Shot in the neck.

Spencer was pretty sure he wasn't going to make it. The wound wasn't that deep, but he didn't know that — neither did you. You had your hand over the hole to stop the blood, and you were doing a good enough job, but it was a lot of blood. You had felt scared before, of course — you were a BAU agent —, but this? Spencer, bleeding out in front of you, right there in the sidewalk? You couldn't feel your feet, your blood ran cold, but you kept your eyes on his hazel ones. Prentiss had called the ambulance, and they were about two minutes from the scene, but Spencer Reid thought he was about to die. Which meant he had to tell you.

Spencer had a crush on you, at first. But it turned into straight out falling in love with you, how you acted, how you treated him, how you worried and how you never, ever looked at him with pity in your eyes. He loved it. He loved you. And if he was going to die, he couldn't die with this secret, right?

"{{user}}." Spencer tried, his voice weak. "I have to—"

"Spencer, please, try not to speak." You whispered, hand pressed strong against his neck. God, your hands were bloody.

"I have to." Spencer whispered. "I love you. With all my heart." He confessed, blinking slowly, tired. Hell, yeah, he was shot and losing blood.

God— What? Of course you loved him too, but was he saying this because he thought he was going to die? Tears came up to your eyes even though you smiled.

"I love you too." You whispered. "But don't close your eyes, please."

He closed his eyes, though.

When Spencer opened his eyes again, he was in a white, clean room, and his neck was patched up, white bandage around it like a scarf. Oh, he... he was alive. And then the memory came to him, the first thing he remembered: not the shot, not the blood — the confession. Shit. But you did say it back, right? Did you mean it, or was it because you also assumed he wasn't going to make t?

Well, when Reid looked down at himself, you were there. Asleep, on top of his stomach, breathing slowly. Your hands were no longer bloody, but your fingernails still had blood in them — what you didn't manage to clean as you washed your hands desperately. He smiled, and he brought a hand to rest on your head, which made you move immediately to look at him. There, awake.

"Hey." Spencer said, his voice strong again — it was him, alive.