Bond In You
Paring: Oleander Fallows X fem!Reader X Gryphon Shore X Gabriel Ardern X Atlas Bassinger X North Draven X Nox Draven Warnings: Cussing, Abandonment, Trauma, Mental Health, Soul Mates, Angst and Fluff, Cannon Divergence Description: fem!reader wakes up in a room with 6 people who claiming to be her bonds except she doesn't know what the fuck that means! Word Count: 8203 Chapter Eight
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North Draven is not a man you can manipulate, you know this, Oli knows this, but you're out of options. Oli doesn't think that she can just ask him to go to a party after curfew in a lower-gifted neighborhood, because let's face it, North Draven is also a snob, and you still can't even talk to the man without the thought of vomiting. Which brings you both to option two, Sawyer's Nuclear Option.
Sage had done a good job with your outfit and makeup, the colors complementing your skin tone well, when she stopped by after class. Her choice in tops suited you, a nice white shirt with a low neckline, and you had to give it to her, you looked hot. If you were to ask any of your other bonds for something at the moment, you knew that they would say yes, regardless of what you might be asking. The Draven Brothers are a different story, a very thick wall between them and their centrals, stopping almost any progress from moving forward. You weren't sure that this was going to breach the wall, but that's where option three comes in: you make Gabe beg.
"This isn't going to work," Oli says, finger wiping at the excess lipstick on her lips, "This will probably just piss him off even more, and then curfew is going to be way earlier." You nod because you're sure she's right, but it's too late to back out now. Atlas and Gabe had promised to give you time to get ready, and that time is steadily running out. She sighs, her shoulders coming up and dropping back down again before she looks at you. Her own borrowed shirt low on her chest, hugging her frame tightly, her hair cascading down her back. She looks like every dream you have ever had, wrapped up into one. You're not sure if you could ever tell her no.
"It probably won't work," you agree, "but I'm sure he will at least say yes to the football game, and Gabe is going to back our request." You hadn't been around North enough to know how he would react, but you needed to try something. The idea of going to a real college party excited you too much to turn down the chance, plus this would be the first time you got to get out of the dorms for something more than just class and bond dinners. You wanted to at least pretend you were free to do as you wished with your spare time, and starting next Monday, all of that time will be going to studying and memory spelunking with Gryphon. This felt like your one chance to be a real college student.
A knock sounds at the door, and Oli heads over to it, throwing her hair over her shoulder on the way. "Here goes nothing," she says, hand gripping the doorknob.
When Atlas sees her, it's like there are no thoughts in his head, only actions. His smile on his face disappears as he looks from her eyes to her chest, the lack of coverage clicking into place. His movements are quick, like he had done them a hundred times before, body moving forward into her space, hands finding her hips, lips coming down to meet hers. There is no hesitation, no need to ask, he knows what he wants and takes it. He walks her backwards into the room in seconds, her body melting into his, desperate for his touch. You're not sure if she means to, her hands coming up to his chest, pulling him in more, as close as he can get, and he groans into the kiss. You realize now that maybe this was a bad idea and not just a useless one.
You find yourself unsure who you are more jealous of, Oli or Atlas, before remembering that they are both off limits. At least until you know more. At least until they are safe from you. When they part, you know you should look away, at least pretend you hadn't been staring at them like you want to be in between their pushed together bodies, but you don't, can't. If everything was normal, if your bond group was normal, you would be right there with them, enjoying the feel of their lips on yours, their hands in your hair, on your skin, but you weren't normal. Your bond group isn't normal, and you can't have them. Oli can't have them, and everything is fucked.
"God, Sweetness, give me a warning next time," Atlas whispers against her lips, their breath mingling, faces flush. Oli looks at him, a pain that you can feel mirrored in your own chest flashing across her face as she pulls back from him, placing space where there once was none. He looks over at you now, the want still plain as day on his face, and your own. One of his hands reached out towards your cheek, and you don't move, can't move because you want him. You want him to touch you, kiss you, just like he did Oli, the image seared into your brain in a way you aren't sure is normal. But the look in his eyes changes, and he stops, pulling his fingers back into his hand before wiping down his mouth. "You both look hot as fuck, and I want to kill Sawyer just a little less for suggesting it."
