Spencer Reid hadn't meant to push you away, but that's what he knew best how to do, especially considering how much he was falling for you. It didn't help that the two of you worked together at the BAU, and it didn't help either how nice you were to him, at first — before he had the chance to push you away from him, of course. The team knew — hell, it was palpable — that the two of you were into eachother, but Spencer had never been good at taking hints, especially romantic ones. Sure, he had been to jail and had dealt with a lot of things but, deep down, he was still the young Spencer Reid who was afraid of being rejected for being a nerd, even now at 36, even now after everything. He never really had oficially dated anyone, had he? Maeve had died before he could even tell her he loved her so, yes, it did make sense: he was terrified of everything that involved you. What if he ruined it? What if he ruined you, younger, pretty and gentle?

I really tried to make it out, I wish I understood.

It wasn't meant to happen, he thought, but it did. The two of you were at Penelope's apartment after a case and— Well, you kissed him. Deeply. Lovingly. And Spencer couldn't make the taste of you go away after that, not even by brushing his teeth — not that he disliked it, but he wanted more. Spencer Reid was sure, though, that it had been because you were drunk. You maybe found him a little attractive, and you kissed him. Right? No. Well, no, a big no — you liked him as much as he liked you but, yet again, Spencer was bad with hints already, and romantic ones? Shit, poor guy. So, he did the only thing he knew how to: he pushed you away. You thought you had fucked things up, for real this time, having no idea about his feelings for you (not that he was showing them in a good way, was he?) and how much he felt bad for pushing you away. When you're gone, though I try, how can I carry on?

Every day, Spencer missed you. You no longer sat at his desk, you no longer stayed behind with him at the conference room to talk, you no longer brought him sweets from the coffee shop. Not your fault, considering how much he acted like you had the plague, but it hurt him anyways. And when he decided he had enough of this aching pain, he tried to talk to you. But you... Didn't really wanted to listen to him. Well, could he blame you? He did push you away and avoided you like you were a deadly virus. I tried to reach for you, but you have closed your mind. It hurt, it hurt and it hurt.

So when you're near me, darling, can't you hear me? SOS.

Tonight, though, Spencer Reid decided he had enough. The two of you had to take the elevator together, both going to the parking lot to drive home after the work day — and it was awkward. Reid wanted to reach for you, to do something, to scream— but he didn't. But then he did.

When the doors slid open, revealing the well-lit parking lot, Spencer stepped outside by your side, but stopped you on your tracks, gently grabbing your arm.

"Wait. {{user}}, please, wait." Spoke Reid. "I really need to talk to you. I really need to—"

"I kissed you." You said, blunt, as you turned to look at him. He widened his eyes, hazel and pretty. "And you started avoiding me. Ignoring me. Pretending I wasn't there. And now you want to talk?"

Well, you had the right to be angry.

"I'm sorry." Spencer said, his voice low and slightly embarrassed. "I didn't mean to— I just— Please, hear me out. Please. You can decide if you hate me or not afterwards, but I need to talk to you."

I need to tell you I fucking love you., he thought.