The Guily Ones // 2 // Eric NorthmanxOC

Out in the Darkness

A/N: Please check the end of the chapter for Triggerwarning

Confused, I stumbled into the bar, muttering, "Just a minute to grab that apron, Sam!" The mere fact that I truly considered Megs riding on a broomstick showed just how absurd the past few weeks had been. Shaking my head, I walked to the front—and then stopped dead in my tracks.

"Lafayette?!"

My voice must have shot up three octaves. Arlene and Sam stared at me like I'd lost my mind (which wasn't far from the truth) as I threw myself at Lafayette, overwhelmed with joy.

"Ugh, chill, hooker!" he grunted, though he returned my hug firmly. I felt surprisingly choked up. 

Though he looked just as he always did—sparkly headscarf and eye makeup that put my attempts to shame—what struck me was how pale he seemed. I turned his face side to side with a hand under his chin, examining him critically. He batted my hand away, irritated. I wanted to gush about how glad I was to see him and that he seemed to be on his feet again, but he spun me around and pushed me toward the kitchen.

"Wa—" was all I managed before he halted us in the storeroom.

"Not. A. Word!"

"Your leg is fine, I thought Eric—"

He clamped a hand over my mouth, eyes filled with fear. "Shh!"

Anger bubbled up within me. Not because he was covering my mouth (though that wasn't great), but because he clearly wasn't as okay as I'd hoped. Miraculously healed leg or not, the signs were unmistakable—he'd been through hell. His eyes bulged with fear, and he looked gaunt, nearly malnourished.

"There's no bullet wound because nothing happened, understood?" Lafayette hissed, looking around nervously. "I was on a cruise!"

"Cruise?"

"A gay cruise. Whatever..."

"But Eric—"

"Fuck, Ash! You're usually quicker on the uptake. Northman is fucking deadly. One wrong word and he'll rip me apart!"

I must have raised an eyebrow skeptically, because Lafayette, exasperated, pounded his fist against the storeroom door. "Fuck no, you got that from him.", he waved his hand in my direction. 

 Lafayette deflated like a punctured balloon, collapsing inward. "Damn it, Ash, this is no game. And Eric, with his pretty packaging, is no angel. More like Lucifer himself!"

The condescending way Lafayette spoke to me grated on my nerves. "I know that!"

"Do you? 'Cause you is making some weird choices in company these days...."

"Of course!"

Unexpectedly, Lafayette pulled me into another hug. When he spoke again, it was a whisper in my ear, urgent and intense. "So, promise Ashley. Not another word. It never happened!"

I wriggled out of his grip.

"You can't just—"

"Shh—"

"But your leg—"

"Hmm!"

Lafayette stared at me, warningly, his fingers held together like a conductor silencing an orchestra. The message was clear. I was to keep my mouth shut. I pouted but said nothing more. Lafayette sighed.

"My leg, I promise, is fine. For both our sakes , nothing happened, hm?" Then he gave me one last squeeze and returned to work. For him, the conversation was over. I ground my teeth, watching him leave, struggling with my self-control.