Chapter 21

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"You still got that awesome balcony of yours?" John looked at Cecilia as he put down his empty tea cup and smiled lightly, "I could use a smoke."

"Uh, yeah. Sure," Cecilia nodded and placed down her own cup, empty as well, and stood from the kitchen table.

They slowly relocated to the balcony, John then lighting a cigarette for himself and offering one to Cecilia. She accepted the cigarette and allowed John to light it while she was holding it between her lips, none of them saying a single word. He leaned himself against the railing and looked down on the city, his heart heavy and absolutely pounding as he was trying to collect the tiniest bits of courage left in him to finally talk to Cecilia. And that meant talk to her, really talk to her.

He knew that Cecilia was waiting for him to finally tell her what he had wished to tell her, so much that he had almost insisted, but during the hour they spent drinking tea in Cecilia's kitchen he hadn't managed to bring up anything of real importance. Instead, he told her about the last few weeks of the tour and how he had picked up painting recently and bought himself a new house that was getting remodeled at the moment. Cecilia listened to him patiently, she didn't answer much to what he was saying and John knew that it was because she wasn't interested in some random catching up about what he had been up to during the summer. He knew her well enough to know that she was getting tired of his tattling.

And he happened to be absolutely right in that, Cecilia was getting tired of John's nonsense and she was growing increasingly impatient with him. Why on Earth did she even offer tea to him in the first place? Who invites their ex-boyfriend in in order to talk about their failed relationship and then thinks it's a good idea to have a cup on the side to this presumably utterly uncomfortable conversation? Cecilia felt ridiculous for doing that, but she didn't know how to handle the situation, and besides that, she was absolutely regretting inviting him in by the time John was at her doorstep. She didn't even know what she was expecting of John to say to her or if she even really wanted to know what John was being so pushy about. Did he want to apologize? What did he mean by saying that he wants to make things right? Cecilia had no idea and while she was analyzing all of this on her beloved balcony, resting herself on her lying chair while John was leaning himself against the railing in silence, she figured that perhaps listening to him go on about his painting and new house wasn't the worst option after all. She wasn't too surprised about him taking up painting considering his artistic capabilities, but hearing him talk about that house sure did sting a little. She remembered John's birthday and how he had asked her to move in with him and that hurt her heart more than she had expected, especially as she was trying to catch a glimpse of his absolutely perfect profile when he wasn't looking and was smoking his cigarette. He was still ever so beautiful and no matter how much she tried to escape from the reality of her feelings, Cecilia had to admit that she loved him — she loved him so much that her heart was breaking again and she was on the verge of tears, not even able to breathe properly.

She suddenly felt stupid — so so stupid for even being in the same space with him. What was she thinking? What was the point of all of this? She felt like she and John had nothing to talk about, nothing to discuss. Their relationship was nothing but a painful memory and spending any more time together would only prolong her suffering. She wanted to get away, to hide herself from his eyes so that he wouldn't see how broken she still was. She was ready to tell John that there was no point in this and perhaps it would be better for him to leave when suddenly, the words coming out of John's mouth struck her like a ton of bricks, leaving her speechless and staring into his eyes in awe.

"I love you, Cecilia," he then repeated what he had previously said, only a few seconds ago, Cecilia still figuring whether her ears weren't failing her.

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