Belonging

We'll be a perfect family

Christmas flies by in a flash of dry chicken dinner and pine covered carpet. Gerard doesn't know the date anymore, not that he needs to.

The stairs creak as he tiptoes down them, surveying the floor before scampering across. It's still dark outside, the sun just a measly thought as animals lay dormant in winter. The house is silent, omegas still in their quarters and Bert sound sleep. Everything seems bigger in the dark, shadows hiding monsters the tenants have yet to face. The heating isn't on downstairs, and the hardwood burns the bottom of Gerard's sore feet.

He had snuck into his father's office on Christmas, when everyone was downstairs on the buzzing side of whiskey, the shots like water. He hit a wall, each cabinet locked. The same came when he ran around Bert's room for as long as physically possible, which happened to be not long at all.

The stove light is the only one Gerard allows himself to use, flicking the old nobs and opening the fridge with a big yank. He pulls out the eggs and milk, grabbing the right utensils and pans he needs before scurrying back to the stove.

Gerard cracks one of the eggs a bit too hard, yolk splattering on his fingers and glossing all over the counter. He ignores it, dropping two into a pan and adding milk. He watches it cook on the stove, soft sizzles cracking through the big room like waves. Steam wafts up into Gerard's face and it makes him sleepier. He stirs the eggs, some catching on his spoon.

Something rumbles in the house from above, Gerard stopping his movements to listen intently. The sound comes from somewhere upwards, and he's scared it's Bert until nothing follows.

Most of the eggs are nice and yellow now, fluffy like fresh snow. The meal flops easy when Gerard flips the pan over his chosen plate, the food almost jiggling as he throws everything haphazardly into the sink.

Gerard flicks off the stove light and pads into the den with his meal, sitting carefully in the middle of the couch. He can't see anything in the dark, the moonlight shining on the Christmas tree and reflecting brightly against its ornaments. Gerard sits with his feet under his legs, the cold biting at his exposed skin. He sighs, picking up a chunk of scrambled egg and chewing when it's still too hot.

Plop

Gerard swallows, eyes surveying the room as his hand reaches to the top of his head. It meets dry hair, moving back until something sticky and warm meets Gerard's fingers.

Plop.

He pulls back as another drop follows and hits him again, rubbing his fingers together.

The smell of iron taints Gerard's skin, masked by the rich smell of the Christmas tree until he pulls his hand close enough.

Plop.

Gerard sets his plate down on the coffee table blindly, fear spiking up in his chest as he runs over to the wall to turn the lights on, ignoring the pain that flares up in his feet. The lights flicker on, bright and assaulting his eyes as Gerard blinks rapidly.

Something hands in the air right above where he sat on the couch, the silhouette of the rope it's attached to running up to where the stairs hang over the den.

Gerard holds his breath, looking closer.

Two bodies are held together in the air back to back, wrapping painfully tight all the way from their shoulders to their feet. The two victims spin in the air ever so slowly, heads toward the ground.

Gerard can't stop himself from stepping closer, muscles taut and stomach jumping with a fear.

A face. Blood trickles down the white skin and stains the age lines, pooling with gravity in the eye sockets and moving downward into a tangled mess of platinum blond hair. It clumps, growing heavy enough to drip steadily into a puddle on the leather couch below.

Gerard screams, dropping and scrambling backwards.

Plop.

White eyes stare into Gerard's soul, pulling at it uncomfortably. A mouth drops open slightly, head tilting back.

Plop.

The bodies turn, the face of his father coming into view. Blood beads on his nose and cracks in the crevices of his mouth. His eyes are shut, face slack.

Gerard pants, coughing as he crawls back further in a last attempt to get away. The back of his head hits the wall, eyes closing as his heartbeat fluctuates.

A low crackle rolls down the room, up from the top of the stairs. He knows who it is without looking, not giving Bert the satisfaction of seeing his scared eyes.

"You weren't supposed to see until later, but this works too." The older sighs, faking sadness. Gerard can hear the smile in his voice as footsteps thud down the stairs leisurely.
They walk to Gerard, stopping in front him. He opens his eyes, looking up at Bert with a blank expression. Yellow teeth show when his lips curl back into a too wide smile.

"Why?" Gerard asks, voice scratchy after screaming.

"You'll see, my dear." Bert crouches down, pushing a stand of hair behind Gerard's ear. The younger slaps the hand away angrily, pale cheeks turning red.

                                *

Gerard sits criss-cross on his bed, back to the door. He's locked in his original room, shirt stretched off his shoulder and hair pulled at odd angles from the struggle between him and Bert. Gerard obviously didn't win, he wouldn't be sitting alone in shocked silence if he did.

The dead eyes of his mother haunt Gerard, the scene playing on the back of his eyelids every time he blinks.

As the dust settles, he realizes his fate. Now that the alpha and luna have died, Gerard is left to carry the clan. But no luna is suit to lead on their own.

Bert planned this all along.

He'd swoop in, saving the day and the poor, delicate orphan. He would take control, the fearless born leader he was, save the Way pack from its death and change its surname.

Gerard blinks, the back of his eyes hurt with the action. His stomach grumbles and the dry blood that still soaks the top of his head itches. He doesn't move, back aching and feet tired. All Gerard does is think. He sees white and gold and a life full of sorrow. The dark parts off of his mind awaken once again, corrupting the rest. Tears track down Gerard's cheeks, dripping down into the gold comforter below him. He doesn't wipe them away, wanting to slip back to his lost paradise, missing the serenity he could never take for granted.

Gerard blinks, nerves quieting as he takes it all in. Closing his eyes, dark hazel flashes before everything turns to black.

                                *

So now we know why Bert is how he is.

Thoughts on the chapter? Predictions? Rants? Do whatcha fancy.

I liked writing this one a bit to much.

Votes and comments are always appreciated. I'll see you peoples soon!