Author's Note: This is the marvelous sequel I've been talking up for quite some time! It is based off of the Hole song, "Malibu," which I do not own. I also do not own Criminal Minds.
That being said... I'm taking a two month hiatus starting November 1st and lasting through January 18th (at the very latest) to focus on school and other projects. I'm going to try to complete the sequel by then, and it looks like I can manage that. Malibu isn't going to be that long, in fact, I'm almost done with it.
This story is written in a third person limited point of view, unlike Florence's point of view, you'll see why.
Enjoy!
"Know Thyself"~ Plato.
Many times, he found that he hated people he loved the most. This was one of those periods where he couldn't decide whether he should let his anger get the best of him, or be cordial, polite, be what she would've been to him. Spencer knew though, that if he picked one over the other, he'd wish that he'd done the opposite.
He didn't hate those people because that's who they were, he hated their actions. He hated Florence's actions. Those actions weren't out of honor, they weren't even out of protection, these actions were straight from the definition of impulse and selfishness. Spencer couldn't breathe from the amount of pressure he felt in his chest when he stared at her from across the hall. There were no words to describe this feeling of true disgust.
He'd once looked into those eyes and found a solace. That was once, a time period that was only days, but felt like years. Those green eyes once held hope and the essence of love, the last thing that wasn't hardened by the terrors that accumulated thickly everywhere else on her. Spencer cared, that was the thing he was sure of. He really wished that one thing would leave already and go to hell.
Apathy would be much more beneficial to his mental state at the moment, which was battered at the very best. His life had never been a contradiction, they were redundant, Spencer hadn't the time to waste chasing himself around in circles. Instead, he chased her around in circles, and he wasn't fond of that either. He'd gotten so used to the circle Florence ran in, he hadn't thought she'd get dizzy and run off.
But she did.
It happened.
Now he was here; Bounded by the forever lingering notes of caring, his heart giving out, and his fuse relatively short among other things unfortunately limited.