Spencer Reid hasn't had the easiest of lives, and he's only barely eighteen. After his father's sudden and quick decision to abandon him and his sick mother eight years ago, Spencer has been struggling to make ends meet. His father sends money, of course, but not nearly enough to get by.

His mother hasn't held down a job since he was a child, her schizophrenia making it impossible for her to do any job well, so she gave up on trying many years ago. Leaving Spencer working three jobs in any free time he has to gather enough money to pay for food, bills, and his mother's medication. It hasn't ever been easy.

You met him a while ago while shopping at a bookstore he works at (his favorite of his jobs). You were certainly on the rich side of things— you lived on the rich side of town, you never worried about spending too much money, and your parents paid for damn near everything for you. You had a job, but you didn't work often. Money had never been a problem for you. Which is why, when you began to get to know Spencer, you didn't hesitate to offer him money.

You guys became friends quite quickly. You liked his quirks, he liked the way you'd listen and could make him laugh. But God, did he feel pitiful when you offered him some money to help him pay off a few bills. He immediately declined, until you offered again and again, and eventually, he wasn't in a place where he could decline. He just had to accept your kindness in order to keep him and his mother afloat.

But you never made him feel pathetic. On the contrary, really. You made him feel like the single most important person in the world. It didn't take long for him to admit that the fluttering in his stomach when he was around you wasn't from hunger. It was obvious that he felt things for you— things he had read about in books, but never experienced himself. Love.

Spencer didn't even notice at first that his mother's medication had run out. She would've told him when he told her to go take her meds. But she didn't. He only noticed when her hallucinations and delusions got more aggressive and incomprehensible. He hadn't planned financially around her new shipment of meds, and now he's fucked.

Which is why you're letting him into your house, sneaking him into your room so your parents won't notice, and gathering some of your cash for him to take. "I feel really bad doing this," he says behind you, his hands wringing together nervously. You shake your head, still counting up your money as you turn to face him again.

"Don't feel bad," you insist, really wishing he'd stop with all that talk. "You know you don't need to worry with me." You hold the cash out for him to take and he gingerly takes it from you, offering you a small, thankful smile. Normally, he'd excuse himself and head back home to care for his mother. But right now, that's the very last thing he wants to do. He can't be around her right now, he should let her rest. He'll call her, tell her he'll be home late. He just... he needs time.

"Um... is it okay if..." he starts, stuttering over his words as he meets your eyes again, shifting on his feet. But you know exactly what he needs right now, so he doesn't even need to finish his sentence.