Bert stood in the threshold, fixing his cuffs, repeatedly adjusting his sleeves, a nervous tactic, just as the other man made his way to the door.
"Are you ready to see him today?" The man asked an uneasy Bert.
Bert nodded. It's been two weeks since he made Gerard check into the local asylum. Ever since his heart transplant two months ago, the twenty year old hasn't been the same. Talking to himself, odd mumbling and his over hyperactive state made the eighteen year old ex-gang member to take him to a place that would get his life...or in this case: his sanity back in order.
Just two weeks ago, he had to watch his best friend, get put into a rehabilitation centre. Just two weeks ago and everything seemed to be going to hades.
"I'm ready, it's very hard...seeing him like that, I feel like this is all my fau---"
"No, this isn't your fault Bert. Don't beat yourself up about this. You did the right thing and I'm sure Gerard, what's really left of him; is thankful for that," the man said softly.
Bert held onto the phrase.
What's left of him.
"Thank you Bob, really you've been such a big help to both Gerard and I, for letting us stay here and helping us heal," Bert sighed, trailing off.
"You guys are family, and family sticks together," Bob replied with a corny smile.
Bert laughed heartily at the older blond's corniness.
"You couldn't be any cheesier, could you?"
The blond only laughed.
"Come on lets go. Visiting hours will soon end,"
Bert nodded in agreement and the two men headed out, both in lost in their own self doubts.
¥
Gerard waited patiently, staring at the bland wall clock that was hung high on the padded walls of the small room.
'It was almost noon,' thought the twenty year old. Frank always came to visit him once it was the afternoon.
They talked a lot, keeping each other company. Sometimes they'd play games, the younger would persuade the older into doing mischievous things and pranks on the staff and pesky nurses.
In just a couple of weeks, the redhead had gotten a name for himself for causing trouble and being a constant pain in the ass to deal with in the institution.
None of the inmates liked him, a few only tolerated him and some downright despised him.
One of the inmates: Syn, were one of those people that couldn't stand the young man and his childish schemes.
Syn has been in the institution for the longest period and everyone was afraid of the older man with a scar that was more jagged than a lightning bolt stretched along the side of his stubbled face.
Everyone, staff, orderlies, inmates. No one dared to look twice at the notorious man. His story and why he was admitted was a mystery to all. It's been kept confidential for reasons best known to the US government: the people that had brought him there to Rolling Hills, one of the top asylums in the whole of New York and Eastern America.
This excited the twenty year old. He loved to rebel and was always up for a challenge. Which is what Syn represented.
He held the plastic tray in his hands, the food appearing to be produced from a higher class of plastic.
The cafeteria was somewhat quiet, with the gentle buzz of conversation and occasional laughter. Gerard headed over to his familar table by the wall, far away from the others.
He was pleased to find it empty. He sat but his smile faded.
It was lunch time, it was already noon; yet Frank still wasn't here.
The boy picked at his food, deep in thought as he stared at the notorious man seated in another table across from him.