You'd smile at him if you could, your eyes still on where his hand rests on Oli's waist, and you want to be able to reach out to him. To pull him to you like Oli had, even just for a moment. The aching in your chest is back, slowly numbing your limbs as you look at the pair. This sucks. Not knowing sucks. Not having sucks. Not being able to move forward with anyone because you can't trust yourself sucks. The bond pulling at your limbs sucks, and you try to make a note that you'll have to take your meds later in the day on bond dinner nights, so this doesn't happen again. So it doesn't wake up enough to make you feel even worse, want even more than you already do.
The sound of the door opening draws your attention, and you see Gabe, face flush, pupils blown as he moves towards you, jacket pulling from his shoulders. He wraps it around you, holding it closed around your breast, face inches from yours in a way you can't stand at the moment. He's too close, too unstable in his own emotions for you to deal with. His bond reaches towards yours as he struggles to form the words to say, his lips moving, eyes bouncing between yours. "This was not the plan," he groans out, fist still tight around the collar of the jacket. "We were just supposed to ask him. You can't," his voice cracks, and he takes a second to breathe, eyes closed. "You can't go to dinner dressed like this. He will kill me." He comes even closer now, forehead falling to yours, his eyes still closed.
Your bond hums in your chest, the contact it's been craving finally being fulfilled, his scent wrapped around you like a blanket. It's a type of content you have never felt, your bond happy in your chest for the first time in your life, softly pressing into his, like this is the way it was always supposed to be. You feel the warmth of it in your heart, the place your bond keeps empty for each of them pulsing under your skin. You know you need to pull back, to ruin this moment, but you can't, his lips to close, breathe warm against your skin. You know you need to end this; his bond is stroking yours, loosening all the tightly bundled muscles in your body, making you melt into him, but you can't. He's like a black hole, pulling you into his orbit until you're lost in him, his breathing, his heartbeat, his needs.
"I need you to at least wear a jacket, bond, please." He's begging now, the whine very obvious in his voice as his hand pulls you slightly closer, noses touching. His bond ghost over your fingertips, and up your arm, rubbing a circle into your collar bone before continuing its path up your neck and down your jaw. You can feel it across your lips, a teasing sensation that you have to fight against to not fall into him completely.
"Friends," you gasp out, breath shaky as you stare at his lips, "don't tell other friends what to wear." You hadn't noticed it until now, your fingers hooked into his belt loops, pulling him impossibly closer at the waist, a soft sigh coming from him. His hand, that was clenched into the jacket, releases as he trails it up your neck, his other coming to join it, fingers tangled into the hair at the base of your skull. Your pulse hammering below his palm, your neck stretching up to reach his lips, his breath fanning over your face, shaky on the uptake.
You can hear your name being said, hear his name, but your bond is filtering it out, quieting everything that isn't the soft sounds coming from Gabe's lips. Your eyes close as you just let the sensation take you, let it pull you closer into him until you can almost feel his lips on yours, can almost taste him. "Bond," he groans, hands running down your neck and over your shoulders, settling on your biceps. "I need you," a gasp leaves his lips as your fingers find a bit of his skin under his shirt, "I need you to pull your bond back." It's the pain in his voice that does it to you, your eyes opening and blinking up at him. His face is red, highlighted by the lightness of his hair, a vein in his neck standing out as he bites at his lip. "Bond, please." You feel it now, its light touches over his lips, down his neck, his chest, the front of his thighs, caressing, teasing, testing limits it has no business testing. He's panting, struggling for any type of composure in front of you, and you think you might die. Not just from the embarrassment, but the struggle it takes to pull your bond from his skin, the fight brings tears to your eyes.
It thrashes, pulling at every loose thread you have inside you to gain traction, to stay right where it is, burning on the way back inside you. Clawing your insides until it's forced back into the pocket you keep it in, the numbness spreading at the missing contact when he pulls his own bond back. Its voice screams, ringing throughout your head as your fingers curl against the hard planes of his skin.
“MINE. MINE. MY BOND. MY BOND.”
You can't hear anything, can't feel anything save for the tears streaking down your skin as you settle your bond deeper into your chest, so far down it feels like you're drowning in your own misery. Your body has visceral reactions to this; nerves feel like fire beneath your skin, cells exploding from the force of holding it down until it calms. When you open your eyes, fist still shaky against his stomach, Gabe takes one look at your face before pulling you flush against him, face buried in his chest, hands tangled in your hair.
"I don't know what happened, but don't do that again." It doesn't sound like a reprimand, only because his voice shakes, arms tight around you in a crushing embrace. When you pull your face from his chest to look at Atlas and Oli, both their faces are white, Oli's hand in his, gripping it until her knuckles turn white from the effort.
