Death's Not Coming For Our Family

꩜ I could totally see Erik going for an artist, even if you don't use the same medium or have the same style.  ꩜ There are few things he’s as passionate about as his artwork, and it’s the one thing that really makes him feel proud of himself. It's validating to know that people want to pay him to permanently embed his artwork into their skin.  ꩜ Maybe that’s how the two of you met.  You’d walk into the tattoo parlour where he worked with a folded-up piece of paper in your hand and slide it across the counter when he asked you what you wanted. He’d unfold it and find a beautiful sketch or clean piece of linework and immediately slide it back.  “I don’t do Pinterest printouts.” He’d shake his head dismissively.   “What?” Your brows would pull together. “No, I drew this.”  “You drew this?” He’d look at you with a cocked brow and the most unserious look on his face. “Sure you did, doll.”  “I did.” You’d insist, maybe even a little flustered by the pet name, “Give me a pen and a piece of paper and I’ll prove it.”  After a little more arguing, Erik would begrudgingly set both in front of you and would watch with poorly concealed awe as you recreated the image perfectly over the next half hour.  He wouldn’t even care that he’d wasted so much time watching. He’d just do all he could not to look too impressed, and finally agree to ink your own artwork onto you.  ꩜ You’d have a little studio in your shared apartment when the two of you start dating and eventually move in together. It would be stocked full of every art supply you could ever want, but messy as all hell.  ꩜ It would be an organized sort of chaos where it might look like a disaster zone, but the two of you would know where everything is. “Where’s my graphite?”  “Underneath the leaning tower of sketchbooks, but behind the watercolour paper.” 

꩜ I think the two of you would bicker all the time, bumping elbows at your side-by-side desks despite there being enough room for you to each have your own little space. He’d snatch Prismacolour pencils out of your hands while you’re using them if he wants that specific colour, and you’d steal all his good fine-liners and feign innocence when accused.  ꩜ Your apartment would have really cool decor. Artwork everywhere, pieces from both of you and trinkets of all sorts collected from art galleries and the little store around the corner that sells your paintings in exchange for home-baked cookies. 

Dividers and Banners by me on my side-blog @dividers-are-us

The drunk texts started a little after nine.

Jumbled, mispelled words that only vaguely made sense. 

Something about Bobby cheating at Monopoly. 

You’d dropped Erik off for the biweekly Campbell sibling game night a few hours before with a case of beer and the promise to pick him up when they were finished. 

Clearly, he’d slammed a good few back in a short amount of time. 

You chuckled every time your phone chimed, amused by the play-by-play you were getting on every game. 

Eventually, you got a clearly worded, obviously typed by Julia or Bobby, ‘come get me please’, and drove back over to pick him up. 

“Oh, thank god.” Julia sighed tiredly when you knocked on the door. “He’s driving me nuts!” 

“What’s he doing?” You raised a brow, brushing past her to find your drunken partner. 

“See for yourself,” she gestured towards the living room and disappeared up the stairs. 

After venturing further into the house, you found Erik and Bobby wrestling on the ground. The coffee table was on its side, and there was monopoly money everywhere. 

“Just admit you cheated!” Erik grunted, struggling to hold his own in his drunken state. 

“I didn’t!” Bobby insisted, putting him in a headlock while he flailed. “Stop trying to fight me!” 

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. 

Bobby had bulked up a bit playing football last season, and Erik seemed to have forgotten that when he’d picked a fight. 

“What are you two doing?” You made your presence known before one of them got hurt. 

Your name fell from both of their lips. From Bobby, a sigh of relief, while Erik shouted it excitedly. 

“Bobby cheated at Monopoly.” He peeled himself off the ground and shot his younger brother a glare. 

“I did not!” Bobby rolled out of the way and huffed. 

“Ok,” You grabbed Erik by the hand before he decided to keep the argument going and tugged him towards the door. “C’mon, baby. We’re going home.” 

“Okay,” he sighed dramatically. 

“Bye, love you.” The eldest Campbell sibling nodded to his brother despite having been in a fight just a minute before. 

