#eric x reader

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again. 

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever. 

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you. 

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world. 

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing. 

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you. 

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you. 

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt. 

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture. 

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough. 

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you. 

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him. 

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else. 

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me. 

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.” 

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?” 

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.” 

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.” 

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.” 

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur. 

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear. 

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.” 

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t. 

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now. 

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected. 

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin. 

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier. 

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate. 

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is? 

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet. 

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window. 

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes. 

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins. 

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?” 

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now. 

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder. 

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again. 

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan. 

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs. 

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue. 

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief. 

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.” 

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.” 

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it. 

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again. 

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you. 

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap. 

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness. 

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head. 

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it. 

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does. 

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down. 

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet. 

To keep you quiet. 

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.” 

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table. 

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other. 

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss. 

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear. 

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

But there was one joy in her life — a handsome young boy from the surface named Eric. He was a kind and charming boy who treated the young mermaid with such tenderness. They always had something to talk about.

"I will definitely marry you, Y/n!" the boy laughed loudly, and Y/n smiled trustingly in response.

However, soon Ariel herself began to dream of the world above the water, because she had long been curious about where her older sister so often swam off to. The little girl didn't really understand anything yet, but Y/n was like that too, so Ariel revealed her sister's secret to her father.

Then the waters of the ocean boiled with alarm, for Triton did not limit himself to the usual reprimand to his daughter, but shouted, overcome with righteous indignation. Frightened and trembling, Y/n stared at her father's angry face, feeling both horror and deep resentment.

"You will go to the deepest sea bottom until you learn your lesson!" the sea lord shouted indignantly.

"Father..." the unfortunate girl whispered timidly, but the king's loud voice stopped her, and two huge octopuses immediately grabbed her delicate hands with their tentacles, carrying her away from the palace.

Before leaving, Y/n managed to cast a hateful glance at her sister Ariel, who was hiding behind their angry father's back. The girl pressed her fist to her lips, her large blue eyes wide with fear, looking confused and bewildered.

"If you try to repeat your sister's actions and run away to the surface, I will be forced to do the same to you," the wise ruler warned his little daughter menacingly, softening a little and adopting a fatherly tone of voice.

And Y/n's heart was filled with black hatred for her father and younger sister. Was everything that was happening fair? After all, she was exactly two years older than the capricious Ariel! Why was there such a huge difference in the manifestation of her father's love? What had she done to deserve such cruelty, why had she been banished to a gloomy underwater prison?

The days dragged on slowly, even though the sentence was relatively short — only one month. What saved the girl's mind from complete madness was a wonderful shell found by chance in the sand at the bottom of the sea. This trinket had magical properties: thousands of ancient spells were hidden inside it. The shell whispered, imparting knowledge and guidance to the young princess, choosing her as its new successor.

The spells were varied: some were kind and bright, others were cunning and dangerous. Some allowed the girl to freely leave the dark cell hidden deep beneath the sea, remaining invisible to the guards patrolling the area. So Y/n gradually learned to leave and return unnoticed.

She no longer saw Eric in their secret place. Perhaps the boy waited patiently for his friend to return for some time, but in the end he lost hope and left the shore forever.

When the punishment was over, Y/n decided to remain alone, far from the hated castle and her relatives. Triton took her behaviour as childish sulking and stopped trying to bring his daughter home until she reached maturity.

"Yes/no..." exclaimed Ariel, suddenly waking up and noticing her sister's movement.

"What's wrong?" the girl replied sharply in an even, firm voice.

"Why are you leaving right now? We tried to arrange a pleasant evening for you..." Ariel muttered, looking with her large, round, sky-blue eyes, as if deliberately feigning touching pity.

"Thank you very much, I am really full, now I want to leave," Y/n said dryly, trying to avoid further questions.

"...Maybe you are ready to return to the royal chambers?" her father asked cautiously, watching his daughter's cold detachment intently.

"I have no desire to," Y/n snapped and instantly dissolved into the depths of the water, leaving her family in silence and disappointment. Triton sighed heavily.

But Y/n's big secret was that she had been watching her family for a long time. Thanks to a magical glass ball she had conjured up. She watched Ariel, saw how the girl was becoming more and more attracted to the surface. The young mermaid collected things that fell from above and settled on the seabed, or searched for human belongings in sunken ships. Y/N sighed heavily. If she showed Ariel's father how she was swimming to the surface, what would he do? She wanted him to get angry and lock his favourite daughter in the cave.

And finally, one day, Ariel surfaced because of the noise of a human ship. Y/n watched closely as her sister climbed onto the ship and watched the people. The people were having fun and dancing, drinking some kind of liquid from wooden mugs. Laughter and loud chatter pierced the silence of the night. Ariel watched everything spellbound when a dog ran up to her and began licking her face. The young mermaid laughed quietly. Then a youthful voice called the dog to him. Y/n froze. She couldn't be mistaken! It was Eric, but now an adult. He had turned from a funny boy into a handsome young man. He smiled and petted the dog, while Ariel stared at the young man in fascination. The woman shifted her attention to Eric, who looked awkwardly at his monument and scratched the back of his head. He was still the same shy young man who did not expect honours and glory. The man walked away from the monument, talking to a grey-haired man.

"The whole kingdom is waiting for you to choose a worthy girl!" said the old man.

"The girl is out there somewhere. I haven't found her yet," Eric replied, slightly sadly.

"Perhaps you haven't looked hard enough," remarked the old man.

"I'm trying to find her, but it seems she's hiding from me. But when I find her, I'll recognise her immediately," said the dark-haired man confidently.

Y/n's heart sank. She hoped that he was looking for her and that he remembered her. The woman quietly shed a tear, which mixed with the sea water.

Y/n clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, as she watched her sister sing about her love, about how she wanted to be with Eric. Y/n couldn't stand it; her sister wanted to take something that had never belonged to her. Then her sister was scared off by the old man, while Eric was already coming to his senses and looking for the person who had been singing to him.

Ariel swam away, hiding behind another rock, watching as the old man led the prince away, lecturing him. She smiled happily and continued her song. Y/N knew what she had to do; she had to tell her father that the time had come.

Triton sat on his throne, busy with royal affairs, and was surprised to see his daughter, who had disappeared from the castle, seemingly forever.

"Have you decided to return?" the king asked with a glimmer of hope. Y/n frowned, but then looked excited.

"No... but... I saw something you need to know about. It's about Ariel." The girl swam closer, and Triton put down his papers.

"What is it?" the man frowned.

"I accidentally saw my sister swimming to the surface."

"What?!" Triton shouted.

"It turns out she collects human things... she has a cave closer to the south," Y/N tried to hold back a smile.

"Are you sure?" Triton took his trident and stepped down from his throne.

"Yes, Father, I'm worried about her. It's not normal, is it?"

"That's right, I'm glad you understand that too... we'll have to explain it to your sister," the man swam to the exit, and Y/n hurried to her cave.

She activated the crystal ball again and watched as her father found the cave and yelled at Ariel, who tried to justify herself and defend herself. But Triton was unrelenting, he began to destroy everything he saw, the last point being Eric's sculpture, the king aimed his trident at him and shot a red lightning bolt. And then he swam away, to Ariel's cries. Y/N watched this and couldn't believe it. Her face reflected several emotions, and she finally felt pleasure. But that wasn't enough. The young princess's dark heart was poisoned with hatred, and she wanted to hurt her even more.

The next day, she sailed to Ariel, who was still sitting on the ruins of her cave.

"What happened here?" Y/n asked, feigning confusion. Her sister abruptly turned her gaze to the girl.

"It's our father... he found out that I collect things from the human world... and that I fell in love with a human..." She cried bitterly, and Y/N clenched her jaw.

"Didn't my bitter experience teach you anything?"

"I'm sorry... it must have been just as painful for you," said Ariel.

"You have no idea... Do you really love this man?"

"Yes... very much... but we can't be together," Ariel took Eric's stone face.

