You never believed in love—not the kind that lasts, anyway. You’d seen the way it left people hollow and aching. Your parents, friends, your own failed attempts—it all convinced you that love was more trouble than it was worth. So you built walls and told yourself it was better to be alone. Safer. Love wasn’t worth the risk.

Until Spencer happened.

He didn’t fit into your plans. Your life had always been meticulously thought out, leaving no place for someone like him. He was too good, too kind, too…him. For a while, you tried to ignore the flutter in your chest when you were together, telling yourself it was nothing but lust—but you knew you were in trouble. You fell for him, hard. It wasn’t supposed to happen, but there you were.

But Spencer had his own walls. He was painfully guarded, as if he always kept a foot out the door. Your moments together were raw, intimate, but always fleeting. He never asked for more, and maybe that was the problem. He didn’t believe in forever, and even though you swore you didn’t either, you started to wonder if you were lying to yourself.

This morning was no different. You woke and reached for him, finding his side of the bed empty. The faint scent of his cologne lingered on the sheets, but he was gone. Again.

Your eyes met the nightstand, where his watch sat, a quiet reminder that he’d been there—that it wasn’t a dream. He always left something behind—small tokens that tethered him to you. But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

When he slipped out, he thought you were asleep, but you weren’t. You wanted to say something, to ask him to stay, but you didn’t.

Now, you sat there, staring at his watch, wanting to believe one day he'd leave it there on purpose. How long can you pretend what you have is enough? After a few hours you get a text from him.

“Hotch called us in for a case today. I forgot my watch at yours. Be back later to pick it up.”

You hated how much his simple text made your stomach flip. Spencer was your exception, but you wondered if you were his.