✦ ♡my cigarette man♡ ✦

Chapter nine || Torna a cosa

Shame, guilt, regret

The words to describe what I felt as I camouflage into the sheets, the sheets that were less than comforting, veiled with his scent.

Rough hands move a strand of hair from my face. I flinch; I don't want him to touch me, I'm not here, I promised myself I'd never be here again.

•••

"I have some time before work." He teases. I close my eyes hoping when I bring myself to open them I wouldn't be here. Unfortunately I open them to the same pitch black dingy studio apartment. "I'm tired." I lie. The mattress bounces up, he jumps out of bed, back turned to me."That's your excuse every time." He murmurs. Of course, his usual guilt tripping.

"Darling I promise it's nothing, I-" he raises a lingering hand signalling me to shut up. "Don't bother." He mutters walking towards the dresser. He drapes a coat over his shoulders as he reaches for his shoes. "I thought you had time?" I say innocently trying to provoke his annoyance. But it doesn't. He only shakes his head and clasps the door handle. Leaving me alone in shivering in the cold sheets; not because I'm cold but rather disgusted.

•••

The memory leaves tears welling in my eyes.

"I bet you missed this." A familiar cocky tone whispers in my ear. I shudder against frigid skin. He grips my arm, a breathily chuckle brushes my ear. I pull my arm away, following a longer silence. "Chloe," he sighs. I turn to face the glimpse of his face in the shadowy room. "You shouldn't feel guilty, I mean you aren't even together anymore." He assures me. I nod swallowing my fear.

My guilt was irrelevant towards my feelings for Damiano, although I felt guilty enough for that, but rather the promise I made myself when he previously cheated on me: I'd never go back to he, for any reason, promise, compromise, apology whatsoever; but I have no self restraint. Even after what he did to Damiano, to me, to us.

"Timothèe it just feels wrong." His brows furrow but not in his usual anger but he actually appears upset. "Chloe, he never loved you the way I do." He spoke dully and hushed but his expression showed he meant it. Shocked. I shake my head. "You don't mean that." My pathetic, wobbly voice pleads. please don't put this on me. I sit up to lean my back into the icy head board and he sits up with me. He doesn't face me. Timothèe masks his emotions with him usual blank expression.

"Did it mean nothing?" Timothèe breaks the silence.

"What?" I whisper.

"Damiano."

The indistinct sounds of the city streets flood the silent room.

"And us?" He asks softly.

•••

I feel guilty after what Timothèe said, obviously I have been unintentionally distant, so i decide to its best to present myself as content- No it does sound stupid but I'm foolishly in love with him. I wouldn't do what I've done for him if I hadn't loved him.

He should've gotten home ten minutes ago; I have the perfect surprise. I struggle to jiggle the keys into the keyhole, squinting through the thick snowflakes; December, the most romantic time of the year, or so told. December 24th to be exact. I had gone to visit family and was meeting Timothèe in France to visit his but he thought I was getting there the 26th due to flight delays. The rusted lock finally clicks and I silently tap the door open to the small studio apartment.