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kingkat12 · 4 days

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art on art (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), drug mentions, nasty fluff tihi

summary: why hasn't Eric reached out after leaving rehab yet, and how long does it take for marker ink to fade?

word count: 5,272 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is part 3 of my Eric Draven fanfic draw you! thanks again for the overwhelming support of this series, and enjoy!!<333

(not my gif!! if it's yours, pls reach out and i will tag u<3)

Some broken part of me never expected to see Eric again. I knew that the previous men in my life would leave the second they got what they wanted out of me, so why should I hope for this one to be different?

I had been out of rehab for exactly two weeks now, and I knew this meant that Eric was out as well. He had my address, he had my number, and he weirdly enough also had my email address... yet I hadn't heard anything from him. Not a single thing. I wasn't quite sure why my heart was breaking at the realization I had been thrown away again-- I should be used to this.

In actuality, I knew exactly why my hopes were up.

The last time I saw Eric, had been right before I was about to leave rehab. We were standing in my room, the guards no longer watching me as I was technically excused and only there to get my stuff. I was packing everything into a big cardboard box, unable to meet Eric's green eyes as he sat on my bed-- he just looked so damn sad, I couldn't bring myself to watch.

At the same time, I couldn't believe that he was upset about me leaving; no one had ever cared for me like that before. "Why do you look like that?" I eventually asked, stuffing his drawings into a book so that they wouldn't get ruined during the move.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm about to shoot a puppy,"

Eric snorted, a slight smile finally forming across his lips. "Just thinking about how shit these next days are going to be without you here,"

I dared to gaze at him, watching his chest rise and fall in a long sigh. Even while doing the simplest act of sitting, Eric looked downright gorgeous. His dark hair had grown even longer during the time we had known each other, which allowed slight curls to form along his forehead. Draped in pink, tattoos peeking up from the collar of his jumper, green eyes soft with feelings-- the sight was almost enough to make my breath hitch.

"Oh, you won't notice I'm gone," I mumbled, trying to lighten the mood at the same time as I tried to be discreet about shoving my underwear down into the box. "Time will fly by, don't you worry."

Eric shifted, moving closer to the edge of the bed. He stopped me from picking up the next batch of my stuff, leading my hands into his as his rounded eyes sunk into mine. "You're saying that as though I won't miss you,"

I held my breath, unsure what to say.

Eric noticed my hesitance, squeezing my hands; "I will miss you. Do you understand that?"

Oh, I most certainly did not understand that. Not at all. But it didn't stop my heart from swelling, beating harder than it probably ever had before. It also didn't get any better when Eric led me between his legs, letting go of my hands so that he could put his against my waist. He looked up at me through his thick, long lashes, clearly trying to make me understand the longing lingering in his body. "Will you miss me?"

There was no question in my mind that I would. I'd miss him every second of every day, as I already did. However, I wasn't sure whether it was smart to tell him this, or whether that would make him lose interest like my previous flings. But weirdly enough, something told me I could trust this guy-- or was that just his pretty face doing the talking? "I will," I said, taking his face into my hands, brushing my thumbs over his cheeks in a newfound sense of affection.

Eric's previously glossy look suddenly became a hopeful one-- he pulled me even closer, my hands going up into his hair as he buried his face against the crook of my neck.

There was something so sincere about him, that I couldn't help but smile. Even now, as I remembered it. Was I stupid to imagine that it had all been real? That he hadn't acted like he would miss me just out of pity?

This was definitely my insecurity talking. I needed to get it all out of my head-- which is exactly why I ended up going out tonight, my friends by my side as we made our way into our usual spot at the club downtown. Being back in the darkness of this place, music blasting through my ears, brought a lot of memories back; specifically the dark ones.

However, I wasn't drinking. I wasn't taking anything, and I wasn't planning on doing so. In the back of my mind, I kept imagining a scenario where Eric would finally reach out and find me relapsed... and that was certainly not ideal. Then he'd definitely not want to be with me.

Maybe I just needed to forget about him?

And so I began trying-- it didn't take long before I sat down next to some guy trying to tell me about his life story. I had never been this disinterested in my life, allowing him to put his arm around me as I stared up at the light-show on display across the roof, lost in thought.

I wondered where Eric was. What he was doing, who he was with, where he was. Whether he thought about me at all. It quickly hit me that being sober at a club took away all the fun, and with alcohol floating around right before my eyes, I wondered whether I should bother staying sober or not. I didn't exactly have anyone to stay clean for, as I thought I would.

And just as I was about to ask the guy next to me whether I could have the tiniest sip of his beer, I spotted a familiar tall frame across the room. I blinked several times, straightening up in my seat as though I was a woman possessed. I was sure it was him-- I immediately knew the second I saw the tattooed poem on his back peeking through the top of his shirt.