"What if I told you I could help you? I'll give you legs," Y/N added quietly and saw Ariel look at her.

"Really!? You can help me?" Ariel swam up to her sister.

"Yes, but the price will be high, because it's a powerful spell,"

"I agree!" Ariel said confidently, hugging her sister.

Y/n took her sister and they swam to the girl in the cave. There was a peculiar cauldron and many flasks. Ariel looked around, wanting to touch everything, but when she tried to pick something up, her sister slapped her hands away.

Y/n threw various ingredients into the cauldron, which bubbled and shimmered with different colours.

"You must give up your voice, it is the price for the spell," Y/n stood next to the cauldron and took the shell pendant from around her neck. "The spell will last for three days. To keep it from fading, you must make Er... the man fall in love with you, then the spell will not fade, but will grow stronger, and you will remain on land forever. If he does not fall in love, your legs will turn into a tail, and you will have to return to the water, but I will return your voice as well."

"But how can I talk to Eric? How can I make him fall in love with me?" Ariel asked fearfully.

"Why are you asking me? I told you about the price. If you're not ready, then stay at the bottom of the sea and don't stick your neck out," Y/n said irritably.

Ariel hesitated. She had the opportunity to meet the man she loved, but she couldn't say anything to him.

"You have to pay for everything," added Y/n, looking somewhere off to the side, noticing Flounder and Sebastian behind one of the rocks, she sighed irritably.

"I... am ready..." said the younger sister.

"...Then sing," Y/n held up the shell, which began to glow due to the magic, and when Ariel began to sing, it began to absorb her voice.

A clinging green smoke crept into Ariel's throat, sucking out her magical voice. The frightened mermaid grabbed her throat. Y/n took the shell and then cast a spell. The smoke from the shell and the cauldron mixed together, heading towards Ariel, enveloping her and turning her fish tail into human legs. The girl began to flounder, unable to swim with her legs, then Flounder and Sebastian appeared, pulling her out of the cave and directing her to the surface. Y/N laughed with satisfaction. All that remained was to wait. Without her voice, Ariel would be of no use to Eric, and she would return to the sea with a broken heart.

Y/N waited, and on the second day she decided to look into the ball to see her sister's downfall. But she was terribly disappointed when she saw Eric having fun with the girl, teaching her everything and trying to talk to her. The last straw was their walk on the lake. Sebastian tried to push Eric to kiss Ariel, but the man kept dodging and feeling embarrassed. Y/N couldn't take it anymore and cast a spell that flew through the ball and hit the boat, which capsized. They carefully climbed out of the water, Eric laughing loudly while Ariel tried to imitate laughter.

"What a cheeky girl! Oh no, Ariel, I won't let you stay on the surface, you must swim out to sea!" Y/n banged on the stone slab again. She rubbed the shell from which her sister's magical voice came, and Y/n came up with a plan, "Since you're so persistent, what will you do when a rival appears before you..."

Y/n smiled slyly, looking at the couple through the ball.

Under the cover of late evening, when the sky was tinged with purple and blue, Y/n appeared on the deserted seashore. Bright stars twinkled overhead, and moonlight gently reflected off the smooth surface of the waves. The girl wore an exquisite dress adorned with sparkling precious stones, emphasising her beauty. Her hair fluttered in the wind, adding mystery and charm to her appearance.

Now fate had to take a different turn; she knew she would not allow Ariel to find happiness. Gently touching her throat with her fingers, she took Ariel's voice away forever, replacing it with her own.

Y/N knew about Eric's habit of taking late-night walks along the shore, and she waited for him to appear. Soon, the silhouette of a man appeared on the horizon, slowly approaching the edge of the beach. His steps slowed as soon as he heard the first notes of a song coming from someone's lips.

Her song spread around, echoing in his heart. The sad, mournful notes penetrated deep into the young prince's soul, making him forget about the rest of the world. His head ached, but then it became easier. Seduced by the sweet sound, he walked towards the source of the sound, guided by an unknown force.

Halfway there, Y/n and Eric met. The man gazed enchantedly at the beautiful woman, watching in amazement as each tear rolled down her face. Feelings overwhelmed his soul, which had become easy prey to the magic of love.

Finally, her beloved had returned to her embrace, and for the first time, the girl could feel the warmth of his body. Pressing her forehead firmly against his chest, she allowed herself to enjoy the moment of closeness, assuring herself that this was true love, even if it was caused by magic.

"You probably won't remember anything..." Y/n whispered sadly, intertwining her fingers behind the man's belt.

Eric responded with silence, gently stroking her hair and pulling her closer to him. It seemed as if he was ready to absorb every part of her being, to unite with her forever, obeying the influence of a powerful love spell.

The morning of the next day marked the beginning of a new stage in their lives. Earl Grimsby, the prince's elderly advisor, greeted the newlyweds, enthusiastically expressing his admiration for them both. Eric looked at his bride with trepidation and love.

"I am very pleased to hear such compliments from you," said Y/n with an embarrassed smile, enjoying the warmth and confidence.

"Don't be silly! I was just happy to hear that Eric finally found you. Especially since you have such good manners, you're clearly from a noble family. I'm so glad he chose you and not..." The old man paused when he looked up at the stairs.

Y/n also noticed her younger sister behind the column. She was hiding from prying eyes. Y/n could clearly hear the hollow beating of a broken heart, and a triumphant laugh of malice arose within her.

Preparations for the wedding were proceeding at a rapid pace, and the wedding ship set sail that very day. Y/n's heart ached with anxiety; events were unfolding too quickly and flawlessly, causing her unease. To the girl's surprise, the dress turned out to be exactly as she had described it to little Eric, immersed in dreams of her long-awaited wedding.

Ariel no longer appeared in public, and Y/n did not try to seek her out. It seemed that her sister was not even on board the ship, which amused Y/n, as she found pleasure in thinking about her suffering. Sometimes the girl laughed quietly, admiring herself in the mirror. It was a hollow laugh that made insides grow cold.

"Until sunset..." Y/n repeated thoughtfully, touching the golden seashell-shaped pendant that adorned her neck.

A bright light flashed inside her, filled with the sound of Ariel's beautiful voice. Y/n pulled her hand away when her sister's voice broke through the protective barrier of the pendant.

After a while, the maids came to the woman, dressed her in a wedding gown, and carefully praised the bride's appearance. Encouraged by the attention, Y/n broke into a radiant smile.

Amidst the majestic ringing of bells on the ship, the ceremony began. Count Grimsby held her hand confidently, leading her to the altar. Before them stood the slender, handsome Eric, awaiting the upcoming wedding with impatience and joy. The girl caught Eric's fleeting glance and noticed two small tears rolling down his cheek. Y/n held her breath, wondering if Eric was fighting against the spell inside and wanted to break free, or if he was crying because of pain and resentment, because he did not want to see Y/n as his bride and wanted to run away to Ariel. But the girl shook her head and raised it proudly, gathering the admiring glances of the guests.

When there were only a few steps left to take, an attack suddenly occurred. A huge seagull flew at the girl, tearing at her curls with its beak, leaving traces of pain. Almost immediately after the first bird, the rest of the sea creatures appeared on the deck, causing chaos among the invited guests. Every living creature on board felt an inexplicable impulse of aggression towards Y/n herself.

In the heat of battle, the wounded seagull snatched the chain with the shell from Y/n's clenched fingers, throwing it high into the air. The octopus, moving nimbly among the people, pushed the woman straight into the birthday cake, breaking the layers and turning the celebration into ruins. The amulet itself fell right at Ariel's feet, making a final loud crack and scattering into pieces. Following it, the girl's soft, melodious voice finally turned joyfully to the man:

"Eric!"

The young man froze, shocked by the sight of the ruined wedding, the devastated food, and the humiliation of his beloved. His face contorted with pain and discontent when he noticed the crying and dirty Y/n, covered in the remains of the festive feast.

"Calm down, my dear," Eric said anxiously, lifting her off the floor and gently cleaning the remains of dessert from her soiled body.

