~Timmy Imagines~

sick of it

It was 11:45 on a Friday night. I had gotten home from my job (as a barista) 6 hours ago. Timothée still hasn't shown up. It's sad to say, but this has become a norm at this point. Every evening I stay up waiting for him, hoping that he shows up before I go to sleep. But my eyes always fail me, and I end up dozing off before he arrives home. As I am wrapped in our covers I decide to give Timmy a call, to see when he might arrive.

After a few rings, he finally answers. "What do you need, yk?" Timothée says abruptly. "I was just calling to see when you were gonna come home, that's all!" I said mirroring his tone. "You know for a FACT I hate when you call be during work, leave me the hell alone!" And with that he hung up.

What in the entire fuck is his problem?! If anything I should be mad at him! He's the on who's never home, he's the one that's always on his phone when ever I'm speaking to him, HE'S the one who's ruining this relationship. That last point brought me to tears. I decided I'm not going to stay up for him this time. Timothée can be the one to pick up these pieces.

At around 1:30 am I heard 4 knocks on the door. I ignored it. Timothée had beyond pissed me off this point. I then heard my phone ringing. "Let me in y/k." He said simply. "You have a key." I said , and then hung up on him the same way he did a few hours prior.

I heard the jingling of his key in the door way. By the sound of it, Tim sounded mad as hell. I then heard his footsteps come in through the living room, and then to our bedroom. For some reason, I felt a sense of terror come through my veins, and that is something that I shouldn't have to go through.

As he walked into our bedroom he just stood there, staring at me for a few seconds. Observing, judging, and antagonizing. "Well hello Timothée, pleasant seeing you this evening." I spat passive aggressively. "Don't play that shit y/k! What the fuck has gotten into you?!" He barked. "Gotten into me? Timothée what has gotten into you?! For the past 3 weeks you've been showing up late as fuck, being a total dick to me. And then making it out to be my fault! I'm SO sick of it. What did I do to deserve this?" At those final words something clicked inside me that made me start to cry uncontrollably. I put my palms in my face so I didn't have to look at him.

For a moment Tim just sat there, processing the words I said. "I- I'm so sorry y/k. I don't know what the hell as gotten into me. Those things I said to you over the phone, were so out of place." "Well then why are you doing all this Timmy? Especially the coming home late shit. I know that you're not working at 12 pm on a Friday". "I just thought that partying, and drinking would be the answers to my problems. So I've been doing it after work for a while now. Looking back at it, the only thing that can help me right now is you."

I didn't know if he was being genuine, but something about his words made me feel some kind of way. And in all honesty, all I wanted was my boy back. The boy that used to go on long walks in Central Park with me, the boy who would make me breakfast in the morning, the boy that would massage my back after a stressful day. That was the Timothée I knew. And that was the one I hoped to get back.

Timmy then laid down next to me and made direct eye contact with me. I stared into his hazel eyes, trying to find the answer to all the problems we have been having.  As I was staring, Tim started tracing figure 8's on my upper arm. Made me feel warm, and loved.

For the rest of the night we held each other close, as if we were one. Something about tonight made me have hope that things would be changing in our relationship. And that just so happened to be the case.

A/N: I actually enjoyed writing this one. Hope everyone is enjoying their Saturdays!!!