Animal

1

He didn't know how old he was when he became associated with the many gangs that found their homes in the sea-side town he lived in. He could have easily been eight or so- when that kid gave him that stick of 'chewing gum' he was now fairly certain was crack to hold onto, to then give to this teenager who was stalking around their school. Then again, he hadn't known what he was doing, so he counted his real... 'first affiliation' to be when he was fourteen, and looking for trouble to calm his troubled mind.

He had gone up to one of the children- Juan, who was part of his biological pack, not that he knew- that everyone knew already had affiliation, and managed to get himself a role as a peacekeeper. Everyone loves a peacekeeper. And since nobody knew what pack he really came from, it was perfect!

He'd ended up dragging his brother in when he was fifteen and his brother fourteen, and he needed some backup while he was trying to get two of the big boy gangs, one might even call them clans, to knock it off. Only one person lost part of their cheek, so he'd call it a job well done.

The fighting made him tough and muscular. His presentation made him invisible until the last moment. His skill mixed together with his body made what his brother loved to call a manipulative bastard.

He'd been born an omega male. He didn't know his real birthday, since he'd been stripped out of the arms of his mother- who hadn't even given birth in a hospital in fear that it would make them more likely to take her baby away- so his adoptive parents just celebrated it on July 4th. The day they won him in court. His brother was July 1st. He'd been won three days earlier than him.

Now he is seventeen. Now his bitterness had fermented past rage, past conflict, and just resonated somewhere deep in his stomach, waiting for someone or something to lash out at. Like a deep, blackened, monstrous pit, just waiting for something to eat.

He wanted to find his mother. He didn't blame her for her drinking problem. He hadn't been born with fetal alcohol, and neither had his younger brother, which meant she had stopped drinking when she was pregnant with them, at least. It seemed like she was nice. Sometimes he still believed he could feel her arms wrapped around him. Sometimes he still believed he could hear her screaming: 'Don't take them! Don't take my babies!'

And now, on this day, he was failing English 12, two months until the end of senior year.

"You are always struggling in English," his omega father, a Brit who had moved to America after being offered a job as the head of an alcohol store by his brother, "maybe I should take you to the Isles with me and then you'd figure it out."

"No thanks," he said, like he always did. His dad always wanted him to go to Europe- both of them, actually. The thing was, he didn't care about Paris or London. That place wasn't mystical to him, or a home. It was just the place that his parents came from. And he didn't exactly enjoy the company of his parents.

"Oh, but why?" Arthur asked, looking slightly hurt. Alfred turned away. Despite all his manipulative endeavors, he never liked to use his skills on his adoptive parents unless he needed to. It felt wrong to him.

"I don't need to be speaking British English. I need to learn American English," he said, "and besides, y'all spell things weird."

"And you say 'y'all'," Arthur grumbled, putting his effort at lunch for himself onto a plate, "If only you had half the skill in English that you do in science."

He walked out of the kitchen before Alfred could get a retort in. He slumped down at the dining room table, dropping his backpack onto the floor. The truth was, he was failing the class because he never went to it. 4th period crossed over with the time that he usually snuck out of school- just before lunch with a teacher who wouldn't call in his continuous absences.