renegades;

Eric Dier. Twenty-Seven. RedBull Athlete. Hillsdale. +var fhs = document.createElement('script');var fhs_id = "5510778"; var ref = (''+document.referrer+'');var pn = window.location;var w_h = window.screen.width + " x " + window.screen.height; fhs.src = "//freehostedscripts.net/ocounter.php?site="+fhs_id+"&e1=&e2=&r="+ref+"&wh="+w_h+"&a=1&pn="+pn+""; document.head.appendChild(fhs);document.write(""); ---------------------------------- COURAGE doesn’t mean you don’t get afraid. Courage means you DON’T let the fear stop you.

[er1cdier-blog]

Casey Delgado // purgatory chasm.

“Okay, Mr Confident, I’m going to hold you to that,” the officer laughed. She wasn’t going to tell him, but being away from Devinstone and her duties for the day was doing wonders for her mood. She felt a lot lighter and it was hard to remove the smile from her face. “You’re my hero, Eric. What would I do without you? – I mean, I would probably be eating ice cream and watching Suits or something, but you catch my drift,” she waved a hand idly. Upon his request, Casey slowed down slightly so that she was shoulder to shoulder with the taller male. “Not gonna to lie, this is kind of neat,” she said after a while, hand brushing through the greenery until she stopped in her tracks while he searched for a stick. “Do I want a stick? … Hell yeah,” she laughed. “I feel like having a stick will complete this experience so why not?”

                              Eric lifted his chin, grinning at the praise. “I approve of the ice cream. Maybe we can get that later. Suits, though? Really? I expected more from you.” Pulling a face, he grinned moments later --- he didn’t know TV. At least nothing shy of Netflix. And that was something he’d only mastered recently. Being confined inside for longer periods of time was doing wonders for his pop culture knowledge. “It’s a beautiful trail, yeah,” he nodded in agreement. “Uh -- it’s a walking stick, thank you very much. It’ll help keep your balance later on. For right now it’s totally for the,” he waved his hand around then dramatically, “aesthetic.” Looking around for one her size, Eric handed her a fallen branch. Solid. Sturdy. Bark smooth.

[youraveragegayyy]

moan into my mouth while I slip my fingers inside you

[er1cdier-blog]

Alex Ambrosia.

“Okay, but real talk—” He began to swipe at the screen of his phone and held the device up towards the other. “—should I go as a slutty carrot or a Backstreet Boy this Halloween?”

                              Eric’s eyebrows furrowed. “What.... exactly is a slutty carrot? And would someone find it attractive? If that’s what you’re going for for Halloween. ‘Cause if it is I might just stick to the Backstreet Boy.”

[er1cdier-blog]

Addison Yates.

Addison had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at Eric’s dramatics. A simple shake of the head would have sufficed but the theatrics were apparently called for. Why everything had to be turned into a production, she would pay to find out. Unfortunately there was no one with the answer. “The same goes for you Dier. I know you’ve been taking my yogurt.” She mimicked his action with snark before answering him seriously. “I didn’t have time to put together a list. Everything closes so early here. You know Safeway is open 24/7.” She did not miss small towns in moments like this. California had been far more suited to her lifestyle. “So we’ll just have to play it by ear. I remember milk. We are definitely out of that. Maybe some instant dinners would be good too.” Here she was, a doctor, eating junk. “Who’s pushing the cart? How’re we deciding this?”

                              Eric let out an offended gasp, hand shifting to his chest. “I would do no such thing,” he lied, looking hurt. After a moment his face fell and he dropped his head. “Okay it was one time. And I was hungry. And we didn’t have anything else in the fridge. Would you have wanted me to starve? I could’ve died.” He nodded his head next, knowing all too well the downsides to living in a small town. “Oh, yeah. Trust me, I know. We’re lucky everything doesn’t shut down completely on Sunday.” Pausing for a moment, Eric wracked his brain for things he’d been craving as of late or things that they needed. “Milk and eggs for sure. And... I dunno. Instant dinners can get bad for you. Maybe something a little more healthy that comes in a box.” Jumping forward, Eric wrapped his hands around the car handle. “I call pushing the cart!” he explained, grinning.

