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mqverick · 3 years ago

Text

i’m going back to 505

warnings; slight mature content

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“do you miss him?”

“i miss everything.”

____________________________________________

your roommate invites her boyfriend into the room and introduces him to you. you take one look at each other and time literally stops for a moment. memories of a lifetime together pass in that brief space.

—

i’m going back to 505

if it’s a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive

you’d grown to believe that your new roommate was the living definition of over enthusiastic and ecstatic. almost everyone she met would grow to like her and want to spend time with her — even your own friends. there was that one time that you’d planned to go to the cinema with your best friend, and she’d asked whether your roommate could come along. not wanting to be rude, you'd replied with an ‘of course!’, the blood boiling inside your veins. it wasn’t like you weren't fond of her, no.

you were friends and she thought very highly of you, yet there would always be moments where you just wanted to grab the sharpest thing in the room and throw it right into her eye if that meant she would shut up. things got even worse the day she announced she was seeing somebody.

oh, god...

she’d been saying that one guy for almost a month, and today was the day she would be bringing him over at your place in order for the three of you to have dinner together and so that you could finally meet him. she was thrilled about you meeting him, constantly telling you how dreamy he was and that she really cared for your approval. you’d dismissively agreed to the damn dinner thing a week ago, while you were watching an interesting drama series on HBO. she had been watching it with you, or so you thought, because at some point, she repeatedly began to poke your shoulder with her finger.

annoyed by the fact that she wouldn’t stop, you’d turned your head to her, raising your eyebrows questioningly, and that was when she dropped the bomb. that specific moment, you’d been so tired and zoned out that you'd subconsciously replied with a ‘yes, i’d love that’, which was followed by loud squeals and tight hugs from her.

only as the days passed did you realize the problem you’d gotten yourself into, but there was no avoiding it anymore, so instead of whining about it or cancelling the plans the last minute, you forced yourself to bear a few hours with said boyfriend and lovestruck roommate.

it was seven o’clock when the bell rang, signaling his arrival to the apartment.

“on it!” your roommate called from her room, sprinting in the living room and almost tripping over the small rug in her hurry to open the door before you. you were in your own room, brushing your freshly-straightened hair and checking yourself out in the mirror. damn, that sweater looks freaking gorgeous.

“come on in, babe, she’s coming in a sec,” you heard her sing-song. you rolled your eyes before letting out a deep sigh and reminding yourself that you were a woman with manners, which meant that you would face life’s difficulties in the kindest way possible, even if that meant that your single ass that lived in coffee and sandwiches would have to tolerate watching two people in love shamelessly make out in front of you.

“all right, roommie! ready to meet your so called boy—”

you stopped dead in your tracks as your eyes caught the frame of a familiar boy with wild, dark curls, mesmerizing green eyes and soft, pink lips. the frame of a boy that was a poignant reminder of the biggest heartbreak you had to go through during your twenty-four years of life.

in my imagination you’re waiting lying on your side

with your hands between your thighs

february 14th was the date you met him. valentine’s day, as cliché as that may sound to someone. you hated that day with passion, not only because of the constant sting you would feel whenever you saw all those happy couples be parts of intense pda sessions in public places — whereas you were single — but also because of the pointless meaning of that day. you believed that if there was actual love out there, it wouldn’t need a specific day of the year to be shown and celebrated.

you sighed as you stirred your coffee tiredly, chin in your hand, eyes almost fluttering shit as you tore the little sugar bag open and put it in your drink. typical way to spend valentine’s day; alone at your favorite coffee shop, glancing around at all the other couples that were having all sorts of special cakes and coffees. your eyes traveled down to your plain black coffee and an annoyed groan escaped your lips as your phone's screen went black. of course it’d run out of battery...

“this day is the worst,” you mumbled as you got up and looked for a free booth. “um, excuse me, could i sit here for a bit? my phone’s dead and i really need to charge it,” you said to a man that was sitting in the corner booth. he turned around and you were met with the most beautiful features you'd ever seen on someone. he was wearing a light pink sweater and gray jeans, a cup of coffee in his hand as he nodded and moved a little to make room for you to sit.

“i hate this day, you know,” he suddenly spoke.

“me too! it’s absolutely pointless, right?”

