“I’m not five.”

She lifted her brows, not sure if she was surprised or not. “You’re not? How old are you?”

He frowned. “I’m not really sure.” He admitted. “My memories are a little foggy.”

“Understandable.” She agreed. “Why don’t you try picturing yourself? Like, relax and try to imagine what you look like.”

He frowned and closed his eyes. A crease appeared between his brows and his lips puckered. He stayed like that for a minute or so, before releasing air in a loud huff. “Nothing.” He sounded more than a little annoyed.

“Maybe think of a place that makes you feel like yourself, somewhere you could relax and just be you.” She suggested. It was a peculiar suggestion, she admitted, but it might work. “You do have a place like that, right?”

He glared at her. “Sounds stupid.”

She sighed. “Try anyways?” She requested softly.

He rolled his eye, then closed them again. A look of contentment covered his face for a moment. A flash later, he was no longer five.

“I’d say you look to be in your late teens-early twenties.” She confided. He glanced at her, surprised. He did, though. Taller than her now and lightly muscled. his dark hair was cropped, and his freckles faded. His facial features were even, pleasant and just a little sharp. He was, she noted, very attractive.

They were also no longer sitting in nothing. They were in a room now. It wasn’t a very large room, but it was cozy. The walls were painted a faded blue and were covered in pictures. A bed was tucked into one corner and a cabinet into another. A bookshelf spanned an entire wall, filled with books and assorted knick-knacks. The room was just a little messy, with clothes strewn on the floor and a pile of books by the bed.

“Is this your room?” She asked, standing up. He assented as she wandered over to the wall to look at the pictures. To her surprise, each and every one was blank. “Why are the pictures blank?” she asked turning to him.

He was looking around, a slightly distressed look on his. “Are you alright?” He didn’t answer. She shrugged, she wasn’t going to force him to talk if he didn’t want to. They were complete strangers, after all.

She glanced at the books, they were title-less. She was starting to think he may just be a lazy dreamer. “Quite a reader. What kind of books do you like?” She inquired, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. She didn’t know what had upset him. Maybe remembering his room had brought forth some unpleasant memories.

“All kinds.” He muttered, still not looking at her.

She rolled her eyes. “Specific.” He clearly wasn’t feeling very chatty, he also hardly seemed to want her there. His clipped answers were starting to wear off the excitement of talking to real, living person. Also, now that he had proven himself to be an adult, she no longer had the urge to protect and comfort him. In short, she was starting to get bored and contemplated leaving.

She wandered to the window. The view outside was lovely, a rather large backyard that backed up to a wood. She spotted a swing-set. A grin split her face.

“Come on.” She motioned opening the window.

He looked at her, confusion and surprise written on his face. “Where are we going?”

She smiled widely. “Out to play.”