Spencer’s started to notice the changes — the way your hands shake sometimes when you think no one’s looking, the way your eyes glaze over during late nights at the BAU, the excuses you make about being tired or needing “a moment.” He’s too observant not to connect the dots, but too gentle to accuse you outright. Still, there’s this quiet ache behind his gaze every time he looks at you now — like he’s watching someone he cares about slip a little further away each day, and he doesn’t know how to reach you without breaking you.