“yeah. if someone is in love with their partner, they should celebrate it every day instead of remembering it once in a year.”

his statement made you gasp. never had you thought that you’d find a person who would have the same beliefs as you. “excuse me for asking that, but do you really think so or are you just saying that because you don’t have a girlfriend? or boyfriend, you know.”

he shrugged. “a hint of both, but mostly the first one.”

you chuckled. he was cute. “didn’t catch your name there, stranger.”

“timothée.”

“damn, that sounds royal.”

“not so royal with these bags under my eyes,” he laughed, pointing at the black bags under his eyes. he took a sip from his coffee and the two of you began talking and talking, until it’d gone eleven o’clock and you hadn’t even realized. instant panic overwhelmed you as you unplugged your phone from the charger and shot up from the booth.

“call me then, timothée,” you smirked after writing your number on his napkin with a pen you always carried in your bag. maybe that valentine's day wouldn't be so bad after all...

back at your apartment, you threw your boots in the living room before plopping yourself on the couch and grabbing the remote in your hands. a documentary about forests began playing, but the sounds from the tv faded into the background immediately in your head as you found yourself thinking about a certain person you’d only just met. he was an actor, loved black coffee, mostly listened to rap songs but wouldn’t mind spending a relaxing evening listening to french ballads. oh, he was half-french, and you even made him say something to you in french, his accent coming out sexier than you’d expected.

the vigorous buzzing of your phone snapped you out of your thoughts as you saw an unknown number lighting up in your screen. a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, you knew exactly who it was.

“hello?”

“hi there, it’s timothée from the coffee shop.”

“oh, hey, timothée! how are you?”

“good, good. currently in my apartment. y’know, i was thinking about this girl i kind of met today.”

you chuckled, your fingers toying with the hem of your sweater as you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. “oh yeah? tell me about her.”

“she hates valentine’s day just as much as i do. she’s very beautiful and i was wondering if i could see her again tonight at that italian restaurant near my place. ugh, sorry, that sounded really weird, i was hoping it’d come out romantic and not creepy, but i achieved the exact opposite, let me rephrase—”

“speaking on behalf of her, she's a hundred percent in.”

stop and wait a sec

oh when you look at me like that my darling

it'd been three weeks since you and timothée started dating. you were spending your first night over at his place, which was definitely something scary and new to you. not that you didn't have any past relationships, but they weren't exactly serious to you, plus there was that commitment issue you had. nevertheless, you wanted to be prepared for any kind of situation that could occur, so you'd shaved your legs and taken a refreshing bath.

you knocked on the door of his apartment only to be met with him looking like a disaster, hair messed up, some kind of red sauce spilled all over his white shirt, dripping down to his sweatpants as his eyes scanned yours worriedly.

"you were supposed to come over in twenty minutes," was all he said, his voice cracking in the end of the sentence as he ran his fingers through his curls and muttered something in french that you knew it meant 'fuck'.

"came early. why do you look like death, babe?" you asked, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind you as he went in the kitchen, which looked even worse than him. you chuckled softly at the realization of him trying to cook for you and you followed him, sitting down on one of the chairs that were around the table.

"this is terrible. i thought that it'd be nice to cook your favorite food and surprise you, but i'm this close to burning the whole place down. i look disgusting whereas you look like you were made out of a dream and it's totally acceptable if you changed your mind about dating me," he ranted, glancing everywhere but you.

"woah, there, timmy, calm down, please," you laughed, placing your hands on his shoulders and forcing him to look at you. you leaned in and pressed a surprisingly sweet kiss on his lips, your arms now wrapped around his waist as you pulled him closer to you, his stained shirt dirtying your own.

"aren't you utterly grossed out?"

"aw, baby," you murmured against his lips, "i could never be. this is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me and i could feel nothing but appreciation and thankfulness for you."

"do you mean that?"

instead of replying, you kissed him again, your lips melting against his as his hands found their way to your back, his fingers lifting up your shirt in order for his palms to rest against your cold skin, his thumbs rubbing small circular patterns on the small of your back. you deepened the kiss, your tongue licking his bottom lip before slipping into his mouth and caressing the tip of his. timmy groaned at that, pulling you even closer to him, his now growing bulge pressing against your thigh as your fingers tugged at the curls on the nape of his neck.

"are you aware of the fact that you're making out with me while my tomato-covered shirt is staining yours?" he asked against your lips and you pulled away abruptly, crossing your arms and glaring at him. he looked at you with confusion and raised an eyebrow as of to ask why you looked mad.

