Eric is still awake and watching the television, not entirely invested in what's happening on the screen. Every so often, he glances over at you and watches you sleep. The sun is rising, but the curtains are drawn, Eric's safe. He's not tired despite being awake for so long, he's content with just laying here. Because he's an older vampire, he doesn't need to sleep as much. He could stay awake for days, he just can't go out in the sun. He wishes he can, though. He would do anything to feel the sunlight on his skin just one more time.
He glances at you and watches your chest rise and fall. Sometimes he feels sort of jealous of you. You can go outside during the day, you can eat food, you can do everything he can't do. But then again, you're not the only human he's been envious of. In his last relationship with Sylvie, he was jealous of her. He would smell the sunlight on her skin, in her bed, on her clothes. It was horrible but amazing all at the same time. That's why he prefers being with humans over vampires. They're warmer than his kind and they smell better too.
When he thinks about mortality, he often thinks about childbirth. He's never really wanted children, but sometimes he wishes he could have one. A real one. Not like a progeny. But then he sees them and they're always crying or screaming. And then he knows why he loves being a vampire. Being immortal comes with its flaws, but the good outweighs the bad. Like blood. Eric absolutely loves the taste of blood.
To a new vampire, most blood will taste the same. But that's because they don't pay much attention. Everyone's blood tastes different, it's sort of like wine. Except for the fact that aged blood doesn't taste good like aged wine would. Eric never drinks from older people for that reason. He prefers young adults, and it's even better if they're 'pure'. Eric's never liked the concept of virginity, it reminds him of the UK in the 1800s. But virgin blood still tastes better. He just doesn't like to think about it. It feels sort of infantilizing.
He knew you weren't a virgin as soon as he smelled you. It's something every vampire can do. Your blood may not be pure, but it's one of the best he's ever had. It's top 10 for sure. He regrets not feeding from you earlier, he's quite hungry. Especially after watching you sleep. He knows it's a little creepy, but he can't help it. It's interesting to watch you breathe after so many centuries of him being unable to do so.
Sometimes he wonders what he would've done with his life if he was never turned. He probably would've kept his family safe from Russell Edgington. Maybe he would've been a king like his father once was. He admired his father when he was a human, but after he was turned he realized Ulfrik was an asshole. He often cheated on his wife and neglected his son. Eric never realized or stopped to care until he had the time. When you're a Viking, there isn't much time to stop and think.
He turns the TV off and goes to sleep at 9 am.
When you wake up, Eric is sleeping next to you. He has a mask over his eyes, and you can't help but laugh at the sight. You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle the sound, wouldn't want to wake him up. You understand why he's using it, but it's still funny to see. There's probably too much light in the room, even with the curtains closed. You glance over at the bedside table, where the alarm clock is. It's almost nighttime, which means Eric will be awake soon. Which means he'll be busy. A nightmare.
At this point, you don't care if Russell murdered those faeries. You want to go home and you want Eric. You feel like you've been going insane these past few months. As soon as you saw Eric, you didn't just think he was hot, you thought he was beautiful. And you don't usually use that word, especially when describing men. All vampires are beautiful, but Eric is the best-looking out of all the ones you've seen. He's better looking than any human you've seen too. He could probably be a model if he wanted to, but he wouldn't want to.
You're just sitting next to him, sort of waiting for him to wake up. You don't know why. Nothing would change. He'd probably get ready to go to Russell's as soon as he woke up. You turn to him, watching his face for any sign that he's awake, "You're an asshole," You whisper to him, wearing a deep frown. He doesn't stir, just as you expected. You want to say more, so much more, but you're afraid he'll wake up.
"That's not nice." Eric teases, still laying motionless on the bed. You jump, startled and embarrassed. He pulls the sleeping mask off and looks at you with a raised eyebrow. You move further away from him, an awkward smile on your face.
He sits up and tosses his mask on the floor somewhere, "Sorry for waking you..." You say apologetically, rubbing the side of your arm. He stands and stretches his arms above his head with a grunt.
Eric shrugs, "Sorry for pretending to be asleep." He responds, grabbing his coat off of the armchair near the TV. You furrow your brows and stare at him, slightly worried. You feel more at ease now that he's awake for some reason.
