#...the knowledge that her va is korean...

“Item 2 is a ticket to the Korean Film festival we went to together. So take it out and admire how bent and worn it is. I was so nervous that day I folded it into tiny pieces in my pocket just so my hands had something to do.”

He took it out of the plastic bag you put it in. It really was bent and worn, so much so you could barely read the name and date, July 7. 

“That was our first official date, though we had a lot of time to bond between November 17 and that day. Emily died. Well, not really, but we thought she did. We’d take turns crying on the other’s shoulder. Some days I’d show up at yours and you’d immediately know that I just needed you to be strong for me. I’d often return the favor. We were still just friends then, but our pain bonded us in ways no one else really understood. We get each other, Spence, or at one point in our lives we did. I’m not so sure I understand you anymore, at least not like I used to.  Sometimes I’d come over and we wouldn’t cry. You’d teach me chess and card games. But usually we would cry, and that was okay. 

That was the start of our platonic sleepovers. Do you remember our first one? The night I cried myself to sleep on your couch and instead of kicking me out you put a blanket over me. You thought I was out cold, but I felt you tuck it around me, your hands lingering for a second too long. For the next few weeks we did that when we didn’t have cases. We’d talk about Em and life and everything and cry, and one of us would crash on the other’s couch. Then, if Hotch didn’t send the bat signal for us, we’d get coffee and pancakes the following morning at IHOP. It became a sweet tradition, born out of one of the darkest times in my life. You always took me at my most vulnerable, loved me, and kept me safe. I don’t think I ever really thanked you for that. So, thank you. 

Everyone else didn’t think they were platonic. I mean if I were them I wouldn’t have thought we were ‘just friends’ either. The fact that we started carpooling together after our sleepovers probably didn’t help our case. I remember one time I brought you to work with me after an IHOP blueberry pancake breakfast. Rossi ran into us in the elevator and commented that you had on the same exact suit as the day before and that we had been coming to work together a lot lately. We both blushed profusely; we knew what his side eye meant.  It’s funny how everyone else knew we loved each other except us. Some profilers we are. 

Okay so back to the ticket. Emily’s loss made me look at life differently. Before she died, I confided in her how I felt. She’s the closest thing to a best friend I ever had. Being her usual supportive self, she told me to go for it. That you felt the same about me. That we’d be perfect for each other. That you adored me. I desperately wanted her to be right, so I selfishly believed her. 

When she left, I realized how quickly we can lose each other. And her support of us told me what I needed to do. In some weird way it felt like I was doing her justice by pursuing you. I decided I wasn’t going to wait and risk losing you too. So I bought tickets to the Korean film festival in Georgetown you talked about for weeks, even though I know zero Korean. I walked up to you and flashed two tickets. The look on your face is one I’ll never forget. Your eyes lit up and you smiled bigger than I had seen in months. You (thankfully) agreed to go with me. 

“I didn’t know you knew Korean,” You said as I drove us there. (I sneakily put on Stacy’s Mom then too, but I don’t think you realized)”

He chuckled. He most definitely did notice that, but what you didn’t notice was how he looked at you as you mumbled the lyrics to yourself. It was dusk and the street lights illuminated your face just so. It occurred to him then that he’d never seen anyone more beautiful than you in that moment, and probably never would again. 

Spencer put the ticket and letter down on the table and got up to pace again. He knows exactly how this story ends; he wrote it with you. And in this story he’s the villain. 

His stomach twisted up in knots. He rushed back to the table to grab the letter, but his eyes were too bleary with tears to read any of the words. Truthfully, he didn’t want to read them. He wasn’t ready to relive it yet. He wasn’t ready to feel it, because up until now he still got to see you and talk to you. He was able to protect you, just like he had all those nights when you cried in his arms. 

He blinked forcefully a few times, forcing his vision to clear enough to keep going.  

“I told you I didn’t know Korean. All I know is enough Spanish to get myself through cases. You smiled at that. 

“Then why did you want to come?” You asked me. 

“Because you wanted to come.” My answer was honest. I love so many things I never thought I would because of you, Spence. You didn’t answer me; the smile on your face was answer enough. Naturally, I got even more nervous. 

“So since there are no subtitles will you translate for me as it happens?” I asked; you nodded. 

We were strolling around the park the festival was at. It was warm out but you still had on pants and a dress shirt. I don’t know how you did that. I had on a dress and was still sweating. We got there early and were waiting for the first movie to start. 

“You know, (Y/N), 1.2 million Americans speak Korean. Korean culture is becoming a vibrant subculture in America. The success of things like anime, Korean Dramas and Korean pop music are just going to add to that number.”

That’s when I looked at you. Your hair had gotten a little longer, but it was cute. Looking back, every hair you’ve ever had was cute. I miss running my hands through it to mess it up. Your eyes were trained on the people milling around us, and mine were on you. I love when you spew out stats. Contrary to popular belief, smart IS sexy. But anyways, your eyes looked so brown and reflected the lights so beautifully. I’ll miss staring into them and getting lost. I once told you I never liked the color brown until I saw your eyes. That’s still true. 