As though I had heard a gunshot, I got up from the couch, my whole body tingling with unexpected excitement. This was an adrenaline surge unlike anything drugs could give me, and it only grew stronger as Eric seemed to be leaving.

Panicked, I sped up into a light jog despite being in heels, making my way through the crowd on the dancefloor. It didn't take long before I caught up to him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt.

Eric had a bewildered look about him as he frantically searched who it could be that had held him back from leaving. When his big, green eyes finally landed on me, they widened as he broke out into a look of relief. "There you are!" he exclaimed, his large hands grabbing my shoulders. "I've been looking for you all over!--"

I was sure I would've started crying if I hadn't reached for the collar of his shirt, tugging him down to my level to press my lips against his in the neediest kiss I had probably ever shared. I flung my arms around his neck as he pulled me closer, both of us letting out relieved sighs at our reunion.

I wanted to stay like this forever, swimming in the bliss of being reunited with the man who had haunted my every waking thought. However, I couldn't let myself revel in the joy before I got the answer to my question; "You never called!" I said, my hands now at the sides of his face. "You never fucking called!"

Eric hummed, connecting our foreheads as he closed his eyes. "I did... just from a different number. You never answered, so I had to track you down all the way here,"

My thumbs stroked over his cheeks, my anger simmering down into a slow ache. The thought of Eric calling without getting a response made me feel worse than bad. "How?" was all I was able to say, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

Eric blushed a little before pulling away, and I was unsure whether the reason for my sudden dizziness was the loud music or his smile. God, he was gorgeous. "Our dealers are cousins," he said, wrapping his arms around my waist as we swayed on the dance floor. "And your guy told me I could find you here."

"I see," The loving look in Eric's eyes nearly made me melt— it was clear that he had missed me as well. But my questions kept coming to me; "Why did you get a different number? Is everything alright?"

With that, Eric's smile faltered just a little. His grip around my waist tightened as he brought one hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear in a loving gesture. "I... suppose there's a lot I have to tell you, now that I've come all this way,"

I could sense that this was serious— I had seen enough of those guilty eyes for one lifetime. "I see," I repeated, pulling him in for another kiss, reveling in the feeling of tasting him again. There was nothing I had missed more about rehab than this. "Let's talk it out somewhere else, then?"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

It wasn't every day that I brought back men from the club— my policy was no men at my place at all, just in case I encountered a serial killer in disguise. But this thing with Eric was different; he could've moved in for all I cared. He could also proceed to burn it all down, rip me apart with his bare hands, and I'd let him.

However, the difference between Eric and the other men in my life was that I knew, deep down in my heart, that he would never hurt me; which is why I let him into my apartment.

I watched as Eric took a look around, his hands tucked into his front pockets as he whistled; "Quite the place,"

Shrugging, I made my way towards him as he towered over everything in my living room. "Sure is,"

Eric turned to me, a raised brow on display. "You're telling me you're loaded?"

I felt a bit embarrassed— I knew that once Eric found out the truth, he'd think of me just as all the other ones did. The spoiled girl who had nothing else to do but turn to drugs to get a high out of life. I couldn't help but grow nervous, unsure how to explain the truth to him; "Well... It's my parents' money,"

Eric nodded to himself, stepping towards me. "Are they around much? I didn't see them visiting you in rehab,"

The truth stung. "They don't want to look their biggest disappointment in the eye," I mumbled, my gaze falling to my feet. "But they make sure I'm still alive, I suppose. So it's not that bad."

There was a silence before I suddenly felt Eric's long, slender fingers beneath my chin, tilting me up so that I could meet his gaze. I wasn't sure what I was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't this; compassion. "Their loss," he said, the emerald green of his eyes engulfing my being with unexpected kindness. "At least you got a great apartment out of it."

I let out a warm laugh, now keening against the palm of his hand as he placed it to my cheek. "I've missed you,"

As Eric smiled down at me, it was obvious that his heart fluttered at the sight of me. I had never thought someone would ever look at me like that. "I've missed you too," he breathed. "Thought about you during every waking moment of every day. You have no idea how glad I am that I found you."

I could barely believe this was real— didn't stuff like this only happen in movies? "If only I had known you called," I mumbled, placing my hand on top of his. "Being without you was just hell... What happened?"