She pulls forward, hand coming up to rub under your eye, your body still pressed firmly into Gabe's. "Let's go get you cleaned up." Both their scents elope your senses, ruffling your bond, and you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing hard to press it down again. When you open them, you can feel the tears trying not to fall, a rosy tint to the room now. You know your makeup must be a mess, all the hard work from Sage down the drain, as you try to disentangle yourself from Gabe's arms. His hold is steady, like he's trying to hold all your pieces together, whatever he saw frightening him, his pulse under your ear rapid. You try again, pulling back from him slowly, and he lets you this time, arms falling to his sides. He doesn't say anything, just looks over your face, swallowing hard, and then to Oli beside you.
Her hand is extended to you, but you don't take it, not yet, choosing to walk over to your nightstand and grab your pill bottle. You can't bring yourself to care about taking one in front of them, swallowing it down dry, before placing the bottle back in your drawer. If being this close to Gabe was enough to fully wake it up, watching Nox touch another woman in front of you might get you both killed. Better to not risk it, and drug the bond into oblivion. Your hands shake a little as you grip the edge of the nightstand for stability, the pill slowly sliding down your throat, into your stomach. You can feel its numbing properties after a minute of standing there, waiting for it to take effect.
Your bond isn't happy, a last-ditch effort to take hold of you again failing, your insides like water in its grip. When you're sure it's down for the count, you turn back to your bonds with what you hope is a reassuring smile on your face. "It's okay now." You say, mostly to yourself, hoping they believe you more than you believe yourself. "It won't happen again." You'll be more careful now, make sure to take two pills a day until you can control it. Until it listens to you, or until you have to leave so they can be safe. Whatever you have to do to keep them all safe, you will, even if it kills you.
Oli approaches you slowly, like you might spook at the contact, and slides her hand in yours, tugging you towards the door. When it opens, you notice two helmets on the ground, discarded in a hurry, both on their sides, visor half opened. You turn back to Gabe, a question on your lips, but you see him, head in his hands as he rubs at his face. Atlas clasps him on the back, the sound following you out into the hall, "Let's get you cleaned up too." There's a bit of humor in his voice that doesn't reach his face, as the door starts to close behind the two of you. You can hear Gabe groan as Atlas asks, "Do you have a change of pants?"
The eyes on the two of your isnt new, the past couple of days allowing you to get used to it, but the nicknames are. "The giftless and the freak," you hear a few times on the way through the halls. Oli ignores them, so you follow her example and just walk, one foot in front of the other, until the bathroom comes into view. It's strange, the way Oli maneuvers you around the room, keeping your back to the mirror as she grabs a rag to wet. You lean against the counter as she runs the water, chewing at her lip as she thinks of what to say. "Is your bond always like that?" She asks, rubbing at the skin below your eye, cleaning any left over make up from your skin. You press your lips together, a frown forming on your face as you shake your head. You feel the tears prick at your eyes again as you blink them away, enough crying done already.
She hums at your response, wetting the rag again under the warm water, and starts wiping at the other side. "Sometimes," she starts, eyes scanning back and forth between yours before continuing, "It doesn't feel like you have one." You nod again, not sure what to say to her, not able to speak through the lump in your throat. "Is that because of the pills?" She finally asks, making her way down your jaw and cleaning the tears streaks there. You lift your chin, eyes finding the ceiling as you nod, not able to look at her anymore, not sure what the truth is going to do to your relationship. "That you got from the resistance?" You're not sure how you feel about that, never having connected the dots that the drugs were given to you by the Resistance for a purpose unknown to you.
"They help me," you finally say, voice quiet, "Without them it gets too loud. It tries to take too much." You don't think that you can explain better, not without the tears coming back in full force.
"And the blood?" She asks, which confuses you because you don't know what she's talking about. "Do you usually cry blood?" She pauses her ministrations at your collarbones, waiting for an answer that you can't give her. When you look at her now, face scrunched up in confusion, you don't know what to say because you have never cried blood in your life, but the look on her face is serious, worry etched deeply in the corner of her eyes. You turn from her to look in the mirror, at the mess that you are, capillaries in your eyes burst, bloody tear streaks down between your breast missing your white shirt by centimeters. No wonder they had all looked at you like that, terrified of you, for you. The pain that you had been in when fighting your bond back made more sense as you stared at the aftermath.
