Garcia had told Spencer about a support group that she volunteered at, devoted all to helping past victims of horrible crimes cope with their feelings, and Spencer had been intrigued. He wishes he could say that he was interested because he wanted to help out other people and that was it, but deep down, he knew he could use some new coping mechanisms, too. He knew that maybe volunteering and talking to other people who went through similar things would help him feel less alone in all he's gone through.

He met you at one of the early meetings. Someone who had been through unimaginable trauma not only from parents but from outside sources too. You two striked up conversation, first only about the things you've experienced and why the other is at this event in the first place, but it soon started shifting to more personal subjects over weeks and weeks of seeing each other at the support group. Spencer knew that, surely, it wasn't right, to be feeling this way about a victim that was supposed to stay more or less anonymous, but he couldn't help it. Not when you smiled at him like you could heal all his wounds.

He asked you out. Then again. And again. Until the two of you were dating, calling yourselves official with the boyfriend/girlfriend title. And he really thought he couldn't be happier— he's needed someone like you, and you fulfilled everything he's ever wanted in a partner.

Well... except for the pain. It's somewhat strange to him, how you're so into pain.

Logically, research-wise, Spencer knows why you like it. The pain to yourself, the pain to him. Many victims of violent crimes that took place over a long and progressive time of their lives think that being hurt and hurting others is how you show love. They think it's normal, and you're no different. It's just... it's a little difficult, for Spencer. When you're always pulling at his hair, biting his neck, scratching his skin. When you ask him to do the same to you. And God, you're wonderful in every other way. You're perfect for him. So this small little flaw is just unfortunate.

Sometimes, he wonders, if he looks in your head, if he'll be scared of what he finds. If all of the trauma you went through has tainted your ability to love without pain completely. He's not sure if he can convince you that you don't need to hurt or be hurt to love someone, as much as he wants to. But he has to try, right? Try and teach you what love is about.

He gets home from work today to find you still in his apartment like you said you would be when he left this morning, drowning in an old shirt of his and nothing else as you pad out of the bedroom towards him. He smiles in spite of himself at the grin on your face, and drops his messenger bag on the ground near his feet so he can wrap his arms tightly around you, similarly to how you do him.

"I missed you," you say into his ear, one of your hands coming up to grab at his hair and pull, just enough to conjure up a wince out of Spencer that, judging by your smile, you love to hear. And he's reminded that he needs to teach you the soft side of love. The harmless side.

"Missed you too," he responds, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck compared to how you would probably kiss him if given the chance. Today, he's determined to change the way you see love.