Wisps of snow float through the air in dance, twirling and twisting before adding to the slow growing pile on the ground. They stick to the damp grass, collecting on the trees. The morning sun is grey, mixing with the snow's tone and making the outside world look like a painting.
Gerard's hands and feet are heavily bandaged, the medics rushing to pick out shards of glass and stop the bleeding that early morning. They had given him a brace for his neck, not that it helped the pain he felt with each and every movement of his head and throat. The tape wrapped around the gauze on his feet swipes against the floor with the swing of his legs every once and awhile, making a smooth, slick sound that he loves.
He's sat in the second level of the house, looking out a gigantic window and over the front yard. Cracking his knuckles through the wraps around them, flashes of that night and early morning before flick across Gerard's eyelids each time he blinks.
Bert's cold face, splattered with his own blood. His own messy reflection in his chosen murder weapon. Frank and his moment on the two opposing sides of the kitchen window.
The last one haunts Gerard particularly.
Frank's eyes, their paired hands. The unspoken words that ran between them and followed still after Gerard walked away. The feelings he had been trying so hard to hide were now lay in pretty cursive on his sleeve.
And part of him is happy about that.
Gerard blinks slowly, slouching back into his chair and sighing. It's warm in the cozy room he sits in. Space to lounge on lays behind him in the room. The window looks out in front. Everything here is so peaceful and easy, letting him slouch in on himself even more than before. Ignoring his neck's painful twinge in protest, Gerard lets his eyes slip closed.
The door to the room clicks and swings in, soft steps treading across the carpet floor. The couch cushions next to him cave, even more warmth radiating from the thing beside him.
Gerard hums, not opening his eyes and letting arms wrap around his shoulders. They pull him into a hard chest, chin resting on his head. An arm braces against his neck so his head doesn't wobble too much, Gerard being lifted like he's a child as another arm slides under his knees.
*
Soft fabric is bundled up under Gerard's heavy head, creating a makeshift pillow. He lounges on a leather couch, a blanket slung over his hips and down to his feet.
He's in a semi-large room, its dark aesthetic matching the rest of the house that Gerard's seen. Two black double doors dominate one wall, the others covered by book cases and maps and photographs. Angry scribbling fills the room, the scratching of one of those expensive pen nibs ripping into paper. Gerard sits up a bit, looking over the arm rest of the couch.
Frank sits at a large mahogany desk, lip ring held between his teeth and hand running across the pages of what looks to be a journal. The wood under him is cluttered with even more maps and pages and pens and ink pots. The big window behind him shines with mid-day light, creating shadows on his sharp face.
Gerard slides out from under the blanket, bracing his elbow on the armrest and lifting to his feet. It stings.
"Sit." Frank grunts, typing things into a calculator with the back of his pen.
"So I'm going to roll around the woods then?" Gerard asks, sitting despite his remark.
The space between the calculator's plastic buttons and the metal of Frank's chosen writing utensil is slim, held perfectly in place. The alpha keeps his head tilted down, slowly looking up to meet eyes with Gerard, who ignores the obvious unspoken tension between them. Frank's fringe hands low over his face, cutting his eyes into hazel slits.
"And where would you need to go in the woods?" He asks, keeping his hands still and his eyes fixed on Gerard's face. A slip of skin shows between the omega's new sweater and pants. He grips his pen even harder.
"I have people to see." Gerard murmurs, hair all messy and sticking up in odd tuffs.
Frank drops his pen, rolling out from under the desk and making his way across to the couch. Gerard looks up at him, legs curling in and shoulders slouched. Frank leans down, careful of Gerard's brace as he lifts him easily.
"The nurses said no walking." He murmurs, opening one of the doors with the hand under Gerard's knees and letting it slam behind him as they walk down the hall outside. "So, that means no walking."
*
They walk out onto the front porch, door slamming with a swoosh behind Frank. He allows the smaller boy in his arms to direct him into the trees to the left. The two of them make their way over ground quickly without much dialogue to fill each silence between the crunch of Frank's boots against the snow.
Gerard's eyes droop, his fingers playing absentmindedly with the zipper of Frank's light jacket. The sleeves of his own making a racket as he moves his arms. Jamia's old boots hang on his feet, loose enough not to bother his cuts.
They cross over the once Way territory, Gerard can feel it. Ghosts of the short lives made here cling to the trees, given voices by the deep depths of his mind. His head lets them scream, falling on Frank's def ears and rattling in the trees much like Gerard's own.
"South." He whispers between the noise, feeling Frank redirect his steps. Gerard pulls the zipper he still holds down, his ear resting against Frank's chest. A heartbeat thumps under the shirt and skin, driving out other thoughts with soft bangs.
The trees become thicker as they keep true, closing in on the pair increasingly until Frank has to turn sideways to slide through.
That's when Gerard knows they're there.
He pulls his face out of Frank's chest, eyes blinking open as they break through the tree line and into a familiar patch of uneven tree stumps.
Ryan sits on one, a deerskin wrapped around himself, knees brought up under his chin. His hair is matted beyond belief, a brown clump attached to his skull so big Gerard can see it from across the space.
"You did it." He says matter of fact. Ryan's voice is still small, but it holds somewhat of an authority. Not like Frank's, loud and booming and demanding. No, the teen's tone is learnt, not given. Definitely not allowed.
"I did."
*
Guess who's back, back again, Tori's back, tell a fren.
Hello lovelies! I've been swamped with school, as has some of our favorite writers. So this is what y'all got today, some kinda fluff and plot pushing. I'm sorry to say that chapters are going to be a bit harder to deal out with my schedule, but I'll make it work.
So how's you like this chapter? Thoughts? Predictions? Angry notes about my update length? They're all welcome.
Votes and comments are always appreciated. I'll see you peoples soon!
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Belonging
Fanfiction"It didn't feel right, nothing did anymore, the names and faces would jumble out through his ears at night anyway. They didn't fit right there, and Gerard knows they never will." YOU ASKED FOR IT AND I GAVE IT TO YOU. I DON'T KNOW WHY EVERYONE WANT...