"Does your bond hurt you like this?" You ask because it's the only thing to ask, but she shakes her head in the mirror.
"Not like this."
You close your eyes, breathing deeply. You don't know what this says about your relationship with your bond, about its willingness to hurt you when it doesn't get its way. If it could hurt you, what's stopping it from hurting them? When you turn back to Oli, you know the answer. The warm rag is back on your skin as she finishes cleaning you with a gentleness you weren't sure she possessed. Her hand, not gripping the rag, comes up and pushes a bit of hair from your face, fingertips soft on your forehead as she stares into your eyes. "Don't scare us like that again." She's not asking, not leaving any room for a debate as she pulls back and levels you with a hard look.
The bond could never hurt them as it hurts you, you know that. It hurts you because you keep it from them. It hurts you in their name like you hurt it in their name. You hurt it to keep them safe. Today was just a retaliation. As long as you don't give it a chance to do this again, everything will work out. You just need to be ready before the pills run out, which means you have less than a month, probably only half now that you need to take two a day. You can figure this out, Gryphon can figure this out. He has to.
When you meet back up with Atlas and Gabe, both of them standing in front of Atlas' car waiting, it's easy to see the two matching wet spots on Gabe's clothes. A smile over takes Oli's face, as an equally sinister one fills Atlas, her mouth already moving before Gabe could stop her, "Did you c-"
"Shut up."
"But she didn't even- "
"Shut up, Oli."
Her hands raise in defeat as she laughs out loud, walking past him to the front seat. It's the first time you've seen them interact like this, almost like friends, some of the tension between them gone, and it makes you happy. Atlas follows her in, laughing as well, before the door closes, blocking them both out. Gabe stays put, waiting for you as you approach the car. When you're close enough, he brings his hand up to your cheek, rubbing a thumb under your eye as Oli had. "There will be a healer at the Manor when we get there to heal this." He says it like it's nothing, just another fact of life, and not the damage your bond had done to you.
"I'm sorry for ruining your shirt," you say, the words coming out in a rush because you don't know what else to say. He shakes his head at you, a small smile on his lips.
"Don't be, I just need to bleach it." But you're not so sure, the blotches of blood not coming out from his attempt at washing it. You have other things you want to apologize for, but you're not sure how to, the heat building up your throat.
"I'm sorry for... the other thing too." It's his time to turn red, the tips of his ears a deep scarlet.
He doesn't say anything for a minute, his hand leaving your cheek to scratch at the back of his neck, his gaze leaving yours. Past him, you can see Oli in the car, pointing down before bringing her palms towards each other, about three inches of space between them, only to expand that out to about a foot. Mouth agape, you flick your eyes over to Atlas, a bewildered expression on his face, before he bursts out laughing again. Both of them start to make even more obscene gestures at Gabe's expense as you try to ignore them, choosing to focus back on Gabe, the sound of their laughter audible.
"I shouldn't have put you in my jacket. I didn't think you'd be so" he hesitates, swallowing slowly, "hot in my clothes, and I wasn't ready for your bond to do... all that. I'll do better next time. It's... a shifter thing," he says as a way of explanation, still not looking at you. "Anyways, we should get going. North is waiting for you, us I mean. He's waiting for us." You nod, choosing to move past him towards the back seat, shooting a look at Oli and Atlas, sending them into a new fit of giggles.
The ride to the manor is mostly silent. Oli starts to say something about what happened, but Gabe shoots her down with a quick, "Shut up, Oli," sending both her and Atlas into a fit every time. You don't find it nearly as funny as both of them, but they seem to be bonding over the mutual discomfort Gabe and you feel over the situation, so you mostly leave them alone. If she gets to have this moment with one of her bonds, you are inclined to let her, even if it is at your expense.
You expected a much colder welcome to the Manor than normal, maybe shouting or ultimatums, but when the group of you arrived at dinner, late and with Gabe trying to rush through the room, North doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Gabe assessingly, taking in his wet shirt and pants, the growing red up his throat, and waves him off. He motions over the healer, silence his close friend as he and Gryphon stand over the man’s shoulders imposingly. You're not sure if the united terrifying front is for you, or the healer currently quaking in his boots, hands on your cheeks, performing a healing, but you choose to ignore it. Instead, you look at North, at his perfectly put-together hair, piercing blue eyes, and muscular arms crossed over his suited chest. You watch the way his chest rises and falls, his jaw clenches and unclenches as he chews on his thoughts. You watch how his eyes scan your face, your neck, your chest, looking for more injuries and finding none. It’s not until his eyes find yours, nostrils flaring, that you choose to look away, to Gryphon.
