The man by the name of Dr. Kwong looks down at me through wire framed glasses. His face is rough looking and worn with age and sun damage. His voice is deep and raspy, a kind of voice you are supposed to be afraid of because it shows they mean business. I sink low in the seat I am in, my hands clasped on my lap. I cannot stop my beating heart from wanting to explode from my chest and just let me die so the nerves go away, so the pain goes away.

"Tell me about yourself, Taemin," he says after an awkward moment of writing something in his notebook.

"Um... I'm still in high school," I tell him unsurely, looking down at my hands. "I'm in a group. The other members are..." I cannot finish the sentence. My heart beats painfully against my lungs. 

"I know all that Taemin. You are in Shinee. I know." He smiles, setting the book down on his lap. "Taemin, do you know why they sent you to me?"

I shake my head.

"The doctors see you as someone we should be concerned about."

"Because I fell?" I look at him, my eyes narrowing. "Everyone falls here and there. I'm the lead dancer, it's going to happen."

"Taemin, I know as well as you do that that is not exactly what happened. You stumbled even before practice. You were off balance and your vitals were low. You had not eaten--"

"Yes I did," I say, rudely interrupting him before he can finish. 

"Yes, but you threw that up, Taemin."

The way he is talking to me is pissing me off. Does he see me as some kind of child? I may not be twenty yet, but I am not a kid. I know what he is talking about. I know what he is insinuating.

"I was sick, so what?" I don't want to show this man respect. I want him to know that I am not a child. That I am a teenaged boy that understands.

"Sick? Taemin, listen to me, the only way I can help you is if you are honest with me."

"I am. I was just sick, sick. Nothing else." I try to think of something happy so I don't freak out. My mind travels to when I was singing and dancing at the first concert here a week ago. That was a lot of fun. So fun in fact that I remember not being able to sleep that whole night.   (that's why i chose the pic at the top. it's his memory)

I look at the clock hanging on the wall and wince, wondering if any of them are even here yet. What if they don't? What will that prove? That they don't care about me, that's what. I scratch my head absently, feeling sick all over again.

"Taemin?" I hear his voice. "Taemin, what are you thinking right now?"

"I... I..." Should I just tell him? "You can't tell anyone anything, right?"

"Not unless it is a danger to your life, no." He crosses his legs, eyes on me in a kind way.

"I... I'm worried about falling again. I know that I threw up but it was because I got so nervous that I couldn't hold it in." My lies become real in my head as I talk. "I keep messing up on this turn and I am worried that I could get fired. It's stupid really."

In the next half of an hour, he tries to convince me that I can do the turn, that I can do anything I put my mind on. I stand up and thank him, walking out of the room. The doctor smiles at me.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, and I shrug.

"My head hurts a little."

"That is normal." He nods. "Would you like for me to call you a cab? Or one of your friends?"

None of them are here.

"No, I will just wait. Thank's though." I bow and walk over to the waiting room area and sit down, leaning down so my hair covers my face. 

I can't believe that they all forgot about me. All of them.