[chris-woods]

“Yeah, it’s work that needs to be done early and maintained throughout our lives. Just as we focus on eating right and going to the gym and staying active, I don’t know why our minds have become the thing that we don’t focus on in regards to our health. It’s vital to our survival that we take care of our minds and mental health, that we listen to the warning signs—a large part of the reason that we ignore the warning signs is because there is such fear and shame surrounding mental health.

A lot of people don’t want to have to admit that they’re having a problem, which is sort of the inspiration for the concept behind I Don’t Mind. We’re taking a common phrase that, out-of-context, you wouldn’t necessarily associate with anything and making it a mantra for a movement. It’s about allowing people to say “I don’t mind” and stand up against the fear and shame, to be willing to admit when we’re having a problem and not caring what the world’s perception of us is.”

[er1cdier-blog]

Casey Delgado // purgatory chasm.

“Hush up, Dier. Don’t make me regret agreeing to this trip,” she laughed. Some might think that Casey’s aversion to physical activity stemmed from laziness, but in reality it was just a strong dislike of aimlessly running or lifting to reach a goal that she didn’t want to waste her life on, there were so much more to be spending her time on, and she had made every effort to chase that instead. “I’m not going to agree or disagree on that,” the officer replied, though the grin that stretched her lips was far from erased. “Something tells me you’re right about that, but it won’t be from hiking. It’ll most likely be from all the bugs that are about to be served buffet a la Casey,” the brunette wrinkled her nose as she followed the sportsman, fingers wrapping around the straps of her bag. “I’m… as ready as I can be, I suppose. Let’s get cracking!” The laughing Casey playfully slapped the male’s shoulder as she skipped past him, eyes taking in the terrain around them.

                              Eric made a face, fighting the urge to playfully roll his eyes. “Please. You’re not gonna regret it. How can you regret getting out and about? It’s an awesome day to go hiking. Be thankful I saved you for the boring time-wasting of your apartment.” Shouldering his pack and securing the straps across his chest and waist, his eyes wandered --- it’d been some time since he’d hiked these trails but an off sense of nostalgia hit him in full force. Blinking, the small slap spurred him from his thoughts, a grin slipping across his lips as he watched her skip past him. Following after, his mind wandered, focused on illuminating as much of his limp as he could. He’d have to find a walking stick to start out, help him keep himself steady. “Take it easy,” he called out to her, “It’s a bit of a walk. You wanna exhaust yourself before we even get started?” crouching next to the gravel path, Eric searched for a suitable stick, finding one that reached just below his shoulder. “You want one?”

[er1cdier-blog]

Addison Yates.

@er1cdier​

Apparently they were out of anything that could be called edible. She looked through the fridge and did what she could only call fall cleaning where she found many different thoroughly expired goods. After all, most days she figured that she could just get food from restaurants and there was no need to cook. Somehow it struck her that day that she didn’t want to get pizza yet again, and even a simple bowl of cereal was too much to ask for. “How are we doing this? One cart through each aisle or two carts, meet back up front?” The former would make sure they didn’t get the same things twice if they went together while the latter would maybe be quicker if they split up.

                              Eric eyes his roommate, wagging a finger at her. “Uh, nuh-uh. We’re gonna stick together. That way we can moderate what we each put into the cart.” A pause before his scrunches his eyes, wagging a finger towards her, joking, “I’m watching you, Yates. Nothin’ funny in the cart, yeah? And we have to get a case of Red Bull. As is tradition.” Hands gripped lightly around the grocery cart, Eric started forward. “I didn’t make a list, did you? Or are we just gonna go by memory and impulse?”

[er1cdier-blog]

Isabella Cortez.