He has the mask he reserves for strangers on, cold, distant, aloof, nothing like the face he shows you in your head. His eyes are already on yours, sometimes flicking down to the hands on your cheeks, a tightness to his face as he does so. You're not sure what he’s thinking, not sure if he’s mad at you like North seems to be, or if it’s just a front for the older Draven. You hadn’t talked to him since Monday when he kissed you, even though each morning and night you send him a text to open and close the day. Even though you see him on campus, keeping his distance from Oli and you. You think maybe he’s keeping it professional, doing his job without the distraction of his bonds stopping him, and it makes you feel better, makes the decisions he chooses a little easier to swallow.
“All done,” the healer states, removing his hands from you like it burns to touch your skin, and Gryphon drops his own on the man’s shoulders with a bang, leading him from the room. That leaves you with North, with his eyes that are full of too many questions, his body language demanding too many answers. You can see it now for sure, with how tight he grabs his own arm, how angry he is, but he doesn’t explode, not yet at least. One of his arms comes to the side, palm facing up, as he motions to the table, your normal chair already occupied by Atlas. You look at North, at the way he still isn’t saying anything, just quietly seething. You take the chair, let him push you in, even if he does it too fast, too angry, and place your hands in your lap. He’s quick to fix your plate, knuckles still white as he grips the edge tightly, filling it full of salad, before placing a bowl of stew in front of you. He moves on to Oli, doing the same, frustration still in every line of his body as he takes his seat at the head.
Nox still isn’t here, and you're thankful, unsure if you could deal with his antics and whatever bomb North has brewing beneath his skin. A servant comes in, filling the cups, Oli and you get something that looks like water, as the rest are filled with a red substance, and you wonder why Gabe gets wine when he’s definitely the same age as you. You wonder who made the decision, but you know it was North, his controlling nature present down to the most minute details. When Gryphon gets back, he fixes his own plate and waits -no one is eating save for Oli- the sound of her fork scraping as she moves salad around. You wonder why they wait, your eyes sliding to North as he stares at you, face a grim line, nostrils still flaring. You look to Gryphon for a moment, his eyes softer than before, and you decide that you can’t stand to see either of them. Not right now, so your eyes go to the hallway you saw Gabe disappear down, and you wait.
When Gabriel appears, his blond hair is wet, lying flat on his head in a very unguarded way, his t-shirt has been changed out for a black one, light grey jogging pants stretched over his legs, and you forget to breathe. His closeness from earlier is still etched in your mind as your eyes carve a path down his body. You can feel your lip pull between your teeth as you look at him, thinking about his warmth, breath fanning against your face, skin hot under your touch, and you look away, eyes landing back on Gryphon. His mouth is fighting a smile as he looks at you, at the face you’ve made at him at least 15 times in your head by now. He knows what it means, can assume the thoughts running through your head as easily as reading them. Your eyes move to North, as his tracks between you and Gabriel, you and Gryphon, finding a closeness between you that he does not share. His face sours as you look back to Gabe. His bright smile is back as he rounds the table and places a hand on your shoulder in a reassuring squeeze.
“Aw, bestie,” the word falls from his mouth like a slap, your face scrunching up in confusion as you look over at him as he makes his plate. “You didn’t have to wait for me.” But you did want the comfort that being between two of your bonds brings you to eat. You ignore him now, ignore the way he scoots his chair closer to yours, hand coming down on your knee with a squeeze, as you shovel salad into your mouth. You can hear the sounds of dinner beginning around you now, forks scraping plates, slurping of stew filling the room, and the soft sounds of moans coming from Oli’s direction. No one outright looks at her, but the room around her pauses, forks stuck in midair as she takes another spoonful, a sound of content deep in her throat as she munches on the food, oblivious in the way she commands it. Oblivious in the way the world stops for her. It takes a few seconds, but everyone gets back to it, spoonful after spoonful. It’s not until dessert is being served that North finally chooses to say something, clearing his throat and drawing the attention of the room to him.
Gabe’s hand is still at your knee, a gentle comfort you allow him, as North locks eyes with you. “How did you get hurt?” It’s a loaded question, one he already knows the answer to; he just wants to hear it from you. For what reason you're not sure, to show you that he’s in charge, maybe, to show you that you have to answer to him. You pull your shoulders back, push your chest forward, the jacket on your shoulders doing nothing to hide your breasts. Throat tight as what feels like a physical block squeezes your words past your lips, eyes hard on his face.
