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Spencer sat on his balcony, a vape in his hand. The chair he sat on was comfortable and as he looked at the stars, he took a hit.
There was music playing lightly from his speaker, perfectly accompanying his mood. It made him feel better, at least a little.
He took a drag and let the smoke fill his lungs. As he exhaled he felt a shake slightly in his legs, his head feeling as if the world was spinning faster than it had any right too and his breath hanging heavy in the air.
He had remembered as a kid, watching his parents smoke outside and promising never to end up like them, addicted to cigarettes and nicotine.
But at the age of twenty-four, he found that it was better than being addicted to other things.
Like dilaudid. No, nicotine was a much better alternative.
The stars were shining bright against the sea of black that made up the night. He felt sad as he saw all the lights around his neighbourhood kept all but the brightest of the stars from shining.
He took another hit, relishing in the sweet relief that came as the vapour filled his lungs.
He knew this wasn’t healthy. That it was another, less obvious, way of harming himself but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Even as a headache began to form on his temples and he felt the desire to throw up or cry. The sombre sounds of Lonesome Town drifted to his ears and he felt comforted by the music.
He reached for a water bottle and went to drink from it, finding it empty and cursed himself. He would have to fill it back up with its customary orange liquid that represented his and Henry’s favourite juice.
He stood up and stalked to the kitchen, ignoring how heavy his body felt. When he emptied the bottle, he washed it out mechanically. Once done, and the bottle beside his kitchen bin, Spencer walked outside and sat back down.
Relief filled his body as he sat down in the comfortable chair, taking another long hit before exhaling. He washed down the taste with his juice and dazed back up at the stars. Gripping the soft blanket he had out tighter around his slim frame.
It was moments like this that truly made him realise how much pain his heart carried. When he was alone, with nothing but his mind and stars for company. His body was heavy under the weight of countless piles of guilt Spencer carried with him.
He knew it stupid to hold it all so close but found he couldn’t despite himself. No one had ever shown care for his pain in his youth, so why would they start now?
He thought back on the countless moments he had tried to have friends, and voice his personal feelings.
One particular moment stuck out to him from college. The only time someone listened. But only because he had been violent.
His friend, Mylo, sibling to his college roommate Jessie, had been going to theme parks whenever they were on break and had invited Spencer along many times. There was always one ride Spencer despised going on.
Mylo’s family had been there and wouldn’t listen to Spencer protest going on the ride. Mylo did what he always did, threw a tantrum that caused Spencer to finally relent when he realised no one cared about his pain. Despite Spencer being three years older than Mylo, they always gave in to the younger.
The two boys went on the ride. Spencer’s anxiety building as they went to the top, fearing the fall to come. When Mylo announced it would be dropping it did nothing to comfort the young fourteen year old.
He was so frightened and shaken that once they disembarked, Spencer turned to his friend and hit him a few times. Calling the man names and crying.
It was only after that moment that he never again was forced to go on The Giant Drop.
As Spencer takes another hit to avoid tears spilling, he briefly wonders if Mylo remembers that moment, and if the man feels any shame. Lord knows Spencer feels shame for hitting the younger.
He takes another hit in hopes it’ll squash the memory back down. It isn’t good to dwell on moments of the past after all. It doesn’t help. Yet the memory still hurts.Like so many others from his youth.
The constant fighting between his parents before his dad left, being tied to a goalpost before he graduated. The newer moments too.
Dowd and how Hotch had hurt him. Everything about Hankle. Garcia being shot. Gideon leaving him behind only for Rossi to take over.
He was only twenty-four and yet he has so much pain stored in his heart. He knew many things that could ease the ache in his body and the misery in his brain.
Getting high on dilaudid or weed. Cutting. Jumping and finally ending it.
He even had weed in his apartment and wished nothing more than to surrender himself to the sensory input of flashing lights and music that he often enjoyed. But he didn’t have anything to smoke the substance with.
He knew, logically, that he probably shouldn’t be alone right now. Yet the thought of company had him wanting to scream. No, he needed to be alone right now.
He took another hit, watching as the smoke he blew out hung in the air and the streetlamps bounced off. Illuminating it as if it wasn’t a way to ease his breaking heart but instead, like it was just his breath proving how cold it was outside.
A small smile tugged on the broken man’s face. Even though he was broken, he could still find beauty in the world.
He gripped the blanket hanging on his slim shoulders tighter around his body and let himself just exist.
There was no pressure in these small moments. When he could be alone and let himself feel the emotions that bounced around his mind yet always in the back. There was no case requiring his focus. There was no paperwork he needed to push through.