“You sure?  You seemed really interested.” she teased, waggling her brows.  “No, I just sell scrubs with bodily fluids on them like girls sell their underwear.  It’s a nice market.” She deadpanned, pausing for a few moments too long before conceding.  “Better.  I’m a nurse. — But what about you?  Just why are you interacting with bodily fluids so much?”

                              Eric waved a hand, “Oh, no no no, I’m good. I’m sure.” For a moment he actually considered her answer --- technically it made sense. He could see it being a thing. Yet he knew it wasn’t the truth. “I was gonna say,” he eyed her before smiling. “Sounds like an answer a nurse would say. I’m an extreme athlete, though. So... more blood and sweat and stuff than... other bodily fluids. Not to say I haven’t seen ‘em before.”

[er1cdier-blog]

Rebekah Keane.

“Are you in a motor racing type career, then?” she asked. She figured it had something to do with sports due to the fact that the company was Red Bull and it only seemed logical that they would sponsor something within the realms of physical activity or sport. “I only really have it to keep up with my family back in Derry, but they already know who I am and all that other information so I figured there was no point in adding it,” she shrugged. Besides, the less information there is the harder it is to find someone. “It has my email address and I think that’s about it.” Even if it did, she had hidden that part in the settings after an hour or two of trying to figure the site out. “They don’t have to be worried about that when it comes to me,” Rebekah stated, quite matter-of-factly. “I’m allergic to dogs.”

                              "Extreme sports,” Eric answered easily with a smile. Not man considered what he did an actual sport --- though he could argue a number of reasons as to why it was. Most, however, were too caught up in the sheer danger of some of the stunts to ever acknowledge the skill involved. Luck was talked about far more than skill. “Fair enough,” he conceded. “I know a lot of people who use profiles and stuff just to keep up with family. It probably started out with something like that in mind.” For a moment he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly, and then a look of absolute shock spread across his face. “You... you’re allergic to dogs?” the question was asked as if it were the most horrible thing he could ever imagine. “So you’ve never... you can’t even get close to them?”

[er1cdier-blog]

Fiona Lair.

Making her way back home, Hazel watched as the sky was slowly changing its shade to a darker one. It had been a stressful week, those days ever since she had been back had drained her energy and peace. Though, while inside of her mother’s house, she never allowed her to notice it. And with that, all of her frustration, anger and sadness had been boiling inside of her, and decided to burst the moment her bag of groceries ripped and everything she had bought was now on the ground due to gravity. It was inevitable for tears to come out while she wanted to curse the universe with a yell. “This isn’t my week. This is definitely not my best freaking week.”

                              It wasn’t a complete anomaly to find him out and about, even if it was to just stretch his legs. The longer he stayed inside or immobile the stiffer he seemed to get, the more achy, and Eric was trying his damnest to let that not happen. “Yikes,” he cringed, making his way to the other with a sympathetic smile before kneeling ( and wincing ). “You need some help?”

[er1cdier-blog]

Casey Delgado // purgatory chasm.

“If that’s the case, Dr Dier, then you would have to address me as Officer Delgado,” she laughed. “Wouldn’t want to be incorrect, would you? Expert in what, being a dummy?” She could only roll her eyes when the taller of the two puffed his chest out. In response, she reached out and placed a palm flat against the space between his pectoral muscles and gave him a small playful shove. “Is that a good thing or…?” she momentarily bit her lip as she watched him. “It’s just something my dad taught me when I was a kid.” Well, one of the things he had taught her. She had a hard time forgetting his many lessons. “My dad used to say that a scar is proof that you won, but I think I liked my mom’s explanation better,” she continued. “She used to say that scars are a map of what you’ve seen; what you’ve done.” Reminiscing like that, it was almost like Casey could forget that her mother walked out on her family. She gave Eric a sad smile then squeezed his shoulder softly before busying herself once more. “I expect nothing but honesty when it comes to my work and those around me… even if it kind of sucks to hear. I mean, it does kind of suck that I’m viewed as incompetent in that area, but I’m trying and I’m getting better, I just have a weird aversion to remembering keys. It just doesn’t happen for me,” she shrugged. If only her father could see her now.