"Are you going to Russell's now?" You ask, eyebrows pinched together in concern. He seems to notice this, and it only serves to embarrass you further.
"Yes, I'm going alone. I don't want the others to be involved, don't tell them I'm leaving." He rounds the bed and walks over to you. You look up at him, still very concerned. Going alone could be dangerous. Russell is far older than him. Maybe he can hold his own, for a while.
"Eric, won't that be dangerous? He's old as fuck." You say, shocked by his courage. He rolls his eyes at you, clearly, he's not worried. You don't know why you expected him to change his mind after you said that.
"Dangerous, yes, but I can handle myself," He reassures you, tugging his jacket on and straightening it out, "You don't need to worry." He adds.
You sigh and relax against the pillows, "I don't know why I do." You say, referencing your concern for him. But that's a lie, you know exactly why you're worried. If he died, you don't know what you would do. It would take a while to move on, even longer than it did when he rejected you.
His face softens, "I know you care about me, but I have to do this alone," He pauses for a moment, then closes and opens his mouth like he wants to say more, but he doesn't. He turns and leaves the motel room without another word. He doesn't even wait for your reply, rudely enough.
While he's gone, you watch TV and hope Pam doesn't knock on the door to get Eric. After an hour, she doesn't, and you're less tense. But you hardly notice, you're too focused on a new MTV show, Daria. You're spending more time laughing than time thinking about Eric being in danger or Pam knocking on the door. It's nice.
But eventually, another show comes on, one you're not interested in. And you're left to your thoughts once again. This happens a lot, and you're starting to hate it. If you were at Fangtasia, you'd at least have something to distract yourself with. Some papers to sort, some drinks to drink. You could probably find some papers to sort right now, but you feel like that would be strange. You don't have any money, so drinks aren't an option. But you wouldn't want to do that anyway, not tonight. There's too much happening.
As time passes, you wait anxiously for Eric's return. It's been two hours and he still isn't back. You're starting to worry about him, a lot more than you were before, if possible. He could be dead and you wouldn't even know it. It's horrible to think about, but you can't help it. Each passing minute only adds to your concern, and time seems to go by slower than it ever has.
You catch yourself constantly checking the clock on the bedside table. You don't think you've ever been this impatient. Questions and morbid thoughts swirl around in your mind, you wish you had something to distract yourself with. After some time, you stand up and stretch your limbs. You've been stuck to the bed these last few hours, practically frozen against the plain white covers. So it feels good to move again. But then you sit down again because there's nothing to do. You don't have to pee, you don't know what room Sarah's in, and you're in an unfamiliar area. No reason to walk around.
Just as you've started to lose hope, the door bursts open and slams against the wall. Your head snaps over to the intruder, and you hardly recognize him. Eric is standing in the doorway, covered in blood and gore. His hair is disheveled and stained red at the ends. You can't see any wounds but you can tell he's exhausted by the way he staggers into the room. He falls into the armchair with a grunt, not bothering to close the door behind him.
You clamber out of bed and nearly sprint over to the door, "Eric, what happened?" You ask, closing the door and locking it. You turn to face him fully, eyebrows pinched together in concern. He looks up at you, his eyes weary but somehow still smug.
"Russell wasn't there, but his children were," He says, adjusting his position in the chair with another pained grunt, "They swore he had nothing to do with this, but I don't believe it." He shrugs his jacket off and tosses it onto the floor near your feet. Eric relaxes against the chair, shutting his eyes for a moment.
He opens his eyes and looks up at you, "Where is he?" You ask. You can't help the anger in your voice and it surprises him, but that doesn't last long.
"They didn't stop to tell me, they were too busy dying," A lazy smirk graces his face and he rests his hands on the armrests, "But we'll find him." He adds. You hope so, or coming here was pointless. Well maybe not pointless after what you're about to ask.
"Are you hungry?" You ask shyly, wringing your hands together in front of you. He seems to consider your question, raising an eyebrow. His eyes linger on your neck for a moment, but he shakes his head.
