You know what I'm gonna say! DO NOT trigger yourself. TW for talking about S/H. Do-not-trigger-yourself. Drink water, stay safe. <3

Spencer never thought much about it. When he had long hair himself, he always did keep a hair-tie around his wrist, so he assumed it was just what you were doing — a hair-tie. Reid not even once considered that a rubber band would get stuck in your long hair and make it very difficult to remove it, even though he was a genius. A genius, sure, but still a man who had long hair for a short period of time — not that he didn’t pay attention to you, really. He did. And that’s why he noticed.

It wasn’t always that the rubber band was around your left wrist, only sometimes. On your right wrist, laid a normal hair tie, and Spencer hadn’t meant to stare, but as you went through the case file in your desk, he was focused on your hands. Because your fingers were pretty, like your nails. You were stunning yourself but, right now, he was lost in the whirlwind of thoughts: two things to put your hair up? Was it to make sure you would never lose one of them, to never run out of hair ties? But then, another thing hit him like a train — because he was a genius and, now, that he was giving this much of thought to it, it did hit him. Why would you put your hair up in something that could get all tangled up in your hair? This made no sense.

But it did, of course. It was your way of coping, a way of avoiding actually hurting yourself like you used to do in the past — when feeling bad about yourself, insecure, not enough, you’d snap it on your skin. Not in front of anyone, of course, but it was better than cutting, right? Right. Well, not to Spencer, who was about to find out why the rubber band was there.

Reid stood up from his desk and walked to yours, who was pretty much glued to his — the bullpen wasn’t that big — and took a seat by your side, on an empty chair. He was about to ask you about it, the rubber thing on your wrist. You had followed him with your eyes and offered him a gentle smile — that one that always made his heart leap in his chest — as he sat down, but you hadn’t noticed that it was bruised. The wrist you wore the rubber band was a bit bruised — nothing serious, of course, just a couple of small purple marks — from the snapping you did earlier today because you had been triggered heavily. Heavily. But still, you were dealing with things better now, right? And you’d never think Spencer, being a 36 year old BAU agent, would understand it — but, oh, Spencer Reid knew how it felt to be afraid of your own mind.

His hazel eyes scanned the small purple marks and, as you were about to turn a page on the case file, his hand came to your wrist — his touch feather-like, gentle.

“What’s that, {{user}}?” Spencer asked, his tone very gentle — but also worried. You froze, because… Shit, no one had noticed that before. You loved how much Spencer paid attention to things, to you, but right now, you hated it. Just right now. What would you even say to him? You were scared he’d pity you, but… Spencer Reid would never, considering how much, how much he liked you.

Spencer was just worried, and he wanted to help. If he could, that is.