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It happened again.
He couldn't believe how unlucky he was. How cruel his life was. He didn't want to throw himself a pity party, he didn't want to sound all woe is me. But what else are you supposed to do when the love of your life slips from your grasp?
He stared at the ceiling for the third day in a row. He didn't answer the insane amount of calls he was receiving. He didn't answer the knocks on his door. He couldn't go out anymore, he could barely sit in his room without seeing her, feeling her. She clung to everything. He swears late at night, he could hear her, feel her lips, see her silhouette in the low yellow light of his apartment.
But he knew better than that. So much better.
He was still. Motionless. Lifeless.
Everything had been sucked out of him, left to wither away on his apartment floor.
His limbs were spread so they weren't touching. He hadn't moved for what felt like hours, his body tingling, eyes shut as he replayed the moment in his head.
It was horrible. But what else could he do? He needed to see her face again. Even if it was the way he remembered it. Her lips turning blue, her eyes closing and never opening again.
A tear burned down his cheek, leaving a gaping crater on the skin. He was crying. He didn't even realise he had tears left. He probably didn't, they were most likely acid now. At least they felt like acid, as his flesh fizzled in their wake.
"Don't be sad." A voice spoke.
He jolted up. Sitting on the end of his bed... it was her.
"What-" He swallowed, this was a dream, "How?"
"How do you think?" She smiled softly, the way she always smiled. And his eyes became alive again, like a river bed that finally saw rain after months of drought. "Please don't cry."
He couldn't help it, they came pouring out, as his numbness thawed and grief continued to pile onto his chest, pushing out more tears. "They won't stop." He laughed slightly, swiping at his eyes. She inched closer to him, moving a tear with her thumb.
"You can't cry forever, Spencer." She shook her head sadly, her eyes tracing the lines of his face. It was so familiar, yet so distance. He could feel her everywhere, not just in front of him. He wanted to hold her, but when his fingers touched her skin, it was like touching air, touching a gust of wind. Making an impression for the smallest of moments.
"Yes I can. I want to."
"No," she pleaded softly, "it's not healthy, Spencer. None of what you're doing is healthy." She stroked from the top of his head, down to his chin, raising it slightly. "People are worried about you-"
"-I don't care." He said, void of emotion. Void of everything. He thought it was hard losing her, it was even worse seeing her tell him to move on. To let someone new in. To live.
He couldn't live. Not without her.
"You should care." She said firmly, "I care, that you're killing yourself over me." Tears brimmed, spilling over her eyelids and tumbling freely down her cheeks. "Don't throw everything you have away, just because I'm gone."
"I can't." He whispered, ever so softly. It was like he was praying, pleading, to never wake up. Because if he never drifted back to reality. Never became conscious again. He could stay with her.
"You can."
"I can't." He yelled, finally. His lungs pushed hard enough, pulling his body from where he was curled up. He launched himself off his bed, standing in front of her. "You don't understand. You're all I had."
"I wasn't." She drove the words into him, he didn't want to admit it, he didn't want to lose her. Again. "I never was. You have so many people that love you, Spencer. People who would die for you. So don't give me that shit, that you're alone. You're not. You're just too afraid to finally live again."
"Damn right I'm afraid." He shook his head, shrugging his shoulders, his chest cracking open. "I'm terrified that- if I move on... I'll lose them. Just like I lost Maeve. Just like I lost you. " He aggressively pushed his fingers through his hair, pulling at the roots. "Or worse. I'll forget. I'll forget everything we once were, in favour of something, or someone who isn't worth it."
She bit the inside of her cheek, pushing herself from her position, making her way to him. Touching his cheeks, he went to hold her hands, but was met with cold air, and disappointment. "You're so stupid. You can't forget, you're just making an excuse not to leave."
"I can't leave you." He titled his head, leaning further into her touch. A touch that was barely there.
"I'll give you one hour. Then I'm waking you up."
"That's not enough," he said frantically, hoping that the panic in his words might somehow convince her.
"Well that's all you're going to get."