Y/n listened to his words, trying to suppress her panic and sobs. The guests froze, the sea creatures stopped their attack, tired and motionless, scattering around the edge of the deck.

"How dare you ruin our wedding?!" Eric growled, looking closely at the assembled guests and sea creatures.

"But Eric, she..." Ariel objected uncertainly, looking desperately at the man.

"Was it you? Was this your doing? Envy overwhelmed your heart, could you really be capable of such betrayal? Look at my beloved, she dreamed of choosing the best cake, wearing the perfect dress, and now everything is lost forever!" the prince shouted passionately, feeling irritation and pain from what had happened.

Ariel's blue eyes widened in incomprehension.

"She cast a spell on me, took away my voice, and lured you in with deception! ...But... Why... Why didn't your feelings fade when the amulet was destroyed?" the girl wondered, trying in vain to explain the situation to her brother.

"Spell? What spell?" Eric asked incredulously, casting a wary glance at the redhead.

Y/N looked at the prince with undisguised amazement. Indeed, why hadn't the love spell lost its power, since its source — the magical shell — had been destroyed?

"Love spell! She used my voice to bewitch you! I was the one who sang for you that day! But now you don't recognise me!" Ariel cried hysterically, looking at Eric imploringly.

"I remember every moment of our meeting perfectly," the man replied calmly, continuing to hold Y/N in a tight embrace, gently stroking her wet shoulders, covered with cream stains from the cake.

"What do you mean? I don't understand..."

"Y/N charmed me many years ago, when she was still a child. Then she disappeared for a long time, but one evening I heard a familiar voice that belonged to you, Ariel, and I realised that this sound would lead me to the love of my life!" Eric explained, pulling away slightly from his bride to look into her eyes.

"Love spells lose their power if the object of affection already feels sincere love for the caster," added Y/n, nervously freeing herself from the prince's grip, but he managed to hold her by the hand.

Turning away from the setting sun, she focused her gaze on her sister, who had also noticed the change in light. Their eyes met, and each understood what would happen next.

"Eric, didn't you have real feelings for me?" Tears welled up in Ariel's eyes, rolling down her cheeks like pearls.

"No," the man said firmly, looking away from his future wife and at Ariel.

"But our moments together..."

"To me, you were a pleasant friend. My soul longed to meet the only companion I had chosen long ago," Eric finished firmly, clearly articulating his thoughts.

Blushing with grief, Ariel buried her face in her hands and sank into a heavy stream of salty tears. The sun had finally disappeared below the horizon, its rays that had previously illuminated the world vanishing into the darkness of the night. Green scales once again covered Ariel's skin, returning her to her former mermaid form. The stunned guests gasped, whispering to each other.

Y/n instinctively became frightened, suddenly her own legs would begin to change shape, turning into a mermaid's tail, but nothing happened, she continued to stand firmly on the ground in her torn dress.

The sea creatures began to gently descend into the depths of the ocean, trying to hide from human attention.

"So what does that mean?" asked Scuttle irritably, his bird call turning into a resonating noise that only sea creatures could understand.

"Only that the prince has been infatuated with Y/n all these years," Sebastian stated grimly, hiding in the shadows of the railings.

"But what will happen to poor Ariel now?" Flounder muttered anxiously, deeply concerned for his friend's fate, yet powerless, trapped in a bucket of water.

The prince tried to hold Y/n back when she took a step towards her sister, fearing that the young woman would decide to leave the ship and disappear into the depths of the sea. But Y/n, maintaining her dignity, approached Ariel, whose lost gaze clearly demonstrated her emotional emptiness.

"I never imagined the ending would turn out like this. I thought I would be the one left behind... But I'm so happy..." A single tear rolled down the woman's cheek.

"You..." Ariel moaned, unable to put her emotions into words.

"But he chose me... And I will finally understand what it means to be special and happy. I hope the pain in your heart will go away, but not quickly. Savour this terrible feeling, feel what it's like when you're not chosen and not loved," Y/n added quietly, turning away from her sister.

"Y/n?" Sebastian addressed her cautiously, deciding to intervene in the conversation.

"Sebastian, help her go back to the ocean. Tell Father that he will never see me again, I will stay here, next to my beloved," Y/n said confidently, turning to Eric, who visibly relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief.

Y/N threw Flounder overboard, and Ariel sat on the railing, took one last look at her sister and Eric, jumped overboard, and disappeared into the blue sea. Soon after, Sebastian jumped overboard, bowing his head in farewell, and Scuttle rose high into the sky and flew over the horizon.

Wave after wave of sparks roll through your body. The cramped closet was hot, the lights off making it almost impossible to see anything. Not that sight would really change much; Eric had you pressed up against the cool rock wall, facing away from him. You both were mostly clothed, only bare enough for a quick, desperate, fuck.

Well, it was supposed to be quick. Fortunate or unfortunate, it really depends on the situation and who you are, Eric was a thorough man. You were no exception. Right now, you hoped he wouldn't stop, that this time you'd get to finish.

All day Eric had teased you. The way he touched you, looked at you, gestures, even sparring, Eric weaved in something to ensure you remained hot and bothed. He reveled in the sight of you doing everything in your power not to squirm, and wine in front of the others. He would've kept it up all day, but today patience was not your strongest suit, not when your period just ended and your body famished for a good fuck. You teased Eric in the one way he couldn't ignore, and couldn't resist.

Eric had practically dragged you into that closet and shoved you to your knees. Yet you sucking him off wasn't enough to quell Eric's hunger like he wanted. Especially when you kept figuring out different ways to tease him while your lips were around his cock. At that point, the light in the closet was on, leaving you on perfect display. So he stuffed a cloth in your mouth and laid you on the ground with your head cushioned on his vest. And dammit, tasting your cunt made it worse. It made Eric starved. He wanted to wait, but the way you wined every time he brought you to the brink then backed off. Fuck. You weren't allowed to come; he was supposed to be teaching you a lesson on patience. Perhaps for now, Eric will let that rule slide.

When there was a sound of footsteps, Eric had to force himself away to turn off the lights and ensure the door was locked.

So now here you both are. Bathed in sweat and darkness. Eric has you pressed face first against the wall, your wrists pinned behind your back with his left hand, and his right hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. Eric fucks you from behind, hard, mostly controlled, and fast. Every thrust sent a small spark through your body, leaving you whining, for it wasn't enough.

"So fucking whiny," Eric groans, "as if you aren't the reason we're in this position to begin with." Asshole, you think. "Greedy for my cock. Couldn't even wait till tonight for a proper fucking." Eric slows to a stop, and you cry a little, you didn't need sight to know he grinned. "Use your words, doll, tell me what you want."

Eric's hand falls from your face. "Please," it was pathetic and breathy. You roll your hips, wanting to make those sparks return. Eric groans in response and stills your hips with a firm grip.

Eric grips your jaw, turning your face to his, "Please... what? I don't read minds. Use your words."

"Please," you beg again, "fuck me properly, make me come." You roll your hips again, and Eric whimpers, his hips rolling with yours immediately. He was close.

"Brat," Eric pulls his hand away from your hip to slap your ass. Once more, Eric resumes his thrusts hard and fast, this time with more control. Without Eric's hand to cover your face, your whines are louder now. Those sparks of pleasure return, but just sparks.

"Eric," you whine, getting frustrated.

Eric grips your throat, " You're so fucking needy doll," he presses a kiss to your cheek, his free hand cupping your throat, but slows his hips to hard, but slow rolls.

"Eric, you ass-" you frustrated complaint breaks apart into a moan as Eric grinds against your g-spot.

"What was that?" Eric taunts, "Repeat that for me." But every time you try, Eric grinds against that spot, going faster each time until he's fucking you fast and hard once more. Your moans start to echo through the closet. "Are you trying to get us caught?" Eric scolds, returning his hand to your mouth. Finally, Eric releases your wrists, allowing you to brace yourself against the wall. Your mind turns to mush, as Eric's arm curls around your hip to circle your clit with his middle and ring finger.

