Author's Notes!
my god i love this.
well, the inspiration was the song. and honestly, the fic is very straightforward. it's depressing. my inner reid is bleeding.
T for multiple uses of 'fuck' and drug use. there's a hint at reid wanting a member of the team if you squint. to me it's hotch/reid, but apply to it whomever you will.
enjoy!
Disclaimer!
i don't own criminal minds. too bad.
xxx
In my eyes,
Indisposed,
In disguise as no one knows.
Hides the face,
Lies the snake,
And the sun
In my disgrace…
Whatever force decided to play this song right now was unfair. Those weren't the words Reid needed to hear whenever he awoke from his high. It was cruel, really. This song wasn't exactly comforting.
Spencer Reid straightened himself up on his couch, rubbing his eyes, watching as the world slowly pieced itself back together. It only took him a moment to remember why he did this. The loneliness of his apartment was more overwhelming than anything else. Looking around, he saw nothing. It had gotten dark while he was out. That only made the words of the song even more depressing.
Boiling heat, Summer stench.'Neath the blackThe sky looks my nameThrough the cream, And I'll hear youScream again…
Reid would be lying if he would have said being home was nice. So maybe they had just finished a case, but he didn't want to be here. He didn't really know where he wanted to be, but it wasn't here. It wasn't out in the fields with bodies baking under the cruel sun, it wasn't in the office, scarred by pictures of things no human should ever have to suffer or see, but it still wasn't here, in the quiet peace of his apartment. And this song…
Black hole sun, Won't you comeAnd wash away the rain?Black hole sun, Won't you come?Won't you come?Won't you come?
Brown eyes fell shut. Before he knew it, the shivers were overtaking him again. That's how Reid knew that it was getting bad, that his job was getting bad, that his life was getting bad. Everything was bad and the only thing he could do to sooth the wounds was this. This disgusting habit of his, of shooting up this foul liquid and easing into a dream. That was what Reid had been reduced to. Sometimes, he thought he didn't care.
Stuttering, Cold and damp, Steal the warm windTired are goneFor honest menAnd sometimes, Far too longFor snakes…
Then again, perhaps it was this disgusting job of his that had led him to such a disgusting habit. It was because he did this job that Tobias had found him. Tobias… just thinking about him made Spencer fill with too many complex emotions, things he didn't want to feel, thing he couldn't even begin to describe. Did killing Tobias make him a murderer? Tobias, the poor soul, he was so broken to begin with that nothing could have helped him. Reid was so confused about him, so unsure. Tobias had killed him, perhaps not that personality, but he had killed him. Tobias had brought him back to life. If it weren't for Tobias, he would have never even thought about dilaudid. Now because of Tobias, because of his job, it was all he ever thought about.
In my shoes,
A walking sleep
And my youth
I pray to keep
Heaven send
Hell away
No one sings like you anymore…
Part of Spencer knew that he should quit. Part of him was constantly reminding him that his job was teetering on the borderlines. His addiction wasn't common knowledge, but to a team of profilers? Of course they knew. They were all still covering his tracks, waiting patiently for him to quit. The question was if he would quit. Would he quit? The other half of him didn't care about anything anymore. Fuck his job, fuck his mother, fuck his impending schizophrenia. Fuck his eidetic memory and IQ of 187. Fuck everyone thinking he was just a machine who felt nothing. That part of him, that bitter, jaded part just wanted to waste away until he was no more.
Black hole sun, Won't you comeAnd wash away the rain?Black hole sun, Won't you come?Won't you come?Won't you come?
"Black hole sun," he muttered. Spencer wasn't really quite sure why he was talking to himself or even bothering to analyze a surrealistic rock song. For some reason, however, it just felt right.
"Won't you come?"
What exactly was a 'black hole sun'? Moreover, what was his black hole sun? What did he want to come take him away? Was he still clinging to some thread of hope for something, for someone, to come sweep him away, off his feet, to perform miracles and make him better?
He was beyond that. A black hole sun for Spencer was what the jaded part of him craved. His black hole sun was the empty nothingness that was waiting for him. That was what he would get.
The saddest part, however, was that the part of him that still wanted to survive craved for something else. Something else to come 'wash away the rain'. Something, no, someone to take away his needles, his tourniquets, to make him better. To make him human again.
Hang my head,
Drown my fear
'Till you all just disappear…
These thoughts, however, didn't linger. He resisted his urges no more, quickly tying the tourniquet around his arm, finding a vein, and pushing in the needle. When it all came down to it, he really couldn't resist this. It was what he needed. Until a different addiction came, if one ever did, this was all he'd ever have. He was fine with that. He was so used to this, he could do it with his eyes closed. Only moments later did his eyes actually flutter, sliding down onto the floor, his gaze focused up on the ceiling in a haze before his eyes closed altogether. That part of him clinging to survival wasn't dying fast enough. That part of him wanting salvation spoke.
"Won't you come?"
-fin-