Chapter Text
He was itchy. So damn itchy. His skin felt like it was on fire.
he knew it was just cravings. Just a physical manifestation of something psychological.
Knowing that didn’t help.
He kicked the dilaudid months ago. Even if the team was ignoring it he knew they wouldn’t be able to if it was that obvious and kept him off the job.
It wasn’t his fault what he used as a replacement. At least he could hide the scars easier.
he didn’t even do it every day anymore.
But today was stressful. This week, this month, the past 4 months.
Stress was piling on top of him till he felt like he was suffocating, and it made his skin itch.
He couldn’t help wanting to laugh. He felt almost the same way he did when he was desperately rummaging around his bag for needles, but hey now he could wear short sleeves, and the team was definitely none the wiser to his new coping method.
He had been anxiously bouncing his leg and staring out the window the whole flight home, almost willing to go into the tiny plane bathroom just to make his skin stop itching, and as soon as they got back in the door at Quantico, spencer quickly grabbed his things and left, bidding everyone a goodnight and nearly running out the door.
He finally felt like he could breath once he was back at his apartment, the door locked behind him and his bag thrown haphazardly once he finally got what was there in it.
He sunk onto the floor once he reached his bathroom, shutting the door behind him even though he knew he was alone. He stared for a minute at the blade in his hand, one he had ripped out of a pencil sharpener months ago. He wished he could cut the same place he used to inject, but he knew that the second he started covering up again the team would know. Instead he took off and flung his trousers to the side, immediately cutting into his skin.
1..
2..
3..
4..
5..
up to probably 20.
The relief was nearly instant, as endorphins flooded his brain at the site of the beads of blood along the fresh cuts.
But he felt like he needed just a couple more.
Just a few.
Then he would be fine.
21..
22..
23..
24..
It was probably more like 30 now if he was honest.
But the itching finally stopped.
He wiped up the blood and bandaged it up with some gauze he had in the cabinet, before putting on the pyjamas he had abandoned in there the previous day and walking to his room.
He felt almost happy now, relaxed at least. At least doing this, the only chemicals there would be a high amount of in him right now were endorphins.
*
Work the next day went fine, mostly just working on reports, and even though he had moments where his skin still got that familiar itch, it was easier to deal with. He knew it was stupid. Knew that he should just stop all together, but it wasn’t as bad as dilaudid and his team didn’t know, and this time it was really only himself he was hurting, not his team. Its amazing how easily smart people can rationalize stupid choices. He knew it was stupid and he didn’t care. He was able to act perfectly normal, he wasn’t snapping at anyone, he felt fine.
Then he noticed Morgan staring at him. It wasn’t much, so he was able to ignore it and focus on his paperwork, till he went and got his 3rd coffee of the day.
Morgan came up to him as he was adding in some sugar, and instantly spencer felt trapped.
“Hey kid, you know you can talk to me if anythings wrong, right?”
Spencer just looked at him.
“yeah I know, nothings wrong though, im fine.” He replied.
“are you?”
“yep.”
Morgan left it at that.
Once spencer got back to his desk, he started tapping on his leg.
It felt grounding in a way, kept his brain from wandering off too much.
Then it was hotch who started looking at him, coming out of his office and looking out of the corner of his eye as he talked quickly to Morgan.
Suddenly spencer couldn’t help wondering if they were talking about him. It was fine though; they could think what they wanted. He wasn’t using and he could prove it.
*
He was glad when they didn’t get called on another case and he could go home that night. The day hadn’t been particularly stressful, so this time he really only needed 3 or 4 new cuts before he was satisfied and he could get to sleep.
He just wouldn’t do it tomorrow, he told himself.