“My bond.” Its not as confident as you would have liked for it to come out, quiet but seething with the rage you feel for the question. Atlas brings his hand to your other knee, North’s eyes following the path of it, jaw tightening before meeting your eyes again.
“Does it do that often?” The answer is no, but you know that feels like a lie. It does not hurt you like this; it had never actually caused you pain before, but that was due to the steady and unending supply of drugs the resistance had apparently been pumping you full of. That had been before them, before the one thing the monster in your chest had begged for every night.
“It can’t.” You can feel it on your face, the hate you feel for him in this moment. He has never let you work at your own pace, never made sure you are comfortable enough to tell him the truths he wants to hear. He just takes and demands with a smug look on his face that you can't stand. You try to remind yourself that this man is your bond, that he was made for you, a piece of your soul made to fit beside you forever. That he is like Atlas and Gabe, and Gryphon and Oli. That despite his attitude, he is genetically predisposed to love you, and you to love him. Another of the missing pieces carved out of your chest by some god a long time ago. You try to see it, try to understand that this will pass, that you will love him, but he looks at you, angry for things you can’t control, his patients at the few-word answers wearing thin, apparent in the way he holds his shoulders back.
“Why. Can’t. It.” His words are clipped as he leans forward in his chair, hands gripping the armrests. You feel the threads that hold him together snapping as moments of silence pass by, no answer from you. You find your eyes on Gryphon, hoping that he will step in and save you from your second most volatile bond, but he sits there, waiting for you answer. He knows the truth, saw the memory, felt your fear like it was his own, but still he waits.
You hear Gabe speak up beside you, his voice like a safety raft in the ocean of helplessness that you have found yourself in. “Maybe we should-” One look from North shuts him up mid-sentence, and it angers you even more.
You lean forward, blocking North’s view of Gabe with your body as if it could protect him from North's ire. You want to scream at him, make him feel as useless as you do, as unable to protect his bonds as you do, but you can’t stop the truth bubbling up from your throat.
“I drug it. I keep it as far away from you as I can because,” the words are coming faster now, the hands on your knees no longer grounding as you can feel your body less and less. “It’s a monster. It would destroy anything in its way to you, me included.” You can hear it like you used to, the memory of its voice a ghost in your head: the images that come along with its words like a blade across your skin, the details it used to describe the mayhem it would inflict on the world if you didn’t bring it to it’s bonds, the necrotic wave spreading from a hand that looks like yours but isn’t -couldn’t be- as it rips through people towards a room. You know what you see isn’t real; the memory is just as fake as all the others planted by the Resistance, except this one crafted by your bond. A bond you can't trust, can't let close to these people you want to love so desperately. Not until you can be trusted, not until it can be trusted. It’s Gryphon's voice that brings you back, just like before.
“Bond,” he says, voice frantic, “I need you to breathe. Come on,” you find his eyes across the table, a wild look on his face as he demands your attention, “Breath with me, baby. It’s real simple, just in and out. In and out,” You would feel embarrassed if you could, your body tingling in the way it always does before you pass out, you fear mixed with the panic you feel coursing through your veins, leaving no room for any other emotion. “Just like that. Just like me. Eyes on me, bond, and breathe.” You know it’s more than the panic attack, like last time, something spooking him into action. You don’t know what it is, what you missed in the time between North and now, and you almost can't bring yourself to care because finally, he is speaking to you. It’s him in the way you know him, in the way you need him to be. Not the quiet version of him, not the professional, but your bond that needs you just as badly as you need him.
You're not sure what anyone else in the room is doing, eyes locked on Gryphon’s as he makes a show of breathing deeply for you, modeling the intended reaction so your brain doesn't need to connect the dots for you. You start to feel them again, the hands on your knees from your other bonds, squeezing into your skin as your fingers untangle from the cloth napkin in your lap. You start to hear them again, not just Gryphon, but the rest of the table.
“What was that?” North asks, eyes on you unblinking, as he surveys your body, face, and breathing.
Gryphon's words are cutting, intending to hurt him with his tone, “The reason I told you not to make her panic; it’s the trigger.” You can feel your face scrunch up, the confusion you're feeling etched into every crease as you look around the room.