It was just him, the strongest stars, music and his vape.
Invisible by an Australian band Penelope had shown him came on and its sorrowful music seemed to inspire him to sing along.
“ Wasted days
Dreaming of the times I know I can't get back
It seems I just lost track
Looking on
As all of life's colours seem to fade to grey
I just walked away. ”
He sang the lyrics and he knew his pain was reflected in the way his voice cracked and tears seemed to sting at his eyes. Sometimes, in times like this, he wanted nothing more than to reach out to the team.
Hopes he isn’t actually invisible, but he refrains. Another song came on that perfectly encompassed his melancholy mood. Waving Through A Window .
Give them no reason to stare . His entire time in high school and college, trying his best to avoid the wrath of jocks who felt threatened by his smarts. No slipping up if you slip away .
On the outside, always looking in . His every moment in his life, watching people from the outside in hopes he can learn where he’ll fit in yet always, always just waving through a window . Mylo, and the theme park. I try to speak but nobody can hear. He is always just waving through a window .
He started on the team with his eyes wide and hopeful. Start with stars in our eyes . He remembered JJ’s kindness, Morgan's jokes and playful teasing. Pen’s openness and kind heart. We start believing that we belong . But then…
Every sun doesn’t rise . Hotch attacked him while working on the Dowd case. And then Tobias happened and he had to recover by himself. They treated him like glass at first, but then stopped. When he finally got clean, every attempt made to try and reconnect with his team, his family , ended in disappointment. No one tells you where you went wrong .
When you're falling in a forest and there's nobody around. Do you ever really crash, or even make a sound? The entire time he was struggling with his addiction, nobody seemed to be there. As if he was completely alone. Abandoned by those who should have cared or helped.
Did I even make a sound? Ethan didn’t seem to care too much, even though he knew. Did I even make a sound? Gideon left him with nothing but a letter, and no reconciliation or help getting clean. It's like I never made a sound. Will I ever make a sound?
That last lyric hung heavy on his tongue and a stray tear fell down his cheeks. The only way he’ll ever make a sound is doing something drastic. Just like at fourteen with Mylo. He only made a sound once he had hit the younger boy. It’s the same situation.
He took another drag even though he wasn’t going to headspin anymore. He looked at the stars with a glum smile on his face. He wasn’t going to do anything drastic like he did when he was fourteen.
He didn’t want his team’s pity. He didn’t want to be considered a charity case by them. Instead he wanted them to notice . To recognise how hard he fought to get sober from dilaudid for a year. He wanted someone to notice that he hadn’t cut himself in five months. One hundred and fifty eight days . He wanted someone to notice that he wanted to ramble again.
He just wanted someone to wave back at him.
He glanced at his phone, picking it up and questioned reaching out. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. He wanted to be proven wrong. That he wasn’t invisible to the people he cared for.
He looked at Facebook, to see if anyone would be available. But as he looked at his colleagues' pages, his thoughts darkerned.
Penelope and Derek were both out drinking with Emily and JJ, enjoying the rare night where they could go clubbing. Rossi was busy on a date with someone. Ethan was busy running his bar. Even Mylo was busy with training.
The only person with nothing posted in the last forty-eight hours was Hotch, Reid’s boss. But even Spencer debated reaching out to the man.
After all, Aaron was most likely spending time with Jack. He wouldn’t want to be here with Spencer. Not when he rarely spent time with his son.
A few more tears slipped down Spencer’s face. He wiped them away with the back of his hands and looked back at the stars. They blurred together from the unshed tears still threatening to spill.
He took another hit of his vape, as if smoking and causing his lungs to absorb the vapour would actually help. And it did for a moment. But he blew the smoke out, watching it dissipate into the night sky and realised he was invisible to all but the stars.
The stars that hung above him could see his pain, and he imagined that they were twinkling against the onyx sky to remind him he wasn’t alone. He smiled at them, thankful for their company.
His voice cracked as he spoke aloud. “Thank you for shining.” He wrapped the soft blanket around him tighter. Spencer shivered as his breath seemed to be knocked out by the force of his emotions. “Thank you, stars, for seeing me.”
Tears slid down his face as he leaned back in his chair. The sobs wracked through his body and yet the stars stayed. They twinkled down at this broken young man.
And across town, in a neighbourhood that had no apartment blocks but instead family homes with white picket fences, another, equally broken man looked at the stars with a smile.