"okay, you don't want to have sex with me. is that it?"

"what?! no, of course, i do! i mean, only if you want me to, i'm not going to force you into having sex with me if you don't feel ready yet—"

"timmy, shut up for a second and let me speak. don't ruin the moment and lead me to your bedroom."

he gulped and took your hand in his, taking you to his bedroom. it wasn't that small but it wasn't huge either. there was a bed in the middle of it, a wardrobe at the side, some posters on the walls and a round rug covering most of the floor.

"your bedroom's cute," you stated before stray hung your lips on his again, picking up from where you'd left earlier. timmy picked you up and laid you on his bed, crawling on top of you as he buried his face in your neck, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses from your earlobe all the way down to your collarbone. you bit your lip in order to suppress a moan, but he noticed and stubbornly began sucking on the valley of your breasts until you couldn't hold it back anymore. the sound of your cry made him rock hard against his pants, his hands grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it gently over your head before throwing it down on the floor. he did the same with his, his fingers ghosting against the clasp of your bra. you let out a frustrated groan and urged him to take it off, to which he obeyed, pushing the straps off of your shoulders as he took a moment to admire you.

"you're so beautiful, mon amour," he whispered.

"i want you, timmy."

he placed a soft peck on your swollen lips before unbuttoning your jeans with a hungry look in his eyes. you'd never been more turned on in your life, your back aching as his hands finally cupped your breasts. you felt embarrassed for being so impatient, but the way he made you feel like you were on top of the world not only aroused you, but almost made you slip out the l-word.

well, that was new...

what did you expect

i'd probably still adore you

with my hands around your neck

you told him you loved him a week later.

the two of you had gone bowling on a friday evening and he was being horrible at even managing to hit a single pin. the ball would always veer off the lane and go into the gutters. he'd stated he hated that game so much, which was adorable given to the fact that he would pout ever time after saying that. you loved his pout. you loved everything he did, you loved him. you were now certain of your feelings for him, yet too scared to say them out loud.

"it's your turn, again," he said with a dramatic eye-roll.

"eat my dust, timo."

"i've eaten the whole sahara desert by now. can we just stop and eat some fries?"

"admit i'm capable of beating your ass and maybe i'll consider it."

"you are more than capable of beating my ass. fries?"

you laughed and nodded. after a few moments, you came back to the table you were sitting with a bunch of baskets with fries and ketchup. timmy rubbed his hands and grabbed two baskets, opening the ketchup dips before shoving quickly several fries into his mouth. you have him the middle finger before taking a bite from your own fries.

"hey, what was that for?" he asked while chewing.

"first of all, mouth closed when you're eating. second of all, i'm staring to believe that you love these french fries more than me and it's honestly sort of offensive," you joked.

"mm, that's impossible."

you stared blankly at him. there were so many things that you wanted to say, tell him you loved him and that he was the first serious boyfriend of yours, your first serious relationship, tell him you were thankful for valentine's day for bringing him in your life. tell him you loved the way his eyes would sparkle up every time he was happy or excited, the way he was softly panting in order to catch his breath whenever he laughed, the way he would let our husky breaths when he was feeling turned on, the way his ears would perk up every time you found a new nickname for him or simply called him 'mon chérie'. you wanted to tell him that he was gorgeous inside and out and that you could spend your entire life telling him how much you adored him.

but it was him that spoke first.

"i love you."

three simple words, yet so meaningful and complicated. you didn't know what love was, though it was a very used and significant word that people used all the time. honestly, you didn't even know if you could ever define love, because you were sure that it differed from person to person. that was, until you met him. suddenly, everything clicked and you could finally understand all those cliché movies your best friend had forced you into watching.

you felt like one of the main characters of an old, sappy romantic movie. your heartbeat had quickened alarmingly much, you were sure your face and neck had reddened, and there was this amazing, newfound feeling inside you that had freed a bunch of butterflies in your stomach.

