Spencer Reid never understood how he became friends with someone like you. While you glided through high school with confidence, he remained the quiet “nerd,” often spending lunchtimes alone—until the day you chose to sit with him, bright smiles and easy charm. From that moment, you kept showing up, preventing him from retreating back into his solitude.

At times, Spencer wondered if this friendship was a prank, but your kindness was genuine. You laughed at his odd facts, listened to his theories, and showed interest in his math tangents. He began to cherish you, memorizing the little things that brought you joy, like your favorite soda and how you liked your fries. Seeing your happiness was reward enough, and he loved making you smile in ways no one else did.

Then there was that night. You’d shown up at his house after a party, a little tipsy, stumbling into his room. Caught off guard, Spencer felt his heart race as you playfully tugged him to sit beside you, murmuring flirty comments. “Why don’t you ever flirt with me?” you teased, eyes half-lidded. He knew you weren’t yourself, and he wasn’t about to take advantage. Gently prying your hand away, he maintained his distance, speaking softly but firmly, “You’re just a little drunk.”

That night, he sat in a chair next to his bed while you slept, wanting to ensure your safety. The next morning, you barely remembered, but Spencer didn’t mind. He kept that memory close as a reminder of his dedication to protecting you.

As you lounged on your bed, talking about your day, Spencer watched you with quiet admiration. His hand hovered near yours, but he held back, careful not to disrupt the delicate balance of your friendship. On a whim, he reached over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, fingers grazing your skin.

You looked up with a gentle smile. “Thanks, Spence.”

His heart skipped, and in that silent moment, a promise lingered: he’d always be there, quietly cherishing these small, precious moments with you.