He took a moment to think it over. To see if there was any possible way to extend the time. "Okay." He finally spoke, almost immediately regretting how little he fought.
"Do you remember how we met?" She asked, a slow grin forming on her perfect lips. She stared ahead, and all he wanted was her eyes on him.
"Do you know who you're talking to?" He replied, with the most amount of energy he had in months, sitting on the edge of the bed, next to her. The memory of her warmth brushing against his side.
She simply smiled wider, brighter, the light cascading from her eyes, swirling in her irises. "It was so cold that day."
Before he even had the chance to blink, they were in the break room at the BAU, two years ago.
A young, clueless and utterly clumsy Spencer, stumbled towards her, spilling his coffee down the front of her shirt. She gasped, the liquid no doubt scolding her chest. But as he blubbered apologies, tripped over his embarrassment, she only grinned and politely asked for a napkin. He obliged ,like the gentlemen he was, still apologising profusely.
He remembers wondering who she was, why such a beautiful girl was in their office. Completely oblivious to the fact she was his new coworker.
"I'm sorry about that." He cringed, still seeing her facing ahead, her eyes trained on her younger self. On his younger self. On them, seeing each other for the first time.
"Don't be." Her gaze collided with his, finally. And he could breath once again. "It brought me the best two years of my life."
The atmosphere swelled around them. He heard his name fall off her lips in the distance, bringing his attention back to their first interaction.
"That's a lovely name." The girl before him said, "I'm y/n."
She nudged him, "I stick by what my past self said," she laughed, "it's still a lovely name. It's my favourite name."
He wanted to kiss her so badly. Know what she felt like, taste her on his lips again. He could still remember, but memories weren't the same. Nothing compared to kissing her. Nothing compared to touching her, to loving her.
"Ready to move on?" She asked, observing their past selves awkwardly interacting as he handed her a cup of coffee he had made her, to make up for ruining her shirt.
"Not just yet." Spencer stopped, waiting for past y/n to exit the break room, still dabbing at her shirt with a napkin, new coffee in hand.
Young Spencer stood staring, watching young y/n mindlessly brush past Morgan as he entered.
Derek looked at Spencer skeptically, "what's that face for?" He asked, scrunching his brows together.
Spencer opened his mouth for a moment, trying to find the right words. Trying to find anything to describe what he just felt pang in his core. Describe what was flowing through him so relentlessly .
"I think I just met the love of my life." Spencer said, still staring at the door, playing the vision of her walking out over and over again in his head.
Morgan tilted his head for a moment, before scoffing and walking to the coffee machine to make himself a cup, "you are so cheesy and dramatic, man." He shook his head, beginning to turn on the machine, patting Spencer firmly on the shoulder.
"He's right, you know? You are cheesy and dramatic." Y/n raised her eyebrows, giggling, before Spencer nudged her.
"Yeah, yeah," he couldn't stop grinning, his cheeks hurt. "Let's move on." He turned to her, feeling the light fade, and lower.
They were in a movie theatre. The smell of popcorn and damp surroundings. He remembers the way her knee moved to press against his. He had never been so affected by such a small and seemingly meaningless touch.
"I wish I kept that ticket." He said, as she turned to him, confused.
"Why?" She asked, the shadow of a smile on her face, her fingers drawing small shapes on the back of his hand.
"Because if I had realised all of you would be taken from me, I would have kept everything." He admitted, his eyes pricking with tears again, his head bowed down. She lifted his chin, staring straight through him.
"You can't think like that-" A large swell in the score blasted through the speakers. She gasped, "this is my favourite part."
He looked at the screen, slightly confused, before she nudged him, pointing out their younger selves.
He had just turned to her, taken her face in his hands... and kissed her. He had never been so nervous in his life, his heart was pounding so hard against his ribs, he thought they might break open, spilling his insides out onto the floor. Leaving his heart sitting in the palm of her hand.
"How cliche, our first kiss was in a movie theatre." He let out a low, almost sad chuckle, aiming to place his hand over hers, but feeling it almost fall through.