When you look at Atlas, he is sad, his face unguarded as he looks at you, recognition flashing across his face for a brief moment. “Welcome back, Sunshine.” You're unsure what he means, feet still firmly planted where they were moments earlier, not having left. You start to realize that you are missing something, some vital piece of information that everyone in the room has besides you.
North speaks again, his eyes still on you, but the question is directed to Atlas, “How did you know so quickly?” He actually looks freaked out, like whatever it was truly rattled him to his core. You notice that he looks different from just a moment ago, his tie and suit jacket pulled off, sitting on the table beside him, his hair rustled like he had run his hand through it multiple times, but that couldn’t be right. You had just been looking at him, the picture of quiet, put-together rage at the head of the table. Not this slightly disheveled mess of a man.
“They hold themselves differently, speak differently too,” Atlas says, hand leaving your knee to push a piece of hair from your face. “She doesn’t move as confidently, like shes scared to take up the space. I noticed it Monday, but it wasn’t until Gryphon said there was someone in her head that I really started to notice. It doesn’t happen often, sometimes they are there, and she isn’t, and then is again.”
Oleander pipes up now, her voice strong as she looks at you past Atlas, “I thought it was her bond, honestly. I didn’t know she was drugging it.” You're not sure if it's the tears in your eyes or not that prompt her to keep talking, “They won't hurt me, just like I know you won't hurt me.” Her face is hard as it looks at you, hand reaching past Atlas for you to grab. You almost do, but the look on North’s face stops you. Whatever had just happened had shaken him enough that the councilman was gone, replaced by this tired version of him, unbuttoning his cuffs and topmost shirt button.
“And this has happened more than just now, and on Monday I am to understand.” Oli and Atlas nod, neither taking their eyes off you, like you might change again right before their eyes. “And no one thought to tell me.” The fire is back in Oli’s eyes, her head coming around to look at North with such ire you would have flinched.
“I don’t owe you an explanation about my bond, Draven.”
“You do,” he shoots back, leaning forward in his chair as he spits the words more like Nox than you would like to admit, “when it concerns my bond, Fallows.”
You swallow back the bile in your throat, unsure of what is going on around you. Unsure if you're understanding everything correctly. You can feel Gryphon at the front of your mind, a feeling of reassurance being pressed through to you in a way you aren't used to, as Gabe’s thumb rubs circles into your knee. You look to him now, sure he will tell you what's going on in a way you’ll be able to understand. Sure, he can’t hide it from you if you ask him kindly.
“Gabe,” the room quiets down around you as his eyes track over your shoulder to the room beyond, “What’s going on. What are they talking about?”
He hesitates, the calming circles he had been rubbing into your knee cease, as he tries to find the words to say, tries to pluck them from the air. “Sometimes, when you get stressed, you act a little differently, like you're someone else.” He starts, eyes flicking back to you. “Like earlier today, do you remember the walk to class?” You go to nod, of course you do, but stop remembering a brief moment this morning when you wondered how you hadn’t noticed you’d arrived in the lunch room, the walk feeling shorter than normal. You look down at his hand on your knee, trying to find the right words to say before you just shake your head.
“We were all walking to class like normal, Atlas and I on the outside of you and Oli, remember? You guys were holding hands like always.” You can hear a bit of jealousy in his voice as he says it, but he keeps going. “We were talking about Darcy’s about the football game?” You nod because yes, you remember, that's how you guys had decided on the Nuclear Option. Except that you realize that you don’t remember the conversation much after that. You turn your body more towards him, hands in your lap as you lean into him, his words unfamiliar. He notices and uses this as an opportunity to grab hold of both your hands, leaning into you more, the moment just for the two of you now.
“At some point, you swapped, I don’t know when, I just know that you brought Oli’s hand to your mouth and kissed it, like this,” he said, using this as an opportunity to kiss you, eyes boring into yours with so much love it makes your chest ache. When his lips leave your skin, he continues the retelling, his words slightly rushed, “Which I thought was weird because you’re never that forward, and you looked at her like she hung the fucking moon. Which she did, I know, but you don’t look at her like that. You look at her like…” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth for a second to think on what to say, “Like you're just enjoying the time you have left with her. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes you’re just not… you.”
The words he said, you know, you understand them without really hearing them, but you can’t seem to wrap your head around them. If what he says is true, than everytime you’ve had a memory laps it could have really been this other person taking over and doing what? Kissing your bonds? Relaying information to the Resistance about their day-to-day so it’s easier to take them out?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s a whisper, almost like you're scared of this person hearing you, or taking over and doing whatever it wants with your body.