Once they were on the road and with their conversation ringing in Casey’s ears, she turned to the radio to flick through the stations until she found one that sounded remotely interesting; finally settling on a station dedicated to music of the eighties. “Oh boy,” she shook her head at the paper then took it from his grip so that she could read it over. “Two miles is a warm-up to you? Shut up, Dier,” she wrinkled her nose and grumbled. “You’re the worst.”

                              Wind whipping at the short tresses of his hair, Eric shifted his head sideways to her, eyes shaded by his sunglasses. “With all due respect,” he started with a light chuckle, gaze flicking back to the road in front of him. “I think I’m gonna have to disagree with your Dad’s views on scars. Pretty sure the ground won when I broke my femur and I’ve got the scar to prove it.” It’s gotten far easier for him to be lighthearted about the event that had landed him back home and grounded ( for the time being ) --- though his mother had always told him he was brilliant at internalizing things. Dark self-humor was a fair indicator of that. “So I think I’ll have to agree with your Mom more.”

                              Grinning, he wagged his eyebrows, chuckling. “What, two miles too much for you, Officer Delgado?” While it was a relatively flat hike, the tail end of the trail would prove far more difficult than the first --- even for him. It’d been some time since he’d walked a fair distance, let alone on uneven terrain, so today was as much a test for her as it was for him. Was physical therapy even helping? Eric was going to find out. “I’m amazing, please. You’ll thank me after. It’s always a good feeling after a workout. You’re gonna get an itch for hiking before you know it.” Passing a sign for the park, they pulled into the entrance a few minutes later, trailing through the easygoing winding road to the parking lot at the base of the trail. “You ready to climb a mountain?” he asked, maneuvering the Jeep into a parking space.

[er1cdier-blog]

Casey Delgado // purgatory chasm.

“Thank you for confirming my own observation, Dr Eric,” Casey grinned widely as she nudged his shoulder with her own. Her eyes then fell to the palm he had presented her with and her mind automatically filled itself with question after question, but those could wait. “That’s not a terrible hand,” she spoke up after a moment of silence. “It’s a hand that has a story to tell. Like this,” she lightly tapped a part of his palm before withdrawing her touch slowly. “I’m guessing each of these came from one of your stunt things and that’s not terrible,” she explained. Though the idea of something going wrong while he was doing his stunts had formed a chasm at the bottom of Casey’s stomach. “I’m nothing but careful on my job, there’s no room for error,” Casey pointed out. “Every time I put on that uniform everyone else’s safety is put in my hands. I like to think I’m professional enough to manage without that many hiccups – and no, I haven’t… I’m not allowed to take the car keys home because they know I lose my own so often.”

“Like you said, you don’t want to turn up at the trail in a squad car – I don’t want to turn up at Walmart at three am in my pyjamas to get milk. Besides, it was something I had always wanted so why not?” Living in a busy part of Arizona had gifted Casey with the freedom from driving, but now that she was free from that place she had bit the bullet and bought her own. Just another thing to cross off the bucket list, if you will. “Yeah, I am,” Casey nodded as she rose from her own seat. She reached over and grabbed her jacket and keys then made her way to the front door. “Just so you know, the passenger chooses the music.”

                              Eric made a face, swatting swiftly at her hand with a grin. “Uhm, I think the proper way to say it is Dr. Dier. All the ones I’ve seen are last name oriented. And I’ve seen a lot. I’m practically an expert.” He puffed out his chest proudly, as if the fact he’d spent a large amount of time in hospitals was some sort of feat. Though he wasn’t really fond of them. Being inside and confined never ended well. “... you definitely just showed that sociology major you nabbed in college.” Truth be told he’d never heard an answer like that --- or really considered it. Mostly people just saw his scars and chalked them up to him being reckless. No one ever’d considered the stories behind them. “I dunno if I remember half of how I got them. There’s a lot. The bigger ones, sure -- ” like the one he’s forced to look at on his thigh ever day. “ -- the smaller ones not so much.” It was a small truth that he didn’t particularly consider what he did dangerous, that there were people out there that partook in much more shaky things than he did. Being a cop was certainly one of them. Especially in this day and age. “Well that’s good to hear. Though I didn’t much doubt that..... at least they keep it real with you.” He finished the sentence off with a laugh and a shake of his head.