"I felt like such a teenager." She blushed, smiling fondly to herself. He wished he could see that smile right in front of him, forever. Of course there were pictures, and videos. But nothing was like being there with her. Nothing would be like that again.
"I was such a nerd." He shook his head, watching himself whisper a fact against her lips, that didn't need to be said straight after kissing someone.
"You are such a nerd." She teased, as Spencer playfully pouted, "but I love that about you."
"You know what I love about you?" He smirked menacingly.
"What?" She squinted, seeing the mischief so clearly presenting itself behind his eyes.
"Your singing voice," he almost giggled, feeling his chest fill so completely with her, with the embarrassment spreading across her cheeks. How he missed it. Missed everything about her.
"Oh my god. Don't." She shook her head, "I'm horrible." She covered her face. He wanted to tear her hands away, reveal her beauty to himself once again.
"I don't think so." He bit his lip, feeling their surroundings change, hearing the loud blare through the speaker in her apartment. But most of all, he could hear her voice, so noticeably present itself amongst the music around them.
"Stop!" She squealed, "this is so embarrassing." Her cheeks became even more red, the pink dusting over her nose as well.
A young Spencer stood leaning against the wall, smiling as y/n danced so shamelessly around the room. She jumped as he cleared his throat, gasping as she turned around to face him.
"Oh god, make it stop." Y/n continued to bury her face in her hands.
"Just watch," Spencer whispered in her ear, "this is where it gets interesting." He laughed, as y/n peaked out from behind her hands.
"How did you get in here?" Young Y/n's mouth dropped, clearly feeling disgraced by her actions. Which in Spencer's opinion, were adorable.
"This is my apartment." His face scrunched together, as he shook his head, fighting against the chuckle threatening to burst through his chest and out of his mouth.
"Right." She blushed, her head bowing down, before slightly raising again, "how long were you standing there?"
"Not long enough." He pushed off the door frame, shutting the door softly behind him. He walked over to her, y/n still shrinking into herself. He held her in his arms, before picking her up and swinging her around. She laughed and squealed and begged for him to put her down, but he kept going.
When he finally let her out of his arms, she stumbled for a bit, trying to find her footing. But when her wobbling stopped, she launched one strong punch into his bicep, making him keel. He protested as she continued to playfully hit him, chasing him around the apartment.
He wished he had appreciated those moments more. Truly took the time to observe her. He remembered everything about her, but not enough. He didn't feel satisfied. He wished he had taken the time to learn every inch of her beautiful brain. To explore every bit of her skin, know how it felt under his finger tips.
He wished he had more time.
That was it. He didn't have enough time with her. He probably wouldn't have felt like eternity was enough. Hot tears burned his eyes again. They were silent. He weeped for every moment he had lost with her because of what had happened.
How it had happened hurt the most.
Guilt burned through him, raged like rapids around his body. He felt his chest slump, sobs over taking him. He felt a cold air brush over his neck and down his back. Her hand was slowly rubbing in circles, trying to calm him. Trying anything that would stop his pain.
"You can't blame yourself, you know?" She smiled softly.
"Yes I can." Her smile faded as he refused to look up, to see what he had lost.
"It's not your fault," she swallowed, her voice slightly cracking, "there was nothing you could have done."
"I could have saved you."
Silence overwhelmed them. He felt his chest fill with tar, freezing the pain in him, keeping it there. Trapping it within him. It kept growing and growing. It was all he felt. So much so, he didn't feel the atmosphere shift, he didn't see the sun go down and the lights turn on. He didn't notice anything had changed at all.
Until he heard yelling.
"You're acting like I can't do my job." The voice of a younger Y/n echoed through the apartment, bouncing around in the shell of Spencer's ears and ricocheting off the walls.
"I'm not saying that." Spencer yelled back, "I'm just saying you have to be careful."
"This is exactly what I was worried about," she crossed her arms over her chest, visibly seething. Spencer stood tall. Self righteous. "I knew once we made it official you would act like you owned me." She scoffed
"What are you talking about?" He spat, huffing as he sat on the couch, "I do not act like I own you."
"Well you sure as hell don't act like you trust me either." Y/n's arms waved in the air as she turned her back, "this was a fucking mistake."
