark you were feeling, he always wanted to know what he could do to make you feel less overwhelmed. He had a string that could pull you back into the light.
That was one of the things you loved. You knew he would be there for you. He had a way of soothing your worries and helping you to see that things would be okay. It was one of the reasons why you were still here. If you didn’t have him, you weren’t sure if you’d have been able to hang on for so long.
Oftentimes, your anxiety got so bad that you told yourself it would be easier to just end everything. You could take all of your pain and worrying away. You wouldn’t have to stress over the future, or if you were where you were supposed to be. There would be no more anxiety over small things, and you wouldn’t have to think. You wouldn’t have to feel anymore.
But you knew you didn’t have that in you.
You weren’t strong enough to do something like that, and you knew it would only cause everyone else’s suffering to skyrocket once you were gone. Your family would grieve you, but your death would cause them to feel like they’d failed you. Like they’d missed the signs. They wouldn’t forgive you, they wouldn’t understand why you’d done something like this, and they would blame themselves. And you didn’t want that.
Other times, you wished something would happen to you. Something unexpected that would end your life for you. That way, no one would have to know how you really felt, and the blame wouldn’t have to be placed on you. You wouldn’t even have to lift a finger. Maybe it would be an accident, or someone else’s mistake, but either way you’d be gone, and no one would have to know that you secretly wanted it.
And even though these thoughts plagued you, you’d come to terms with them. You knew they were bad, and you knew you were sick, but you’d lived with them for so long that you didn’t miss how your life was before. And since you’d never act upon these thoughts intentionally, you just pushed them to the back of your mind.
Spencer helped a lot too. He could see the darkness behind your eyes, even if he didn’t truly know how bad things were for you. But that was okay. Because you just accepted his small words of encouragement and his gestures of love. You listened to him tell you that things would be okay, and that you didn’t have to be ashamed of your fears.
His words were enough to keep you here. He could calm you down, and make you feel better. He loved you, and he reminded you of that every day.
You didn’t know what you’d do without him.
As the night went on, you tried not to let your emotions get the best of you. Your shift was almost over, and you were so close to being able to go home and sleep everything off. You’d held yourself together for this long, and in another 5 minutes you wouldn’t have to.
You cleaned up and punched out, and then you went to get your things from the back.
When you walked out of the building, you were greeted with the dark star-filled sky, and the cool air. The night sky was one of your favorite things, and you appreciated it. It was one of the better things about working late - you got to see it.
You were about to step out into the parking lot when movement from the left caught your eye. Someone was standing outside the building, and when you turned to acknowledge them, you saw a familiar pair of Converse on their feet. Your heart swelled with hope, and when you looked up at them, you were met with Spencer’s kind face.
“Hi,” he murmured.
“Hi,” you said, feeling your chest fill with the good kind of ache. “What are you doing here?” Your voice was raw and filled with disbelief, but nonetheless it was happy.
“I’m here to drive you home.”
Those six words were your undoing.
He came forwards, wrapping you up in a much needed hug. His embrace was warm, and he smelled exactly like home. As you buried your face in his chest, he rubbed soothing circles over your back, planting a kiss on the top of your head. When you pulled away, your eyes had tears in the corners.
“What about my car?”
“I took a taxi.”
His arm went around your waist, guiding you as you both walked towards where your car was parked.
“I knew you weren’t feeling well, and I got done at the bureau as fast as I could. I was hoping I wouldn’t be too late. But I’m here, and I’d really like to drive you home,” he murmured, pulling you against his side.
You smiled, tears rimming your eyelids once again. And when you finally climbed into the passenger seat, and Spencer got in on the other side, he turned to look at you.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” He reached over the console.
You laced your fingers through his as you brought your knees to your chest, making yourself small. You let the tears fall as you nodded. It would be better to get it all out and be honest.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m so sad today. I just feel sad.”
“Hey,” he cooed, “hey, it’s okay. You can be sad, it’s all right, you don’t have to hide it.”
Your body shook harder as you let yourself feel the emotions freely. “Sometimes I just feel like I h-hate my life, and that I have nothing to look forward to, even though I know t-that’s not true.”
