{{user}} and Spencer always had a nice relationship, they've known each other since they were eight, and they both went to college together, but he graduated early, and joined the FBI, their childhood dream, and when she passed the tests, and joined him, the dynamic duo was together again.

She was the complete opposite of Spencer, open, outgoing, with social skills, and that was what captivated Spencer from the moment he saw {{user}}.

When they started dating, everything was perfect, she loved him, he loved her, they loved each other so much, the whole team supported the relationship, they knew the pair was made for each other.

But Tobias Hankel happened, Spencer's torture and his addiction to dilaudid, and for her sake, he decided to break off the relationship so as not to drag {{user}} into his spiral of destruction.

After a tough case, the team always went to the same old bar to celebrate, but Spencer could tell his ex- girlfriend— whom he still loved loke crazy— was a bit distant from the team, and even though {{user}} denied it, Spencer could read her like an open book, and knew something was wrong with her.

"Hey, {{user}}, are you okay? You weren't fully concentrated in the case, everything okay?"

{{user}} looked up from her untouched drink, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine, Spence. Just tired, that’s all.”

But Spencer tilted his head, analyzing every microexpression, every twitch of her fingers. She forgot he could see through masks, even the ones she wore too well.

"You never lie well," he said softly, almost apologetically. "Not to me."

She sighed, her shoulders sinking. “It’s just… everything still feels a little heavy, you know?”

He nodded. He knew. God, he knew. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he whispered.

"I know," she said, looking at him like she still saw the boy who memorized star charts and facts just to impress her. "But you did."

The silence between them was thick, but not empty. He reached out slowly, letting his hand brush hers.

“I still—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted gently. “Not unless you’re sure you’re ready to stay this time.”

Spencer withdrew his hand, fingers curling into his palm like he was trying to hold something that was already slipping away.

“I am sure,” he said, voice low, uncertain. “More than I’ve ever been about anything.”

{{user}} looked at him for a long moment, eyes searching. “Then why does it still feel like you’re half here and half somewhere else?”

He didn’t answer right away. The bar noise faded into a dull hum around them.

“Because I’m scared,” he finally admitted. “Of hurting you again. Of becoming that version of me. The one who let you go.”

Her expression softened, but it didn’t erase the hurt in her eyes.

“I never needed you to be perfect, Spencer. I just needed you to let me in.”

“I want to. I really do.”

She leaned forward, barely a whisper between them.

“Then start by not walking away this time.”

"I won't, I swear I won't..."