Eric's quiet grunts break into a few whimpers, then moans. Eric tucks his face into the crook of your neck to muffle his moans. Waves of pleasure crash through both your bodies, and after several rounds of Eric edging you, you felt the coil in your body ready to snap any moment. You were alomost there, teetering at the edge, the fire ready to consume. But then Eric loses his rhythm, his moans turning breathy and hoarse. Eric stills, his body twitching as he struggles to maintain control.

A sob escapes you, and Eric chuckles. "You'd think I'd forget the way you misbehaved earlier?" Eric groans, and stilflies a whine as he pulls out. "Only good girls get to come."

Before Eric could catch you, you reached behind yourself and gripped Eric's cock. Eric speaks your name in a moan that was meant to come out as a warning. In your grip, Eric's cock was still hard, throbbing, and leaking for your touch. With just a couple strokes, Eric releases a deep broken moan, his head lulling onto the back of your shoulder. In your hand Eric's cock twitches over and over, cum mostly spilling onto the floor with some dripping onto your palm and legs.

"Fuck..." Eric breathes out while regaining his bearings. "Why the hell did you do that?" Eric's voice was slightly rough now, his hands coming to rest on your hips while his thrumbs rub slow circles.

You smile, "Didn't feel like losing this time."

Eric kises the side of your thoat, "I'm far from finished with you, Dove." Eric spins you to face him; not that much was visible in the dark clost. "Enjoy your little victory while it lasts." With that, Eric backs off, his hands leaving your hips. However, before it could feel like Eric left you, the closet light turns on. You wince, squinting your eyes and blinking a couple times until your eyes adjust. Both of you were a sweaty mess. You watch as Eric grabs a clean rag and uses his bottle of water to wet it. "Now let me take care of you, so I can ruin you all over again tonight."

_____

That was a month or so ago, but you carry the horrors of that day still. 

In the vivid nightmares that rattle your bones. In the marred skin of your ankle, hidden beneath bandages, slowly healing with each passing day. And in the strange boy with puppy dog eyes who still hasn’t left your side.

Let me check your leg, Eric scribbles on a notepad. 

His handwriting is slanted and small and hardly legible — fitting for a man whose mind is always racing faster than he can keep up. 

The marker is fading slowly, too, dying from excessive use because the majority of your conversations are spoken through written words on a page. You’ve gone through a notebook or three already.

You snatch the notepad from his grip to write a response of your own. Eric peels the tattered blanket from your body to survey the gauze around your ankle. He peeks beneath the bandage, and his chest pinches at the sight — not because of his sensitive stomach, but because of the harsh reminder of the day he almost lost you.

The paper swishes faintly when you turn the notebook back to him. Okay, Dr. Eric :P, you’ve written in sloppy cursive. The boy grins at the mischievous look in your eyes.

“That’s Doctor Eric Esquire to you,” he corrects in a whisper that makes his accent sound more posh than usual. He smooths the gauze back into place with a gentle hand and says, “You’re healing fine, I think. I’ll have to go out and scavenge for more bandages soon, but these should last for another…”

The sounds of your rapid scribbling fill the quiet cabin. Eric trails off in wait, wide eyes darting from the marker in your hand to the pinched look of concentration on your face. 

He sees a strange sort of giddiness sparking in your otherwise serious features that makes him fearful. Intrigued, yes, but still distantly fearful. All your ideas tend to get him into trouble.

The notebook turns to him again. His stomach does a backflip.

Wanna go on an adventure?

“This is… Not what I was expecting,” Eric muses beneath the sounds of a rushing waterfall. 

His words echo slightly in the expanse of the dank cave. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice in full volume, deep and accented and smooth. His pretty whispering annoyed you to no end back when he was just a stranger with exactly zero survival instincts. Now, you never want him to stop talking.

“Well, that’s why it’s an adventure,” you lilt, wiping water from your brow with the neck of your t-shirt. 

Your clothes stick to you in places where the waterfall had splashed you on your way underneath it. The still air of the cave, strangely cool compared to the humid air outside of it, makes you fight back a shiver.

Eric eyes you from a distance, features swirled in a quiet concern. It’s impossible to relish in this little ounce of peace when you have the kind of mind he does — the kind of mind that’s always anxious and always filled with thoughts of you. 

He cares so much for you, far more than he planned to, that it’s made him chronically fearful. He’s grown to realize, since he met you, that the two words are rather synonymous. You can’t have love without fear — and what is there to be fearful for, if not for the ones you love?

“Your bandages really shouldn’t be getting wet, you know?”

You scoff and limp further into the damp hollow. The quiet sound of your steps reverberates within the stone walls, along with the subtle scuffing of your bad foot. “You said I was healing okay, remember?” you huff and drop the basket in your elbow onto the cobblestone.

“I said you were healing fine,” Eric chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s a difference.”

“Not really,” you shrug with a scrunched nose, flashing him a fleeting glance over your shoulder. You turn away again and wince at the distant ache in your ankle when you crouch. 

Sometimes the scars hurt like they’re still fresh, still weeping scarlet and throbbing like a new wound. Eric’s not a doctor, but he tells you that it’ll probably be that way forever. “Phantom pains, I think they call it,” he says in a posh accent that makes him sound more official than he really is. You’re inclined to believe him, anyway.

The boy watches as you sort through the wicker basket you stole — or borrowed, as you claim, “’cause it’s not like the owner’s coming back for it anytime soon.” It’s full of stuff you wouldn’t let him see, like it was some kind of big secret. 

He grimaces when you squat, putting unnecessary weight on a barely healing leg. He knows it hurts, even when you pretend it doesn’t — especially when you pretend it doesn’t. His chest pinches like the ache is his own. Like sympathy pains or something. He worries so much for you that you’ve given him fucking sympathy pains.

“We shouldn’t have left,” Eric agonizes, wiping a pair of anxious hands down his face. He swipes his fingers through his hair and finds the chestnut curls now partially damp. “I shouldn’t have let you leave. I mean, what if we have to run, huh? What if we have to—”

“We won’t,” you groan as you stand to full height again. You hold an old quilt in one arm and gesture wildly with the other. “That’s what the waterfall is for. They can’t hear us under here. Nothing’s coming.”

He knows you’re right, but it doesn’t worry him any less.

“How’d you even know this was out here?”

You falter for a moment. A mere blink of a second. But Eric catches it immediately because there isn’t anything about you he doesn’t instantly notice. He’s rarely ever seen you, his silver-tongued girl, so ambivalent. And something about it frightens him.

“I was… on a walk one day… while you were out scavenging—” you answer slowly, shrugging like it isn’t a big deal at all, though you immediately follow it with, “—Don’t get angry.”

Eric’s pink mouth falls softly agape, opening and closing like a fish’s might, while he tries to find the words to say. To shout. To scream. 

“Y-You... You— You left without me?” he stammers, voice booming. 

The words ring across the expanse of the shallow cave, bouncing off the damp stone walls. It’s the loudest he’s heard himself talk since the world ended, and the notion startles him. Like a dog just learning how to bark.

Eric’s breath hitches in his throat as his dark eyes widen in fear. He waits instinctively for the screeching of far-off monsters and their booming footsteps — prepares for an adrenaline rush that’ll give his weak arms the strength to carry both of you to safety.

It never comes. 

The sounds of the waterfall shield you from the war raging outside of it. 

When the panic passes, the anger resumes.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” Eric agonizes, quieter now, though the corner of his lip twitches with withheld anger. 

You keep your back to the boy and lay out the contents of the wicker basket. A floral quilt to cushion the stone flooring, two bottles of wine to share between you, several bags of stale chips, and one MP3 player that’s somehow stronger than the end of the world. You pay Eric no mind as he continues to rant behind you.

“What if you’d gotten killed? What if— What if you got lost and I couldn’t find you—?!”

“Don’t shout!” you gripe despite your own booming voice. 