Eric inhaled a sharp breath, an unintelligible emotion swimming in his eyes. "I want to be honest with you, but... I'm afraid you'll run,"

In a flash of desperation, I placed his hand against my heart. "I have nowhere else to run but to you,"

Eric's green eyes rounded out, his lips parting in confusion— was I maybe not the only one stunned by the confessions of complete and utter love tonight? "I— Fuck,"

With that, Eric's strong hands gripped my waist, pulling me towards him as our lips came together in a hungry kiss. The sheer force of it, along with the element of surprise, nearly had me stumbling a few steps back. But Eric only followed; I nearly moaned out as I felt his tongue against mine, my hands flying up into his dark locks and pulling him closer. I had missed him more than I had ever missed anything in the world, including drugs— all my swarming feelings of never-dying love had me pushing away all my needs for an answer from him regarding his phone, and I let my back hit the surface of the couch as Eric hovered above me.

"Missed you," he breathed in between kisses, a slight growl to his voice. Something told me Eric was trying to melt himself into me to make sure we would never be apart again— it only made my need for him stronger. I clung to him, my legs wrapping around his tall figure as I attempted to pull him even closer than he already was.

Fuck, his lips were so soft. Deadly soft. The way Eric was nipping at my lower lip, occasionally sinking his teeth into it to draw out a whimper, was making a familiar knot form in my lower abdomen. I barely registered that my dress was gone before I watched him discard his shirt somewhere on the floor— now that we finally had time, I let my fingers run over his tattoos, smiling into the next kiss as I realized we would finally have that messy morning I was promised. I couldn't wait to lie in his arms, tracing every piece of art on his skin, taking it all in— this was heaven. Everything about finally being alone with Eric was heaven.

"Missed you too," I eventually managed to moan out, feeling him grow hard against the apex of my thighs. "I don't ever want to be without you again." My breath hitched as Eric left wet kisses down jaw, neck, breasts, and stomach, knowing exactly where he was heading. I drew my hand towards my mouth, gently biting down to suppress a rather girly squeal.

"You'll never be," Eric purred against my skin, sinking his teeth gently into my thigh to evoke a sound. "If you think we're ever going to be apart from now on, I need you to scour that pretty little brain of yours once more."

It was impossible not to smile, and I squirmed against the couch before Eric's big, strong hands grabbed my hips, holding me in place as he pressed a kiss against my clothed sex. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing this to avoid telling me what had happened in the moments we had been apart. Despite wanting to give in to the pleasure, let him tease me and keep me on the edge through the night, my mind wouldn't let me.

In the moment Eric threw my underwear to the floor, now kissing up my thighs and leaving me breathless, I propped myself up on my elbows; "Hold on," I breathed, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair in hopes of getting his attention. "Eric, wait--"

As he looked up at me through his brows, eyes wide with confusion as he paused for me, I didn't know whether I could go through with it. This moment was so damn precious, something I had been longing for ever since the moment I saw him; so why couldn't it wait? With a sigh, I laid back down.

"You okay?" Eric asked, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle against my hipbone. "Wanna stop?"

That was definitely not it-- I let in a lazy breath, my eyelids drooping over my eyes as my body shivered at the feeling of his hot breath against my cunt. Everything about this situation was making my brain shut down. "No... I don't want to stop," My hands reached for his, and Eric let out a hum, his free hand now ghosting over my sex. "Just wondering whether you drew it or not."

"Drew what?"

"What we did in that stairwell,"

Eric's eyes sparkled with amusement as he laughed, placing a wet kiss against the inside of my thigh. "You bet I did,"

"Will you show me?"

He hummed against my skin; "Later... I'm a little busy here, as you see," Eric hooked his arms around my legs, dragging me closer to him as I yelped. I could only laugh, the realization that I had finally gotten all I had ever wanted hitting me just as I felt the warm trickle of spit running down my cunt-- my hips bucked up in surprise, my breath escaping me. I was about to prop myself up on my elbows for a second time, hoping to get a look at what the fuck he was doing, but as he ran his tongue up between my folds with a ridiculously soft touch, I could only whimper.

The memory of Eric saying he would take his time with me when we were out of rehab suddenly dawned on me-- I was in for the long run.

It didn't take long before he had me writhing beneath him, a whimpering, panting mess. With every swirl of his tongue around my clit, every time he sucked in my aching bud between his plush lips, I held back the urge to buck my hips up against him. It got increasingly hard to keep still, especially when Eric pulled away to simply breathe down on my sex, knowing exactly where he had me.

"Fuck," I cried, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair-- I did my best not to tighten my grip, fighting the urge to use his dark locks as handles.

I could feel Eric smiling against me, leaning down to press a soft kiss against my clit; my breath immediately hitched, bucking up against his mouth in an attempt to beg for more. His fingers dug themselves into my thighs, driving my legs further apart as he made space for his broad shoulders. I whined at the loss of friction when he tilted his head to look up at me, and a shiver ran up my spine at the look of his face, slicked with my arousal.

