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If Spencer were to say he wasn’t still devastated by his breakup, he’d be a flagrant liar. He still cried himself to bed each night, completely inconsolable, and an absolute wreck at work. It was hardly like his team didn’t notice, but they just didn’t seem to care- much like they hadn’t when he first started using.
He knew they cared, but it felt like they didn’t. He had fallen back into the snare of Dilaudid and they hadn’t even batted an eye.
If he overdosed, then would they care?
God, what an awful way to beg for attention. He was vying for any leftover scraps of love and affection he so craved, while his friends just turned around and disregarded him. Elle broke his heart and they didn’t even try to console him.
Dear Spencer,
I know this is an awful way to say this, but don’t take me not calling you as a reflection of you and what you deserve. Honestly, you deserve the world, Spencer. I just can’t give it to you.
I owe it to you to be transparent, and as much as I’m beating around the bush by writing all this, I just can’t stand to know how much unmeasurable pain I’d have caused you.
Frankly, I cheated on you. I want to say it was just a lapse of judgment or a one time thing, but that would make me an even worse person than I already am. You deserve so much better than someone who will just use you- you deserve so much better than me.
This is it, Spencer. I know you’d probably take me back if I didn’t do this and although this is going to be hard for both of us, it’s the most healthy and logical option for both of us.
I hope you’ll forgive me, but this was at least fun while it lasted, right? For now, this is goodbye. I hope one day, you and I can see each other and I can properly apologize for the pain I’ve caused you.
From Vienna,
With Love,
Elle.
Hugging the letter, he practically tried to milk it for any last reminders of all the times he was wrapped in her caring embrace and coffee dated they shared. It just felt dull and lifeless to him, but maybe it was because he’d grown apathetic to her.
He still couldn’t bring himself to respond and by now, it was far out of the realm of politeness to respond. Radio silence was all she deserved after cheating multiple times, right?
The issue was that he still couldn’t free himself from this cycle. Every time he felt remotely okay, something- even the most minute or infinitesimal thing- reminded him of the pain he felt searing through his veins, coursing through his very being and making him it’s bitch.
Was it wrong to wish he were numb? Anything would be better than the agony he faced.
Spencer finally understood what people meant when they said that things were ruined for them when they got out of a relationship. He had to shut heaps of knickknacks and books away, causing his apartment to feel barren and unlived- almost as if a trained assassin put very select items around to make it look worn in, when in fact, they just used it to get a better view of their target.
There have been a lot of theories on when relationships should end and he had made his opinions on it crystalline. Relationships should end when in at least one person’s opinion, it’d be for the best.
It was beyond him how Elle had cheated on him multiple times without so much as a second thought his way. If he had been in her shoes, he’d have broken up after the first time and felt absolutely abysmal about it. Guess that she never was the type to prioritize other people’s emotions to the extent he did, though.
In no way did he mean to demonize her, obviously. He was still so madly in love, but he recognized since the start that she was far more self-serving than he. This was positive in his mind, but it had begun to pervert in his mind into a cesspool of simultaneous blaming her for doing this to him and blaming himself.
For what he blamed himself? He truly had no clue.
Maybe it was because he let himself get hurt when this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to him. Maybe it was because he decided to relapse without a second thought just because he couldn’t take it anymore- maybe he would one day accidentally relapse, he couldn’t bring himself to do it on purpose, after all. Maybe it was because he should have been there with her, not constantly on cases and emotionally absent.
He was the victim in this situation, but he still felt like he had to protect her. She was an adult woman for fucks sake! She was older than him and he wanted to act like she was completely unaware of the damage she had caused right up until the end.
No, she definitely had some sense of what she was doing.
Suddenly revolted by the letter’s very being, he swatted it away from his chest, much like a belligerent child striking all of their school papers onto the ground in one fell swoop.
Nothing felt right anymore, but that was his fault, right? He hadn’t done anything to bring his life back to a state of normalcy, instead opting to repress everything until the final straw that would inevitably break the camel’s back came along and he either snapped at someone or fully hurt himself.
