#top dollar

You were absolutely certain that you were losing it. There was no way these were sane person activities. Sitting on your couch with your kneecaps practically one with your collarbones, rocking back and forth wasn't usually something you found yourself doing on a Friday night. Usually, Fridays were reserved for top-tier baths and a little reading. But Eric had switched up his routine-- eating whatever produce was about to go bad, then practicing his songs-- and it was ruining your night.

He'd gone out. Nothing wrong with that; it was just guy's night. Whatever. He said he'd be back by eleven. Well, eleven came and went, and so did midnight. You'd tried to call probably two dozen times, only to be sent straight to voicemail. Surely, there was a reasonable explanation for this, right? I mean, he probably wasn't dead in an alleyway.

Right?

And let's not forget, there's a sound. A terrible, thumping sound coming from the attic. You'd never heard it before, and you never wanted to hear it again. It wasn't constant, which was a small relief. It started up every thirty minutes or so, stopped, then came back. Between Eric being gone and the sound that you were desperately trying to convince yourself wasn't made by a human, you were scared shitless.

You checked your phone in vain for the sixth time in twenty minutes, hoping that maybe he'd texted you, and you just missed it. However, there was nothing aside from the time and Pinterest offering up something you'd never look at. You turned the device face down on the cushion beside you and let out a shaky sigh. He was never late. He never missed a call, unless he was performing. You bit your lip, wondering if you should call for help.

"Thirty minutes," you muttered to yourself. "I'll give him thirty minutes. Then, I'll call."

Thirty minutes ticked by slowly. After ten minutes, you were sure that the time was up, but no; you were just tweaking. You tried to distract yourself with every method you knew-- making alphabetical lists in your head, braiding and unbraiding your hair like it mattered, even a shitty mobile game you had accidentally downloaded and kept forgetting to delete. The whole time, all you could think about was anything and everything that could be happening to Eric.

At 12:57, three minutes before you were going to make the worst phone call you'd made to date, you heard keys jingling on the other side of the front door. Your head snapped up like a pigeon's, watching intently to see if Eric would come through, or if it was just your imagination. You'd never been so happy to see such an ugly pair of leather pants in your life.

Eric let out a surprised "oof" the second you collided with his chest. He let out a small chuckle, rubbing your back gently.

"Hey," he greeted gently. "Why are you still up, huh? It's way past your bedtime."

He was right; it was seriously past the time you'd head to bed. Most nights, you were in bed by ten. But here you were on the other side of the clock, wide awake.

"You-- you weren't answering, and you were late, and there's a sound-- why didn't you answer?" Your complaints came out in a rather pathetic tone, muffled against his puffer. If you hadn't been so scared, you would have cringed at the sound of your voice.

The small smile on Eric's face faltered when he realized you hadn't waited up for him just to be his pal, and that you were genuinely distressed. "Oh, hey... come on." He led you back over to the couch and sat down with you, keeping an arm around your shoulders. "What's going on?"

"Why didn't you answer?" You repeated in a much less pathetic voice. "I called and called and called, and you didn't answer."

"Oh, my phone died," he said, pulled his phone from his pocket and holding down the power button. Nothing happened. "See?"

"And you were late," you continued. "That was terrifying! You're out in the middle of the night in Detroit, and I couldn't get a hold of you."

"There's not a lot I can do if my phone dies and I'm out," Eric reasoned gently. "It's not like I carry an outlet and a charger with me."

"You could have used Moe's phone, or Gunnar's, or Brion's, or Tex's! And there's plenty of payphones!" You exclaimed.

"Okay, okay. Take a breath." He tugged you a little closer, trying to keep you calm. "You're right. I doubt the payphones still work, but I probably could've used my head a little more. I'm sorry."

You sniffled, laying your head down on his shoulder. His cologne was wearing off, but it still held onto his jacket. Gunnar's cigarette smoke overpowered it, for the most part, but it was still a scent unique to Eric. He cupped the back of your head, holding you close.

"And there's something in the attic," you whispered. "I've been hearing it all night."

"Yeah?" He looked down at you, sliding his hand down to your neck. "Are you sure? You look pretty tired to me; it could just be your imagination."

"It's not. It keeps coming and going, every thirty minutes."

Eric let out a hefty sigh. "You really think something's up there?"

You nodded. Your eyes were starting to feel heavy.

"You want me to look? Make sure there's no raccoons up there?"

"I don't think it's raccoons." You picked your head up and met Eric's warm, hazel eyes. They softened upon seeing your bloodshot ones. "It's, like, thumping."

"What, you think somebody's up there?" He asked, reaching out absently to wipe away a tear lingering on the swell of your cheek.

"I--" The thumping started up with a rattle, then settled into is rhythmic beat. "There!" You cried, sitting up. "Listen!"