A mischievous smile spread across Eric's plush, glistening lips; "Someone's impatient,"

I could feel my cheeks redden with embarrassment, lolling my head back down against the couch-- looking at him only made it worse. "Can you blame me? You're doing this on purpose,"

Eric hummed, one hand leaving my thigh to lazily rub soft circles around my clit, using my slick as a lubricant. It only made me squirm, letting out a shaky moan as my back arched slightly off the couch. Even worse, was that I started to feel a small tremble appearing in my hands. "Can't handle a little teasing?" he said, biting his lip as he watched me attempt to suppress my noises. "You keep saying you've waited for me... What happened to your patience?"

I held back the urge to simply kick him-- but that thought immediately slipped out of my mind the second Eric flattened his tongue against me, licking a stripe all the way up to my swollen clit. It was impossible to suppress the hitch of my breath, and the tug I gave his hair in response was purely instinctual. It surprised me further to hear him enjoy it; I decided to keep that observation stored for later.

I had a feeling Eric knew my mind was buzzing, that he wouldn't be able to toy with me much longer. There might've been a few giveaways that I was at my wit's end-- all of which left me feeling like an even bigger mess than I already was beneath him. "I- I can't," I whined, my words leaving me as Eric sucked me in once more. "Wait, please!--"

He hummed against me, now pressing his lips against the crease of my thigh as a chuckle built in his throat. "Fine, fine," he said, playfully sinking his teeth into my skin, his green eyes watching my every move. "I suppose I'm dragging this out... I don't know why I'm feeling nervous."

Nervous? Eric didn't look very nervous to me. "It's just me, though?" I tried, attempting to catch my breath as I laid my hand on top of his. My next words came out shakier than anticipated, especially now that he was kissing way back up my body; "You don't need to be nervous."

Eric hummed, his large, tattooed hands kneading my chest, kissing along the hem of my bra. "It's just... When you left rehab," he started, his lips pressing along my collarbones. "I realized it took me days to recover after a dream with you in it."

The rush of joy surging through my veins reminded me of a hit of amphetamine-- it was all-taking, consuming, and I wanted nothing more than to press him so closely that we'd melt together. "Eric--"

"I've drawn you over and over," he breathed, kissing up my neck with a toe-curling softness. "In every way possible. Imagined the way you'd look at me after waking up in the morning, how it would feel to kiss your pretty little face good night..." Eric's lips hovered above mine, our shared breaths hot and shaky against one another as he continued; "I want you to burn into me like warm glass, mold into one. It sounds insane, but... how else can I ensure we stay together?"

My eyes were wide, finding his, as my hands reached up to cup his face. Like this, I finally had the time to admire the tattoo above his right brow, the deep scar on his cheek, and the tattoo above it. I stroked my thumb over the ink, holding back from connecting our lips just yet; "If you think I'm ever leaving you, I need you to scour that pretty little brain of yours" I breathed, watching his pupils dilate as I bit back a smug smile. "Do I need to remind you that I'm all yours?" My fingers now ghosted over his lips, still wet with my slick, as an idea suddenly hit me. "Actually..."

Eric watched in confusion as I shifted beneath him, now reaching for the table right by the couch. There, I had left a marker which I had previously used to write a birthday card, and I took it into my hand before laying back down, looking up at the puzzled look on his face. "I'm not able to physically melt into you, but..."

Eric's green eyes widened further, watching as I popped the cap and drew a tiny little heart on the peak of his shoulder.

I met his gaze, beaming up at him; "I can leave my mark,"

The most unexpected thing happened-- The sight of Eric welling up in tears was not something I had counted on when I let my impulses take the lead. For a second, I got genuinely worried I had overstepped all boundaries until he pinned my hand above my head and pressed a needy, passionate kiss against my lips.

I couldn't control the moan that escaped me, my hips bucking up against his, feeling his hard length grind down and brush up against my clit as our chests came together, pulling each other in as close as possible. The need I felt for Eric was undescribable, ravaging through my being-- I had never wanted anyone as bad as this.

Mind dulled by anticipation and pleasure, I barely registered that he had managed to pry the marker from my fingers and pull it into his hand. Eric disconnected the kiss, pressing his wet lips against my cheek before propping himself up on his knees, scanning his canvas. "I'm definitely dreaming now," he whispered, mostly to himself, hovering above me as he drove the marker tip to the point where my ribs met on my chest.

I could only smile, watching my favourite artist at work with admiration blossoming in my chest. Knowing I would be decorated with his work made me even more hot and bothered; I did my best to get a look at what he was drawing without disrupting his process.

Eric drew a line down my chest, a few leaves scattered along it-- it dawned on me that he was drawing a rose. A beautiful, big rose, with that same scratchy style that I recognized from his previous creations. I watched him dart his tongue out, keeping it between his lips, focused; I couldn't help but find it endearing.