“Why not?” Eric questions with a cynical laugh. “I thought nothing could hear us under here?”

You spin back around to face him, grimacing slightly when your healing wounds start to burn. You tilt your chin in a look of defiance, though your eyes sparkle faintly in the dim natural light — something mischievous and strangely shy. 

“I don’t want you to shout because I put a lot of effort into this,” you answer in a steady voice, lips quirking in a distant smile. “And we can’t enjoy it if you’re gonna be grumpy the entire time.”

Eric blinks at you for several long moments, brown eyes wide like an owl. Only then does he notice what you’d set up for him in the brief minutes he’d been blinded by his anger. A picnic of sorts — fashioned with a moth-eaten quilt, dusty wine bottles, and snacks you’d scavenged and seemingly stashed like a squirrel. It’s about as fancy as you can get in an apocalypse.

His mouth opens and closes again, this time in a quiet sort of shock. “Wh… What?”

“Well, you kinda spent your entire birthday taking care of me, so… I figured we were past due for a celebration.”

Eric’s brows pinch together. A furrow of deep thought settles between them. 

He realizes he hadn’t thought twice about his birthday till now. Hadn’t thought twice about turning another year older, just like he hadn’t thought twice about needing to be repaid for taking care of you. He did both things without thinking. He can’t control his urge to dote on you like he can’t control the existential dread of getting older.

“How’d you know it was my birthday?”

“‘Cause you told me once,” you shrug. “And I keep track of the days in my calendar, so—”

“So, you’re saying that… That you did all this...” the man laughs, gesturing to the cave and the waterfall and the wine. “For me?”

A similar-sounding laugh sputters from your own mouth ‘cause you do it all for him. From going on stupid picnics to fighting monsters from another planet. Everything you’ve done up until this point, you realize now, you’ve done for Eric. You keep on living despite the unfavorable odds for Eric.

“Of course I did. It’s not that big of a deal,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest to shield your bleeding heart. “I mean, you kinda saved my life. The least I can do is take you on a stupid fucking picnic.”

When you turn around again to ease yourself onto the blanket, Eric tries to make out the words to thank you. Not just for what you’ve done here, but for what you’ve done all the days since he found you. Because you’ve saved his life too, more times than he could count, actually — ‘cause that’s just what you do. You save each other and don’t think twice about it because that’s what you do when you care for someone.

He forgot all about birthdays and picnics and what it meant to be alive before he found you. And now that you’re here, you spend every single day reminding him of everything the end of the world begs him to forget.

“I’m— I’m sorry… I’m sorry for shouting at you,” Eric stammers in a sheepish murmur, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck.

“I know,” you nod, smiling as you pat the spare spot beside you. “Now stop being weird and come sit down.”

The wine is warm, the chips are stale, and the quilt just barely cushions the hard ground beneath you — but everything’s still somehow perfect. Your MP3 player is almost as old as you are and cracked down the middle, but the music plays just perfectly from its headphones, anyway. 

Maybe it’s perfect ‘cause it’s not perfect. 

Or maybe it’s perfect because you’re here.

You sit side-by-side on the handmade blanket, legs crossed and knees brushing, as you share an earbud between you. Conversation ebbs and flows between snacking. Music fills the silence.

I was sittin’ in a crummy movie with my hands on my chin,

All the violence that occurs, seems like we never win...

Eric tips his head back to down the rest of the cheesy crumbs in the package he holds in a pale fist. His scruffy cheeks jut like a chipmunk as he chews through the mouthful. “I missed this, you know?” he mumbles.

You set the wine bottle beside you after taking a lengthy sip, licking the bitter-sweet grape from your lips. “What?” you wonder aloud. “The wine? The Cheetos? The music?”

The boy goes quiet as he ponders the question. He figures he was talking about you, mostly — this sort of connection between humans, this sort of comfort, this sort of normalcy. The music answers your question in his silence.

—Love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight…

So love and mercy, to you and your friends tonight…

He nods anyway. “All of the above, actually…”

“You know what I miss?” you wonder beneath the rustling of the Scooby Snacks you dig your hand into. You chuck a cartoon bone into your mouth and find the graham-cracker components have gone soft with time. “I miss driving down backroads… going way faster than what’s probably allowed… with the windows down and the radio all the way up…”

Eric watches the far-off look in your eyes as you stare, unblinking, at the waterfall ahead of you. Clear water rushes from the mountain and falls hard onto the cobbles and the still water below. Rogue drops splatter inside the shallow cave, occasionally splashing you with fat droplets.

The running waterfall cast fleeting shadows over your face, littered now with faint scars. Your features are much softer than he’s used to in the natural light.

“I miss college parties,” he confesses, wiping his palms on his knees.

You wash the dry graham cracker out with another sip of wine and try not to laugh as you swallow it down.

“Why’s that funny?” Eric wonders through his own chuckle, only partially offended.

“I don’t know… I guess I just didn’t take you for a partier.”

“I wasn’t really…” he concedes with a shy shrug, gaze averted and cheeks pink. “But I was a really big fan of karaoke.”

“Well, that makes a lot more sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” Eric humors with a scrunched nose.

You tilt your head back to laugh — a pretty, airy sound that echoes within the cobbled walls, only partially drowned out beneath the rushing waterfall. You shift closer toward him when you’re upright again, probably without realizing, but Eric notices. He can’t help but notice everything you do. And he can’t help but lean instinctively closer to you, too.

He can smell the natural scent of you beneath the various surrounding ones — of freshwater, pine, and whatever cologne was spritzed on your shirt before you found it. He can smell the sweet wine on your breath, too, and he quickly realizes that you’re close enough to kiss. If only he weren’t so chicken shit.

The proximity makes his cheeks flush, though you’re not nearly as fazed by it.

“I forgot what that felt like…” you muse in a quiet voice of disbelief.

Eric smiles so hard his eyes squint. “What?”

“I don’t know… just, like, happiness? I guess?” you laugh. “I used to think that was impossible before now.”

“Yeah… Me too.” 

The conversation lulls for a moment. The music playing in your ears takes over: 

—I was standing at a bar and watching all the people there…

All the loneliness in this world, well, it’s just not fair…

You cage your smile between your teeth in a feeble attempt to conceal how wide it’s grown. Your eyes are wide and sparkling, likely from the wine, as they flit between both of his darker ones. Eric exhales a breathy chuckle in response, all giddy and nervous for a reason he can’t name (probably from the wine, too, if he had to guess).

He feels himself leaning in to kiss you before he realizes it. He only catches himself when you pull unknowingly away, reaching again for the glass bottle at your side. His heart drops to his swirling stomach as his cheeks flare a deep pink.

“I’m glad you followed me like a creep for a week straight, you know that?” you confess with a teasing squint in your eyes as you bring the lip of the bottle to your mouth.

Eric scoffs at the memory, which feels like yesterday and ancient history all at once.

He was by himself when the world first fell — a stranger in a strange country, and the loneliest he’d ever been in his life. And, perhaps, the most scared, too. 

Then, all of a sudden, he sees this girl rush out of an alleyway and into a monster-infested street to save a dog from an otherwise unavoidable death. Eric watched from a distance as you returned the scared pup to its owners — a very young couple cowering behind a car, not that much older than you. 

You pointed them in the direction of a military base setting up camps for civilians then went the opposite way. Away from guaranteed protection. Like the safest hands were your own. 

Eric made the quick decision to follow you as you went. He figured if you were brave enough to save some dog that wasn’t yours, and stare death directly in the face while you did it, then you could do just about anything.

He didn’t know, then, that he was making the best decision he’d ever made in his life.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t pummel me in the face for following you like a creep.”

“I should’ve,” you quip. “But I liked your company too much, I guess…”

“Liked?” the boy parrots, laughing loudly at the turn of phrase. “Is this your way of saying you’re finally tired of me?”

You roll your eyes and hide your smirk behind the neck of the wine bottle. “Do you think I would’ve done all this shit if I wasn’t the least bit fond of you, Eric?”

