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[october 15]
Sep. 23rd, 2017 10:05 amThere's a mailbox that doesn't go anywhere.
Maybe that's unfair, because the note on the side of the mailbox says it's meant to sent letters to somewhere else, whatever that means, and Luke reads it over three times the first time he really stops to look at it, then heads home to mull it over.
It's another week before he goes again, this time with a folded over note tucked in between the pages of a notebook, a pen and an envelope in another pocket. The first note was written by him a long time ago, his jagged, scrawling handwriting lettering out a love poem for Spencer Reid, one of the many he'd found in books and sent to the man who would eventually become his husband in lieu of truly admitting to his feelings.
It had all worked out in the end, Spencer had been the brave one, he'd come to Luke with the poems and admitted to wishing they were all from him and from there everything else had simply fallen into place. Those letters are all in the apartment now, but they shouldn't be. They're not Luke's, they belong to Reid, and so he's brought the first of them with him today.
The note he writes isn't verbose, he doesn't think he needs to be. Reid always knew what he was feeling or thinking, sometimes before he even had any sort of idea of it himself. But he sits on a nearby bench and writes carefully and concisely, because if there's some way for this to actually reach his husband, he wants him to know he's still so loved and that everything is going to be okay.
Spencer,
I won't pretend I don't miss you or that it doesn't hurt, but you know everything about me and you can trust me to be okay. I will never stop loving you and I will never love anyone the way I love you. Never doubt that. Hold onto that, because I always will.
Love, Luke
And then, just inside the folds of this note, he tucks the verse he'd written all that time ago.
and suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be
yet it is only love
which sets us free
Then he seals both pieces of paper inside the envelope, addresses it to Spencer Reid, and slips it into the mailbox. He's still standing there a few minutes later when he realizes he recognizes the man coming toward him in the park and he smiles and lifts his hand to wave to Lyall.
Maybe that's unfair, because the note on the side of the mailbox says it's meant to sent letters to somewhere else, whatever that means, and Luke reads it over three times the first time he really stops to look at it, then heads home to mull it over.
It's another week before he goes again, this time with a folded over note tucked in between the pages of a notebook, a pen and an envelope in another pocket. The first note was written by him a long time ago, his jagged, scrawling handwriting lettering out a love poem for Spencer Reid, one of the many he'd found in books and sent to the man who would eventually become his husband in lieu of truly admitting to his feelings.
It had all worked out in the end, Spencer had been the brave one, he'd come to Luke with the poems and admitted to wishing they were all from him and from there everything else had simply fallen into place. Those letters are all in the apartment now, but they shouldn't be. They're not Luke's, they belong to Reid, and so he's brought the first of them with him today.
The note he writes isn't verbose, he doesn't think he needs to be. Reid always knew what he was feeling or thinking, sometimes before he even had any sort of idea of it himself. But he sits on a nearby bench and writes carefully and concisely, because if there's some way for this to actually reach his husband, he wants him to know he's still so loved and that everything is going to be okay.
Spencer,
I won't pretend I don't miss you or that it doesn't hurt, but you know everything about me and you can trust me to be okay. I will never stop loving you and I will never love anyone the way I love you. Never doubt that. Hold onto that, because I always will.
Love, Luke
And then, just inside the folds of this note, he tucks the verse he'd written all that time ago.
and suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be
yet it is only love
which sets us free
Then he seals both pieces of paper inside the envelope, addresses it to Spencer Reid, and slips it into the mailbox. He's still standing there a few minutes later when he realizes he recognizes the man coming toward him in the park and he smiles and lifts his hand to wave to Lyall.
