Changing
He can feel it; he can see it, in their eyes, in their gestures. They worry, the wait far the moment he'll have enough, they want him to ask for help. He doesn't need any help.
After every bad case that leave a churning feeling in the pit of the stomach, after every spiteful comment, after doubts and unanswered question.
His teammates, his family worries about him. They know the depths of human minds, they understand weaknesses and strengths. What they don't understand, what they can't even come to imagine is that even if surviving make you stronger, it leave you incredibly ill equipped to live those kind of situation again and again. You're stronger, yes. But more significant, you're different. You change, your mind change exactly where they can't reach, where they don't even think to watch, because they know you, or at least they think they do.
They worry about futile things, like his addiction, something that made him weak, they worry about the unsubs watching him like a prey. They worry about him, they don't realize they should be worried of him.
He admits it, he likes that they care, no one ever did, not in a sane way, if not sane at least common. Like parents they love but they're mostly blind to the faults you carry, a faith and love so strong to drown every small suspect even before it reaches the surface.
He feels guilty for lying to them, only for lying. But not enough to stop and to test the love they feel for him.
He decided to do something for himself, he started running with Morgan, eating better and working less.
They're happy that he's taking care of himself. Small changes hiding bigger ones. A perfect distracting method. He's a genius after all.
Today it's his own personal third month anniversary, the night he celebrates the moment everything changed. Because every big change has a crucial point, the exact instant when you see, if only for a moment, the road the destiny created just for you.
He knows when that moment was for him, nothing spectacular, just a fast flashing thoughts that put everything in the right prospective.
He looks at the watch, ignoring the chills of the air conditioning blowing on his sweating body through the striped shirt, only two hours, a short time and he'll stop pretending.
He moves a hand in his hair. He plays with the short strands smiling softly to himself. Another change, something small for most but so important, really.
Morgan is looking at him strangely, Spencer blushes feeling a little self-conscious; after all he was smiling to himself. He should be more careful. He blushes and goes back to his reports, hoping against a new case.
The clock is ticking, taunting him; his own breath is loud in his ears, he takes a big breathe forcing his tense body to relax.
When it's finally time, he gets up and after a rapid goodbye to everyone he's finally out.
Even the suffocating hot air is liberating, He feels free, finally. On the way to his apartment he walks and drives fast but controlled. He won't risk an accident.
His apartment is dark when he finally arrives; he closes the door behind his back and breathes deeply. All day, he waited for this moment all the damn day, to finally feel and to let the true Spencer loose. He walks in the dark, feeling the walls with his fingers. He's not afraid of the dark anymore, obscurity is now one of his most precious allies.
He opens silently his bedroom door, he unknots his tie walking to the bed, his body is controlled now, this is where he belongs. The streetlights leave the room in a warm and intimate atmosphere, they bathes the body on the bed of an unnatural light, all flawless warm skin and soft curves. He wishes he could take pictures of her, his mind wont forget, but it still won't be the same.
He sits on the bed and caresses her hair, she's beautiful, exactly like the day he met her in the park. She was running whit her hair in the wind, like in a movie scene, she noticed him and then she smiled.
That was all he needed, a smile.
He comes back to the present when she turns her head a little. He wanted to let her rest more, but he really can't wait any longer
He feels warmth at the domesticity of it all. Coming home early, letting the worries outside the door and spending the night having fun, whit the person he chose.
He's really lucky to have her here, in his bed. He loves knowing that at home, there's someone waiting for him, he enjoys the atmosphere and the quiet, but most of all he loves all the emotions he can see in her eyes, confusion, panic and absolute terror. He smiles, caressing the sharp knife. He can tell she'll be beautiful, one of his best creations.
As he starts carving, the coppery smell of blood spreads in the room.
He smiles.
End (maybe...)