“But like 50 million speak Spanish. So I think my tenth grade skills are more applicable,” I joked. 

“It’s actually 41 million and I agree. Spanish is a very important language to know. But only a tenth grade level? Say something in Spanish.”

“Tú y yo va a ver una película,” I said in the worst Spanish accent ever. You laughed and said some beautiful Korean like it was nothing. I grabbed your hand. You flinched and looked at me confused. I gave it a reassuring squeeze and ran my thumb across the parts of your hand I could reach. That’s when you realized this was a “date” date and not a friend date. I could almost immediately see the red creep up your cheeks. 

We found a place to sit and the movie started. It was called The Housemaid. And true to your word you translated the whole thing for me, much to the dismay of everyone around us. I found myself nestled into your side with your arm around me. You were whispering everything in my ear. Your breath tickled my neck and sent a chill down my spine. Truthfully, I missed half of what you said because I was too focused on not losing my shit. Here you were, the guy I was in love with, arm around me whispering sweet foreign words in my ear. Anyone would melt instantly. 

We got through two and a half movies that night. I don’t remember the other two—“

“Sisters on the Road and A Frozen Flower!” Spencer spoke out loud then, as if you could hear him. When he realized you definitely couldn’t hear him because you were in Seattle, and definitely not in his apartment, he groaned and kept reading. 

“We had already watched like four hours of movies and I was getting hungry. So, we stopped and got ice cream. I scolded you for getting a large when we both know you can’t have dairy, to which you just shrugged and said, “Dairy allergies are the most common in the world. 65% of the population has issues with lactose. You can’t expect 4,485,000,000 people to not eat ice cream, especially when it’s delicious.” 

I rolled my eyes, “Well don’t come crying to me when your tummy hurts later.”

“Oh I most definitely will be coming and crying to you.”

We walked like that for a while, hand in hand, until the chill of the night got to us. We made our way back to my car and you opened the door for me like a gentleman. I wanted to invite you back to my place, but I thought that might give the wrong impression for a first date. So instead I drove you home and you didn’t invite me in. I was a little hurt, honestly. I have been in your apartment more times than I can count, so what was one more? It’s okay though. You made up for it. Remember? 

We were sitting on the side of the street and you didn’t get out of the car yet. The windows were down and the radio was off. We listened to the sound of crickets and passing cars as we enjoyed each other’s company in a different way than we ever had before. 

“It’s almost midnight, get some sleep. Your brain needs rest after all that translating.” 

“Your brain doesn’t rest when you sleep, your body does,” You said and turned to me. Our faces were probably only six inches apart. Your breath was hot on my cheeks and you kept doing that damn tongue thing. 

“But you need some sleep (Y/N). You don’t sleep well.”

“I sleep well on your couch,” I said and you smiled. The space between us had gotten much much smaller. 

I put my hand on your cheek and felt the slight stubble there. You made the first move Spence. All I did was hold your face, you’re the one who closed the gap. 

That was one of the best kisses of my life. It lasted maybe ten seconds, but it was ten seconds that took years to get to. It was all that longing and pining and pent up feelings released at once. Nothing in the world is as special as kissing you, Spencer Reid. 

That next Monday we got shit from the team. Garcia is such a blabbermouth. Derek and Rossi made fun of us like middle schoolers. Hotch gave us that big bad ‘one of you will have to leave speech’. Deep down they were all happy for us. We all needed something to be happy about. And we were happy Spence, so so happy. Until we weren’t. 

So take this bent up ticket and admire it again before placing the memory of our first date on a shelf in the corner of your mind that will get dusty. I hope someday you’ll brush it off and relive it. 

There’s a Korean proverb I learned from you, that means: ‘At the end of hardship comes happiness.’ 

I hope that’s true.

xo,

YN”

Spencer put the letter down and picked up the ticket. He walked across the living room to a corkboard on the wall. There he took a pushpin and fastened the ticket to the board. It was surrounded by pictures of everyone he loves. Group pictures, his mom, Henry, pictures of the two of you. But in the center of it all was that ticket that had been so bent up because of how nervous you were for your date. He never told you how nervous he was then too. He had to make sure he wasn’t stuttering through the translations. Your close proximity to him, the smell of your perfume, and warmth of your body pressed against him made it hard to think. He held your hand so tightly that night because he thought that maybe you wouldn’t notice how badly they were shaking. He only got up the nerve to kiss you because when you weren’t looking he texted Derek, and he told him he had to. He remembered how his heart felt like it was leaping out of his chest when he closed the gap, how you sighed into him, how you sucked on his lower lip ever so slightly. You were right, nothing is quite like kissing the love of your life. It’s like every kiss you ever had before that kiss, the kiss, didn’t count. It’s the only kiss that matters. 

He admired the ticket one last time, before reaching in to grab envelope #3. 

Part 4!

tags: @l0ve-0f-my-life​