"Maybe it was, maybe we should go back to when we were nothing to each other." He turned his back also. Their two figures facing away from one another, closing themselves off, causing a physical and mental barrier, a wall. "At least then I wouldn't have to worry about you getting yourself killed." He enunciated every word, venom lacing each vowel and consonant. A poisonous articulation.
"I'm sorry." Their words overlapped, the sound of silence between their younger selves filling the background.
"I felt horrible for weeks after that." Y/n confessed, regret buried deep in her brow, "if only we hadn't wasted that time. That precious, precious time."
"I know. I regret it everyday."
They stared at each other. The air around them fizzled. He could smell it. He could smell her. He could smell her perfume, he could smell the cookies she compulsively made, he could smell her shampoo and soap. He could smell books and caramel creamer and cinnamon scented candles. He could smell photo paper and soil and peace lilies. He could smell cotton fabric doused in her deodorant, which mingled with the lavender oil she had bought to help her sleep better.
He could hear her playing the piano, and humming horribly to the radio. He could hear her favourite show constantly playing on the tv and the sound of her reading aloud to herself. He could hear her footsteps on the floorboards at one in the morning, getting up for a glass of water. He could hear her laugh when she teased him. He could hear her voice pitch up when Morgan teased her in turn. He could hear her voice.
He could feel her skin beneath his finger tips. He could feel the way her body curved neatly into his, when she hugged him. He could feel her fingers dance in his hair and at the nape of his neck. He could feel her bed sheets, still warm from her presence. He could feel her all around him. Constantly consuming him and building him up again.
Their stare was finally broken by the slam of a door.
Young y/n had stormed out, leaving Spencer alone in his apartment, knees drawn to his chest.
"Let's move on." Y/n suggested.
Spencer didn't argue. He let the surroundings skew and reform before him. Observing how the walls crumbled around them, forming a wide orange sky. They were now on top of a sand dune, the waves crashing loudly against the wet sand. The ocean looked so blue. Impossibly blue. Like paint blue. Crayon blue. The blue you used in artworks.
It was sublime.
Spencer shifted in his spot, feeling the sand scratch between his toes, "I hate sand."
"I know." Y/n smiled.
"I hate the beach." Younger Spencer whined, trying to keep up with y/n as she ran along the shore.
Y/n shot Spencer a look before turning back to their younger selves.
"Come on," she squealed, dancing around, "you can't tell me this isn't the most beautiful thing you've ever seen." She yelled, running faster, darkness creeping behind them, as the pinks turned to purple and threatened to turn a dark blue.
"It's not." Spencer cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting to Y/n, who stopped in her tracks, her hands finding their way to her hips and rooting themselves there.
"What do you mean it's not?" She looked... angry. Like he had insulted her, or ran over her cat or something.
"It's not." Spencer sang, shaking his head. His chest was rapidly moving, as he placed his hands on her hips, tugging her towards him. He lowered his voice, "because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
She looked into his eyes, wonder filling the lines in her face as she scrunched it up. Her expression suddenly fell, "vomit." She let out apathetically.
"Come on, that was romantic," he scorned.
"Yeah if we were twelve." She tilted her head from side to side. "You really need to get better lines dude." She shrugged, trying to move, but he held her in place.
"Okay, well." He looked up, thinking, "how does this sound?" He leaned closer, whispering in her ear...
"I love you."
She pulled away so she could see his face, shocked. Then her lips began to turn up, slowly before she spoke, "that sounds perfect."
She grabbed the back of his neck, pulling them towards each other until their lips collide. He held her face in his hands, continuing to deepen their embrace, until she fell on top of him, sending them deep into the sand. And suddenly, Spencer forgot how much he hated it.
"I love you too." She whispered, dipping her head back down to take his lips in hers again.
"I still love you." Spencer allowed himself to look away from the scene.
The side of her lips turned up, "and you'll learn to love someone else."
"What if I don't want to." His vision became blurry, clouded with tears.
"You're going to meet someone," she nodded, "and you're going to almost forget I was even there at all. And that's all I want."