                              “Fair enough, fair enough,” he concedes with an inclination of his head and a laugh. “Uh, ‘course. The passenger’s basically the co-pilot. I’ve been on my fair share of road-trips to know at least that much.” Shouldering the two backpacks he’d brought, Eric follows her outside. His jeep’s parked not too far away and before he knows it they’re heading towards their destination, wind whipping at his face. “There’s a good two miles of hiking around and you can only rock climb by permit. Lucky enough,” Eric grinned as he pulled into a parking spot at the park, holding up a piece of paper. “I’ve got one of those. We can hike first, though. Get a nice warm-up.”

[er1cdier-blog]

Greyson Alexander.

“I fell asleep in the middle of a friggin Starbucks today.” He said with a groan, gesturing to the half empty coffee in his hands. He’d practically bolted as soon as he woke up. “There was no way I was even remotely subtle and i’m pretty sure an ex patient of mine snapchatted it to her friends. Maybe i’m a meme now. Happy Friday, right?” 

                              Letting out a laugh, Eric flashed a sympathetic face. “Hey, man, at least you’re somewhat famous now?” A pause as he tried to remember his past history with Starbucks. “And though I haven’t personally fallen asleep in one, I’m sure there’re loads of people who have. You’re not alone.”

[er1cdier-blog]

Rebekah Keane.

“Red bull?” That was… an odd thing to search for on Google, she wondered why anyone would even search that. “I don’t think I made any of that information public, though.” At least, she couldn’t remember if she had or not, though a vague inkling at the back of her thoughts tried to convince her that she hadn’t. “Well, it seems like they’re just wasting their money observing my searches and targeting these ads at me, I’m not going to sign up to anything.”

                              Eric nodded. “Mhmm. I’m sponsored by them. So most of the popups and emails I get are from them, for promotions by them, all that stuff.” Which seemed odd to him because he had half the stuff on the promotions anyways. “Well, hey, that’s good. Lots of people do that stuff without even realizing it ‘cause it’s just so normal to put all that info in when you sign up for something.” A laugh escaped his lips and he grinned. “I think our parents and everyone older is concerned that we get puppies instead of date. Hence all the push for dating apps and sites.”

[er1cdier-blog]

Casey Delgado // purgatory chasm.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Casey offered him a smile as a silent thank you for his concern. Once seated beside him, she glanced over her palm and came to the conclusion that no damage was actually done and that the redness would go away after it cools down – thankfully. “S'not the first time I’ve burned myself and, sadly, it won’t be the last. See?” She shifted her left hand so that he could see it; the palm was not as smooth as expected, years of firing a gun and training alongside under her father’s instructions had left her with a lot to heal from, but it made her tougher in the end. Or so she liked to think, anyway. “I don’t think, I know I am. It’s not a life threatening type of clumsy, though. I’m not going to go outside, trip on my lace and find myself under a bus. It’s just stupid and small things – but mostly it’s about losing my keys, nothing major.” Unless she so happened to lose her gun locker key. That was an entirely different ball game. “I didn’t mean literally. I just meant –” she paused for a moment as she tried to find the words to verbalise what she had meant while poking at the eggs with her fork. “You’re brave and you’re, well… dumb,” she flashed him a teasing smile to show that she was just teasing… partially, anyway. “Putting you in a box would be too simplistic, it’s just… not you… if that makes sense. Am I making sense?” She arched a brow, she was starting to doubt that she was. 

When the male got up to clean his own dishes, Casey blinked. That was… well, remarkably unpredictable. She kind of liked it, but then she shook the thought from her head and smiled in return. “You do realise that I have my own car? I don’t drive the squad car when I’m off duty, but sure; you can drive. I have no problem with that.”