"was that too soon to say? did i scare you off?" timmy asked after noticing that you'd been staring at him with your mouth agape for two whole minutes of pregnant silence. the moment he was about to start apologising and go for his usual stammer speech, you smiled the biggest grin you'd smiled in years and said those three words he'd been waiting to hear the entire time;

"i love you."

or i did last time i checked

not shy of a spark

"it's your biggest moment, timmy! i'm honestly under the impression that i'm more excited than you," you stated, hitting his arm softly with your fist as the two of you were sitting on the couch, snuggled up close to each other. timmy was supposed to start filming 'call me by your name' the following day, but he seemed rather scared and unwilling to do so, even though he'd gotten over-thrilled once he'd been informed that he'd gotten elio's role.

"i'll have to fuck a peach!"

"so? you're literally going to pretend that you're a horny seventeen-year-old. don't tell me you didn't do weird stuff when you were horny and that age, i most likely won't believe you."

"ew!"

you snickered and he huffed in annoyance, removing his arms from around you.

"now, you're just being dramatic for no reason, babe," you said as you grabbed his hands and put them back in their previous placement. he didn't say anything and you had to start kissing his jawline teasingly in order to earn the slightest hint of reaction out from him.

"i don't want you to see me fucking a peach, it's embarrassing."

"you could fuck an orange and i'd still find you hot."

"is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"a meteor could hit us and i'd still be horny."

"okay, you're not helpful at all," he laughed, pushing you gently off of him, since you'd crawled on his lap and had started attacking his neck with wet kisses. you complained and pouted at him, low-key loving teasing timmy whenever you got the chance.

"chérie, you'll ace in that movie, it's a guarantee. everyone will love it, you."

a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark

frightened by the bite though it's no harsher than the bark

middle of adventure such a perfect place to start

you'd never been the jealous type of girlfriend who would want to keep her boyfriend limited in the four walls of your house, but you suppose there was always a first time for something — either that'd be pleasant or horrible. basically, it started when a huge crowd of mad fans began following you and timothée as you were heading to a bagel shop for your breakfast. their bewildered calls of your boyfriend's name and loud yells had almost drawn the last straw to the point that you wanted to ignore timmy's pleads about staying calm, turn around and yell at them to simply —

no, you were too kind for that.

regardless of his reassurances that he only loves you — no matter how many people out there wanted him — you'd grown insecure. even other celebrities were hitting on him or throwing thirst traps during interviews, which was something that twisted your gut every damn time. you hated that version of yourself with passion. on the one hand, you were extremely happy that timmy was getting recognized and successful, but on the other hand, that toxic hint of jealous wished he was just a normal person, or at least that people would treat him that way.

he was always kind at his fans, a thing you loved about him. you loved seeing him with kids, all euphoric and amused, signing autographs and giving hugs. he was so cute, loving and patient. you knew that sooner or later that moment would eventually come and you would have to deal with the press and paparazzi coming after your relationship with timothée every five seconds, meaning that you would have to hide every time you wanted a moment of privacy with him. for numerous times, you'd told yourself that you'd be fine with that, figure out a solution to your problems after having talked it out with timothée first, which you did, but all the 'i love you's' and 'we'll go through it together' promises weren't convincing enough.

ugh.

you despised the fact that even though he was trying his hardest to let you know how much you meant to him every day, you would still have that constant feel of fear over losing him. for fuck's sake, he was adored by a total of 75% people on earth, including equally famous people and much more beautiful girls, yet he was dating someone insignificant like you. or so you thought. if you could look yourself through his eyes, every single doubt you'd ever raised about your appearance and personality would disappear in a matter of seconds. to him, you were the prettiest, most charismatic and amazing human being he'd ever laid eyes on. he loved all of you; your imperfections, your temper, the way you always got emotional about things that weren't even sad.

sometimes he wished you could see how perfect you were. perfect in your own way.

a successful, hard-working woman that had to go through many rejections, mistakes and failures, but always found the courage to stand up and be a better person. he wished you wouldn't put yourself down all the time, because he wanted you to be anything but humble when it came to describing yourself. he wanted you to brag about your character and personality.

frankly, you wanted to get the chance to see yourself the way he saw you.

maybe then you would put all that newfound jealousy in a box, lock it and throw the key somewhere where nobody would ever find it again. two or three fights had occurred in your relationship, not serious ones though. you needed to accept that jealousy was something human, and perhaps find a way to tone it down, otherwise you were under the impression that you would go absolutely mad.

