Damaged

Prologue

Every. Single. Day.

9am sharp.

For a month now.

All big brown eyes and a mop of silky overgrown curly hair... with his caramel skin and full lips, eyelashes so thick and defined they looked dewy even from here...

His face looked so familiar and yet as the sunlight glints off the silver stud and gold loop piercing the side of his nose I can't for the life of me place him.

I had stopped here one morning to escape the rain one morning when I had stupidly decided to walk to work and he had just been sitting there, so perfectly. At first I had thought he was waiting for someone... but no. He just slowly enjoyed the confection placed in front of him and finished his coffee before sliding out of his booth...and grabbing a cane before limping out the door.

It was bizzare at first... to see someone so handsome and so delicate... and frankly so young with mobility issues, but if you think that stopped me from drinking in every inch of him as he hobbled towards the door you'd be wrong.

This is where I spend my mornings now, working remotely until he arrived and then letting my eyes wander once he gets here. At first I was just curious about him, but after the first few days it morphed into something else. Now if I dont get tortured by his sweet ass poured into one of the brightly colored pair of skinny jeans that he seems to favor so much it's like trying to breathe with a pillow over my face all damn day.

I'm very careful not to let him catch me oggling, especially not when he seems to be having a bad day, but the few times he had his face had lit up with a beautifully scorching blush that showed through his naturally tanned skin... I try not to let myself wonder how far that blush goes... and I hope to God that he doesnt think I'm just staring at the steel cane he steadies himself with just enough to walk.

But as much as I dont want him to think that I'm an ass I dont approach him. I wouldn't want to be scaring off the beautiful man who averted his eyes and inclined his head with baited breaths every time I walked past him.

Whether it was shyness or just his unknown desire to be submissive to those larger than him I dont really care. He's so adorably unaware that he's even doing it until after the fact. His sweet brown eyes would go wide every time, eyebrows knitting for a moment in confusion before shaking his head to snap himself out of it.

Everything he did was so... seemingly innocent.

The little cutie had come in every single day and sat in the booth in front of mine, facing me. He'd place his order and pull out his phone for a few minutes before setting it screen down on the table and let's himself daydream, eyes gazing out the window but not focusing on any particular thing.

While enjoying his morning routine he always managed to keep his cane out of sight. I think looking at it bothered him more than it bothered anyone else here, the crowd of people always the same, the regulars always smiling and offering him kind words when he makes his way in. He keeps his head down and gives soft smiles in response trying to hide the pain behind his eyes that never really goes away until he stares out the dingy window and let's himself drift off into wherever his mind wanders every morning.

I loved seeing him so zoned out. Sometimes he would smile, and other times I would catch him giggling like a madman before he realises he's in a public place and gets shy again. Its fascinating to watch as he let's himself daydream.

After his normal meal of whatever sweet was the special of the day with a cup of coffee that I have a sneaking suspicion is mostly cream and sugar, he'd lick his thick lips like no ones watching, which they shouldnt be, before quietly giggling in the cutest way at some internal joke he says to himself every morning before starting in on the pastry in front of him with a grin.

Without saying a single word to me he had become the best part of my day. So unaffected by the hustle and bustle of this little cafe tucked away on a random side street, just enjoying his mornings as innocently as possible before staring his day.

He'd take his time, focused soley on the plate in front of him, tugging bites off of his spoon maddeningly slow, letting those plump lips pull every morsel off the utensil, his tongue snaking out every so often to catch a stray crumb from the corner of his very kissable looking mouth.

Everything about him begged to be spoiled and spanked and then spoiled some more.