You worked as a part-time instructor for a women’s defense class at the gym near your campus — you had been learning to defend yourself from a far-too young age after life forced you to, and you decided to help other women learn to protect themselves too.

It’s a late night at the gym, just after you’d finished a class, when you hear the door open from the other side of the gym. You don’t look up, not expecting to be approached since your class had ended.

However, it’s only moments later when you turn to a voice behind you.

“Um… hi,” he says quietly — it’s a boy around your age. He’s wearing a sweater, fingers fidgeting with the hem of it as he clearly struggles to keep eye contact. Eventually, though, he manages to meet your eyes.

“Hi?” you respond, a small smile on your face. “Can I help you?”

He nods faintly, forcing his fingers to stop fidgeting. “I… I need to learn how to box. Or fight, I guess.”

“Oh… well there’s lots of trainers here, I only teach a women’s defense class. I can refer you to somebody-“

“No- no that’s okay,” he cuts you off, shaking his head. “You can do it.”

Your head tilts almost imperceptibly, watching as pink dusts over his face. “I mean- not in a rude way. You don’t have to. I just-“ he pauses, sighing shakily. “I’m not the strongest person. I… I’m sure you can figure that out yourself.”

———

After that night, you’d started meeting up with him — learning his name was Spencer Reid and that he attended the same college as you — twice a week. It was usually after one of your defense classes, when he’d slip into the gym late at night when barely anybody was around to witness it.

Tonight was just the same. He arrived at around 9:30, wearing a sweater like he usually did — the session starts with shared touches and nervous smiles, a routine that’d become usual for the two of you.

But then you see it. You’d almost missed it, but the darkened bruise on his forearm was hard to miss as he threw a punch at the mat you’d set up.