"Art on art," he breathed, pulling away to drink in the sight of what he had drawn on my body. Eric's green eyes found mine, his shy smile returning to his plush, glistening lips. "You're beautiful. You're so beautiful."

"So are you," I held back the urge to cry happy tears, my hands reaching out for him. "I love it, Eric. I'm scared of needles, so I won't be able to get this tattooed... Meaning you'll have to draw it over and over. Would you do that for me?"

Eric let out a choked laugh, eyes glossing over as he put the cap back on the marker, discarding it somewhere before returning to his place above me. "I'd do anything for you,"

I hadn't smiled so brightly in what felt like years. Like this, at this moment, I was sure this was it. He was it.

Before I knew it, we were completely lost in the fiery kiss that ensued-- Eric's tongue against mine, hands lost around my waist as my fingers hooked into his dark locks, our chests heaving at one another. I was so gone, so dizzyingly aroused, that when I felt his thick cock pushing past my sopping entrance, I could only gasp.

Eric let out a grunt, both of us moaning into the kiss at the immediate relief-- I could barely believe that this was real, that we were back as one. In a sense, this was the melting together that we had both craved so badly.

My nails dug into his back, leaving crescent marks in their wake as I let him push further into me. Eric buried his face in the crook of my neck, letting out a breathy groan against my skin when he finally moved. His cock stroked my walls the same way it had that one evening in the stairwell, the exact feeling I had chased as I buried my fingers deep inside of me every night since-- I had forgotten how the real deal had felt. How mind-numbingly good it felt to have Eric in me.

I whimpered as I felt his cock throb upwards, immediately hitting my sweet spot, and I wrapped my legs around him, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. Knowing I bared his mark on my chest, knowing he had dreamed of this as well, only strengthened the electricity running all the way up to the tips of my fingers. I didn't know how I was supposed to last long at all, especially when I heard Eric moan out my name-- I shivered, pressing my lips against the heart I had drawn on his shoulder.

I noticed a blush creep up his cheeks before he connected our lips once more, but it was hard to kiss properly when we were both in a heavy daze of pleasure-- we ended up mostly breathing against one another, Eric's green eyes watching as I let out a string of moans with every stroke of his cock.

"You're everything," Eric rambled, nipping at my lower lip to suppress another grunt. "You're everything, you're-- Fuck!--" His hands dug into my hips, fucking me properly into the couch as he deepened his thrusts.

My heart fluttered in my marked chest as I realized we were both looking down to watch our union-- the sight of Eric's cock pumping in and out of me, the wet sounds of our love filling the room, was almost enough to bring me over the edge. I also caught a glimpse of the petals drawn over my body, realizing I was admiring both the art and his body against mine.

My back arched off the couch as Eric shifted, angling his thrusts upwards-- now, he was dead on pumping his cock against my sweet spot, which had me mewling out against his lips. "Eric, I-- I'm not gonna last, a-ah!--"

With glossy eyes, I watched a smirk spread across Eric's lips; "Let go if you need to," he cooed, his dark hair now kissing his forehead as he let out a laboured grunt. "We'll go again, baby-- hah, don't worry."

That was all I needed-- my heart fluttered, realizing we had all the time in the world to fuck all through the night.

Forever, if we wanted to.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

This was nice. Stupidly nice. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this moment.

The softness of his fingers running up my bare shoulder, the kindness with which he bathed me-- I didn't even know this existed before now. I looked up at Eric, my head nuzzled against his broad, tattooed chest as we lay in post-coital bliss. I reached out to trace the heart I had marked him with, and I wondered what else I could draw on his beautiful body.

However, I knew I had to ask the question he hadn't been willing to answer yet. I had to look past how heavy his beautiful lashes looked in his drowsy state, and how badly I wanted to reach out and trace the upward slope of his nose, to ask what needed to be asked. "Eric?"

He hummed, glancing down at me.

It was incredibly hard to take my eyes off his kiss-swollen lips. "You never told me,"

"Told you what?"

It felt as though we'd had this conversation about three times now; "You didn't tell me why you changed your number. Or why you waited to reach out. Or, better yet, why you didn't just show up here... I even gave you my address," I couldn't stop the imminent pout appearing across my lips-- I had forgotten how upset I was about this. "I waited for you. I nearly drove myself crazy thinking I'd imagined it all."

Sighing, Eric's gaze diverted to the ceiling. "I'm sorry. I will tell you everything. Just... could I have one more day?"

"What?" Something told me that his secret was a lot more damning than I initially thought-- why was he so reluctant to tell me? Did he think it would change how I felt?

"One more day," he echoed, his tattoed hand mindlessly traveling up into my hair as his eyes glossed over. "Just give me one more day..."

