✔ Statistics » Timothée Chalamet

T h i r t y - T w o

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Home. What a dreadful word it was for the girl. When she thought of it, she couldn't help but feel her body overburden at the thought of all that was waiting for her. It was always a difficult word to let out into the air, even back when she was just a child. It brought back memories she didn't want to remember, reminded her of the constant loneliness and fury that boiled within her as a volcano waiting to erupt, acted as a shadow that contentiously stole her happiness and reminded her of all her pain. 

Home is where the heart is, they all used to say. Manon couldn't deny that she felt a magnetic pull to where she spent the majority of her summers, a magnetic pull to a certain boy she was sure she would follow until the end of the world, but truth was, at some point in her life, she had lost both, and that was also when she lost the emotional value of the word, the one meant to fill the human body with love and appreciation, with longing for loved ones. 

No matter how much she craved to return to the way things were, she was stuck in a circumstantial home, a situation she couldn't do much about. Perhaps one day she would find a permanent home, she'd restore the beauty of the word, the fluttering of her heart. But so long as she lived for others, she knew it wouldn't be possible.

"Home sweet home" Manon gulped as she pushed the hefty, wooden door open and spread her arms wide for the boy to take her apartment in. The girl felt a sense of brittleness wash over her at the thought of inviting someone in. She barely did. There weren't many people who could proudly say they've been in her personal haven. As much as she trusted Timothée, as much as she knew his intentions were pure, she feared he'd judge her for her apartment, for it was a representation of who she was inside, of the honest, brutal mess that resided within her day and night. 

Timothée closed the door behind him as he followed deeper into the apartment. It had awfully reminded him of both of the mansions, sharing the high ceilings and natural tones. The apartment was a studio one, consisting of a large room. It had one big window, that faced another neighboring house. He could see that window meant a lot for the girl, for it was covered in plants and had a bookshelf right beside it. It also looked the most chaotic, lived-in spot as opposed to others in the apartment, he was sure she spent the majority of her time there, that it was her safe spot. 

"I love it" Timothée spun around the room, taking the little details in. He could see spider webs in the corners and the occasional peel of the wallpaper, but to say it bothered him would be a lie. It made the apartment all the more alive.

Frankly, Manon liked her apartment. She payed a lot for it as it is, for she was in Paris. She knew that she could upgrade to a brand new apartment with a view to the sought-after tower people had adored so well with a simple phone call, but she found it unnecessary. The girl enjoyed the vibe of her apartment, it was ideal for her, and she had independently paid for it, rather than living off of someone else. It was a sense of achievement for her, evident proof that she could do anything she put her mind to.

"I hope you're not lying" Manon sighed as she put her belongings down and wiggled her hands in an attempt to shake off the tension that inhabited within her after carrying her things upstairs. 

"I would never" Timothée mumbled as he sauntered over to the window he had seen earlier. As he stood tall in front of it, the wind of the fresh morning greeted him gingerly and he welcomed it with grace. That was the moment his attention shifted to the fact the window was open, something he hadn't noticed earlier.