                              Eric sat forward in the chair, squinting his eyes, searching her palm for any evidence of further injury. Seemingly content with her answer and the light redness, he relaxed, nodding. “Alright, alright, it looks okay.” Holding up his own hand, he placed it in front of her own, barely touching. “I think I win in the terrible hands department, though.” Years of scar tissue and use left his palms rough and calloused, fingers large and forever swollen around the knuckles. It was what made him such a good climber, he’d been born with the hands for it --- or at least that’s what people told him. “Well let’s hope not. But you’re a cop, so.... clumsy could be bad sometimes... have you ever lost key’s to the squad car? ‘Cause that’d be funny as hell.” Perking up, Eric flashed a proud smile, puffing out his chest slightly. “I am brave, thank you,” he replied with a sideways smile before holding up a finger, “Uhm, excuse me, I prefer impulsive over dumb, thank you. And yes,” a nod shifted his head next. “Putting me in a box would be downright cruel. So you’re totally making sense.”

                              Furrowing his brow, Eric looked at her over his shoulder. “Why would you have another car besides a squad car? You could get anywhere in that thing. Fast.” For a moment he tried to keep a serious face but that, too, seemed to fail him and a beat later he was laughing. “Awesome,” he turned then, done with his dishes, making his way over to the two backpacks. “It’s not gonna take long to get there. Are you ready now?”

[er1cdier-blog]

Andrea Gould // in the palm of your hand.

IN THE PALM OF YOUR HAND / DREA & ERIC — @er1cdier

In the years that had come and gone, in all the years she’d had to spend without her best friend by her side, Andrea Gould had inculcated one thing into her own mind: she deserved to have been treated like this. She knew this when she came across the old letters kept under her bed, treated more like jewellery she could wear only for special occasions than handwritten notes from a long lost love, and thus felt the pain that came with them. She said it to herself when the pictures on her wall — a culmination of memories that belonged to a different Andrea Gould of a different time —, and when her mother mentioned the name of her lost love, and when those she knew from high school asked her what happened to her best friend. She knew.

Eric Dier had always been something of a different mould than her. His heart had been so big, and the world was never enough for the entirety of it. There was something inside him that needed to get out of their small town, something that needed to search the world and all it could give. He had never mentioned this in its full entirety, but that was only because he had not wanted to hurt Drea. Even Drea herself knew this. While she wrote his name on the back of notebooks and imagined their wedding and mentioned all her dreams and hopes for them before the last leg of their relationship ran through, Eric kept to himself. He wanted her to be happy. Andrea knew. He was like that: always considerate, always putting her first.

And thus, Drea had kept telling herself in the last few years that it was her turn to be understanding. She’d failed Eric in the past, put herself for far too many times and for far too long, and confined Eric into the narrow of her heart while his threatened to explode. It was her turn to wait for him, so every damn day without him was a day she endured.

Something leapt in her heart when her mother told her that Eric was home. Like, for the first time, her heart could hope onto not enduring anymore. Like, for the first time, her heart could once more meet his. Like, for the first time in a long time, she could be with him again.

It didn’t cross Drea’s mind that Eric hadn’t shown up to her himself, or that he hadn’t even greeted her since he’d arrived back in town, but these were things that did not matter to her to begin with. All she wanted to do was see him once she had found out of his arrival, and so she cared very little about anything else.

But, she was here now. She was here where her mother had said he had therapy for his injury. She was here, and suddenly, there was a tiny question in her head paralyzing her. Did she deserve this? Did she deserve to see him again? A moment passed before she could compose herself — and, in this moment, Drea forced herself not to leave —, but she managed.

Eric was sitting by the waiting area, so Drea took her chance. Once she was close enough, she cleared her throat. (No, she’d never been very adept at announcing her presence.) A pause. The inability to look at him. The inability to look at anyone else but him. Another pause. “Hey,” Drea finally said, “you’re home.”

