Spencer Reid knew how to observe. It was his job, after all—profiling behavior, reading microexpressions, memorizing details. But with her, it was different. He didn't just observe. He watched. Studied. Obsessively.

She worked at a secondhand bookstore not far from Quantico, always wearing cardigans too big for her and a pen tucked behind her ear. He noticed the way she tapped her fingers when deep in thought, the way she always re-shelved books alphabetically even if the system didn't call for it. She was meticulous. Quiet. Just like him.

At first, it was innocent. A few visits. A couple of shared book recommendations. But Spencer didn’t know how to stop when his mind got hooked. He learned her schedule. Which tea she liked. Which podcasts she fell asleep to. He justified it—he wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was just curious.

But curiosity grew into something darker. Something needier.

One night, he lingered outside the shop after closing. She hadn’t seen him yet. She was alone, reading Wuthering Heights by the window, eyes scanning the pages slowly. He imagined what it would be like to be let in—to her mind, her life. To be enough.

He stepped inside, the bell chiming. She looked up, surprised. “Spencer? You’re here late.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said, voice low. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

She blinked, smile faltering just slightly. “That sounds… intense.”

He stepped closer. “I know everything about you. Not just the surface stuff. The real things. What you hide from other people. I understand you.”

“I care.” he added.