i'm going back to 505

if it's a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive

you remembered how your first date had gone. having watched all those movies, you expected it to be out-of-the-world fantastic and romantic, yet those expectations were never really met. it'd begun great, the two of you were eating at some italian restaurant he'd suggested, drinking wine and telling each other more stuff about your lives. it all got screwed up when at some point, you'd gotten somewhat tipsy and had started laughing hysterically while hearing timmy's high school memories and rap persona — which thankfully, he had abandoned.

your laugh was contagious to him, but everybody else in the restaurant was eyeing you weirdly, mostly because you looked like you were possessed by some kind of demon, chortling your lungs out as your hand kept slapping your knees every two seconds.

eventually, you ended up wanting to reach across the table for timmy's hand, but your movements were so shaky that instead of taking his hand in yours, you accidentally hit his drink, which was spilled all over his crotch area and legs. the laughter died down in your throat once you realized what you'd done, and you quickly gathered as many napkins as you could, getting up from your seat to dry him off.

"oh my god, this has never happened to me before, i'm so sorry!" you apologized worriedly.

timothée only laughed.

"it's okay, i can pay and go change, my apartment isn't that far away."

"i ruined your clothes, i think it's only fair if i pay for the food."

"there's no way i'm letting you pay on our first date."

"there is."

"s'not."

"yes."

"no."

"yes, there is, unless you want me to spill the remaining of my food on you as well."

with a loud groan, he agreed to paying half and half. you accompanied him back to his home, apologizing about the unfortunate event throughout the entire walk. he assured you that it was fine, but you still felt mortified for ruining his clothes and making him walk down the streets looking like he's peed on his pants.

as the two of you reached your destination, you awkwardly stood at the front door steps, facing each other, waiting for either of you to break the silence.

"i had a pretty good time. first time spending my valentine's like that," timmy said, giving you a contained smile. your own grin made him smile harder, an evident red blush on his cheeks and tips of his ears. you tried to muffle a giggle that eventually escaped from your lips when you looked down at his wet crotch, which didn't go unnoticed by him. he attempted to cover it with his hands in embarrassment, his eyes squeezed shut as he cursed in french.

"i know that whatever you just said meant 'shit', chalamet," you teased.

"i feel like i'm trying so hard to be attractive right now but the spilled wine is ruining it."

you laughed again, leaning down and reaching for his hands, placing them around your neck as you made him look up at you. his jaw dropped slightly, green eyes staring right into yours — and damn, his lips looked so soft and pink and kissable, but you weren't going to kiss him, not just yet.

"this was the best valentine's day ever. good night, timothée," you said as you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, leaving him dumbfounded, staring at you make your way back to your own apartment.

in my imagination you're waiting lying on your side

with your hands between your thighs

you and timmy had been dating for nearly a year, and you were at the point in your relationship where you were ready to finally move in together. you'd been ready for a while, although you absolutely refused to move in with him until you surpassed your one year point. there was no real reason behind that logic, just that you'd always told yourself that you should wait at least a year until you move in together. though it practically felt like you'd already moved in together, seeing as you spent countless days and nights at each other's places, the thought of actually going for it was terrifying.

for you, it always felt like that official, caps-locks worthy title that packed a lot of meaning behind it.

as mentioned, you'd never really been fond of commitment and no matter how much you loved timothée, you knew that deep down inside you there would always be that part of yourself that would continuously bring up those damned 'what if's'. though at some point you'd escaped the bubble, even thought that you had moved past it and that you were finally able to commit yourself to him...

...it just came back — out of the blue.

he was the one that proposed the idea first, which you had taken into deep consideration and had ended up agreeing to eventually doing it whenever the two of you felt ready for that big step. a step that would make you exclusive. honestly, you weren't afraid of moving in. never moving out was what was scaring you the most.

"baby, i think we're ready," timmy said at some point while you were watching a boring documentary together. you knew exactly what he was talking about. regardless, you asked for clarification.

"i think so, too," you replied truthfully. you had given it some thought — you had to rip the damn bandage off and move in with your boyfriend — what was the worst thing that could happen?

"i want you to be a hundred percent sure about this decision, mon amour. i don't want this to feel pressured and forced, and if you want to wait more, you shouldn't be afraid to tell me to back off."

"no, timmy, i think we should do it. i love you so much and i truly want to move in with you."

"you sure sure?"

