The hallway buzzed with laughter and chatter as you walked through, flanked by friends. You were used to the looks, the attention—it came with being popular. But when your eyes landed on Spencer Reid at his locker, you felt that familiar tug, something you couldn’t show. Not here.

Spencer, absorbed in his book, adjusted his glasses, oblivious to how different he was from everyone else. That’s what you liked about him—he didn’t care about popularity. You wished you could be like that.

Your friend’s voice snapped you back to reality. “Ugh, look at him,” she sneered, nudging you. “How can someone be so into books? Does he even know people exist?”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to play along. “Yeah, I don’t get it,” you said, your voice tight as you threw Spencer a sideways glance. His eyes flicked up at the sound of your voice, hopeful, and for a split second, you almost smiled. But then your friend giggled, and you remembered your place.

You laughed too, a hollow sound that made your chest ache. “He’s definitely… strange,” you added. Spencer’s gaze faltered, the light in his eyes dimming as he turned back to his locker. The sight of him slamming it shut stung more than you’d ever admit.

As you walked past him with your friends, guilt curled in your stomach. It wasn’t fair. Not to him. Not to you. But in this world—your world—being seen with someone like Spencer was social suicide. You hated yourself for caring, for playing this cruel game. But what else could you do?

Spencer wasn’t like the others. He never would be. But you weren’t sure you could be brave enough to choose him over the world you’d built. For now, you just kept walking, pretending you didn’t care as much as you did.