✔ Statistics » Timothée Chalamet

F o r t y - F i v e

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It seemed so unfair, the dreadful course life had taken. Manon forgot, everything. And he was left to remember all of their memories, unable to let go, for if he would, any traces of her would be gone, forever.

Great efforts were made, so, so many. Timothée would visit her almost every single day. Sometimes he would bring friends and family, all as heartbroken by his side. Sometimes he would come with a gift, bearing something she had once loved, in a sheer attempt to make a difference. Sometimes it was a book, sometimes a movie, other times, a plant, but nothing changed. The deadening gaze would remain as hollow, wrecking him further apart.

Each time he stood by the door leading to her room, careless tears poured down his face, and he'd wipe them, put on a smile, and a sense of hope would overtake him, hope that perhaps as he'd walk through the door, she would remember, but each time she gave him a faint smile and shook her head.

She remembered everything after the accident, had gotten to know him since. They'd spend a lot of time together, but it was easy to see there was a heavy border between them, something missing, a lot missing. It wasn't the same, and as much as he loved her with all of his being, he couldn't deny that sat in front of him, was a complete stranger. It seemed as though she liked him, but she had so much going on, starting everything from scratch, that he was not her priority, as opposed to her being his only one.

And when her parents would visit, a sense of tension would take over the entire space. Timothée made sure to always be there when they were, watch her, protect her from danger. They seemed to get along, her parents as monotonous as they once were, not showing much emotion, but trying their best, trying more than they ever have.

He was helpless, knowing that when all would be over and the hospital would release her, she would go back to her parents. He couldn't ruin it for her, tell her the truth, because then who else would she have? Perhaps he was considered a friend, but he was no longer her family.

At times he was convinced that perhaps, it was for the better. That not having to remember everything Manon went through, would make her so much happier once she recovered. Then again, he didn't care much about that, for once letting himself be selfish. He wanted her back. After all, they had only just learned how to accept the past and get through it, they were making so much progress, and then it was gone as though no steps were ever taken.

Other times, he was angry, strained, digging his nails into his skin when his fists clenched a little too hard, convinced he wasn't able to hold it in anymore, before the darkest of all would come in, and as he would walk into their apartment after another exhausting day, everything would crumble, and he would cry, all alone.

Her shoes were still left in the corridor, the last sign of her past, pointing to her plants, which weren't doing well. He had hoped she would remember, return to water them herself, care for them and for him the way she always did, but he refused to do so himself, refused to accept what was, and the longer they remained without water, the longer she was vanishing to thin air. So as life dwindled from the greenery, it did from him, too.

Armie would visit often, try to rekindle her memory, reassure Timothée, knowing he had to be there for both people he lost. Everything she was, was gone, and the love of her life was spiraling into a place everyone feared he would never get out of, a place once visited.

His family was very concerned, as was Armie, for Timothée visited her every time, and the longer time passed, the lower his eyes hung, and the shine within them utterly seemed to disappear.