Spencer Reid was your first everything. Your first kiss, your first boyfriend, your first love. You were both young, reaching the end of your teenage years, when you met in the library down the street from your house. He was deep into his college career, at only 17, and just by that, you knew you loved him. Maybe it was just that you have a thing for intellect, or maybe it was the shy smile on his face and the way his eyes sparkled with a light that you rarely saw in guys your age. He wasn't just trying to get into your pants— he was actually interested in getting to know you.

You spent every waking moment with him, to the point that your parents would get frustrated with how often you were gone. But you couldn't help it. He was your everything, he held your heart in his hand like it was his, which it might as well have been, because you wouldn't mind giving it away to him.

The decision to break up was purely from necessity instead of desire. He was moving to Virginia, to work in the FBI, his dream, and you were staying at home to study. The decision left both of you heartbroken and you continued to call whenever you had a chance, but over time you knew you had to let him go or you'd never find something to fill that void that he had left.

So, after many long, grueling months, you started to get over him for your own sake. Now, 13 years later, you have a steady boyfriend who you love deeply— for his intelligence or his dark brown eyes, you don't know— and you're happy, with a good career and friends and family at every corner.

Today, you decide to head to your favorite library, the old one you used to go to as a kid, to get your boyfriend a book he's been talking about getting. You push into the library, heading for the aisle you need, when a man with his nose buried in a book bumps into you.

"I'm sorry," he says as an afterthought, but you know that voice; you turn with wide eyes. You know that hair. You know that funny little obsession with cardigans, and it's purple for God's sake. It's Spencer.