She let him bury his face in the crook of her neck, getting lost within her scent. Getting lost in everything that made her.
"Y/n!" Younger Spencer called, the vision of her turning around as she was putting on her vest graced his eyes. She smiled like she always did. Like nothing would be different within the next hour. He smiled also, not knowing a damn thing. So hopeful. So in love.
But that would change.
Spencer just didn't know it yet.
"Don't you look handsome," she placed a hand on his chest, his cheeks blushing. She never failed to make him flustered.
"You don't look too bad yourself," he kissed the top of her head.
'So goddamn oblivious,' Spencer thought.
"Alright, is everyone ready?" Hotch called, bringing their attention to him.
"Come back to me." Spencer whispered into her hair, holding her head against his broad chest, his breathing steady, calm, unaware.
Oblivious.
"I promise." She placed a chaste kiss on his lips, before trailing off behind the team.
"But you didn't." Spencer's voice fell flat.
"I love you." He replied, but she didn't hear.
He wished he had kissed her. Actually kissed her. Not just a peck. But something all consuming. Because it hurt to know that he couldn't feel her lips on his any longer. That last time still burnt, it was still there. He could still feel it. And now it stung.
Fuck, why did everything have to hurt? Why couldn't he just be numb again?
"And I'm so, so sorry." Her breath hitched, her chest stuttered. She could no longer smile, she was finding it hard just to look at him. But he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. Because now this was their last time. Even if it was just a dream. He would never see her after this. He knew she would always be there, he would always feel her around him. But he would never see her again. Never truly see her, and everything that made her perfect in his eyes.
Gunfire.
Two shots to be exact.
Half a second apart. One in the chest, plummeting and burying itself within her vest. The other in her neck.
Half a second and one shot more... changed everything.
"Y/n don't close your eyes." He shook his head frantically, her head dipping as he tried to hold her up. But her body was going limp and his hands were slipping and nothing was going right. "Stay awake, goddamn it." His voice broke.
There was so much noise, too much noise. He wanted to scream, shake her, anything to keep her awake. To keep her alive. But there was so much blood. It was spilling over his hands and across his arms and onto the floor. It was in her hair and on her face and oozing down her neck. So fast. Too fast.
Nothing was fast enough.
The medics weren't fast enough.
His reaction wasn't fast enough.
And she was burning out, smothered like a candle left outside in the rain.
She was choking. On her own blood. The blood he couldn't stop from pooling beneath them on the floor.
Too loud. Too loud. Too much.
Not enough.
He couldn't do enough. Her eyes closed. And they weren't opening again.
"Y/n, wake up. " His chest was cracking and screaming. His skin was hot, blistering. Like he was standing in a forest fire, letting his flesh melt. His hands were shaking, the blood came out thicker and there was more, and more and he couldn't keep up. His brain was short circuiting. Frying. He was burning out now. "I love you, WAKE UP!"
Y/n drew Spencer away from the horror for just a moment, "I never got to say it back. So I have to say it now." She sniffled, "I love you Spencer Reid."
Wordlessly, Spencer drew a breath, and stared at himself again.
But she wasn't waking up. And he didn't know what to do. But he always knew what to do, at least he was supposed to. But not this time. Her lips were blue, and the pink in her skin was gone. She looked like ice, she was frozen over. Limp, lifeless... gone.
She was gone.
They tried to pry her from his arms. He screamed at them to go away. No one was listening to him. Why wouldn't they listen to him? Why did no one get help sooner? When they were finally able to take her from him, he just sat there. The touch on his shoulder was brushed off, and he stared at his hands.
Her blood. It was covering them. It was all he had left of her. Her blood was the only thing he had left. Nothing was there anymore. Nothing left. She left. He was left alone.
David, Derek, Emily, Jennifer. All of them tried to get him to stand up in that moment. To go with them. He pushed them all away. He stared at his hands for what felt like an hour, watching the blood slowly dry and cake on his skin.
Her blood. The only thing left.
Aaron was finally the one to get him on his feet. He held Spencer close to him.
