Adopted By Him..

Part 15

"God fuck the 4 of you," I snap. "And, don't touch me again, or you'll get the same treatment." I walk away with bloody knuckles, and a little scratch on my face. The girls however, are lay in fetus positions with bloody noses and black eyes. Serves them right.

*Time skip; 2nd half of Art*

The teacher walks over to me, to look at what I've produced. her jaw drops as soon as she sees it.

"Wow Damien," She says. "This is amazing, mind if I show this to the class."

I shrug lightly, "It's not a masterpiece, but sure."

She smiles warmly, before interrupting the class, and taking my drawing off the table. The whole class gasped when they saw it. Come on, it's not that good. It's just a little drawing of Brendon and Sarah, nothing amazing. I mean, it's not even that detailed.

A few minutes later, she puts my drawing back on the table, and walks off to look at other peoples work.

"Wow," Someone said beside me. "You can really draw."

"Not really," I say back, not looking up. "My parents were artists, but didn't really teach me. I taught myself at like, 5."

I look up. "Hey, your that Stump kid from my maths class, right?"

"Yep, I'm Declan." (Can we just pretend Declan's 13, not 2, thank)

"Damien." I say, smiling awkwardly. I put my hand out for him to shake, and he immediately shakes it.

Then it hit me. "Your Patricks kid, right?"

"Uh, yeah." He said awkwardly. "I don't really talk to people about it much though. They just fangirl/boy."

*Time skip; 5th lesson*

Let me just say this. I'd rather eat my own arm, than eat the shit they give you here. Like honestly, are they seriously trying to give me food poisoning.

Anyway, right now, I'm listening to my French teacher, Mr. Brott drone on about "how French is important if you want to become a translator." Yeah, okay, but I want to be an artist, not a shitty translator.

The upside to this class is, since I'm new, I don't have to answer any questions, as I'm not skilled enough yet. I'd be offended, but it's true, I've never taken a french class.

"Damien," He says, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Your dads here for you."

"My.. Dad?" I ask. Why is he here?

"Yes, Damien, your dad."

"Okay," I shrug, before grabbing my backpack up, standing up and walking out the room.

As soon as I got into eyeshot of Brendon, he smiled widely at me. I walked closer to him, and he grabs me and hugs me tightly.

"Come on," He says. "We're going the doctors."

"Wait, why? I'm not due an appointment for like, 2 months."

"Well, since your, y'know.. Transgender and all." He looks down at me. "I wanted to see if you could start them hormone thingys."

"Hormone blockers?" I giggle.

He snaps his fingers, "Yeah, them!"

I step into his car, as he does, and slam the door.

*Time skip; Doctors*

"Right so," The doctor says to Brendon. "We can refer Damien to a Gender Clinic, but it may take a while, as the waiting list is very long." We both nod.

"What's the estimated time?" Brendon asks. The doctor shrugs.

"I couldn't be sure," He says. "Maybe March of next year?"

"That's only," I pause, counting the months. "Like, 4 months. Holy cow!" That's pretty close.

We talked for another 5 or so minutes, before saying our goodbyes, and walking out of the clinic.

"Holy shit," I say, bouncing up and down. "I might be starting T in March. Holy shit, holy shit."

Brendon laughs. "Come on Tigger, get in the car."

I step into the car, both my legs bouncing up and down.

*2 weeks later; 4pm // Brendons POV*

"Damien!" I shout. He comes running down. "Something came for you in the mail."

"What is it?" He asked. I shrugged. When he opened it, he screamed and started bouncing up and down.

"Holy cow! Brendon, look!" He said beaming, handing me the letter.

'Dear Parents of Damien Urie,

We are writing to inform you that we have open spaces for December 2016.
Please call *insert number here* ASAP, and we'll get you an appointment to see one of our specialists.

The open dates are;
December 9th,
December 15th,
December 21st,
and December 30th

hope to see you soon,
-Seattle Gender Clinic.'

"I'm guessing you want me to call now." I say sarcastically.

"Yes! Yes! Oh my, yes!"

I chuckle. "Okay, okay." I fish my phone out of my pocket, and dial the number. After a few seconds, someone picks up.

"Hello, this is Seattle Gender Clinic, Alex speaking."

"Hello, I'm Brendon, uh, Brendon Urie, I got a letter in the mail, saying you had free places for December?"

Silence. "Mhm, yes, and who is the patient?"

"Damien Urie."

I hear her keyboard loudly, as she types furiously. "And, what date would you like?"

"Hang on," I say, before looking at Damien. "What date Dame?"

"Hmm," He says, examining the letter. "December 9th?"

I nod, and put the phone back on my ear. "December 9th, please?"

Again, she types loudly. "How does 10am sound for you?"

"That's good," I say. "Thank you Alex!"

"No problem! See you then!" We exchange goodbyes before hanging up.

*Damiens POV*

"December 9th, 10am." Brendon says. "You can miss the first few lessons of school, probably the whole of it, depends on how long the appointment is."

I nod. "Yep! Holy cow, I'm so excited!"

He chuckles, "I can tell."