to love is to remember ~frerard~

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A/N: I'd like to apologize in advanced for any grammar/spelling errors, I hope you enjoy it anyways!

I sat at the table in the dark room, my arms crossed and my eyes fixated on my black converse.

I didn't dare to look up.
The woman tapped her pen patiently, her blonde hair tied up into a messy bun and her glasses tucked behind her ears.

Finally, she puts her pen down and takes her glasses off, folding them carefully and placing them down on the table.

"Gerard?" She asks quietly.
I consider glancing up, but keep my eyes glued to my feet.
Her voice is very quiet, "What is your name?"

"Gerard" I mumble.

"And how old are you?" She asks, folding her hands.

"Eighteen" I reply.

She smiles a little, "how many fingers am I holding up?"

She holds up 7 fingers, 4 on one hand and 3 on the other. Jesus fuck, I know how to count, "seven."

"Very good," she says, "now... what year were you born?" She asks.

What year was I born..?
This time, I just press my lips together and stare at the floor.

She waits.

"I don't know."
My lip begins to quiver, I move my hands carefully to cover my face, "I don't know..."

"That's ok," she says, moving my hands away from my face.

A tear rolls down my cheek and I pull away from her, folding my arms and moving back to my original position where I wipe my nose and nod for her to continue.

She bites her lip and gives me a weak smile, "that's enough for today."
I look up at her prepared to argue, but I just nod.

"C'mon, it's time for lunch," she says taking my hand and helping me up.
She stands nearly 6 inches shorter than me, but she puts her arm around me and walks me out of the room.

There's a man sitting anxiously in the waiting room.

A boy.

He looks 15 or 16, about my age.
He has nice hair. It's black and long, like mine, but different. He has a small ring in his lip and a matching one in his nose.
He is very short, too.

I know it's rude to stare, but I feel like I've seen him before. Dr. Martinez opens the door to the waiting room and he rushes to her, then they whisper to each other back and fourth.

The short man nods and bites his lip softly, pushing his hand down into his pocket and listening to her words.
I stare at him from behind the wall.
Without warning, he glances behind Dr. Martinez and stares at me.

His eyes are welled with tears as he stares at me, stuffing my face carefully.
He's very charming.

But he looks awfully run down and tired; his eyes are lazy and his whole body looks like it may collapse.

I feel bad, because I know they're discussing me, which means I must know him. But it's impossible, I can't remember ever seeing him before, besides...

Fuck, I just can't remember.

He nods towards Dr. Martinez again, and I hear him say, "I understand, thank you."

They shake hands and he leaves, picking up a big backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.

Dr. Martinez turns and walks back towards me, I scurry into one of the padded chairs and sit as if I'd never been watching them incase it made her angry.