Aaron knew. He knew what it felt like. Spencer felt safe with him.
He fought himself on whether to wash it off... the blood. JJ convinced him at last, and once it started to wash away down and into the sink, he couldn't get it off fast enough. The reminder of how he failed her, wouldn't wash off fast enough. He broke down again, wanting to break the mirror in front of him. He couldn't look at himself. Not like this. Not with her blood still on him.
Her blood. The only thing left.
He choked on nothing. The red swirled down the drain, and it was gone. She was gone... forever.
The only thing that was left of her was gone. It was swirling in the pipes, god knows how far away it was by now. And he regretted washing it off. It was so fucked up. But he couldn't bear not even having that with him.
"I can't look anymore." Spencer let out quietly, dropping his head onto her shoulder and closing his eyes. It felt like the first time in weeks he finally let his eyelids shut, giving himself rest. Letting himself finally drift.
"It's okay," she whispered, playing with his hair the way she always did, "you don't have to anymore." She kissed his head, "it's over, Spencer. It's over."
When his eyes finally clicked open, he saw himself, curled up on his couch.
The bags under his eyes had never been more present, his hair was disheveled. Everything about him was decaying and wasting away. There was a knock on the door, Spencer just laid there, unmoving. If there wasn't the site of his faint breathing, it would be hard to tell that he was alive at all.
He didn't feel alive.
"Spencer?" A voice traveled into the room, "please open the door."
It was JJ. She knocked again.
"Please." She begged, "we're all really worried about you. Just open the door."
Spencer still didn't move.
All the photos in the apartment were faced down, the plants she had bought to 'make it more homey' were dying and left to rot along with him. Dishes were piled up. Things were smashed and broken. He hadn't slept in his own bed for almost a week.
He couldn't bear it.
The couch was one of the only places that didn't overwhelmingly smell like her. But still it was there. The books and cookies and cinnamon. The smell tarnished everything. It made him sick. But still he sat there, in the shirt of his that she always wore. Torturing himself. He wanted to feel close to her, but still never wanted a reminder that she had existed again.
"I'll pick you up tomorrow Spence. I love you and we're all here for you." JJ said, before her footsteps trailed off and he was left alone again. Cold and empty. He felt so empty.
The funeral was tomorrow.
And he was empty.
Y/n swallowed, Spencer's head still resting on her shoulder, "I hate seeing you like this."
"I hate that you're not here."
She sighed. "I'll always be here, just not the way you want me to be." She cleared her throat, the light changing.
Colour beamed through the stained glass. It was early and a cool breeze had settled as autumn changed to winter. Everyone was adorned with large black coats. There wasn't a dry eye in the room. It was so crisp and silent, apart from the small hidden weeps of the people sitting in the pews.
"She was the love of my life." Spencer began, thinking he could do it, but quickly realising that his throat was closing up and his lungs were stiffening, turning to concrete from the hardening cement in his organs. "I never thought I'd lose her. Not like this. Not this soon."
He coughed, trying to dislodge the sob crawling up his throat, "I wish I had appreciated the time we had more than I did. I thought we had a lifetime, and when you're living, a lifetime can feel like forever." He wiped his eyes quickly, before looking down at the crumpled speech he had sitting in front of him, that he didn't need.
"But I didn't have a lifetime... I had two years. Two brilliant, amazing, love filled years. But it wasn't enough. God how can I express that no amount of time would have ever been enough. I want to go back. I wanted to ask her out two months before I did. I want to say I love you, a year before I did. Because god knows I loved her the moment I met her. I want to go back and apologise for that stupid fight we had, so I had one extra week of bliss."
He blew out a breath, "I want to do everything again, over and over and over, until I get it right. Until I'm not standing here... telling a room full of people how I wished I had done more. I want to go back and make sure she never went into that room, make sure it wasn't her who died. Even if it was me. And I know, I can't change what happened, but I can dream. And I know, I'm supposed to stand here and talk about all the good times I had with her. But there are too many to tell and there weren't enough for me to be satisfied."
