Gilbert clutches the cold plastic of the chair beneath him, biting the inside of his cheek. There are dried streaks of tears on his pale face. None of this should've happened. He should've done something-dammit, he should've thrown himself in front of the car instead! However, he knows better than anyone that he is no hero. No one is. Yet everyone expects themselves to turn superhuman when a crisis arises. When the door to the emergency room opens, he has to keep himself from bolting up. He has to prepare himself for the worst.

"Gilbert Bel-Belsmith?" the nurse addresses him.

"Beilschmidt,"

"Ah, sorry," she replies apologetically, smiling sheepishly. "Anyway, Matthew is going to be fine, but..." She pauses. But what?! He wants to scream. He wants to push her aside and see Matthew for himself, see what has happened to his dear friend. But he doesn't. For once in his damn life, he keeps himself still. "He...he seems to have suffered minor memory altercations. His exact condition hasn't been diagnosed yet."

"Let me see him," Gilbert says, his voice dangerously low. He grits his teeth and grips the chair so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Can't the woman see she's torturing him? Her eyes seem to widen at his tone, and she gives him a reassuring smile.

"Of course, Mr. Beilschmidt," she says, watching as he stands to his feet. "But don't worry over it all too much. Memory altercations like these rarely last more than a day." Gilbert nods absentmindedly, waiting for her to step aside. Every second she takes seems drawn out and slow. When he finally walks into the room, he's not prepared for what he sees. Matthew lays on the hospital bed, bandages wrapped around his head. A few wisps of his light blond hair stick out. However, the most awful part is seeing his eyes. They stare at Gilbert blankly, no emotion whatsoever in his indigo irises.

"W-Who are you?" Matthew asks politely. Gilbert feels like the floor's been taken out from under him. He takes a deep, shaky breath, leaning onto a nearby wall for support.

How can I say this without breaking?

"I'm Gilbert," he replies, his voice a small whisper.

"W-What are you d-doing here?" Matthew eyes him warily, just as he would any stranger. Yet...it hurts. It hurts so damn much.

How can I say this without taking over?

"I'm your friend," Gilbert watches as the blond furrows his eyebrows. Heh. Friend. It's the word that best suits their relationship; it always has been. However, Gilbert can only think of the word with bitterness, as it's a barrier between him and the one he loves. He was so close to confessing that night. The words were resting on his lips, waiting to be spoken.

How can I put it down into words, when it's almost too much for my soul alone?

"Y-You are?" Matthew asks, wincing when Gilbert frowns. "I-I'm sorry...I-I don't remember you...I-" His voice cracks, tears beginning to form in his eyes. "I-I can't remember a-anything." He still has that damn stammer. Gilbert's expression softens, his shoulders slacking.

I loved...

"It's alright," he sighs. The nurse says this won't last more than a day, so who is he to be an upset asshole about it? "You just need some rest, Mattie. You've been through a lot."

And I loved...

"M-Mattie? I-Is that my name?" Matthew furrows his eyebrows in concentration, trying to remember that simple fact. The indigo eyed boy can no longer stop the flow of tears that stream down his cheeks in fear and frustration. Gilbert knows this is no temporary thing. If it is, then why can't Matthew remember even his own name? It's been at least half an hour since the other guy woke up; he knows that much. Fear grips Gilbert's heart like a vice.

And I've lost you...


A/N: Hello there ^.^ Eheh, I know this is short, but it's a prologue, eh? Anyway, I hope you like it so far. I'll try to update as soon as possible.