“Love you too.” Bobby mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest like a child. 

It never failed to warm your heart how close they were. 

“Don’t worry, Sweets” He staggered along behind you, “I’ve got plenty of love left for you.” 

You chuckled, pulling him out into the night air. 

“Thank god.” You feigned relief. 

To your surprise, you managed to get Eric into the car without issue, but in the time it had taken you to get into the driver’s seat, he was already squinting at his phone, trying to pick a playlist.  

“I can’t read this shit.” He grumbled, trying desperately to make out the words on the glowing screen to no avail. 

“Give it here.” You held your hand out for it. “Let me do it. Which playlist do you want?

“The ‘I just drank seven beers and now my super hot girlfriend is driving me home’ one.” He slurred. “You’re so pretty.” 

“Seriously,” you rolled your eyes and started scrolling through his playlists, “Which one-” 

You paused when your thumb was hovering above that exact title. 

“You fucker!” You exclaimed, laughing loudly, “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Like a few hours ago,” He couldn’t help but laugh too. “On beer number four.” 

“Thought I was gonna tap out at five, but I had to live up to the playlist!” 

“Oh my god,” you chuckled, turning the key in the engine. “You do realize that you could’ve just re-named the playlist, right?” 

It became abundantly clear based on the look on his face that he hadn’t considered that option. 

You blinked at one another for a few seconds, just long enough for the beginning of Motley Crue’s ‘Looks That Kill’ to start blaring through the speakers 

Neither of you could contain your laughter. 

It took a full minute before you were ready to pull out of the Campbell house driveway, then another fifteen to pull into your apartment complex. 

Erik trudged up the stairs, looking increasingly queasy with each step. 

You could tell as you were nearing your floor that he was going to puke, and you jogged ahead to get the door unlocked in hopes that the extra thirty seconds would increase the odds of it happening anywhere but the floor in the entryway. 

“Bathroom.” You nudged him in the right direction and locked the door behind you once you’d both made it inside. “Or sink if you can’t make it!” 

You followed him and poked your head into the bathroom down the hall, relieved to find that he’d made it. You grabbed a glass of water and a washcloth before setting them both on the bathroom counter, joining him on the cool tile floor. 

“You okay?” You rubbed his back gently when he was finished. 

“Yeah.” He rested his forehead on his arm. “Feels better actually.” 

“I bet.” You chuckled sympathetically, pulling yourself to your feet so you could run the washcloth under cold water. “My poor baby.” 

You gently rested the cool washcloth on the back of his neck, and Erik sighed in relief. 

“Think you’re done?” You asked softly, pressing the glass of water into his free hand. “Take little sips.” 

“Thanks, Sweets.” He muttered tiredly, raising his head just enough to sip the water. 

“Let's just get you up and into bed.” You kissed the back of his shoulder, nudging him gently to his feet. “Want me to brush your teeth for you?” 

“I can brush my own teeth.” Erik poked your cheek once he was up. “I’m not nearly as drunk as you were last time, missy.” 

“You’re never gonna let me forget that, are you?” you pouted softly, reaching for your own tooth brush 

“Not a chance.” He scoffed. 

As you were getting ready for bed, Erik watched you get changed, draped over the mattress, in just his boxers, feeling much better, but exhausted.

“That thong,” Erik trailed off, eyes sweeping up to your raised brow, “... Really brings out your eyes.” 

You laughed. 

The kind of laugh where you throw your head back and let it wash over you like an early morning tide. It was his favourite sound in the world. 

“Just come to bed like that!” Erik waved you over, or, to be more accurate, he tried to.

His arms felt like lead weights. 

You made a soft huffing sound, but the corners of your lips were quirked upwards as you crawled into bed with him anyway, dressed in only your thong, and slipped under the covers. 

Erik clumsily joined you and pulled you into his chest. 

“Thanks for coming to pick me up,” he muttered into the top of your head, “And taking care of me.” 

“Course.” You smiled, pressing your lips to his bare chest. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Sweets.”

Dividers by @saradika-graphics