I didn't know what to say, at a loss for words. Instead, I popped the cap to the marker in my hand, realizing I wouldn't be the one to deny him his one wish. Eric closed his eyes with a sigh of relief as he felt the tip of the marker against his skin once more; time was a gift I was willing to give him.

I was willing to give him absolutely anything he'd ever want-- I just hoped it wouldn't be the death of me.

(a/n: PART 1 and PART 2 linked here<33 thank you for reading!!)

#the crow 2024 #eric draven x reader #the crow x reader #the crow fanfiction #eric draven fanfiction #the crow #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard #eric draven #sorry for the cliffhanger but i love those tihi

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nerdy-novelist017 · 21 days

Text

Borrowed Bites (Eric Draven x Rebel!Reader pt 2)

Added another part since the last one was received so well! Thank you for the kind words and appreciation! I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts on this part! 💕

Eric Draven Masterlist

Word Count- 2.9k+

Summary- He just couldn't get away from you. You were corrupting his routine, his life, his thoughts.

Eric sought refuge in the library, a quiet sanctuary where the weight of the facility’s sterile air seemed to lift, just a little. The room was a cocoon of silence, the faint scent of old, yellowed books filtering through his senses. Here, amid the shelves of dusty volumes, he could be transported to somewhere else, somewhere where the walls were not closing in on him little by little every day.

He was supposed to be assigned to cleaning the room for the next hour, but he was finished within the first 30 minutes, so now he sat in the aisle, leaning up against the shelf. He was lost in the pages of an old art book, the kind that made him ache for life outside of these walls. He was staring at a particular page of a charcoal drawing of a horse, the scene bringing back his own past in a swirl of paint strokes, charcoal lines, the delicate dance of light and dark.

But that moment was shattered by the sound of the door opening and footsteps approaching him. His heart sank, a heavy stone sinking into the pit of his stomach. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The air around him seemed to buzz with a familiar energy, one he had been trying – and failing – to avoid.

“You hiding out in here, artist boy?” your voice broke through the stillness of the room, a playful tone that underscored something sharper, something that pricked at his defenses.

Eric’s eyes glanced up, catching just a brief look at your face above him before dropping back to the book in his lap. He knew by just the few times of your interactions since your arrival to the facility a week ago, that his disinterest would not be enough to make you go away. No, it seemed that you could not take a hint, no matter how obvious it was.

“This place is a real snoozefest,” you said as you lowered yourself on the floor in front of him, sitting cross-legged. You leaned forward on your hands, trying to peer at his book. “I didn’t peg you for the library type.”

“It’s quiet here,” he muttered, his voice almost devoid of emotion. “That’s why I like it here.”

“And here I thought you came for the thrilling company,” you teased, your voice taking on a hint of something more – a curiosity perhaps, or an understanding that he didn’t want you to have.

“Shouldn’t you be off trying to seduce the guards?” he bit back, referencing your words from his first unwanted interaction with you.

You grinned mischievously as you brushed a strand of your unruly hair out of your face. “I’m still working on that, don’t you worry.”

“I’m not interested,” his fingers tightened around the edges of his book as he spoke with a certain level of finality, attempting to completely sever the connection you were trying to forge.

“Not interested in what?” you pressed, tilting your head in a way that Eric came to understand as you attempting to figure him out, like you were trying to put together the puzzle pieces of his mind.

He hesitated, the question catching him off guard. He didn’t know how to answer, how to articulate the mind-jumbling swirl of emotions inside him. He finally grumbled, “In whatever game you’re playing.”

A brief flash of hurt flickered across your face, so quick that he almost missed it. But then you recovered with that infuriating grin. “Who says I’m playing a game?”

Uncomfortable with that reaction, his gaze fell back down to his book, as if the words would allow him an escape of whatever trap you were setting. “Just leave me alone.”

But of course, that wasn’t enough to deter you. You weren’t the type to back down so easily. Instead, you leaned back against the opposite shelf from him, folding your arms as if preparing for a long conversation he had no interest in having.

“You know,” you started, your voice a touch softer now, “you’re not as invisible as you might think.”

Eric’s jaw tightened, the words hitting him hard. He had spent so long trying to be just that – invisible, a ghost passing through unnoticed. But you saw him, and you wouldn’t look away.

“I’m not hiding,” he retorted quietly, but the words sounded hollow even to himself.

“Then why won’t you look at me?” Your question hung heavy in the air between you, a challenge he wasn't sure how to meet.

He forced himself to look up at you, your direct gaze sending his heart to his stomach. He refused to admit it, refused, but something about you drew him in like a moth to a flame, something about your eyes that refused to look away.

“What do you want from me?” he asked, his voice low.