A bit of him always wondered if he could hurt someone else if he ever snapped. He hoped not, but it was always there, lying in the back of his mind, as a persistent and nagging intrusive thought. All his prior behaviors had certainly been more self destructive, but if prompted, would he ever take the chance to take his anger and frustration out on another person?
This job certainly had caused him to think about the worst case scenario more than what could go well.
Maybe he would become the neighbor that no one could believe had killed twenty, or the person who never set off panic alarms amongst his friends. People tend to see what they want to see, anyways, and homicidal tendencies aren’t typically what they want to see.
A rapping on the door broke his spiraling thoughts, causing him to groan at the resonating sound. He was thankful he never did have a doorbell, but still, the noise emitted from just a simple knock agitated him to no end. If it was anyone important, they could waltz right in- they already had their own set of keys, after all.
Metallic sliding of a key into the lock proved his worst fear. The only person he ever told to come in even if he didn’t respond was Morgan and he really, really didn’t want to bother him right now with his shit.
“Spencer?” The door shut, a heavy click signifying he had locked the deadbolt.
He just curled more into himself, still facing away from the door to his room. Go away, go away, go away. Screwing his eyes shut, he practically willed him to just disappear, but he knew deep down that Morgan was too stubborn to just leave.
The bed dipped down by his feet and Spencer wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling himself even more into the fetal position. He should have never let himself get so attached to Elle. This wouldn’t have happened if he never developed a schoolgirl crush on her.
This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t shown up, drunk, on her porch at god knows what hour the first year of them knowing each other and practically draping himself over her. This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t begged her to kiss him because he couldn’t work up the balls to kiss her himself.
Fuck, he was beating himself up over this again.
“Please say something to me, Kid,” he sighed, scooting closer to Spencer, placing a hand on his shoulder.
He would’ve shrugged him off, but he didn’t have the energy to do that, “m’not a kid.”
His voice hardly reached above a croaky whisper, but the hesitation in Morgan’s squeeze was assurance enough that he had heard him, “I know you’re not a kid. I don’t say it to look down on you. I just… I don’t know. You’re my best friend and I hate seeing you hurting.”
“If you cared s’much, why’d you never try to see if I'm okay? Some friend you are.”
No answer.
Of course he didn’t have a valid reason. He was never there for him when he needed support, “just go. It’s not like you actually care. Hotch probably sent you here to check on me anyways.”
Maybe he was being too cynical and should give him more credit, but he just couldn’t bring himself to believe that people actually cared about him. He always had issues with believing he was lovable, but Elle not only breaking up with him though letter, but also cheating, certainly had caused him to have even more issues with himself.
Any qualms he had about himself had been amplified tenfold and he hated that he was feeling self conscious just from Morgan sitting this close to him, watching him. He wished he could just rip his face off or wind up dead, face down in a ditch. Maybe he would get lucky one day and an unsub would kill him.
A part of him wished that he had died at the hands of Tobias Hankle’s alter years back.
“Hotch didn’t send me. I came because you left your bags in my car, but I’m here for you. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you sooner. I- I didn’t know what to do, I guess,” the uncertainty laced Morgan’s voice and it was clear he was flying by the seat of his pants, practically foraging in the dark for the right thing to say, “I’m here for you now, though, and I want to help you. What can I do?”
He wanted to tell him to leave, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want even a shred of company. Spencer wanted to cuddle, but he was sure that Morgan wouldn’t agree to that. It wasn’t like he had an obligation to, after all.
Slowly opening his eyes, he looked at him, searching for even a hint of disingenuousness laced through his features.
“Anything you want, Spencer.”
“Help me get clean?”
He nodded, running his fingers though Spencer’s surely greasy hair, soothing him.
Spencer praised whatever deity may be out there, looking over him, for Morgan not having an adverse reaction to him admitting to having a drug dependency once more, “and thank you, Morgan.”
“You don’t have to thank me for anything. Where are they, by the way?”
He went to get up, but Spencer sat erect, quickly seizing his arm and pulling him back down by him, “can you just stay here with me? You can get them later, right? I just don’t want to be alone, even for a second.”
The sheer notion of the Dilaudid leaving his home made a wave of panic wash over him. He just needed to keep reminding himself that this was for the best- that he didn’t need drugs.
“Anything for you, Spencer.”