Wildflowers and Tattoos (The Crow: Bill Skarsgard)

Chapter 16

❀Lillie❀

After getting out of the hospital, Erik and I easily fall back into our previous routine, although with a lot more physical touch.

A lot more.

The tension between us is so thick it may as well be a real cord connecting us. Whenever possible, some part of us is always touching, whether that is holding hands, or brushing knees, or leaning my head on his shoulder. We're always touching, always connected. It's comforting, being able to trust and rely on Erik the way that I do. I've only ever had one other person that I care about as deeply as I care about Erik, and have that same person care about me in return.

I wish I could still talk to my brother.

He was my everything from the age of ten up until the moment all of my communications with him were cut off right before my fourteenth birthday. He used to drive me to school knowing that his parents wouldn't bother. He used to spoil me on my birthday and other holidays like Christmas and Easter. He would sneak me out of the house and take me to places if I wanted to go somewhere. The best memories I have are the weekends, when he would carry me to his car during the most obscene hours of the morning, and drive deep into the countryside. I'd typically wake up halfway through the drive, surrounded by trees, blue skies, and my brother's shitty country music. I always gave him crap about his music taste, but in reality I knew almost every song he would play, and sometimes I'd sing along with him. We'd spend the rest of the drive talking, or singing, or snacking. Once we'd arrived at our destination, our activities ranged from hiking, to fishing, to just observing the forest. Sometimes those weekends would be full of adventures, and other times simple camping and a welcome break from the world. Either way our weekend went, they are my favorite childhood memories, and my brother was my favorite person.

Maverick Casey was the best brother.

Even though our communication got indefinitely suspended, I still hope that one day we'll be able to reconnect. I have so much to tell him... so much, regardless of the majority of my isolated period was spent in facilities. I'd tell him about all of my new artwork, and show him any of it that I was able to. He would tell me how wonderful, or odd they were. Offering both praise and constructive criticism on the works. I'd tell him about my lonely nights, and longing for our forest adventures. He'd promise me that he was still looking for a way to get me out, and he'd indulge and add to my wishes for the experiences of the past. Somehow, he would end up coaxing my recounts of near death experiences from my lips. He'd likely be disappointed, terrified, and beyond agonized. He'd be disappointed that I was capable of getting so far with the attempts, and he'd be disappointed that I felt so horribly as to go as far as attempting to commit suicide. He'd be terrified that I would try again, and He'd be terrified of the possibility of my being successful. He'd be agonized for me, tortured in his own way; that my life was not as it should be, that I was not treated as a person but merely a drug trial or a caged animal. He'd feel my pain in his own way, and sympathize with me to the best of his ability.

Of all the things I would divulge to Maverick, the one I would enjoy the most, and describe in masses of detail would be Erik. Likely with reddened checks, and ears, I would describe Erik to him. I would tell him about all of the shades I can observe in Erik's irises. I would describe the cut of his hair; the dark strands shaved close to his head along the sides, and left to grow loosely and wild on the top. I would detail all of Erik's tattoos, and laugh at the knowledge of the story associated with them. I would most probably day dream as I recalled the build of his body, constructed of tight shapely muscle, but capable of the gentlest touches. In universally big brother fashion, Maverick would mock me and make jokes about my face turning into a tomato, but he would listen and store the information with loving intent. He would question my obsession with Erik's eyes, and scowl at the mention of the quantity of his tattoos. He would point to my face with a wicked grin and tell me of drool that did not exist. Maverick would squint and analyze all of the information I had given him about Erik, before making the threat that 'if he ever hurt me he'd end up dead.' Finally he'd smile, lock me in a caring embrace, and tell me that he was glad I'd had a real conversation with a real human being other than himself. After that remark I'd giggle and potentially hit him, but I'd be happy.