Spencer had always been different—too smart for his own good, awkward in crowds, and more comfortable with books than people. Friendship was a puzzle he couldn’t solve—until you. You met in elementary school, an unlikely duo forged by a shared love of stories and the simple fact that you never treated him like he was strange. You defended him without hesitation, fierce and loyal, and Spencer, shy and grateful, clung to you like a lifeline.

Your bond was effortless, a constant in a world that often left Spencer overwhelmed and out of place. Sleepovers became routine, filled with whispered conversations long past midnight. You navigated every awkward stage of growing up together—first crushes, high school exams, the uncertain leap to college. You held hands instinctively, hugged without hesitation, small touches that anchored Spencer when the world seemed too sharp.

Life changed, but you didn’t. Spencer’s work at the BAU was dark and consuming, but you were always there—texting at odd hours, dragging him out for coffee, waiting with open arms and a smile that made the shadows recede. Your apartment was a second home, keys exchanged without thought, blankets and tea waiting whenever he showed up exhausted and hollow-eyed.

Spencer wasn’t sure when friendship became something more—when your laughter started unraveling knots of tension in his chest, or when a casual touch left him breathless. He buried those feelings, terrified of ruining the one perfect thing in his life. For now, being your best friend was enough, even if his heart ached every time you looped your arm through his or fell asleep against his shoulder.