Author's Note: Hey y'all! Okay, so this is my FIRST TRUE BLOOD STORY EVER! Please post some reviews and feedback. I'd love to continue writing for True Blood, if its good material. Story plot is.
Summary: (set just after 04 x 06; Eric's memory returns) Sookie Stackhouse knew how to be many things. The only thing she didn't know was how to be missed. First True Blood Story ever! Based on 'Last Kiss' by Taylor Swift.
"Eric! Why are you doing this?" Sookie hollered, following him as he stormed from her house. Or, his house. Their house. Whoever's house it was. Eric was booming out, and Sookie couldn't stop him. They were both hit by cool brisk air. Eric turned to Sookie, standing on the dewy grass. She saw his intense stare and was frozen on the wooden steps of the porch. The look in his frosty eyes sent chills down her spine. They were the wrong kind of chills.
"God damn it Sookie, you should have a coat on!" Eric lectured, taking off his signature leather jacket and harshly, but somehow tenderly, throwing it at the blonde Southern belle.
Sookie clutched the material in between her fingers. Real leather; not at all fake. She couldn't put it on. She couldn't put the coat on and show any kind of weakness to him. She puts this coat on, he has won. But she was already missing everything about him. She could vaguely remember the scent of his skin. What if she loses it forever? Regretfully, Sookie swings the coat over her frail body.
"Eric…why do you have to leave?" She hated how sad and pathetic her voice sounded. She just wanted him to wrap her up in his arms and hold her. Kiss her. Tell her everything would be alright. But even she knew not to be so naïve. This was Eric Northman. The real Eric Northman. The Eric Northman who has his memories and his pride. HE shrugged his shoulders, like he didn't have a care in the world.
"I got what I wanted."
"A good lay?" Eric flat out laughed at her comment.
"Good? Don't give yourself so much credit Sookie! If you were that good, I would've remembered it happening, regardless of my amnesia. My memory is back now. I'm back now. That Eric Northman who you had sex with in the moonlight was a lie. And you've always been too damn stubborn to see the truth." Eric hissed. His words cut like daggers. Sookie felt her heart bleed.
"I see the truth, Eric. Every time I look at you."
"You don't see anything. A rock can see more."
"I can see that you're being stupid about this! You live here Eric! And I'm yours. I'm not Bill's. I'm yours. And you've always been mine. Please. I don't want that to go away." Shamelessly, tears began falling from her eyes. Each transparent tear that fell was made of acid. Her skin burned and eroded. She couldn't even find the strength to wipe the acidic tears away.
It took every ounce of self-discipline Eric possessed not to scurry over to her, not to pick her up and hold her close, not to wipe away her salty tears and tell her how she made me feel alive and pure. But Eric was not a hero. He was the bad guy. Sure, bad guys get the good looks and all the good sex, but heroes get the damsel in distress. Bill Compton, as much as it pained him to admit it, was a hero.
Eric was the bad guy. Eric was always the bad guy. Secretly, he had wanted to be the hero, but he said and did nothing about it. His eyes only rolled.
"I'm sorry. But I do." Eric replied, his ice cobalt eyes piercing her in every unimaginable way. Sookie shut her tear filled eyes and she stared down at her feet.
(I never planned on you changing your mind).
"Damn you, Eric Northman." Sookie breathlessly sobbed. She stared at her bare feet, painted in fire engine red, the tips beginning to chip. Suddenly, she was looking into sapphires. A hand was gently cupped under her chin. Her tears wiped away in a tender caress.
"Don't damn me, Sookie. I already live a damned life. In time, you'll realize that I did the right thing by leaving. You won't even notice that I'm gone. Just promise me you won't get into too much trouble. I won't be able to save you from where I'm going."
"But where are you…" Sookie pleaded to know, but she was cut off by a fierce and passionate kiss.
(you kissed me when I was in the middle of saying something).
God, why did he have to do that?
(There's not a day when I don't miss those rude interruptions).
Her arms were thrown around him, pulling him in closer, hoping he would never leave. Hoping he would melt into her body. Hoping he wouldn't be able to say goodbye. He pulled back. She pushed herself into him. He still pulled. She tried to be strong. She tried not to cry. But she couldn't stop them from coming. Eric didn't even try to stop them. He only stared. He allowed himself to be the bad guy.
"Goodbye Sookie." And like lightning, he struck the final remnants of her heart. He dashed away.
He ran far enough so she couldn't see the blood falling from his eyes.
A bad guy.
He left Sookie.
It was for her protection.
He couldn't stay and hurt her.
He was the good guy.
So why did he feel so wrong?