The question is rhetorical, but you expect a lighthearted quip from the British boy anyway. Your words seem to settle something heavy on him, though. It’s the very first time you’ve admitted out loud, without a shred of sarcasm, how much you really care for him. 

Eric forgets to say anything at all. The cave fills with a loud silence. The steady drumming of the waterfall and the whisper of rustling trees. Strangely peaceful for the end of the world. 

“Wanna know something wild?” he asks you after a few long moments. His accent makes the words sound heavy on his tongue. Your brows raise to egg him on, and he continues, stumbling over himself in the process. “I’m… I’m not happy the world ended, but… I am— I am glad that it brought me you.”

Your breath catches. It’s the most profound thing anyone’s ever said to you, you think. Way deeper than any measly ‘I love you.’ And how are you meant to respond to that? To his confession that the end of the world was worth finding you? There’s no string of words in the English language that could possibly compare to that.

Eric waits for your response with bated breath. He hopes for an affirmation of your similar affection, of course, but a rejection would be better than nothing at all. He blinks at you with hopeful chocolate eyes, then flinches away when you laugh.

“You’re such a sap,” you say, giggling, as you reach suddenly for his face.

You cradle his scruffy jaw between warm and gently calloused hands, pulling him into you with an admirable effortlessness. You kiss him like it’s natural to you — like he was never just a stranger — like you’ve spent entire lifetimes kissing him.

You take the breath from his lungs with little effort. Eric tips his head back and sighs when you swipe your tongue along his chapped bottom lip. The exhaled breath fans across your cupid’s bow, and you smile against his mouth as you clamor gracelessly into his lap — straddling his lean hips and pressing your beating heart to his. 

The earbuds fall carelessly to the ground, and the fading song plays muffedly from beside you:

—Love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight…

So love and mercy, to you and your friends tonight…

Your mouths click when they part, a subtle sound beneath the drumming waterfall behind you. Your eyes are heavy and lidding as they fall to Eric’s kissed mouth — now a rosier shade, gently swollen, and shining with your spit. A stamp of ownership, almost, that makes your chest swell with pride.

Eric looks up at you with big, wet eyes as his hands fidget on either side of your waist. “I’ve been waiting for that for ages,” he confesses in a low murmur.

A small smile quirks faintly at the edges of your mouth. “Could you maybe say something that’s not super cliché?” you tease.

“How about… I really, really want to kiss you again?” Eric offers in a honeyed tone that makes his accent heavier. He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “And that I… I wanna make you feel good?”

You cage your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your smile. Your fingertips are calloused and cold as they toy with the curls at the nape of his neck — tiny chestnut strands coiled in perfect ringlets. Eric fights back a shiver.

“Then I’d say that…” you begin with a mischievous lilt to your voice, wild eyes flitting from his pink lips to his watery eyes. “I’ve been waiting for that for ages.”

You part from him then, taking the warmth of your body with you as you sit on your knees across from him. The rugged ground is hardly cushioned by the thin quilt. You can vaguely feel small rocks digging into your skin, but your need for him is much louder. 

You cross your arms in front of yourself to swipe your t-shirt over your head. You toss the discarded fabric carelessly beside you, then work at the buttons of your jeans — also borrowed, and just a half-size too big for you. 

Eric watches with his heart in his throat. It’s the most naked you’ve ever been in front of him before. The sight of your bare skin, covered now only in the sports bra you’ve had since the world ended, makes his head swim. It takes him a moment too long to realize he should be undressing, too, and he rushes to catch up.

The two of you undress yourselves in relative silence. The sight is hardly as sexy as you’d expect — full of fumbling limbs far too eager to be graceful. Eric’s shirt gets stuck on his chin. Your jeans get caught at your ankle. The tense lull between you ebbs into a symphony of entwining giggles.

With your clothes scattered in abandoned piles, you lay back against the blanket. Eric settles on top of you with a strange sort of effortlessness — like it’s muscle memory to him, even though neither of you has done this for a long, long while — much less with each other. 

The weight of his body is warm and heavy over yours. You slide your hands under his arms and curl them over his freckled shoulders, digging your nails softly into his pale skin to pull him further into you. 

You watch with heavily lidded eyes as Eric brings his hand to his mouth. He slides his pointer and middle finger between his lips, wetting the pads of them with his tongue. You exhale a deep breath when the limbs come out again, glittering in the low light. 

He studies your features with a dark and unwavering stare as he slips his fingers between the lips of your pussy — tracing the velvety lips for a moment before easing them slowly inside. Your eyes flutter shut at the foreign feeling. Eric smiles to himself, wrist flexing, as he explores your silky cunt with his fingers. 

“Please fuck me,” you sigh when his palm bumps your swollen clit. Your head tips back as your hips buck upward, all but melting under his touch. “Please.”

It takes Eric a moment or more to formulate a response. You’ve never been so subservient like this before, so needy for him. This must be the eighth wonder of the world, he thinks to himself, as he continues to work you open with unworthy hands.

“Have to get you ready for me first,” he tells you, voice and low gritty, as he exhales a breathy chuckle that fans across your jaw. “Don’t wanna break you, honey.”

You manage a scoff in response. “Well, that’s very presumptuous of you— oh…”

Eric crooks his fingers until the tips of them brush a spongy depth inside you. Your mouth falls agape at the feeling, so foreignly full beneath him. His spit-slick lips curl into a lazy smirk. “That shut you up, didn’t it?”

You would’ve spit a snide remark back at him if his thumb hadn’t pressed so mercilessly to your delicate clit then. The words dissolve like dust on your tongue and escape only as a breathy moan. 

Eric continues his relentless pursuit with nothing but two of his fingers. Relentless, you think,because he’s hardly trying to make you cum now. You’re not sure if he’s just oblivious to how good he’s making you feel, or if he’s pushing you to the edge and jerking you back on purpose. It’s agony either way.

He only stops when his pointer and middle finger start to prune, the pads of them softly wrinkled from your honey. He wipes them off on the quilt like a total barbarian. You would’ve said something about that, too, if you weren’t still trying to catch your breath.

Eric rises to his knees. His bare chest, dusted with sparse hair over the sternum, rises and falls with uneven pants. His cock hangs heavy between his spread thighs — half-hard, glowing red, and leaking faintly at the tip. His wide hands are softer than your own as they smooth up and down the length of your thighs. His thumbs rub soothingly over the supple insides of them — with a touch almost as gentle as the melted chocolate gaze he looks at you with. 

“Are you alright?” he wonders, all quiet and suddenly shy, like you aren’t all but dripping for him now.

“You’re so annoying,” you gripe with a scoffed-out laugh, rolling your eyes because you’re certain he’s teasing you. Your stomach sinks when the genuine glimmer in his eyes doesn’t waver. You squirm beneath him and his unyielding gaze. “I’m okay, Eric,” you murmur sheepishly, never easily serious.

He nods to himself and swallows hard, still visibly unsure. It makes you wonder if he’s second-guessing. “Stop staring and kiss me, you asshole,” you grouse with a forced laugh, tightening your grip on his shoulders.

Eric’s mouth quirks in an absentminded smile. “Just let me look at you for a second…” he whispers, squeezing the outsides of your thighs with warm hands.

“We don’t have to whisper anymore, dummy,” you tease in a hushed tone of your own.

His grin widens until his eyes wrinkle at the edges and his tongue pokes softly through his teeth. He laughs despite himself and grips his heavy cock in his fist. “You’re so mean, you know that?” he asks, folding your knee back with his free hand. You’re not sure if he’s expecting a real response, but he slips into you before you can give him one.

He fucks into you slow — bitterly, painfully, and agonizingly slow — forcing you to feel every inch of him. His cock is of average length, but girthy enough to stretch you open. You’re suddenly grateful he thought to use his fingers on you despite your impatience, but the two of them alone hardly equate to how thick he is.

Both of you inhale sharply when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, neither exactly used to the feeling. Eric allows you a moment or more to adjust before sliding out again. You exhale softly together in entwining moans that get lost beneath the sounds of a raging waterfall.

