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Gerard’s feet ache so badly he’s only about 40% sure they won’t actually fall off. He's been wandering around the city all day looking for a place to stay, carefully making his way through the seedy underbelly of Tempest, Serena wearing the same shoes he had on when he first came to this planet ten years ago. Gerard thinks his shoes might be the only thing in his life that have stuck around; he ignores the impulse to peer over his shoulder to check on Mikey (he’s getting better at it; back when Mikey first left Gerard would actually feel panic start to creep in when he couldn’t find Mikey before eventually remembering his brother was back with his mate on Alfom).
Gerard’s feet ache so badly he’s ready to cry with it, but when he closes his eyes he gets another flash of the inside of some shop he’s never even seen before, and he pushes the pain to the back of his mind, the soles of his shoes slapping against the rough pavement as he darts through the bustling market street crowd, narrowly avoiding crashing into a shopkeeper’s cart. And he wants so badly to just sit the fuck down and put his feet up somewhere but he can’t stop, if he stops he’ll lose him again and then it could be another three fucking months before he starts getting flashes again let alone an actual connection like he has now.
Gerard's gonna find him this time, he can't let him disappear again.
The last time Gerard felt anything from his bond he was in the middle of pulling the trigger, and the unexpected burst of desperation had almost made him miss the shot, which would've been a fucking disaster. Before that the last time had been almost four months prior to that. It wasn’t like the connection was weak it just wasn’t there. None of it made any fucking sense, he knew that some people had weak connections prior to actually coming into physical contact with their bond mates, but the second those 111 cycles were up the connection was so strong he felt almost sick with it. After that, he asked Ray to find out as much information about blocked connections as possible, but the best he could find was the kind of stuff Gerard already knew.
That really didn't make anything better.
Something changed in the last two years; his bond used to pour his fucking soul out for Gerard back when Gerard was hooked on downers and trying to get the fuck off Serena (even though he’d only been there for about three years at that point). Gerard was drowning back then, drugs and hopelessness weighing him down, and his bond would feel some of it no matter how hard Gerard tried to repress it.
He'd felt love whisper along his skin before making a home in his chest, pride worming its way into his belly, and desperation clawing at his throat. It used to fucking kill him, having someone he didn’t even know so fucking invested in his well-being.
Over the years they’ve connected thousands of times, but only a few have been like that time, back when he was panicking in deep space with no one to talk to but himself. Things tended to deteriorate rather quickly when Gerard was forced to be his own entertainment. But, back then the connection was so strong it was almost like he could hear his bond talking to him, pleading with him not to leave and Gerard couldn’t.
He can still hear his voice in his head sometimes, the same rough string of words over and over again (“where are you” “let me help you; tell me where you are” “don’t do this – don’t leave me”), fragile and barely there as his mate struggled to push them out to Gerard. And he had wanted to, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t meet his fucking soul mate when he was such a wreck.
But Gerard’s better now and they’re both on the same fucking planet for once in their lives. He can feel him, feels that whiskey thick sadness and fresh, stinging anger swimming around in his gut like it's his own. He’s only got a vague idea of where he’s going, mostly taking turns at random, letting the connection take hold of his instincts to lead him in the right direction.
The lights are extra bright tonight, the stars barely visible through the heavy layer of smog, making it only slightly easier for Gerard to scan faces, matching them with the names bouncing around in his head to take his mind off how his lungs have started burning even though he'd switched to non-toxic smokes cycles ago even going so far as to pick up some pills to clear out any damage they may have caused back at the clinic on Amystus.
He'd forgotten how crime ridden Serena is, as he moves through each district he spots fugitive after fugitive ambling about, waiting for Gerard to pick them up so he can use their bounties to pay his bills. In fact, if he managed to snatch up five of these guys he could fly his way all across the galaxy without having to bother Ray for more fuel credits for once. He could even call Mikey if he wanted to, could tell him to get his ass to Serena if he wanted to make some fast credits, or he could wait and call him when this is all over. Maybe then he’d be able to invite him to meet his soul mate.
