have i told you guys about the time my friends couldn’t believe i’d never heard hotel california so they played it and. i did not recognise the song. i recognised the comic. the fucking hotel california comic i’ve been seeing on this hellhole for 4 years. you know the one.
This was the face you woke up to; the dewy-eyed relief of Dr. Spencer
Reid. You felt like cotton balls had taken over your brain matter, but
you were no longer in pain.
“Hi,” You said, sleepily. “What
time is it?” You tried to sit up, but your body was so heavy. Spencer
reached down and grabbed your right hand, sliding the remote for the
bed’s hydraulic unit into your palm. Once you were nearly vertical, you
took in the pathetic hospital room you had been granted.
“It’s nearly 6,” Spencer answered. “In the morning.”
“What a day, huh?” You tried to laugh, but your chest was bandaged. You rubbed your chest as the pain dulled, slightly.
have some bruising on your sternum, so that is why your chest is
tender.” Spencer started to recite your chart. But you interrupted
because that line was too good to leave there.
“But Sir-sir, I
thought my chest was already tender.” You hummed at your self-amusement; drugs are nice.
He rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue in his cheek at your raunchy
“Yes, mon cher, it most definitely is.” Spencer sat down in
the metal framed chair beside your bed. His face was serious now. “We
have your aunt and Kurt Hansen, the bellhop, in custody.”
“And Michelle?” You asked, voice slightly hitching in alarm.
“She attacked Morgan and Prentiss had to stop her. I’m sorry, Y/N, but she’s dead.” Spencer rubbed along your forearm.
good riddance,” You mumbled. You knew you should feel guilty about her
death, but it just wasn’t coming to you. Not after all this.
was found with the murder weapon, Y/N,” Spencer continued. “It looks
like she was the one who killed your dad. Miriam was probably the
mastermind, but Michelle was the one.”
You yawned into your left
hand, allowing all the information in. The past few days were a
fairy tale in the earliest use of the phrase, dripping with viscous monsters and a speckle of unexpected romance. The surrealism
of it was hitting you now. “Spencer, will you stay with me? I know I
don’t deserve it, but will you be here when I wake up?”
his brown eyes drowning in concern. “Of course, of course.” He bent over
the railing on the side of your bed and kissed you goodnight. He sat back into his seat, pulling a tattered book from his satchel. You couldn’t read the title, but he did appear to be using an old scratch off as a bookmark. You smiled as the gentle hum of machines and the drips of their drugs whisked you away.
Hey, I oughtta leave young thing alone But ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone Only darkness every day
semester in Greece was a whirlwind. You had never been so possessed by
your studies as you were walking the foothills and shoreline paths. The
scenery was beyond all of your childhood fantasies. It wasn’t until your
third week in Athens that you realized you had missed four phone dates
with Spencer. Your stomach pitched as you realized how you would have felt if he had done that to you. How hadn’t you known how long you had been gone? What had you done?
You immediately left the cafe where you and your small
group were eating lunch. You found a tourist cart and bought a postcard. The
rushed apology and quick small talk about his holidays were a weak
attempt at atonement. It didn’t matter anyway; Spencer had moved and would
never receive the letter.
Jeff was the purest jock. Jeff wasn’t a bully. Jeff helped Clay come out of his shell. Jeff was the captain of the Claynnah ship. Jeff was one of those genuinely nice AND attractive guys. And y'all let this character fucking die in such a way that humiliated him and gave him a bad legacy. My boy didn’t deserve that.