Balconial Conversations

Chapter 7: Scarface The Therapist

His usually normally clear skin is marred by an alarmingly bright bruise blooming across his cheek to the top of his cheekbone. A thin scratch tracks the outside of his cheek. He looks morose.

"What happened to your face?"

"A girl I was dating punched me with a bottle of beer."

"Punched?"

"Well, backhanded. Smacked. Smashed. One of those synonyms" He shrugs loosely before hugging the railing again — an oddly vulnerable pose.

"Did it shatter?"

"Yeah, she’s not that strong though, it was already cracked."

"What did you do?"

"I possibly ended things over the answering machine in her dorm and flirted with her best friend the next day?"

"You're an asshole."

“I am an asshole.”

"I kind of hope those cuts get infected."

"I don't. Would you go to a therapist with a scarred face?"

"You'll probably talk innocent people out of their marriages, anyway."

"Possibly. I'm more interested in innocently troubled youths."

"Teach them in your aromantic ways."

"Can we drop the aromantic thing?"

"Never."

"How was your day?"

"I worked with my lab partner. He thinks he wants to be my friend. He actually told me his brother lives in the building and can come to see me if I want when he visits him. I got a little confused on the pronouns but whatever."

"What's his name?"

"Gabriel."

"Gabriel De Luca?" He arches an eyebrow looking a little more animated.

"Yeah."

He laughs with his nose all wrinkled up. “That’s my younger brother.”

"No way."

"Yes, way."

"That's strange."

"Only a little…” He covers his smile with his fist for the first time, I think, ever. “Well… that’s actually such a huge coincidence."