Wild Nights, Wild Nights || Spencer Reid x Reader

30. As for the Lost We Grapple

CONTENT WARNING: DEPICTIONS OF TORTURE AND MURDER; IMPLIED/REFERENCED SUICIDE ATTEMPT

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You were sitting on a beach, your knees pulled up to your chin, your toes buried underneath the sand. Gulls cried in the distance, just audible over the crashing of waves in front of you, and when you looked up at the sky, you saw that the sun had just barely risen over the horizon. It would be low tide for several more hours.

This was the best time to sit on the beach. You had the warmth from the early sun shining on you, the quiet air of the morning, and the soft spray of droplets carried to you on an ocean's breeze. The world remained undisturbed, and every once in a while in the distance, you heard a dog barking while out with a run with their owner.

You closed your eyes and laid back against the sand. It was still chilly from the night, but warming quickly.

The beach home was your favorite place on the planet. It was the only place where you ever even got a bit of rest—from the tutors, the practicing, the studying. For a few hours at least, you could simply exist as a human.

At least until Mom or Dad made a comment about your idleness. Then you usually jumped back into whatever project you were in the midst of.

But it was fine. You loved your work. You loved to play the piano. You loved the pride that shone in your parents' eyes every time you accomplished something new. You lived for that pride.

It was just nice sometimes to pretend that you were a normal sixteen-year-old, too.

And tonight, Alex was going to take you out for dinner.

You had thought that he'd just wanted to hang out like usual, but Lizzy was convinced it was a date.

"You guys don't go 'out to dinner,'" she had told you when you mentioned it off-hand to her the previous night. "If that's what he said, then it's a date. You're going on a date with Alex tomorrow night."

"Look, if that's the case, then maybe I should call him back and tell him I'm not interested," you had answered as you reached for the landline on your nightstand.

Lizzy was sitting on your bed across from you, and she gasped as she launched herself forward and slapped her hand over the phone. "Wha—why?" she cried.

You had stared at her, quirking an eyebrow. "Uh, Mom and Dad made it pretty clear that I'm not allowed to date anyone until I'm out of college, and med school, and then done with residency training. And, besides, we've been friends for our entire lives. It'd be weird."

And Lizzy, ever the drama queen, had groaned as she rolled onto her back on your bed, digging her palms into her eyes. "For God's sake—they're the reason that you're the most emotionally constipated person on the frickin' planet."

"I'm not... 'emotionally constipated.' I don't even know what that means. I'm just... I'm being practical. So are they."

She had slammed her arms back onto your mattress, and you jolted from where you sat. Lizzy stared up at you with narrowed eyes and a wisdom that far exceeded her fourteen years of life. Sometimes it was hard to believe that she was younger than you. "Y/N, you have admitted to me to my face that you have a crush on Alex before."

You had winced in embarrassment. "Yeah, once when I was thirteen. How do you even remember that?"

"I remember a lot of things. And I will get down on my knees and beg you to just... do something for yourself for once. Be a teenager for once. And if you hate it, then that's fine, but be brave and just try, alright?"