"No, I fed on the way back." He dismisses, standing up and walking toward the bed. You back up so he doesn't run into you and watch as he climbs into bed. There's a part of you that doesn't believe him, but he said he's not hungry. You'll pretend to accept it.
You hesitate before speaking, "Do you want to talk about what happened?" You ask, slowly walking toward the bed. He sighs and runs a hand through his blood-stained hair. You sit down on the edge of the bed.
"No," He admits, "It was messy but I handled it. We'll find Russell soon." That's all he says. You're disappointed, but you won't push it. No reason to annoy him, not right now when he looks so tired.
"Alright, well if you ever wanna talk, let me know." You shrug and stand up, ready to climb into bed and rest. He looks at you, a strange look in his eyes. You don't notice, too busy rounding the bed and climbing under the covers.
"I appreciate that," He says. You pull the blanket up to your neck and stare over at him. His eyes shut for a moment, and then they snap open like he's fighting sleep. You roll yours.
"Get some rest, you look like you need it." You snark, rolling onto your side to face him fully. He does the same, and reaches forward to brush a loose strand of hair out of your face. You feel your face heat up, just like your entire body. But he doesn't say anything, he just closes his eyes. So you do the same.
It's hard to fall asleep, and you just started, so you know you're not doing something right. You can't help but open your eyes every so often. It doesn't help with trying to fall asleep, you don't know why you're doing it. Maybe you're hoping that Eric will sit up and ask you to be with him forever. An unlikely scenario, unfortunately.
As Eric lies beside you, you start to notice a slight shift in his demeanor. He seems like he's becoming restless, tapping his fingers against the bed every so often. He even rolls over a few times, obviously frustrated. He mentioned eating earlier, but now you're sure he was lying.
"Are you sure you're not hungry?" You ask with an exasperated sigh. He rolls over to face you and you notice him glance at your neck like he did earlier. He's obviously hungry. If he says no one more time you'll just cut yourself in hopes that he takes a sip. It seems drastic, but he needs to eat to survive just like you. And he wouldn't be so tired if he was full. You just want him to be happy, and no vampire is happy when they're hungry.
"Fine, yes I'm hungry," He says, rolling his eyes at you. He doesn't bother asking for permission, he just crawls toward you. You take a deep breath and try to keep yourself calm, allowing him to lean over you. You feel his cool breath against your neck, it sends a shiver down your spine and your eyes flutter shut. He seems to linger there for a moment too long, lips brushing against your neck. You freeze, waiting for him to indulge himself.
But he doesn't get the chance. Instead, you hear a loud bang. Eric jumps off you and turns to face the doorway. You stare at the intruder with wide eyes, shocked at this abrupt entrance. It's Russell, of course it is, who else would it be? His eyes lock onto Eric and you, and a sinister smile spreads across his face, revealing his fangs. Eric exposes his own fangs, threatened by his presence.
"Eric Northman and his little human, what a wonderful surprise," He closes the door behind him. His entire body is tensed up. Russell reminds you of a snake, ready to strike at a moment's notice, "I heard you came to my house, destroyed it, and killed my children." He takes a step closer to Eric and reaches into his back pocket.
Eric puts one foot behind him, ready to dodge whatever attack is coming, "And now, I'm gonna destroy everything you love." Russell says, pulling a wooden stake out of his pocket. He holds it in front of him, still wearing the same expression. He looks psychotic.
But he does something that you don't expect, and clearly, Eric doesn't expect it either. Russell lunges at you with the stake, aiming to plunge it into your heart. His eyes are wide and crazed, and his mouth is wide open to expose his pearly white fangs. You don't have any time to think about whether or not Eric loves you. Time seems to move slowly. Eric dives toward Russell, trying to tackle him to the floor. You feel like all the air has been knocked out of your lungs. Your heart is beating faster than it ever has before.
But Eric reacted a split second too late. You feel a strange heat spread through your body, fiery and angry. You only know the cause when you look down at yourself. The stake is sticking out of your chest, and blood is pooling out of the wound, dripping onto the floor. You only feel the pain for a split second before your vision goes dark. You hope your mother comes to the funeral.
The end…
or is it? (no)