"So, all I have to say now, is please hold onto the ones you love. And tell them you love them. If not for yourself, then for one in a million chance of you losing them."
He stumbled down from the lectern, falling into his seat.
Silence. No words were spoken as they watched Spencer slowly go numb, as he let his head rest on JJ's shoulder.
"Maybe you should take your own advice." Y/n spoke, her words calm and loving.
"What?" Spencer asked.
"Hold onto the ones you love Spencer, you've barely left your apartment for a month. The team is probably worried sick." She pushed a lock from his face, wiping under his red rimmed eyes. "Move on."
She pointed. They were now staring at present Spencer. Curled up on his bed, knees to his chest, still wrapped in her favourite blanket. He had taken a month off of work and tomorrow would be his first day back. He had almost decided to take it off already. He had almost decided to quit. He would figure something out. He just couldn't face the job that took her from him.
Move on.
The word swirled in his brain.
Move on? He wasn't strong enough he wasn't-
"-You think you're not ready. But you'll never be, unless you force yourself to take that step. Just one, tiny, minuscule step."
Spencer shook his head, tears once again coming down his cheeks, rolling under his chin and onto his neck and down his chest. He could taste the salt in his mouth, it was hard to swallow. He wanted her to stop looking at him, he didn't want her to see him like this, never like this.
"You have to wake up Spencer." She was sobbing now, her breath hitching on every word, "Open the door, please. "
He tried to hold her, the way she was holding him, but she wasn't there. It was like nothing was in his arms. Because she was gone. This was a dream and he had to wake up. He just didn't want to. He never wanted to wake up again. But she was pushing on his chest, and he could feel himself stirring.
"What are you doing?" He asked, shaking his head once again, not wanting to let go. To let go of her.
Of all he had left.
"You have to go." She cried, and he cried too, she held him in his arms, the strongest gust of wind he had felt in his entire life. "I love you too much to keep you here. Spencer you need to wake up."
"I don't want to." He rasped out, pain crackling in the air around them, fizzling out and rushing back like the tide. Like waves crashing. "I love you, I don't want to go." He had never begged this hard in his life, "I don't want to leave you, please don't make me leave you."
'You're all I have.' He spoke to himself.
And as if she heard him, she rested her head against his. He breathed in her soft air, her soft scent. He absorbed her touch, memorising it one last time. The touch didn't feel the way he was used to it feeling, but it was all he had in the moment, and he held onto it for dear life.
'Don't leave me.' He said in his head, once again.
"Live for me. Live for the both of us." She cupped his cheeks, her eyes red, her voice cracking.
"Don't leave" He said in his head... at least he thought he did.
"I'll never leave you," she whispered, "because I'll always be right there." She tapped his chest, his heart moving to meet her finger tips.
And she finally kissed him.
And it wasn't like anything he had ever felt. It was like a piece of him was returned. It was like what died within him was resurrected. It was pure energy. Pure light. It was life. It was the chance to live again. The chance to grow. The chance to pick himself up and dust himself off for the millionth time. It was the chance to not let go.
To be stronger... for her and because of her.
And that light and love and life, led him back to his own. Back to his bedroom. He was zapped awake, like lightning had struck, sent electricity through his veins, shocked him alive again.
His head instinctively turned as he heard a knock at the door. And for the first time, in what felt like a week, he had the power, the strength, to rise to his feet, and answer the knock. Face what was standing on the other side of it.
It was Penelope. Take out in hand, tears quickly forming in her eyes.
"You're alive." She said, almost like she didn't believe what she was saying, or what she was seeing.
"Don't act so shocked." He allowed himself to smile.
"You're alive!" She threw her arms around him, pulling him closer to her. Wrapping him in her ever present warmth. She sniffled into his shoulder and he buried his face in her neck, sucking in the familiar scent of a friend he missed with his whole heart.
And after he pulled aside, he swore he caught a glimpse of y/n in the smallest way. But as he turned his head, she wasn't there. She would never be there again. Although he could still feel her everywhere around him.
But it didn't matter. Because she had given him the chance to live again.
What died, didn't stay dead.