His eyes seemed to search the sky above him for answers. As if the stars could tell him the answers of the universe. And as this man, dressed in a comfy shirt and a pair of sweats, stared at the stars, he stood up from the chair on his balcony and walked back inside.
The stars had shown him the answer he was looking for, and as he grabbed his car keys, he questioned changing. Changing into the suits he wore to work. To be the unmoving stern man his team often expected him to be. He grabbed a duffle bag that often hung near his front door and walked out, and when he looked to the stars once again, he smiled at them.
He didn't have to wear the armour of his suits for what he was about to do. No, what he was dressed in was exactly the perfect attire for the quest he was about to embark on. And so as the dark-haired man got into his car, he sent a smile to the stars in thanks for telling him he was needed.
As he drove through the streets to his destination, he stopped at a restaurant and ordered some greasy pizzas that he knew would be received better than flowers or wine. Once collected, he sat them on the seat and continued his journey.
He stopped in a neighbourhood that was different to his own, and walked to the apartment building’s entrance with the pizza and his bag. He hoped he would be accepted. He looked at the stars one last time before entering the building, and they seemed to nudge him.
He let himself into the building, stepping into an elevator and acceding to the floor he desired before stepping out. He set his bag outside a normal looking door and rummaged around his keys. He would knock first, but he placed the keys on top of the pizza boxes in case there wasn’t a response. There were no stars to look at for encouragement this time, so the man let him take a breath before knocking.
Knocking at Spencer’s caused the man to be snapped out of his tears, and he got up. Ignoring the wight that seemed to weigh his body down and attempt to slow him, he made his way to his front door.
When Spencer opened the door to his stern boss on the other side, a look of shock crossed his face. His boss looked completely different. His hair was sticking up in places, not tamed by hair gel or any other products. Hotch was dressed in an old FBI sweatshirt and wearing a comfortable pair of sweatpants. In his hand were two pizza boxes and at his feet, a go-bag.
“Hotch? What are you doing here?” Spencer asked, and Aaron seemed to take a moment before answering.
Aaron was grateful he listened to the stars and his gut in that moment. His co-worker was in shambles. His brown eyes were red as if he had been crying. His baggy clothes dwarf his frame. If it wasn't for the fact that the man in front of him hated hugs, Aaron would’ve freed his hands and hugged the broken man in front of him.
When he realised he hadn't answered, Aaron cleared his throat. “Jess has taken Jack to see his grandparents and I thought you might like some company.” Normally Aaron wasn’t so anxious, but right now he was.
He watched as Spencer stepped aside, opening the door wider and Hotch accepted that as answer that the company would be appreciated.
He walked into the apartment that was perfect for the genius. It had books on every available shelf and table, sage green walls and beautiful wooden floors.
Spencer gestured to his leather couch and the two sat beside each other, explaining simple pleasantries while they ate. Spencer grabbed his phone and changed the music to something happier.
Once both men were seated, and the pizzas in the fridge, they went out to the balcony to gaze at the stars. If Spencer didn’t know any better, he would say they seemed to shine brighter than they had earlier in the night.
The two men definitely felt less broken in that moment, and Spencer realised that someone had noticed. Aaron smiled at him and praised him for being able to stay off dilaudid for a year, and that smile got brighter when Spencer confessed how long he had gone without hurting himself.
Aaron pulled out a bong and the two men got high with each other, giggling with each other as they moved from the cold balcony to the room Spencer had set up for when he was high. They enjoyed watching the lights flash along with the music and talked about everything.
Aaron smiled as Spencer rambled, and sent a silent thank you to the stars for telling him that he was needed. Spencer also thanked the stars, for making sure someone waved back at him.
The two men eventually fell asleep in that room, cuddling and their minds felt lighter. The world felt so much lighter and, if possible, it felt like the universe was smiling at these two men.
Two men who were years apart in age, yet equally broken and scared from both their childhoods and the trials of their jobs. Yet, compassionate in a way many others weren’t.
The two woke the next morning, enjoying the warmth spreading through their bodies as they cuddled and laughed. A kiss was shared, with many more being shared after. Eventually their stomachs rumbled and they ate leftover cold pizza and drank tea and coffee. Enjoying this simple moment of domestic bliss.
Aaron didn’t go home that night, and Spencer realised that finally, someone was waving back at him. He wasn’t invisible like he feared. Aaron Hotchner would always care about him.
As Spencer looked at the stars for a second night in a row, a happier smile played on his face as he was hugged with love and care.
They were still hurt, yes. But they hurt less in each other’s company. And in the moment, that was enough for the two men.