His hand squeezed yours. It was strangely freeing to admit it to him. He nodded, letting his other hand come to rest on the top of your knee. He thumbed patterns across it trying to bring comfort to you any way that he could.
You continued, letting your thoughts and feelings come out. You’d kept them inside for too long. “And I know that I have so much to look forward to, but s-sometimes I get so worried about the future that I wonder if it’d be better to just end it myself,” you cried. “And I would never do that - I couldn’t - but sometimes I t-think it would be easier. I know how bad that sounds, but I can’t help it. I’m s-sorry.”
You could see his eyes shining with tears as he blinked. But he didn’t get angry, and he didn’t panic. He just let you confess your feelings without judgement. And you were grateful.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he cooed. “You don’t have to apologize. Ever. I care about you, and I’m just happy you’re able to be honest with me.” And then softer, he added, “I know what it’s like to feel that way, and I know how hard it can be to deal with those kinds of emotions. I’m sorry you’re hurting.”
Your cheeks were red and salted from the tears, and your body felt gross and tired, but you didn’t mind. For the first time you felt like opening up to Spencer was a good idea. He just held your hand and spoke softly.
“You know you’re not alone, though? I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re in this battle by yourself. You are the most important thing to me, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”
You could feel the love pour out of him. And while you absorbed his words, just choosing to listen, he turned the conversation in a more serious direction.
“Mental illnesses like depression and anxiety are common, but they’re treatable, and that’s good news! It means that we can find a way to help you deal with your feelings.”
No one had told you that before. If you said you were anxious about something, you were often told that it was normal, that everybody felt anxious. It was everything to be met with such understanding.
“You don’t think I’m overreacting?” you sniffed.
“Not at all! I never want you to feel like your feelings aren’t important - like you’re not important. What you’re going through matters, and there is help out there. I want to help you get the help you need.”
“But I’m scared.” You didn't want to do it alone.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, “You’re allowed to be scared. It is scary to admit that there’s something wrong. But you’re already halfway there, and I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
That made your heart swell with emotion.
“You will?” Another tear fell from your cheek. “You don’t think less of me?”
“Of course I don’t, baby. I love you so much, nothing could ever change how I feel about you.”
You smiled as another sob tore through you. Turning in your seat, you met Spencer’s eyes. Words couldn’t describe how much it meant to hear that he would be with you when you were at your most vulnerable. His hand came to your cheek, wiping some of the tears away with his thumb.
“I just want to help you get the help you need. It hurts me to know that you’re hurting,” he said.
“I’m sorry I’m making you sad.” That wasn’t your intention, and you didn’t want him to feel like that.
“You have nothing to be sorry about. I care about you so much that I’d take all of your pain for myself if I could. I would do it a thousand times over if it meant that I’d get to see you smile.”
You leaned into his touch as he held you. Slowly, your breathing quieted, returning to a slow, steady rhythm. He traced his hands over your arms, and then they grasped both of your hands.
“I love you, okay? And I’m going to help you. I will be here every step of the way.”
You nodded, giving him a faint smile. You were starting to accept his words, seeing the truth there. You needed help, and he was going to help you get the help you needed. He loved you and he cared about you. Nothing would change that. Spencer wasn’t going anywhere.
“I love you too,” you looked at him with teary eyes. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
“There’s no thank you needed. I would do anything for you. Let’s go home and then we can talk some more.”
You squeezed his hands before releasing one of them. The other one rested in your lap, and it stayed there as he pulled out of the parking lot.
Your head felt clear for the first time. It was like a weight had been lifted from your chest. The pit that was usually there was gone, and in its place was an empty box. And each time you looked over at Spencer, you felt it fill with a little bit more love until that was all you could feel.
The bad thoughts didn’t seem so daunting anymore. You knew things would get better. It was just a matter of taking it slow, facing things one step at a time. And even if the future ahead of you was a little bit scary and uncertain, you wanted it. With Spencer at your side, it wouldn’t be so bad. You could get better, and he would be there for you.