Eric listened intently. His face remained patient, but the small tweak of his eyebrow told you he was getting concerned. He stayed silent, drumming his fingers against the arm of the worn sofa.

"Let's go take a look," he suggested after a minute. "Come on."

You trailed behind him as he walked down the hall towards the pulldown ladder. He'd been up there earlier today, dragging an older amp into the space to make room for a newer one. It was quite entertaining, watching him lug the thing up the rungs.

"Stay here, okay?" He reached for the drawstring. "I'll look."

The thumping grew louder as Eric pulled the ladder down. He didn't spare you a glance before he began to climb, not wanting you to see the anxiety crawling onto his face. There was only room for one person to be scared here, and you occupied that role just fine, with your sleep deprivation and the fear he'd caused you already. He stopped a few steps above the floor, peaking into the attic. You watched his shoulders relax with a sigh. He shook his head, then started to climb back down.

"C'mere," he mumbled, opening his arms for you. "C'mere a minute."

You didn't hesitate to hug him but still gave him a questioning look. "What's up there?" You asked rather impatiently.

"Well, you know how sometimes, pipes expand with heat? Just a little, though," he explained softly. "And sometimes, that can make them rattle. But because the pipe has expanded, it's hitting the amp. I put it a little too close, I guess, and that's what's causing that thumping. Not a person."

Your stomach plummeted. That was all? You'd been sitting on the couch, losing your goddamn mind because Eric was MIA and a freak in the attic, and the only freak turned out to be you.

"Oh..." You turned your nose against his sternum, trying to hide the embarrassment that had begun to bloom on your cheeks. But he didn't have to see it to know that it was there.

"Hey, it's okay," he assured you. "I mean, you couldn't get a hold of me, and I was late coming back, and then there were spooky sounds in the attic. Not to mention that you're usually snoring your ass off by now. I get it. I would've been scared, too."

"I don't snore," you mumbled.

"Oh, like hell you don't," he snorted. "I can hear you clear across the hall, even with the rain pouring down outside."

"Yeah? Well... you... you..."

"That's what I thought. I am an angelic sleeper. And you--" He glided his hands up to your jaw, tipping your chin up towards him. The look on his face wasn't judgmental, as you had expected. It looked almost maternal instead. "--need to get your angel self to bed. You're tired, and you got all worked up. Sounds like the perfect reason to sleep to me."

You hummed an agreement but made no effort to remove yourself from his chest, resting your head once more against him. He was warm, comfortable, safe; all things you needed right now. Eric didn't try to make you leave, either. He could feel that you weren't ready to admit defeat just yet and retreat to your quarters.

"Hey," he murmured, leaning down to your ear. "Why don't you go change and come lay down with me?"

"Because you smell like Newport's, and it stinks."

"Wow, great excuse." Eric held you back just slightly, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, go change. If it means that much, I'll shower, but I think you might need a little more love right now."

"I'll be all right," you said. "Just... go showers. I'll probably be asleep before you're out."

"Okay, let me try this again: go lay down in my bed. I will be there in ten." He gave you a careful nudge towards his door. "See ya."

You bit back a smile and stepped into his room, taking in the scent. It smelled perpetually like his cologne, unlike his coat, due to a spill several months ago. Turns out, wood is porous, and it soaked up the perfume like a sponge. The unmade bed welcomed you with open arms.

By the time Eric got himself out of the shower, you were out light a light. He chuckled and shook his head, expecting nothing different. It was better that way, anyways. He knew you'd likely stay up to chat with him if he was there, no matter how tired you were. He grabbed a pair of sweats from the floor, unsure how many days they'd been sitting there. He looked at you quietly as he tugged the pants on. You looked so tired and stressed out. Had he really done that much damage just by letting his phone die and being late?

You stirred when he laid down beside you. He placed a hand on the side of your head, stroking your hair. "Shh," he hushed. "It's okay. I'm here."

"Mmph." You reached above your head and taking his hand. "Want that," you muttered, holding it close to your chest.

He chuckled, smiling down at you. "You okay?"

"Mhm."

"You sure?" He tugged you closer, accidentally knocking his knees against yours. He reached down with his available hand to rub your leg. "You seemed pretty upset."

"I was," you yawned. "But you're here."

"That's right; I am." He nodded.

You snuggled up against his chest, holding his hand between the two of you. He knew his arm would fall asleep before he did if you stayed like that, but he didn't care. All he cared about was making sure you were all right. "Why were you late?" You asked.

"Hmm? Oh. Tex's battery died. We had to wait for a jumpstart."

"Mm."

You fell quiet, the only sound being your mingling breaths. Eric continued to brush his thumb over your knee, watching as you began to drift off. His arm began to tingle, but he ignored. He laid his head on the pillow above you, sighing gently.

"Okay?" You croaked, to Eric's mild surprise.

"Yes, honey," he whispered. "Everything's okay."