Belonging

Fall into a clouded dream I had once.

Estella's glass tips haphazardly to the right, red wine dangerously reaching towards the edge of the rim. Her mauve nails reach towards the sharp nib of the pen she uses, ink smearing just the slightest as her left-hand drags over the paper when she writes.

Gerard listens to the scratches of the metal tip against its canvass, the point of his nose burrowed in his knees, legs against his chest and arms around them. Bert sits in the chair next to him across from Estella's desk. He lifts his own glass to his lips, drinking the lasts dregs. Estella sees him finish, but doesn't offer him more. She takes her own small sip and dips the nib of her pen into its inkwell again before speaking.

"You've already set Gerard's schedule, so we don't need to worry about that." Gerard's eyes track the walls, queuing out of the conversation as Bert and Estella talk about Sunday mass down the street.

The woman's office sat at the end of the entry of the first floor of the building. At the door, Gerard had to follow their voices into the room. The hallway had given into a large floor plan, where uncomfortable and antique looking couches and other furniture sat in what looked to be perfect, preplanned order. The apartment, or what Gerard had seen of it, seemed to follow a scheme of bright whites and soft pastels. Stairs led to a second, and maybe the third floor at the right side of the open space. The left led into a kitchenette.

Gerard follows the crease in the wall where it meets the ceiling, staring at where the white paint had started to chip a bit before moving on. The floor creaks upstairs, and he watches, eyes flicking back and forth as he waits for another sound.

"...yes you had told me you had asked him for a loan. Tricky business, but, it's great you had gotten on their good sides before attacking." Gerard tunes back into the conversation around him when he's almost certain no other sounds will come from the mysterious upper floor. Estella has finished her wine, and the glass sits next to her on the desk. Bert nods leisurely.

"Yes, I have to admit it was a hard one, but I had called in some back up from LA. They were gone quick after that. Call it cheating, but my neighbor is not alive to tell the tale."

"When was it?" Estella asks, pen poised to write more. Gerard wishes he had paid attention enough to know what they were talking about. She writes some things down as Bert speaks.

"Well," The alpha thinks. "Maybe three or so months ago."

Gerard looks to Estella, who jots more things down. Three months ago had to be way before Christmas, way before Gerard had gotten sick as he is now.

             *

Estella waves outside, her head and moving arm sticking out of the door. Gerard sits in the living room on one of the uncomfortable eggshell colored sofas. The door slams a moment later, and Estella turns towards him, the hallway between them. Gerard can just see her form from where he sits at the edge of the couch. Her black hair strays from its now sagging high ponytail. The orange glow from the small frosted glass window set in the door behind her gets trapped in the flyaways of her hair, creating a fiery halo. She smiles closed mouthed, alabaster skin bleeding into the walls around her, hair and lips stark against it.

Gerard gulps, looking up as something creaks upstairs. The sounds circle for a second — quick and light before they're gone again.

"You were on meds then." She states more than asks, breaking the odd moment between the two of them but beginning another one. Gerard nods anyway.

"That'll alter your blood," She mutters to herself. Gerard doesn't know what to say that, and she bends down before the wine rack in the attaching kitchenette. Estella's pencil skirt rides up and he has to look away.

She stands back up, the neck of one of the same labeled red wines from the rack in her loose grip. Gerard picks at a dangling piece of skin on the side of his thumb, listening to the cork pop out of its bottle and the wine glasses clink together in the cabinet.

Gerard looks up without moving his head, gazing through the black strands that fall from behind his ears and block his view of Estella's black pumps. She paces back and forth a few paces in front of Gerard.

"We don't go to mass on Sundays," Estella mutters, taking a sip of her wine. "I'm assuming you won't care."

Gerard nods.

"You won't be doing any of the extracurricular activities I offered for Bert to choose either."

The sounds return from upstairs and the two of them look up simultaneously.

"You won't leave the apartment, you will not ask questions, and you will not hurt your bunkmates. Am I clear?" Estella stops pacing to stand over Gerard, black eyes boring into the top of his head. He nods.

Satisfied, she walks over to the staircase at the side of the room, leaning over the banister to call.

"Come down then!"

The footsteps come back, thundering down the stairs and creaking every old floorboard. Gerard looks up as teenagers coming racing down to see him.

"Gerard, meet your new siblings."

There's four of them in total, all around Gerard's age. They run up to Gerard in a swarm and pile on top him on the couch, pinning him to the stiff cushions.

"Oh, he's so frail," One girl mutters, her thick Bronx accent curls around her words, making them sound foreign to Gerard. She pinches at his cheeks, taking in the dark rings around his eyes. Gerard huffs, uncomfortable under all their combined weights. He looks back at her, the girl's thick dark hair all up in his face and tickling his nose. She doesn't look as plump as she should be either, but Gerard doesn't say anything.

He yelps as an elbow comes in contact with his delicate ribs, arms wrapping around himself. He heard a muttered sorry and freezes, looking down at the pale hand that rubs his arm as a lament.

Someone plays with Gerard's hair, another teen poking the bruises that liter his shins. He doesn't pay attention to any of them, deaf to the noise. Estella watches the seven of them from the stairs.

The boy's brown hair curls around his cheeks, bangs poking his eyelids. Big brown eyes sit deep in his face, still heavy with regret in hurting Gerard. The latter stutters, eyes trailing the slope of his freckled nose, the brown dots evidence of a past life in the sun.

Ryan blinks, his hands stopping their soothing motions on Gerard's arm.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Gerard mutters, looking away to Estella.

        *

OooOooOooOoOooooOooOOoOoOOoOo

What'cha think of this? Predictions?
Thoughts? Pleas? Confessions?

I'm so stoked for the rest of this book gOD.

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