He wonders if he'd let Mikey have the stupid fucking job they'd been arguing over last week if it meant Gerard would've made it back to Serena quicker, back to his mate quicker. He snorts, probably. It'd been one hold up after another on that job: he almost ended up losing an eye to some kid with a blade on Casper, had some idiot jumpstarts gunning for him cause they were too young and reckless to do their research before targeting someone in deep space, and it was suddenly like every Drac in the galaxy was looking for him so he'd had to take the long way back to Serena, bumming it on hell planets like Rhonera.
And even though he's known to throw himself head first into a lot of things he's still not sure how he ended up running around Serena's psychic district in the same clothes he's been wearing for the last six cycles with old blood caked in his hair in search of his soul mate.
Little old ladies watch him with interest as he passes, eyebrows cocked and their gowns hiked up to their knees as they fan themselves in the muggy heat. Neon crescent moons, star signs, and the sound of tarot cards being shuffled blur around him as he lets the connection guide him. Gods, he just wants to fucking see him.
He’s at the end of the block when the feeling in his stomach, the sick sadness and rage, doubles and he gets the wind knocked out of him, sending him stumbling over to a nearby wall as he clutches at his stomach. He groans as another wave of emotion hits him, and tries to breathe through the urge to puke.
Another second passes and it’s gone, and even though that’s the way it always happens (when any emotion actually manages to force its way past the bond blockers) Gerard’s still left slightly disoriented.
He straightens up, eyes darting around in search of his mate, trying to reach out, to get that emotion overdose again. He rakes a hand through his hair, fingers sliding against the sweat on his forehead, and walks, just lets his legs take him where he needs to go.
A grin stretches across his face as he pants, entering a tiny tattoo shop squished between a tea shop and a venue masquerading as a Laundromat, he's here. He's fucking here.
A tiny bell rings as he steps through the door into the harsh lights of the shop, buzzing needles and static-y crackles of a fucking ancient record player greeting him. And he knows there are about seven people crammed into this place that he needs to watch out for now that the Dracs have put out some grainy picture of him from a few years back (and even though he’s had about four different hairstyles since then there are still a lot of people out there who know him well enough to pick him out of a crowd) to try and encourage citizens to report any sightings of him, but he can't take his eyes off the guy getting his arm tattooed.
He looks up before Gerard can take another step, saying something to the guy working on his arm that Gerard can't hear over the pounding of his heart. His skin's singing, 'he's here he's here'.
"What took you so long, huh?" He's wearing torn up jeans and a white shirt that says 'Bob's Antiques' on it with a stain that looks suspiciously like blood up near the collar. Gerard feels a relatively weak wave of sadness (and fear, worry, nervousness) wash over him as he says, “I was starting to think you’d never find me.”
“I’ll always find you. No matter what; I promise.” His mate finally smiles at him, all crooked teeth and pretty eyes. Gerard laughs, heart pounding. "Fuck," he runs a hand through his hair. "God, look at you." He can't stop looking at him, ink winding around his arms and dark hair curling at the nape of his neck. “I would’ve been here sooner, but I - uh - got caught up on Casper for a while. Guns, Dracs, all things golden."
"Sounds shiny," he grins, not even wincing as the guy working on his arm presses the needle to his skin again. "You got a name?"
"Gerard." He doesn’t share his last name; just because this guy’s his bond doesn’t mean he wouldn’t sell Gerard out for the right amount. Times are hard; credits are scarce in the inner planets and almost nonexistent in the outer planets ever since BLI came to power after the tech boom when Gerard was born. It’s why he does what he does.
"Gerard,” he says slowly, like he’s getting a feel for it. “I’m Frank." he smirks and Gerard can feel Frank's relief and excitement and happiness so fucking pure he'd almost swear he wasn't nearly choking on Frank's sadness a few moments ago. Frank gives him an impatient look then, "Well?"
Gerard startles, "Well, what?"
"You gonna kiss me or just stand over there lookin' pretty?"
Gerard stumbles forward as soon as the words leave Frank’s mouth, and he swears he's usually not this fucking pathetic, but Jesus Christ, he's been waiting for this since he was fifteen, back when he almost passed out from the sudden rush of emotion and thought it was just a head rush from the cigarette he stole from his mom’s purse. Gerard just goes for it then, ignoring everyone else in the room as he places his hand on the back of Frank’s chair and presses their lips together, sighing when Frank slides a hand into his disgusting hair, his back arching a little to press closer to Gerard.
And he tastes like coming home feels.