After a drunken one night stand, Eric Carr doesn't remember a thing. He wakes up naked in his apartment but one thing is for sure. The blood he just coughed up isn't a remnant of last night.
This book is in 1991 and will continue to whenever I damn...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
BRUCE POV | --------------------------- May 21st, 1991| --------------------------- 4 : 1 4 P M | -------------------
I knock on the door to Eric's room, at least, I hope it's Eric's and that they didn't give me the wrong room number, then I hear a faint
"Come in" from the other side. Instantly, I knew it was Eric, slowly opening the door...
"I'm looking for an Eric Carr...is he here?" I ask, a jovial tone to my voice as I smile brightly, I watch as Eric doesn't smile back, but instead tears fill his eyes. He gestures to the chair by the bed weakly
Once I set the flowers in the vase and sit down, I have the opportunity to see him, really see him. And it scares me. He is pale, weak, and frail. He looks like a piece of antique china, so fragile.
"I'm sorry I didn't come to visit sooner...I really have no excuse...I should have come. And I'm sorry, Er." I say sadly, I feel guilty for not visiting Eric... I hold his hand tight, his hand is cold, and I'll gladly warm it up for him. He sniffles and wipes away a tear rolling down his cheek before he smiles softly.
"I'm...so happy to see you. I thought that you guys... didn't care..." Eric says, his voice a bit hoarse from raw emotion.
I shake my head in disbelief. "Of course, we care about you, Foxy..." Well...I do at least. Paul and Gene refuse to speak about you at rehearsals. They are already talking about hiring your replacement.. but I don't think of this right now.
I lean forward, pressing my lips to his forehead as I graze his bony knuckles with my thumb.
He looks nothing like the Eric I used to know. The old Eric was always smiling. He had hair larger than his personality and was always the life of the party...this Eric, on the other hand, looked defeated, run-down, and weak. His skin is almost paper white compared to the beautiful Italian tan that he used to have. He seems almost skeletal in a way, his cheekbones slightly jutted out when before they were filled in.
He has no eyelashes, no eyebrows, and no hair, anywhere. I'm always so used to seeing Eric with his giant puffball on his head, and it hurts to see him like this. It hurts my heart.
He's so thin I swear I can see his heart beating through his chest, he looks tired, but not in a way that can be fixed with just a good night's rest. He looks genuinely exhausted. He's been fighting for almost two months...and it's already taken so much out of him.
It's scary to see the usually happy and energetic Eric as a shell of his former self...
He leans into my touch, soaking in my warmth. I gladly let him do it, too, holding him close gently, being extremely careful not to hurt him.
I don't have the heart to tell him about what Paul and Gene are doing. I don't have the heart to tell him he may be out of a job. He has already been given a death sentence. Why would I make him feel unstable in his last months of life??
It stays quiet, Eric listens to my heartbeat before he starts to cough, I rest a hand on his back and try not to cringe at the sound. It sounds like a fork in a garbage disposal...
I watch as blood comes out of his mouth, it gets on my shirt and he looks mortified.
"I- am so sorry!" He says, turning away to grab a tissue to wipe his mouth with
"It's alright Fox. It'll come out in the wash. Don't worry." I reply, my tone gentle as I put on my jacket and zip it up*
"There! Can't even tell." I add, smiling. He weakly smiles back and laughs. God, that laugh. It's like angels descending from heaven...
He is my angel.
And yet, I don't have the nerve to tell him my biggest secret...