"yes," you replied with a genuine smile, snuggling closer to him and pecking his lips. "i am sure sure."

but i crumble completely when you cry

it seems like once again you've had to greet me with goodbye

teen whole months after having moved in together in a small (yet beautiful) house, it happened.

life had been amazing with timmy as your roommate. you loved waking up next to him, eating breakfast together, returning home to find him sitting on a couch with a smirk on his face, nodding towards the kitchen, where homemade food would always be on the table. it was literally refreshing. you didn't know how, why or when it'd started, but one day, you caught yourself trying to sabotage all that progress.

it was a winter afternoon; that timothée was sure of — seeing as he never really recovered from that day. he remembered it very detailed and the memory was definitely one of his last joyous ones.

he'd been working all day on set, so once he finished, he "happened" to be passing by that one jewellery store he'd lately been persistently taking glances at. he went in, looking straight for the engagement rings, his eyes scanning carefully the variety of the pieces, until they subconsciously locked into a classic, three stone engagement ring with two dazzling tapered baguettes that framed the centre cushion diamond stunningly. after having asked a man about more details (and despite the fact that it was hella expensive), he ended up buying it, a huge smile plastered on his face at the thought of proposing to you. he'd been thinking about that moment for months, but never really brought it up or dropped any hints, because he didn't want to scare you. for some reason, that day, he just felt like he had to buy it — and even if you told him that it was too soon for engagement, he would keep it and feel fine with your decision. obviously, he couldn't force you into getting engaged if you weren't ready for it.

little did he know that that smile he had would completely drop the moment he entered the house.

you were standing in the living room with your arms crossed, your foot tapping nervously on the floor as you bit your lip in attempt to hold back tears. instant anxiousness rushed through him and he hurried to get close to you, his hands grasping your arms worriedly.

"baby, what's wrong, what happened, are you alright, did anything —"

"we need to talk," you said coldly.

"did i do something wrong?"

"i just need to talk to you."

timothée hesitantly nodded as he took a seat on the couch. you opened your mouth as if to say something, but the words died down in your throat. your eyes began to water and you ran your fingers through your hair, trying to focus on the ceiling because saying it while looking at him — no, it was too fucking hard, especially with that look he had in his eyes.

oh, little did he know...

"i know you are going to hate me for this. all i can say is sorry," you began, biting on your bottom lip a little bit harder than intended. timothée got up and tried to get close to you, but you backed away, distancing yourself from him. his face fell, emotions such as overwhelming sadness, fear and worry written all over it. his lips were parted, mouthing soft and quiet 'what's wrong's', and you honestly couldn't hold it back anymore. the first tears started rolling down your cheeks, only alarming him more.

"why are you crying, chérie? you're scaring me."

"i want to break up with you."

there. you said it, you finally said it.

as soon as those seven words came out of your mouth, something inside timothée broke. he didn't know what it was, but it felt like a really painful tug in his heart that threatened to cause him a breakdown. you couldn't be serious — not when...

"what?" he asked, still in shock and disbelief.

"you heard me, timothée, please don't make me say it again."

you were dealing a devastating blow, your eyes red and puffy as you let out muffled sobs. it needed to be done for both of you, otherwise you would end up miserable.

you knew it didn't quite make sense, but the past few weeks you had finally come in terms with what was happening, how fast your relationship was moving and honestly, it was overwhelming, panicking you — he deserved to know that, the truth. it wasn't like yours stopped loving him or something, it was just the fact that you realized that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't leave behind the commitment issue, and because you loved timmy so much, you didn't want to hold him back. he deserved the whole truth — and probably someone that wouldn't be so fucking freaked out all the time.

"w—why, did i do something? did i hurt you? have i been a bad boyfriend? please, tell me what i've done wrong and i'll try everything i can to fix it — i can't lose you, i'm not going to survive this. please, tell me you're joking," he begged, his own breakdown coming shortly after yours, making things worse for you. he felt as if he'd been punched in the gut — this couldn't be happening — it couldn't —

"you didn't do anything wrong, timothée. it's just that i feel like we're both going to be unhappy in this relationship, and i don't want to hold you back. you should find someone and love them and live and die for them because that's your way. besides... timmy, i don't deserve you."

"that's crap. you and i both know it. i can't love anyone else, i only love you."

