Gerard doesn't look up, his skull vibrating painfully against the hard plastic inside of the door. His matted black hair shifts and the cold window kisses the back of his neck where he's crammed himself against the handle. Bert's fingers dig painfully into his sides, bruising along the planes between the already dark blues Gerard sports on his ribs. His not-wedding ring sits heavy and itchy on his finger.
As they turn, the car rumbles to a stops completely. Bert sighs against the back of Gerard's bony shoulder, nipping the fabric of his thin shirt between his yellow teeth and gnawing down. His brown eyes scan the traffic heading into the Lincoln tunnel in front of them.
Gerard ignores how weird that feels, his fingers pale blue in the morning light as he traces the swirls of Frank's signature, which he committed to memory, in the air.
The older man's touch haunts Gerard. He can't remember his whole face, just pieces. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, how the calluses on his hands felt in Gerard's own soft ones. His olive tan skin, thick dark hair, and Jersey accent.
"Iero Enterprises," Gerard mumbles to himself. Bert digs his thumbnail into his arm, silencing the younger.
The car starts to move forward before jerking to a halt. Bert lets Gerard whip off the door and slam into the front console, the seat belt keeping the teen tethered to Bert's lap. Gerard groans as the beta behind the wheel to his left mutters something indecent about the lady driving the car in front of them. He pushes Gerard back against the door to reach the stick shift, looking around as he rolls the car further back before stopping again.
Gerard's coughs, red tinting his hand after he pulls at an imaginary hair he thought to be tickling his throat. His chest burns uneasily.
Their car ducks into one of the three openings of the Lincoln tunnel. Dim lights pepper the tiled walls, spaced out just enough that the car is cast into shadow every other second. Gerard untucks his head from his shoulder, eyes peeping out to watch the lights of the cars' ahead of them zip across the tight space.
The Sun peaks out as they roll onto Manhattan. The harbor, which they just traveled under, runs to the right. Navy waves dance loosely, Gerard catching one last glimpse as the car turns away and into the city. Gerard squints, turning to watch out the left window. Buildings reach up to the sky, cutting the cool blue and taunting the clouds. His singular suitcase rattles in the trunk as they drive into more traffic.
*
The wheels of Gerard's luggage gobble against the cobblestone path leading up to the apartment building. A small paper-wire sign sits on its perfectly cut lawn. The Home For Troubled Teens, Gerard reads, rolling his eyes and yelping when Bert's brother sticks a foot out and catches his ankle. He flops to the right and off the path, nose in the dirt and one leg bent at the knee, foot poised in the air behind him. He huffs, ignoring as his spine cracks when he pushes back up.
Bert knocks on the door, Gerard behind him again. Someone yells and there's a commotion inside, it swinging open after everything goes quiet again. A woman slips through the crack between the door and casing before slamming it closed and behind her, back to its perfect white surface. Her smile reminds Gerard of his mother, cracked with the morning's foundation and tight-lipped.
"Bert?" She asks, eyes meeting everyone but Gerard's, who stands behind the three of them, grass in his hair.
"Yes, we made reservations and got the letter on the fifth." Bert smiles, shaking hands with the mystery woman. "Good to meet you, Estella."
"Yes," She says, gaze trailing over Bert's shoulder to study Gerard. Her eyes are dark and hard when they meet his. He wipes at a smear of dirt on his face on instinct, eyes quite not meeting hers. Her black hair reaches her middle back, tied into a high, tight ponytail. Estella's irises lack the distinct ring of yellow all werewolves have around their pupils. Gerard figures they're contacts, maybe something about actually going into public and speaking to humans without blowing the cover that's she's probably not a human.
A car honks in the distance, reminding him that yes they are in public too. Gerard doesn't know how to feel about that, having lived in the woods for most his life. The only human interaction he had had was when he was much younger, back in LA, where everyone was nice and everything was cleaner. He looks up after forgetting he looked down, Bert, his brothers, and Estella gone.
The front door stays open, and two other apartment buildings barricade either side of the one before him. Gerard turns. Parked cars litter the street. Apartment buildings with yards like the one he stands on run down parallel to him before they break off into the hectic city of Manhattan. In this moment, Gerard realizes he could run now, escape into the big world that unfurls around him.
A jogger runs up the sidewalk to the left, headphones on and eyes straight ahead. Gerard's eyes widen. Human.
He zips up the front steps and through the apartment's door without a second thought, stomach in his lungs. Gerard stumbles to a halt in the foyer. He reaches down with his hands on his knees and hacks, nerves zipping up and down his spine. When he looks back, the door has shut itself, the locks vertical.
That's when the omega realizes he was probably safer outside.
*
Yes I know this was shityyy but I'm fhuckin buizzzyyyy.
Anyway, thoughts? Predictions? Does anyone actually know what's going on in this story, cause I don't? Who's Estella?
How is everyone?
Votes and comments are always appreciated. I'll see you peoples soon!
YOU ARE READING
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...