“We were going to. Gryphon was going to see if he could draw them out of you tomorrow in your session.”
“Like an experiment?” You spit, pulling your hands from his, the betrayal of this all hitting a little too close. You're unsure why it triggers you so much, a trickle of a memory pushing in on you that you can't seem to grasp hold of.
“No,” It’s Gryphon who speaks this time. “We just needed to be sure that they didn’t know we were on to them.”
You're pushing yourself away from the table now, pulling away from all of your bonds as best you can, as you stand, arms coming up to hold yourself together as you start to pace. “So what, your plan was to trick me? Make me feel safe with you and then send me into a panic attack? Make me think that I could trust you?”
“You can trust me bond.”
“No,” you yell, leveling him with a look as coldly as you could manage, holding back your own tears, “I can’t.” You stay like that for a moment, eyes locked in a standoff, Gryphon still seated at the table, and you standing against the outer wall. You try them now, some of the grounding techniques you’d learned at Mayfield, afraid that if you don’t, you won't be you anymore. You can see your bonds, staring at you, waiting to see your next move. You can see the carpet, taking up much of the dining room in the way that rich people love. You see the wall clock, its hands ticking down the seconds until you can make up your mind about what to do next. You can see the stairs from here, the ones that Gabe took early for a shower. You can see the chandelier above the table, a waste of money in your opinion. You can touch the jacket that Gabe had given you, the letterman cold on the outside. You can touch the floor, the tip of your shoe rubbing into it. You can touch a painting on the wall, its frame the off-gold color that flakes after so many years. You can touch a house plant, one of those big ones that takes up a lot of space for no reason. You can hear the staff down the hall, the sound of the cleaning dishes loud. You can hear the clock ticking. You can hear Oli’s foot bouncing under the table. You can smell the stew. You can smell the candles as they burn on the table. You can taste the bile in your throat.
You don’t feel anymore or less grounded as you look at the group across from you, each of them waiting. “What did I say that made him look like that?” you say, head nodding to North, arms still holding you together. They don’t reply right away, chewing over what was less likely to send you into another fit.
“The truth of what your bond can do,” North says, fully leaning back in his chair, tired of all of this. “Sit back down so we can finish talking.”
“No.” He bristles a little, ready to fight you on this like he has been on everything else, but decides not to, at least not right now.
“It’s like my death touch.” He offers a peace treaty of sorts between you. “From the sounds of it, your bond is like mine.” If he means his is also a crazy, murderous monster bond, then yes. “But that doesn’t mean you can keep it from us. Even if you're scared of it, or there is someone else in charge of your body sometimes, you have no right.” He’s angry again, the fight back in his eyes as he looks at you.
“I have every right. What I do with my bond to keep you safe is none of your business.” You think you might puke, your mouth filling with saliva as you swallow desperately to keep anything down.
“Sit down.”
“No.” He stands, almost like he is going to come over and make you sit back down, but he doesn’t choosing to walk away from the table for a moment, before coming back, hands gripping the back of his chair.
“Must you always act like this? Like some terrified child? We are trying to help you.” You can feel the day taking its toll on you, a bone-deep weariness falling on your shoulders as you look at North, nostrils flaring, eyes hard, knuckles white. You can feel it in the way your eyes droop, your shoulders start to sag, and your arms fall to your sides. You can feel it in the way that breathing is hard, a boulder settling on your chest. You could scream back at him, keep going around in circles with this man until you're both done, but you don't have the will anymore. Not for this at least.
Your words are soft when you say them, landing like a blow you didn’t mean to strike, “I want to be your bond North, not your prisoner. Until you figure out how to live with that i’m going home.”
You can see the fight leave him in that moment, your words registering a little deeper than intended. He doesn’t say anything back to you, can’t, as his eyes search your face, for a lie perhaps. Whatever it is, he doesn't find it, choosing to walk off down the hall that Gabe had earlier.
When you're almost back to your dorm, the bulk of the day falling from your shoulders the further you get from Draven Manor, when you receive a text.
North: You can go to the football game and party after curfew only if you agree to my terms. You are to be accompanied by one of your bonds at all times, and a Tac Team will be present at both. I expect you to spend the night at the manor following the party and go to an event with me on Saturday. Do you agree?
You think about telling him to go fuck himself, that after everything today youd rather rot in your dorm than spend a single second with him, but you stop yourself, eyes catching Oli’s in the mirror.
You: Thank you.
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