You didn’t answer immediately, your gaze evocative as you studied him silently, as if searching for something beneath the surface. “I want to know you,” you said finally, the simplicity of the words cutting through him.

Eric stared at you, his mind racing to find a response to that strange statement, something that would push you away, make you see that there was nothing worth knowing in him. But all he could manage was, “Why?”

“Because,” you said as you leaned forward slightly, your voice barely above a whisper, “you’re different. I can tell.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to respond to the sincerity in your voice. The way you seemed to genuinely care unsettled him, the way you saw him and refused to let him fade into the background like he wanted.

“You don’t know me,” he said after a moment, his words heavy with frustration and something else that he didn’t want to examine too closely. It was the same words he had told you a week ago when you first spoke to him and flipped his world upside down, but he couldn’t find anything else to say to you. You didn’t know him, that was true. But you definitely wanted to fit yourself into his life, to know him as he knew himself.

“I think you’re worth figuring out.” A small smile tugged at your lips.

He wanted to scoff, to brush off your words as naive and misguided, but there was something in your tone, in the way you were looking not just at him but through him, made it impossible to miss. You were being sincere, and that shook him to his core.

“I’m not,” he retorted, his voice weaker than he intended. “I’m just another screw-up, just like everyone else in here.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so. I think you’re more than that.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, didn’t know how to process the unfamiliar warmth swirling in his chest. All he knew was you were getting way too close, digging too deep into feelings he’d locked away a long time ago. He reached for the book, flipping it open to a random page in a futile attempt to avoid your intense gaze. But the words on the page blurred, the images that had once brought him comfort now seemed distant, unreachable.

Before you could say anything else, the sound of the door opening again startled both of you, shattering the temporary bubble you were enclosed in, and Eric looked up just in time to see a guard round the corner of the aisle, his heavy footsteps thudding on the worn carpet. He instantly sat up straighter, his heart racing slightly when the guard’s eyes caught sight of the two of you.

“What are you doing in here?” The guard’s voice was a harsh intrusion, his gaze narrowing between you like a hawk sizing up its prey.

Eric shot you a nervous glance your way. To anyone else, your expression would have looked completely neutral as you regarded the man nearing you both, but Eric could see the tension in your jaw, the way it ticked ever so slightly, betraying the anger brewing just beneath the surface.

“I’m not doing anything,” you replied casually, almost dismissive. But the guard’s wasn’t in the mood for games. He cut you off before you could say anything more.

“You know the rules,” he barked, his voice echoing in the stillness of the library. “No fraternizing.”

You put your hands up in mock surrender, a gesture that might have seemed playful if not for the sarcasm dripping in your voice as you replied, “Yeah, right. God forbid anyone make any friends in here.”

The guard’s gaze darkened, his eyes narrowing to slits. Without warning, he grabbed your arm and yanked you to your feet with a roughness that made Eric flinch “You’re not here to make friends. You’re here to get sober and stop being a burden and a piece of shit to society.”

The harsh words hung in the air like poison, their words seeping into the cracks the moment. Eric felt a surge of panic in his chest as he snapped the book shut, the sound like a gunshot in the tense silence. He stood quickly, instinctively knowing it was best not to argue, not to escalate the situation further. Just follow the rules, he told himself, a mantra he clung to since he got here. But he knew you well enough now that you wouldn’t – couldn't – do that.

“Wow, tell me how you really feel about it,” you shot back, your voice clouded with defiance.

“You think this is funny?” The guard hissed, his voice dropping to a menacing low. “Keep running that mouth and you’ll find out just how serious we are.”

For a brief moment, Eric saw a flicker of something in your eyes – a flicker of doubt, maybe even fear – but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the same defiance that both worried and awed him.

Eric felt the weight of the moment bearing down on the room, the oppressive atmosphere of the facility closing in. He knew he should say something, do something to alleviate the tension, but the fear of the repercussions, of going back to solitary confinement, held him back, rendering him silent and still.

“Come on,” the guard snapped, pulling you towards the door. “We’re done here.”

As you were dragged away, you cast one last look over your shoulder to Eric, and he could see the mix of emotions in your eyes – anger, frustration and something that resembled regret. And Eric’s chest tightened at the sight because you weren’t just leaving as you always did. You were being taken away, and he was powerless to stop it.

The door slammed shut behind you, and the silence that followed was deafening. Eric stood frozen, staring at the spot you occupied just moments before, his mind racing. He gripped the book in his hand with a white knuckle power as he realized he had let the guard take you without so much as lifting a finger, without saying a word. The realization twisted like a knife in his gut, a painful reminder of his own helplessness.