(You wish you had stayed)
Sookie could feel her knees buckling. She didn't want to collapse. She couldn't collapse in an open surrounding. Someone could be watching her. He could be watching her. She could only hope.
With all strength she had, she forced herself to walk back into the house. Her door was shut but not locked, just in case. Like a zombie, she walked into the lonely living room. She was getting light-headed. She had to sit down somewhere comfortable.
She sat on the hard floor. She clutched leather firmly over her body.
(But now I'll go sit on the floor wearing your clothes).
And Sookie sobbed into the leather, unknowingly washing away his sweet spice.
(Never imagined we'd end like this).
Time flew by so quickly. Already, two weeks had passed. Already, things seemingly went back to normal. Already, Sookie felt the stomach ache reminding her of what she had lost. She wished that she were the one that had her memory wiped away. She wouldn't be able to remember what it was like to love someone so passionately. She wouldn't remember the feel of Eric Northman's body on hers. She wouldn't remember what anguishing pain felt like.
Where were you Eric Northman?
She was afraid she would forget his face.
(So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep).
But photographs could only capture so much.
The room was filled with a dead light and she could smell lust everywhere she went. She was the only one wearing a white and cherry red dress. Everyone else was wearing black. Their eyes were black. So were their hearts. They looked like they were in mourning.
What did they have to mourn?
They couldn't possibly be grieving the loss of anything.
Not by the way they were all dancing with each other.
If she could even call it that.
"He's fine." A shrill and sharp voice says from behind her. Sookie turns and sees Pam.
(And I keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are).
Pam surprisingly looks decent in her black leather-clad outfit. Her face is no longer decomposing. She downs a shot of blood. It's mostly likely not Tru Blood. Sookie swallows uncomfortably.
"When did you talk to him?"
"Don't worry about it. And don't bother asking where he is either, Sookie. I won't betray my maker. Just know that he is fine. And there is no reason for him to return to Bon Temps. Not even if it's for you." And before Sookie could even try to plead, Pam turned away and put all of her attention on Yvette. Pam was whispering something seductively into Yvette's ear and she laughed. Was she being glamoured?
And Sookie found she feeling awkward as she watched them flirt with one another. She swayed from side to side, as if to dance to the music. But it was obvious that she was dancing off-key with the tune.
(I'm not much for dancing but for you I did).
"Is he happy?" Sookie called before Pam escorted herself out with Yvette. Pam turned around, her eyes rolling.
"Is he at least happy wherever he is?"
"Yeah. I guess you could say that."
(Hope it's nice where you are).
Bill had jumped at the opportunity to become hers once more. She flat out refused. She could never be with him again. Not after everything that he had done to her. And everything that he did to Eric.
"I am sorry for the pain I have caused you. I am begging for a second chance." Bill had pleaded, on one knee holding her hand. But Sookie knew that he wasn't holding her heart.
"I can't give you that chance."
"Is it because Eric was your last kiss?"
(Never thought we'd have a last kiss).
"Get out Bill."
"Please, just get out! You're never going to be Eric!"
(Your name, forever the name on my lips).
And in his heart, Bill knew that he never would be either.
It was a year, almost to the day. Sookie sat on her bed, in the darkness. She wore his leather coat. It was too hot in the heat from outside. But it made her feel like he was there, holding her. And it was only in that old leather jacket where she remembered everything about Eric Northman.
The color of his blue eyes.
How the sunshine found his blonde hair at midnight.
Sweet spice always finding its way past her button nose.
What did he have to remember her by?
Nothing. Simply nothing. Nothing but memories that he had forgotten all about.
(And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe).
She loved him. She loved him when he knew who he was and when he didn't know who he was. She loved the way that he said his mind, but he always saved the sweetest words for her. She felt safe with him, regardless of his past and his questionable antics. Eric believed in her when Bill had given up on her. He had faith that she would return when Bill believed that she was dead. Eric never lost hope that he would see her again. But eventually, Eric had given up on her.
But she would never give up on him. As pathetic as it sounded, she would never do that to Eric. She would wait for him, like he did for her once. She would be Calypso, waiting for Odysseus. And she had faith that she would see him again.
But then at night – the dark and lonely ones – a voice from within tells her what she wished weren't true. "He doesn't care about you Sookie. Why would you waste your tears on that vile scum?"
But she was able to triumph the voice with one simple statement, usually said in the darkness of her lonely fortress:
"I love you, Eric Northman. Please miss me."
It was pathetic, just like her. But she didn't feel shame.
(All that I know is that I don't know how to be something you miss).
Sookie Stackhouse knew how to be many things. The only thing she didn't know was how to be missed.
SO…what did you think? Love it? Hate it? Should I write more? Please read and review! It would be greatly appreciated. Thanks so much!