Eric thrusts into you again with gritted teeth, trying not to whimper too loudly when your pussy clenches around him. He bends at the waist to hide his face in your neck and exhales all his pathetic moans there. 

He keeps one hand clenched into a fist on the blanket to prop up his weight; his other slides beneath your head to cushion your skull from the hard ground. You grip the boy by his flexing biceps, digging your nails into the skin every time he thrusts into you. Jaw clenched, nose scrunched, eyes squinted — you take his cock without complaint despite the very loud feeling that it’s all too much for you.

Eric is everywhere, and the notion alone overwhelms you. He’s in you, on top of you, all over you. Like the air you breathe. You need him just the same. Not because he’s your friend but because you’re scared you might seriously die without him. 

It’s dramatic at best. At worst, it’s the exact opposite feeling you should have for anyone in the apocalypse, where death is essentially promised for both of you.

Tears prick your eyes at the thought, though you’d rather blame them on Eric’s merciless thrusts. They’re sloppy and unmeasured as he struggles to find a rhythm. He’s similarly overwhelmed by the pleasure. You can tell by the way his body trembles over yours, and the way he buries loud moans into your pulsepoint. You can feel the vibrations of each moan in your veins. 

The way you’re pinned beneath him cages your clit between your bodies. Every time Eric’s lean hips thrust upward and back again, the coarse thatch of hair above his cock brushes your sensitive button. You couldn’t free yourself from it if you tried. You’re not sure if you even want to.

“This is good for you, right?” Eric wonders through heavy pants, voice wavering under the weight of his pleasure. “Please tell me this is good for you.”

Any other time, you would’ve laughed at him, but now you only nod. Rapidly and with your jaw clenched tight. Just as pathetic as he is. 

“’S good,” you promise through gritted teeth as the coil in the pit of your stomach starts to tighten. “It’s so good, Eric. Feels so fuckin’ good.”

The affirmation makes him moan. Loudly. Enough for you to be momentarily grateful for the cover of the rumbling waterfall. Eric buckles down over you and strengthens his rapid, irregularly timed thrusts with a feeble cry. 

Your own whine rumbles in your throat, falling from your mouth like honey. Your warm skin, now slick with a layer of sweat, begins to buzz. The need for release builds like a dam within you — somewhere deep, right where the tip of Eric’s cock fucks into you. 

Your thighs start to tremble on either side of his waist. Your hips begin to buck despite yourself. You can’t be sure if you’re running from the pleasure now, or chasing it entirely.

“You gotta cum, baby,” Eric tells you through a pitiful whine, face still tucked into your neck. He licks his lips and starts to babble: “I can’t— I’m too close— I need you to cum before I do, baby— Need you to cum right now— Fuck.”

“Is your idea of dirty talk always this pathetic?” you would’ve joked if you weren’t already cumming for him. 

Your mouth falls agape in a silent moan as your head tips back into his palm. Your back arches as you reach the height of your pleasure, pussy fluttering through every wave of it. 

Eric fucks you the entire way through your orgasm — despite your nails biting crescent shapes into his shoulders, despite your velvety cunt tightening around him, despite the very overwhelming feeling that he might burst entirely.

Only when your body goes lax does he pull out of you. 

The empty feeling makes you whimper. Your weeping pussy clenches around nothing while Eric jerks himself off. You can’t see him, but you can feel his wrist moving in rapid motions between your legs. 

A groan rumbles deep in his throat as he tenses on top of you. His still body goes rigid. Something warm and wet spits on your inner thigh a second later — a heavy load of his pearly white cum, which he gives you three of before he’s milked himself dry.

Eric collapses on top of you when he’s officially spent. He forgets to hold up his weight, and you deliberately decide not to remind him. You let the man soak in the waves of his pleasure while you strain to reach the wicker basket at your side — struggling for a moment to find the handful of napkins at the very bottom, then using them to wipe up the mess on your thigh.

“Ah, shit,” Eric curses when he notices (his mess or his weight, you can’t quite tell). He sniffles and rolls off of you. “Sorry…”

Your head whips in his direction. You find his face all flushed, glowing red along the apples of his cheeks and the very tip of his nose. His eyes are big and wet, too, glassy like he might cry. 

Buzzing with concern, you rise to your knees, watching intently as Eric reaches for your discarded pile of clothes. You set them aside when he passes them to you and hold his face in your hands instead. His stubble scratches at your delicate palms. Your wide eyes sparkle with concern as they dart over his teary features.

“Hey… Hey, what happened?” you agonize. “Are you okay?”

Eric laughs at himself, then sniffles again as he wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Yeah… So much for not being cliché, right?” he jokes.

“What happened?” you repeat, giggling this time at his crooked smile.

“Nothing,” he assures, shrugging his freckled shoulders. “I just… I’m just really happy, I guess…”

Your tight chest deflates with a sigh of relief as you nod in response. “Yeah… I am, too.”

Eric’s grin widens at your confession. His cheeks speckle a rosy color, like he’s pleasantly surprised by the response — as if his softening cock isn’t still sparkling with a mixture of your cum. 

You meet his smile with a scowl, rolling your eyes as you shove playfully at his shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that,” you grumble and turn away from him, reaching for your clothes. 

Your body looms over him as you stand, putting very little weight on your scarred leg. You bend at the waist to tug your underwear up your thighs.

Eric shoves his boxers on with a cheeky grin. “I’m really glad I found you, you know that, right? Even though you’re mean to me all the time?”

You scoff and drag your sports bra over your torso, yanking it at the hem to pull it over your breasts. “I’m happy you found me, too, stalker,” you respond in a monotone that would otherwise suggest the opposite. But Eric catches you smiling when you reach beside him for your shirt and knows you really mean it. 

“You love me,” he insists playfully, right before stealing a kiss from you. 

His lips only manage to brush the corner of your mouth in his haste, but he grins wide about it anyway. Your face screws like you weren’t begging him to fuck you ten minutes ago, as you wipe your cheek with the back of your hand.

“You’re disgusting…” he hears you mumbling as you turn away, tugging your shirt over your head. 

Four took a shaky breath, his jaw shifting and clenching at the anger that swelled within him. His head turned as Tris came back down the stairs, telling him her parents weren’t here. No one was. He cast one more glance out towards you just as you turned a corner and vanished from sight. Silently, he pitied you, but he didn’t have the time to show it. Nor did he ever think he’d get the chance to express it face to face.

God knows how you’d feel once you woke up. Once the simulation wore off or was shut down, if he and Tris did what he hoped they could.

------------------------------------------------

Eric rounded the corner, steps light, shoulders loose, only pausing once his eyes landed on you. His prize, his plaything.

His favorite.

You marched on, face empty, hands clenched around your weapon, eyes focused, but not on anything real. His hand came out as you approached and you stopped obediently in place, gaze fixed on something only you could see in the far distance. Behind him, Max stepped forward, sighing and shaking his head.

“No one’s safe, are they?” he asked, almost teasing.

“Not from progress,” Eric admitted. He reached forward, cupping your cheeks in his hands, brushing his thumbs under the circles of your eyes. If you were awake, you’d have smiled. All sweet and sugary. In a way that no one ever had when looking at Eric. He sighed softly when your eyes remained vacant. “You’ll understand though, won’t you?” he asked, now talking to you.

Max scoffed behind him, but Eric’s eyes stayed on yours, the only proof he heard his fellow leader being the slight tick of his jaw.

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Max warned. Finally, Eric turned his sharp, gray eyes on the man behind him, frowning just far enough that Max knew his commentary wasn’t welcome. He scoffed again before shoulder passed both you and the man you called your lover in the past.