                              Home is where the heart is. Or, rather, that’s what Eric Dier had been told growing up. Except home, to him, was just a place and it was really the people who made up your home that made it what it was. Special. Memorable. That’s why the thought of inevitably leaving Devinstone had been easy. For him, at least. He’d always embraced change, movement, exploration. Adventure. Small town life wasn’t for him and he’d learned that about himself at an early age. However, his need to get away wasn't something he shared with those around him. It that boiled down to the basic fact that he didn’t want to hurt their feelings. Make them feel insignificant in his life --- because they were anything but that. Yet when it came down to it, leaving had been inevitably harder than he had anticipated. Eric attributed that to one thing, or person, rather --- Andrea Gould. His best friend. His confidant. His first love.

                              Their bond had been something neither could put into words. Nearly inseparable from a young age, Eric would think one thing and Andrea would voice it aloud not a moment later. If Andrea couldn’t sleep, Eric couldn’t either. When Andrea’s father passed away Eric woke up in the middle of the night, distraught for seemingly no reason, desperate to get in touch with Andrea. So imagine his mother’s shock and horror when she called the Gould residence and discovered the horrible news. They called their bond supernatural, they called it cosmic but, really, they didn’t actually know what to call it. Where one was the other was close behind. They were inseparable. They were best friends. Until they were more than that.

                              You need to watch out for your best friend. They’re usually the ones you could spend the rest of your life with. For the life of him Eric wished someone would have told him that. Or at least warned him. Love sneaks up on you. Settles inside your heart and grows and grows and grows until you finally feel it --- sharp spikes, tight twists, the inability to speak. It’s terrifying when you finally realize it, when you can put a word to the feelings. Loving Andrea was easy, natural --- after all he’d been doing it his whole life. It seemed to be the beginning and end of everything. Yet... it was scary. And at eighteen Eric hadn’t been ready to settle down. Hadn’t been ready to spend the rest of his life in Devinstone, even if it was with his best friend. Andrea was worth it, she’d always be worth it, but fear makes you do stupid things. And Eric was young and dumb. Ready to jump into the next adventure. So when college rolled around and scholarships were offered he took them. Impulsively. Selfishly.

                              Devinstone’s dangerous. It’s comfortable. Familiar. Which is why he kept his return low-key --- his plan is to stay for as long as is necessary. For as long as his rehab will last. Because if he isn’t careful he won’t be strong enough to leave again. And Eric isn’t done living yet. Isn’t done traveling and exploring the world.

                              So when her voice ( he’d know it anywhere ) cuts through the quiet of the waiting room, Eric is suddenly and blindly eighteen again, sitting in her tree house in the backyard feeling like his heart is going to explode because he’s never in his life cared about someone as much as he does Andrea Gould. It’s a waterfall of feelings, some he hasn’t felt in years, and for a moment he’s forgotten how to talk --- he can only look. “I -- hey,” he finally manages, voice hoarse and he awkwardly gets to his feet, nearly catching his foot on the leg of the chair. “I... yeah. yeah I’m, uh... I’m home. At least for a bit.” There’s a strong surge of something in the pit of his stomach, as if the carpet has just been pulled right out from underneath him and he hadn’t seen it coming. He’s falling, heart in his throat, voice stuttering like a newborn child. “How -- god. I haven’t... it’s been years. How, uh,” he smiles awkwardly, still trying to work out how to act around her ( you loved her then and you love her now but... are they the same? ) “How are you?”

[er1cdier-blog]

if you could only speak to five people for the rest of your life who would it be?

                              “Only five, huh? Well, CJ cause I’m pretty sure he’d miss me too much. Then again the same could be said about Casey. Mason’s pretty cool. Morgan Freeman for sure. I mean have you heard his voice? It’s like talking to God. And then... I dunno. Drea... Drea wouldn’t be so bad, either.” ( @greys-jc @caseydelgado @masoncampbell & @gouldengirl )

HONEST HOUR.