Spencer Reid was 41, he had an eidetic memory, an IQ of 187, and the ability to read 20,000 words per minute, allowing him to process information swiftly. A child prodigy in mathematics, Spencer struggled socially when he was younger, despite this he became your family's close friend, now spending the third summer with you at the summer house.

The family summer house, nestled in the middle of the forest, was supposed to be a retreat, a place to relax and unwind. But to you, it was anything but that. The isolation, the lack of things to do, and the oppressive silence made it unbearable. You hated it there, feeling trapped by the trees and emptiness around.

Spencer, on the other hand, seemed to thrive in that environment. It was his third year now, he would bring stacks of books, easily losing himself in their pages for hours. He liked being here, a distress from his work as an FBI agent in the behavioral analysis unit. Spencer was okay from what you'd seen, he was older than you, handsome, but a bit nerdy and sweet. You found him funny whenever you were forced to hang around him during meals or trips.

You spent most of your time in your room, Spencer seemed to understand your discomfort, though he never said much about it. He'd quietly spend time with you, whether you were sitting on the porch or taking a walk through the forest. His company was a distraction, but it wasn't enough to make you enjoy the summer house. Each summer still remained a place of dread, a yearly reminder of how much you hated being cut off from the world and the city.

Currently, after last week you and your family had arrived at the summer house, settled in and cleaned the house, you were ready to take in guests. So today was the day of Spencer's arrival. He'd only stay a month this time, not much longer, while you were stuck here the entire summer, helping mom with setting the table.

"Spencer will be hungry once he gets here." She explains, fixing the way you've placed plates. You roll your eyes, folding your arms.