“I am sure,” Eric hissed, leaning in to press an uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead. “You’ll understand, won’t you, sweetheart?” His fingers curled across the nap of your neck, his pinkies absentmindedly toying with the collar of your jacket. “This is all for the betterment of the city. Of the factions. A necessary evil, hm? How many times have we talked about those? You always told me you understood why they were important. Doing something bad in the name of the greater good , right? That’s what this is… and you’ll see that once you wake up, babe, I’m sure of it.” He leaned in again, lips barely brushing your crown, his eyes closing just long enough so he could enjoy the warmth of your flesh. The heat under your skin. One that he craved more then water, more then his own breath.

He’d tried to let you be awake for it all. Tried to fight for you to be one of the ones left unstuck, but they hadn’t trusted you enough, the others. Jeanine said you’d be a liability. Max said your loyalty didn’t run as deep as Eric thought it did.

You wouldn’t be happy once you came out of it, but he’d be there. Eric would be there, he’d make sure of it, so he could explain. So he could hold you – just like he was now – and speak the way he did only for you about how necessary it all was. Even if you didn’t understand he would make you… because if you didn’t…

... you had to.

He leaned away, sighing heavily, a noise half trapped in his throat as he let his hands slide down your face, the column of your throat, then back to his sides.

“Go on,” he muttered, taking a single step to the side to let you pass.

You did. Steady as all the rest. Eric sighed again as he turned to catch up with Max, his jaw clenched and brow furrowed.

He hated seeing you like that, though he’d never admit that to anyone.

He would have hated it more to see how your eyes fluttered once he was out of sight. How your breath hitched in your chest, your heart racing, beating against your ribs like a war drum. It would have broke his heart to see the tears that lined your lashes as you turned another corner, pausing just long enough to lean your shoulder against it and press your hand to your mouth to stifle the sob that tried to crawl its way free from between your teeth.

He would have hated to know that the serum didn’t work.

That you were the very thing they were trying to eradicate.

A steady stream of water is somewhere near, the comforting sound letting you breathe just a little easier. Eric must feel the same because he dares to lean in towards you and speak softly.

“Are you okay?”

Never did that seem more complex of a question. You’re not okay in the grand scheme of things, but you’re currently still alive and, for the most part, unharmed. 

“I think so,” you whisper in reply. “Are you?”

Eric nods, rubbing his hands up and down his shins, the worn brown material wearing even thinner in a few spots now. 

The two of you were fortunate to run into one another in an alleyway between two buildings—the only stroke of luck either of you have had lately. A natural ease quickly proved that you worked well together and seeing as neither of you wanted to be alone, the choice was obvious. 

Even though it’s only been roughly twenty-four hours since you’ve met, with all you’ve been through in that time, it feels as if you’ve known Eric for ages. There was no denying how cute he was either, but your brain barely had time for fleeting thoughts like that when your focus is on staying alive. 

“How’s your hand?” Eric asks.

You look at the offending appendage, purple from bruising, slightly swollen, and throbbing. Though, it’s slightly better since you’d found that bodega and swiped all the Tylenol and ibuprofen they had. 

During the initial chaos of the invasion—is that what to call it? —your back was up against the brick wall of an apartment building and a man was sent hurtling in the air towards you. Your hand had the misfortune to get crushed between the high velocity man and the brick wall. Ever since you’ve met Eric, he’s been helping you wrap your hand and always checking in on it. 

“It’s sore,” you admit. 

“Let me see?” Eric extends his hand.

Taking a deep breath, you place your injured hand in his. 

Warm, calloused fingers undo the binding currently covering the wound and toss them to the subway floor. It feels nice to let your hand breathe a bit, get some air. With just a featherlight touch, Eric traces his index finger around the mottled skin. The delicate touch sends goosebumps up your arm. If he notices them, he doesn’t say. 

A sense of disappointment fills your gut when he releases your hand to get fresh bandages. You chew on your chapped bottom lip as you watch Eric rummage through the Phantom of the Opera tote bag you’d snagged from one of those tourist gift shops. 

He sprays a bit of disinfectant spray on your hand, the mist feeling doubly cold after having the warmth of his large hand enveloping yours. Next comes a fresh bandage. Eric always applies them so carefully, making sure it’s not too tight but gives your hand some support. You watch him as he works, your eyes taking in the small details of his face while he’s busy focusing on something else.

His dark eyelashes are so long that they kiss his cheeks with every blink. The curls on the top of his head are messy from everything they’ve been through, but it’s unkempt in a charming way. It amazes you how dry his lips are from dehydration, yet they still look so pink and inviting. 

Eric secures the bandage on your hand, and you momentarily move on to admiring the color and depth of his eyes when you realize he’s finished and no longer distracted. 

Heat comes to your face, so you lift your injury up to inspect it, hoping to give you a minute to cool down. 

“Thank you,” you whisper when you lay your hand back down in your lap. 

“Of course.”

The good thing about needing to keep quiet during all of this is that none of the silences could be interpreted as awkward. It’s just self-preservation. 

It goes on that way for about ten minutes before you feel your head get heavy and decide to lean it against Eric’s shoulder. It’s not long before he gently rests his head on top of yours. Despite the circumstances around you, a small smile grows on your lips.

But your peace doesn’t last long. A groaning of metal and the now too-familiar skittering of legs or pincers or whatever they’re called. 

By the sound of it, you guess that the creature is coming from your left, somewhere down the subway track. But there’s no reason for it to know you’re here. As long as you can remain quiet, the monster should just pass you by without trouble. 

A hitch in breath from beside you grabs your attention though. Your head jerks in the direction of Eric to find his breathing speed up and his eyes widen in that recognizable panic. 

Pressing one hand to his shoulder, you get his attention and his head whips to face you. With your other, injured hand, you hold up a finger to your mouth for him to stay quiet.

Eric nods but the rate of his breathing only increases. You shake your head and lean in towards him. 

“Breathe.” The words could barely be considered a full whisper. 

You’ve helped him through these anxiety attacks a few times now so you try to tell yourself you can do it again. You can’t blame the poor guy for being so scared, either. 

The clicking of the approaching monster comes closer then stops. It feels as if time pauses while you wait to see what will happen now. 

Smashing the play button, the creature falls from where it must have been crawling on the ceiling, to land on the subway platform.

Eric jumps and you see his teeth clench together as he tries to keep the panic at bay. 

Step by crunching step, the being stalks closer to your subway car. Even though it can’t see you, instinct tells you to get further out of sight.

As silently as possible, you scoot over so there’s enough room for you to lay flat on the floor of the car. Eric glances down at you and you motion for him to do the same. He gives you a quick nod and with shaking hands, moves to lay down next to you.

Within the cramped space it’s hard for two adults to lay flat, side by side, so Eric ends up on his side, facing you. If you turned your head to look at him, your noses would brush. 

One long black limb stretches out from the creature and crushes a piece of metal right outside your car—probably the remains of an adjoining car. 

Eric’s anxiety spikes again and before you can think about it, you wrap your arm around his shoulders and bring his body down on top of yours. 

It’s not the most comfortable angle for either of you, almost awkward. But Eric wastes no time grabbing onto your waist, his head falling to the juncture between your neck and shoulder. 

Consciously, you slow your breathing down in hopes that Eric’s will follow your lead. 

Another crunch of metal rents the air and you both jump, clinging tighter to one another. Eric’s grip on your body changed positions slightly, and now his head is resting right over your heart. 

You glance down and watch as Eric visibly calms. He takes a few deep breaths and lets his eyes slip closed as he lays against you. 

It takes you a few moments to realize what caused the change. Eric’s head is on its side, his right ear directly over your heart. He’s listening to your heartbeat. And it’s calming him. The thought alone makes your heart rate speed up. 

Slowly, you reach up and gently rest your hand in his hair. He tilts his chin up so he can see your face and you give him a small smile. The one he gives you in return brings forward the confidence to begin running your fingers through Eric’s soft curls. 

The two of you stay that way, listening as the creature moves farther and farther away, until you can’t hear it at all anymore.

But even then, after the immediate threat is gone and everything seems peaceful and calm around you, you both still stay that way. His hands holding onto your body, his head over your heart, and you carding your fingers through his curls. 

Maybe this subway car is a better place to be than you originally thought.