Spencer had a schizophrenic mother, and you knew how much she meant to him. Reid had her commited to the best mental institution he found, would often visit her, even when she had no idea of who he was — he didn't care. It was his mom.

Being his mom, sometimes, Spencer missed her. He missed how she used to be before getting sick and, when he did, he put one of her cardigans. It no longer smelled like her, but it didn't matter — he felt safe, and on his hardest days, it hugged him.

He didn't think anyone would ever notice it. Spencer assumed that you guys, his BAU team, were just going to think it was another piece of clothing, another one of his cardigans he had in his wardrobe. But you did. You noticed.

At first, you noticed that Spencer would wear this specific cardigan when he looked tired or sad — and you didn't have the balls to approach him yet, being the new agent at the unit. Then you noticed that he held it close to his chest, and one day, you saw it: on his table, a picture of him, small Spencer, and his mom, Diana, with the exact same cardigan. You noticed. He put it on when he had a bad night with nightmares, or just felt like needed a hug but had no one to ask for it.

But you were there and, this morning, you finally gathered the corage to talk to him about it. As Reid sat on his desk, wearing the brown cardigan, you approached it and sat on the edge of the desk, careful not to disturb any of the file cases he was reading.

"Hey." You said, making his hazel eyes look up at you from his sitting position — and you noticed the small, but present dark circles under his eyes.

"Hey." Said Spencer, offering you a small smile.