Belonging

Dreaming of the way it used to be. Can you hear me?

Gerard coughs, sore arm thumping against his chest as his breath rattles. He doesn't remember much, or maybe his brain doesn't allow him to. The time before Frank Iero and after the move to Jersey was a haze of gray, something keeping him from the past.

There's a red patch on his shoulder, irritated down to the muscle. Gerard ignores the thought that it could be an early sign of a bed sore. His body feels like it's been hit by a bus, dropped off a cliff, and fucked through a wall two times over.

It's probably a bed sore.

He groans, rolling to the side and pushing on aching bones to sit up. The pill bottle is still there, laughing at his misery. Gerard looks down at his hands again, knowing what to expect but having to see it. He still feels Frank could walk into the room at any moment, calling him down for supper.

The meals were always amazing. Steaming and sweet and salty and good. The smell of home cooking would waft around the palace in his mind for hours, something he'd never seen in his own home.

Gerard thinks back to the color of Frank's eyes, wondering if they're even a true dark hazel, wherever the real Frank Iero is. They could be blue, and he could be pale and fat for all Gerard knows, never having seen him in real life.

He's wiping away tears as they startle him, making cold tracks down his stark pale cheeks. His throat feels sour like a small rodent crawled into his voice box and died. His teeth feel that overall stick you get from drinking maple syrup straight, goopy and too smooth.

The door is ajar, calling for Gerard to go explore his prison. It unfurls like a new rug around him, old, worn, and useless.

Shaking, he rolls to the side of the bed. Gerard stops when he's sat up, legs off the edge and panting. Everything burns and he wonders why Lyn-z hasn't come to see him yet. Gerard teeters on his feet, stumbling like a drunk for the door.

The hinges creak, something he's never heard them do before. Lyn-z's room door is closed across the hall. Gerard grinds his teeth together, breathing through them so they let out an airy hiss. Pain flares through his joints, knees and elbows cracking eerily as he moves. The carpet burns fire against the heels and balls of Gerard's feet. He whimpers, leaning against the gold wall and rolling a foot over to look at the bottom. Red patches of skin cave slightly along where bones sit under Gerard's skin. He gags. More bed sores.

Limping, the teen nudges Lyn-z's door open.

Her and his blankets droop off the side of the bed, original gold comforter beneath a little ruffled but still holding onto the mattress by its tucked corners. Gerard looks down to his suitcase by hers on the ground as well, the cheetah print open and displaying clothing. He waddles to the bed, sighing as he lays on his side and pressure leaves his painful shoulders and feet to rest.

Gerard straightens the blankets as best he can, sighing into the sheets. He wonders why his own are here, mixed with Lyn-z's. Gripping at the purple, blue, and plaid, his eyes droop. It's warm under the cloth, Lyn-z's perfume still ingrained in the threads.

As the omega closes his eyes for sleep, they snap back open reluctantly. The image of Lyn-z, hands reaching out for him burns into the back of Gerard's eyelids each time he blinks. Everything is black, green, and white, like sunspots flickering across his vision.