*****

Eric didn’t see you for the rest of the day. He tried not to think about how he even noticed your lack of presence and especially how it made him feel. The day passed with the same level of dreadful monotony that he had been subjected to since the very first day he’d arrived in this hellhole.

It wasn’t until lunchtime the next day until he saw you again. The cafeteria thrummed with the repeated sounds of everyday life here – the clatter of trays connecting, the gentle murmur of quiet conversation, the sporadic eruptions of laughter or from souls lost in their own struggles. Eric sat by himself at a table near the corner of the room, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of his tray as he picked at the array of bland, tasteless food before him. The harsh fluorescence above cast a stark, unforgiving light over everything, rendering the room devoid of any warmth.

He was halfway through forcing another bite of the food when you suddenly materialized across the expanse of the bustling room. You slid into the seat across from him, a mirthful grin on your face.

“Did you miss me, artist boy?” you asked with a tilt of your head, that signature smirk playing across your lips.

He wasn’t going to answer that, not even for himself. He averted his gaze to his tray instead, afraid that you would be able to read through his expressions as you so often did. That didn’t seem to bother you though because without hesitation (or permission) you reached over and swiped a roll from his tray, taking a bite as if it was casual.

“Hey,” Eric protested softly, though his voice lacked any true anger, more like mild annoyance. In fact, he was actually relieved to see you, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. There was a brief moment last night as he lay awake in his bed going over the interaction of the library when he wondered if you had been locked in solitary for your actions. He didn’t think you had said or done anything to warrant such an offense, but you were unpredictable. He had no idea if you continued to fight, to mouth off after the guard dragged you away. Seeing you here in front of him was confirmation that, for once, you had refrained from doing anything to further your punishments here.

“What?” you asked with a nonchalant shrug. “You weren’t eating it.”

Eric rolled his eyes, a silent gesture of exasperation. “You could’ve just asked.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You quipped as you leaned back in your seat, your gaze sweeping across the room as if you were just examining the scene before you, waiting patiently for something – anything – to disrupt the routine.

He watched you for a moment, captivated by the restless energy that perpetually seemed to follow you. It was as though you were perched on the edge of some unseen cliff, ready to plunge off the side at any given moment. The near constant state of heightened alertness was both exhausting and irresistibly captivating for him, an anomaly that left him simultaneously drained and drawed in.

“Why do you do that?” he asked suddenly, the question catching himself off guard, and he instantly wanted to take it back.

“Do what?” you replied smoothly, not missing a beat.

“Act like . . . I don’t know. Like nothing matters.”

You blinked at him, momentarily taken aback. Then you smiled and with a half shrug, responded, “Because it doesn’t.

But Eric could see the flicker of something more profound, a bit sad even in your eyes, and it casted doubt in the authenticity of your words.

“Right,” he muttered, his voice laced with skepticism. Your gaze left his and he took that as a sign of your wanting to drop the subject so he returned to his food, though his appetite was severely diminished.

For a while, silence enveloped the two of you. It was a surprisingly comfortable silence, albeit still surrounded with the rest of the cafeteria buzz. When he glanced back up at you, he could see the sudden change in your eyes as you glanced about the room once again. He had witnessed that look before – one that usually preceded your reckless actions, the calm before the storm.

“Don’t,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with caution.

You turned your attention back to him with a look of feigned innocence. “Don’t what?”

“Whatever it is you’re thinking of doing,” Eric replied, his tone now carrying seriousness.

A familiar spark of chaotic energy ignited in your eyes as you grinned. “What makes you think I’m planning something, Eric?”

“Because you always are.”

You giggled, clearly amused at his concern, and he tried to ignore the rush of butterflies that hit his chest at the sound of it. “Relax. I’m not about to blow up the place or anything.”

“That’s not comforting,” he muttered, though the faintest hint of a smile betrayed his true feelings.

Before you could respond with yet another one of your signature quips, a guard ambled by, scanning the room with hawkish vigilance. You immediately straightened up, your playful grin fading as you donned a more neutral, guarded expression.

As the guard continued his stroll, you leaned forward, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial low. “Meet me by the west wing storage closet after lunch.”

Your tone left no room for negotiation or refusal, but Eric hesitated, a storm of instincts battling within him, urging him to resist. But there was something in the way you looked at him – something that compelled him to nod reluctantly.

You shot him a quick, satisfied smile before rising gracefully and sauntering away, leaving Eric alone once again with a whirlwind of emotions and a nagging feeling that he was about to be pulled into something he would regret. Yet, despite the better judgment that screamed caution, he knew he would go. Because as much as you exasperated him, left him bewildered, and sometimes even frightened him, there was a part of him that was irresistibly drawn to you. A part that yearned to unravel the mystery of why you were the way you were.

"Fuck," he murmured under his breath.

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