A white cloud escaped my slightly chapped lips as I looked down at the grass field below me and the girl's soccer practice below me. The cloud wasn't from the cold, not wholly.
I took the cigarette butt out of my mouth and ground it against the railing before placing it in a zip-lock bag which I intended to throw out in the trash can near the bus stop.
No evidence.
I know that smoking goes on that list of unhealthy habits no one should have. It was silly for me to start in the first place, trying to impress someone who isn't even around anymore. But, I still got angry whenever my sister told me to "just quit".
Willpower plays a part, yes, but there's more to it than that—at least I think so. For me, I'll need a reason to quit. A person or a cause I want to live long for that inspires me cut out all damaging habits and traits. I haven't met that person yet, but I'm more than happy to wait.
It helps I'm not afraid of shorting my life. There are plenty of people into worse things I am who live long and healthy lives. And there have been healthy people who have their lives cut short one way or another.
Longevity and luck go hand in hand. And while I don't conisder myself lucky, I enjoy the prospect of gambling.
I know my reasoning would sound silly to most people, but I like to think people would reason the same way if they accepted the fact they would die and stop worrying about when.
I looked down at my phone. It was almost four and no sign of Scott. I figured he might not come. It made sense. The one letter I read was from a year ago and I surmised he didn't have a crush on Cecile anymore.
Probably realized she was out of his langue. I thought with a smirk.
Still, it didn't make much sense for him to keep them for as long as he did. But I didn't feel like trying to figure out why. I wanted to go home.
I switched hoodies and sprayed my clothes with tea tree oil. I found the scent overpowering, but it covered up the unpleasant smell or ash and smoke very well.
I popped a stick of gum in my mouth and heard the door behind me creak open. Scott stumbled in, his ginger hair disheveled and his skin damp and red from running.
He leaned against the door to catch his breath. And looked over at me.
"R...rosette?" He asked between pants.
I walked over to him.
"Yeah. I'm sure I signed my name in my note."
"I... didn't read that far."
"It was three sentences long—wait you ran here how come you took so long?"
Scott stood up straight.
"I didn't find it right away. I was too busy looking for my letters, which you have. You didn't read them did you?"
I dragged the heel in circles across the ground.
"Only one. But in my defence they are letters about my sister. I had to know what was going on."
Scot sighed and pushed hair away from his face. His eyes were hazel and a scar about the size of cat scratch cut through one of his eyebrows.
"Fair enough. You have them right?"
I nodded and walked over to my backpack. Scott followed, I didn't expect that. I reached into one pocket. and pulled out a stack of small white envelopes. Then I pulled out the one I read.
Scott held the letters lightly, as if they'd break if he held them too hard. The anxious look on his face melted away the moment his fingers touched the paper.
"Um.." I started.
"The little drawings you put on the border are fantastic. And your letters—the one I read least...are kind of like poetry. Beautiful. Even more so if you overlook the parts that appear... stalker-ish."
Scott looked up at me as he stuffed the letters in his backpack. I noticed he stood rather close to me. And wondered if he could smell smoke on my hair or breath. I leaned against the railing to put some distance between us.
"Can I ask you something?"
Scott nodded. "Sure."
"How come you don't give Cecile those letters. I mean you're in love with her. Don't you want to tell her?"
Scott was quiet for a while. I grimaced, worried I asked a question I had no business asking. I'd met of Scott, but it wasn't like we were close or anything. We've been in the same classes and talked a few times.
But I never hung out with Scott alone before—if you could call standing on a roof with someone "hanging out". As far as I knew, he was Cecile's friend not mine.
"I'm only telling you this, because I'm sure you won't tell anyone. You don't tell people anything."
I smiled.
"Nice to my know my "weird quiet kid" act is holding up nicely"
Scott chuckled.
"Nah. I think you have more an aloof, mysterious kind of thing going on."
I laughed a bit. Scott stretched and looked over the railing. The field, now empty sat underneath a thin layer of fog.
"You're right about Cecile. I love her..."
He paused.
"Huh. Feels great and odd to say it out loud. Anyway I don't tell her because, I like the way things are now. I like keeping my feelings secret. I don't want to ruin that by telling her. Not yet."
"So you're not ready?"
"Yes and no. I open to idea of being a lot more than...friendly classmates. I like that idea—I want that. But I'm not done with this...phase of things yet."
"Then.. why write the letters?"
"Because... I guess if I'm not sharing my feelings with her I have to prove that what I feel is real some way. That's why I write them."
"So the letters aren't for Cecile, there for you?"
Scott nodded, and we stood in silence for a few minutes. Not an awkward silence, just silence. We both needed time to digest what we said.
There wasn't anything more to add.
I hadn't talked to anyone other than Cecile since the school year started. Which I'll admit was my fault. Still, I never wanted to talk to anyone else. As narcissistic as it sounds, I always preferred my thoughts over others.
But the few minutes of conversation with Scott were almost as rich as a million late night talks with Cecile. I only got the tiniest glimpse into his mind and I was already so intrigued—I wanted to learn more.
I looked down at my phone again. It was almost four thirty, and the sky was much darker now, only a sliver of sunlight hung in the sky.
I stood up and stretched.
"Well, we should get going before they lock us in."
Scott jolted and I could tell he was deep in thought too. I wondered what went through his mind during the silence we shared.
He nodded. We descended the stairs and walked to the bus stop in the same meditative silence we shared on the roof.
"Can I ask you something?" Scott said.
I nodded. "Sure."
"The roof's a place you go to be alone. I get that, but would you mind having occasional company up there?"
Normally, I would've said "yes I mind". The roof was quiet. Few people knew it was fine to go up there. I wished to keep it that way, but I made an exception for Scott.
I wanted to pick his brain more.
So instead of dismissing him I told him yes, on the condition he didn't bring any friends up without asking me first. He agreed, and as the bus pulled up a rare feeling sprouted in my chest. The feeling you get when you can't wait to see someone again.
And we hadn't parted ways yet.
I tossed the zip lock bag in trash and for a second thought I might want to stay alive longer to have more conversations with Scott.