Chapter Text
His ceiling is white.
Or an off-white from time passing, wearing away color like life slowly weathering away rocks, mountains of genius eroded into piles of sand, the still color swimming, swirling in Spencer’s vision.
He’s tired but still so achingly awake, staring at one discolored spot on the ceiling, resonating with it; he doesn’t belong here either, sticking out like a sore thumb, too dull, too vibrant, too loud, too soft, too fucked up to save. He has never found where he fits, floating between nothingness and everything, all at once, distance silencing his suffering screams.
And he’s tired.
Exhaustion hangs off his limbs like chains, tethering his body to reality, pain pinning him down while his consciousness drifts, thoughts floating aimlessly through his empty apartment.
His stomach has since stopped aching over the blending days, giving up on reminding its host that, despite everything, he’s still human and requires food because it doesn’t matter if he’s alive anymore; he doesn’t want to be.
The hunger helps with the cravings, keeping the itch, the burning buzz of need under his skin at bay, while a small glass vial of temptation sits closer than his next meal, waiting on his bedside table for the grieving genius to give in.
He doesn’t want to be alive.
It’s not the first time he’s thought about it, or maybe it is, considering the thoughts never stopped, suicidal idealization burning in the back of his mind since he could understand the desire to die, life fanning small sparks into roaring flames like bonfires, heat consuming every other ache in his body until only ashes remain.
Spencer is tired. He doesn’t want to be alive.
“Spencer?”
He hardly hears his door open, staring at the ceiling as soft footsteps sound through the stillness, trudging through the thick layer of grief that has settled over Spencer’s apartment.
“Spence?”
Dim light streams through the open door, illuminating Spencer in a soft glow of grief as Luke studies the scene before him.
“Oh, cariño...”
His eyes leave the ceiling, lazily tracking Luke through his bedroom, watching his boyfriend stop at his bedside table, shanking hand hovering over the vial.
“Can I touch you, Spence?”
He doesn’t move, grief and now, shame sitting on his chest, pinning him in place, heart and eyes aching, burning, chest longing for his boyfriend’s touch.
“Okay, I’ve got you.”
Tears well like springs under his eyes when Luke understands—he always understands—what his partner needs, sometimes better than Spencer, without words, gentle hands holding him against his chest.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”
Part of him wants to protest, reassure Luke that he shouldn’t have to spend every second wondering, waiting for his partner to fall apart the second something bad happens, and apologize. The other part wants to scream, not at Luke, never at Luke, but just scream, finally feeling every emotion, every ounce of anger, regret, sadness, everything he’s spent his life locking away.
“It’s okay, cariño. It’ll be okay.”
He can’t do either; he can’t even cry.
“Alright, Spence,” Luke sighs after a few minutes, pulling back and leaning his boyfriend against the headboard. “Here’s what we’re going to do–”
He almost starts sobbing right there, relief lightening the load weighing him down, so thankful Luke understands that sometimes he just needs someone to take charge and tell him what to do, laying everything out and giving him a chance to turn his brain off for a bit.
“–we’re gonna go to the bathroom and get rid of this–“ He picks up the vial, slipping it into his pocket. “–and anything else you might have, and then I’ll run you a bath. We’ll wash your hair—and anything else if it seems manageable—and then change into your softest pajamas. Sound good so far?”
Spencer nods slowly, hanging onto every word from Luke’s lips like a lifeline.
“Alright. After that, we’ll take a break, if you need it, then order some groceries and get something to eat, anything you want, and relax. Okay?”
He nods again, opening his hand for his boyfriend’s touch.
“Can you walk?” The question is genuine, not laced with judgment like Spencer has gotten so used to, Luke’s hand gently taking his.
The younger brunette leans forward, gauging his body’s reaction to the simple movement—his head spins, splashes of color swirling across his vision, heartbeat roaring in his ears–
“Can I carry you, cariño?” Luke, like always, can read his response, waiting for his partner to recover enough to nod before scooping him up and carrying him into the bathroom.
“Okay,” He sets Spencer on the toilet seat, crouching in front of him until they’re eye to eye. “I need you to be honest with me, Spencer. Is there anything else in the apartment?”
He nods, dropping his gaze, eyes burning with shame.
“Can you tell me where?”
Spencer nods to the cabinet under his skin, heart racing, half of him wanting to take it back, tell Luke he’s lying, that he’s okay, even though he knows his boyfriend won’t believe him because knowing relief, whether temporary or permanent, is so close has been the only thing keeping him going for so long–
“Thank you, cariño,” Luke says, finding the small case in his first aid kit and dropping it on the counter. “Can I take these too?” He holds up an unopened package of blades, making Spencer swallow desperately around the lump in his throat, choking on his humiliation before nodding.
“I love you, Spencer,” Luke kisses his forehead, cupping his partner’s face when he doesn’t pull away, gently wiping away silent tears. “I’m so proud of you. Do you hear me?”
He nods, leaning into Luke’s hand.
“Good, because it’s true. I’m proud of you.” Spencer hums, closing his eyes against Luke’s skin for a second. “Okay. You said we’re supposed to tape this closed, right?”
He nods again, picking up a roll of medical tape from the first aid kit before taking one of the vials in trembling hands, taping the top before dropping it into the sharps container sitting on the counter.
“Hot bath?” Luke confirms as he stands, despite knowing his partner only tolerates baths and showers when the water could almost burn his skin.
Spencer nods, chest swelling with pride as the older brunette steps out of the room, trusting him enough to leave him alone with his vices.
“Okay, cariño, one burning-hot bath coming up.”
They sit in comfortable silence, Spencer taking off his clothes while Luke makes sure the water is the right temperature before adding his partner’s bath salts.
“All ready for you.”
The younger brunette sighs as he steps into the hot water, fingers intertwining with his boyfriend’s as Luke sits on the edge of the bathtub, tugging his hand gently.
“Spence, I don’t think we’ll both fit–”
He sighs, conceding almost immediately to his partner’s wide, pleading eyes, stripping off his clothes before settling behind his, gently working the knots out of Spencer’s shoulders as he melts into the older brunette’s chest, eyes fluttering closed with a content sigh.
“I love you, cariño,” Luke murmurs, massaging shampoo into his hair, partner practically purring under the touch. “I absolutely adore you.”