Damaged || Cody Simpson

2

He's early. The time on my watch read 5.58pm and already, he's stood on his balcony, leaning against the cool metal bars. He's been there for the past ten minutes, staring into the distance. Not once did he glance at my window. He just stood, and he watched. For a moment, I wondered what he was thinking about.

And then my watch struck six and I sucked in a deep breath before opening my door and stepping onto my own balcony.

"It's about time, Bella Smith." He said.

I bit my lip and stepped further towards the metal bars.

"You said six," I glanced at my watch. "It's six."

"I've been here for ten minutes," he said.

"I know," I replied.

"I know you know," he smirked. "I could see you sat on your bed, it's not as though you were busy."

"Oh," my cheeks heated.

"I always thought you to be organised," he said. "With that in mind, I suspect you already have some questions."

"I do," I said.

He smiled, then.

"What's your favourite colour?"

"Blue," he said. "Every and any shade."

"Mine's orange,"

"Bright," he answered. "Question two?"

"You never seem to be around in school," I said. "You just seem to disappear. I never see you at lunch, I never see you in between classes. Truthfully, I only ever see you if you go outside for a cigarette. Where do you go?"

He watches me for a moment, then pulls away from the bars and takes off his cap to ruffle his hair. He drops it beside him.

"Have you ever thought about the fact that you might just not be looking?" He asked in return. "You spend your lunchtime with your friends. I don't have friends, I spend them in classrooms, catching up on work to make sure I never fall behind in class."

"Oh," I mumbled. "Well, you're always welcome to sit with me and my friends."

He didn't respond. The two of us sit in silence for a moment and he looks up at the cloudy sky.

"Isn't it beautiful," he smiled. "Right now, it's just clouds, but you know that above that it's filled with all kinds of stars that shimmer in the darkness. I like to come out here when I have a lot to think about."

"I like to do my homework out here sometimes," I said.

"I know," he responded. "Sometimes I notice you when I'm in my room. You sit on the bench behind you with a text book resting on your knees and when you're stuck on a question you usually place your pen between your teeth until you've figured out the answer."

A weird sensation ran through my stomach and I shrugged it off without thinking too much of it.

"Question three?" I asked.

He responded with a nod.

"Tell me about a time something has happened to you that had a bad effect on you," I said. "It can be anything. I just want to know about something that has changed you, emotionally."

"Jesus, where do I begin?" he mumbled. "Well, thinking about it, I'd have to say losing my grandma last year."

The second those words left his mouth, I felt my stomach sink.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled at a loss for words.

"Don't be sorry, it's not like you killed her." He glanced up at the sky. "They'll find a cure for cancer one day, and that will be a bloody good day."