"i'm so sorry, timmy, i'm so, so sorry. one day you will see that i'm right and you'll thank me for it."

being too shocked to talk, he let out sobs and shaky breaths, his usually tired/sleepy-looking eyes already red and puffy. it broke your heart to see him like that and you wanted to hug him for one last time, kiss his pain away — but you couldn't. it'd only worsen things further.

silence fell at some point; he'd given up.

you didn't know if you were relieved or frightened by it.

"i should go," he eventually spoke, quietly and weakly. you were about to start protesting, but he cut you off by shaking his hand in the air dismissively. "you can stay here, take the house. i'll come by tomorrow to pack my stuff. you can text me when you'll be out so that you won't have to see me."

i'm always just about to go and spoil a surprise

take my hands off of your eyes too soon

the following week has been truly devastating and shattering for you to handle. you absolutely despised coming back home from work and realize that it was getting emptier and emptier as the days passed — he really was moving out. that was why you hated breakups so much; one of the biggest misconceptions around then was that the person who instigated the split never suffered as much as the person they broke it off with. wrong, wrong, wrong. just because you were the one who decided it was time to end things didn't mean you didn't struggle in the aftermath. in fact, you'd very much done so. for the entire week, you barely got yourself to eat anything, always lying on your bed with dark bags under your swollen eyes, which had been so fucking tired of crying.

one day, you opened the drawer of his nightstand, hoping he'd left something — anything — in there, just so you could keep it, have something that would remind you of him and all the good times in your relationship, which admittedly was an unhealthy thing to do, but couldn't help yourself anyway.

as you hesitantly opened it, you found a small velvety box in it. no, you thought, no this can't —

you took it in your hands and mentally prayed to god for it not to be an engagement ring, but once you fully opened it, you came into sight with the brightest and most beautiful ring you'd ever seen. your heart must've literally split in two that moment. you felt nauseous and in the mood to hit your head in a wall for being so stupid. the poor man was going to propose to you and you broke up with him instead. how could you have been so oblivious, how could you not have noticed...

your entire body went rigid for a moment, then crumbled completely, hot, steaming tears running down your cheeks as you placed the box back in the drawer.

the following day, when you opened sais drawer, you noticed that it was gone.

i'm going back to 505

if it's a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive

"babe, aren't you going to say anything? you've been staring at my roommate for an awfully long time and it's honestly sort of creepy," your roommate whispered in timothée's ear, who was just as frozen as you. she then looked at you and shrugged with a chuckle. "i don't know what's gotten into him. he's usually normal."

your jaw was slightly dropped and your heart was definitely ten times faster than usual.

"i..." timothée spoke after a moment, his throat dry, cheeks covered by an evident red blush.

"please, say something you guys. i'm terrified."

"uh, hey, nice to meet you."

you were brave enough to talk first, take a few steps closer and reach for his — seemingly — motionless hand. you shook it for a few seconds, electricity running through your fingers. it seemed like the last time you touched him was million of ages ago, when in reality, it'd only been less than a freaking year. you missed the softness and warmth of his skin, the way his fingers seemed like they were designed just to entangle with yours — it was all so overwhelming and you didn't want to let go of his hand.

"likewise. i'm... timothée," he said lowly, his mouth still agape.

"do you guys know each other? like have you ever met or something?"

"no!"

you both said simultaneously, shaking your heads a tad more aggressively than needed. your roommate muttered a silent 'okay' that indicated she wasn't entirely convinced but didn't want to question anything further. it seemed impossible for your eyes to leave his — every memory of the two of you so fresh yet so old. you could still remember the way he used to kiss you, the way he used to hug you so tightly you thought you might burst. you wanted to cry.

"you sure you haven't met before? like, i know timmy's famous and stuff, but i'm getting vibes that you know each other on a personal level."

"i can assure you that we've never met before, roommie," you replied reassuringly. all the memories you'd built with timothée started playing in your mind like black and white flashbacks. oh, how little did she know... you looked back at him only to realize that he hadn't stopped staring at you for a single second. so many unspoken words and 'i never stopped loving you's' echoing in each other's heads as your completely oblivious roommate reached up to kiss her boyfriend's — your boyfriend's — cheek. so many undone actions...

in my imagination you're waiting lying on your side

with your hands between your thighs

...and a smile

FIN.

#timmy chalamet #timothée chamalet #timothee chamalet #lil timmy tim #he is the loml #he is baby #must protecc at all costs #fanfiction #angst prompt #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x you #505 arctic monkeys #arctic monkeys

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