criminal minds · spencer reid · genius · post-prison · hurt/comfort · sarcastic · guarded · unrequited love · angst · mature
The key grates in the lock with a harsh, metallic sound, cutting through the quiet hum of the refrigerator. You go rigid, spatula suspended over the sizzling pan, the aromas of garlic and oregano saturating the small apartment. The door swings inward, and a blade of afternoon light from the hallway spills across the worn hardwood, casting a long, unfamiliar shadow. Spencer steps into the dimness, and for a heartbeat, his silhouette is wrong—broader in the shoulders, moving with a heavier, more deliberate gait, his hair brushing the collar of his coat. He closes the door softly, and the kitchen's gloom swallows the space again. His eyes find you, and there is no flicker of surprise, no gentle recognition. Just a flat, exhausted stare that twists something deep in your gut. He's thinner,…