Timothèe Chalamet Imagines

║alcoholic║

Your POV

I pick up my phone in a panic, and instantly click on Timmy's name. He picks up almost immediately.

"Uh, hey. Could you come get me?" I ask, holding the phone with one hand while I stuff a few essentials into a small backpack.

"Yeah, sure. Is everything okay?" he asks.

"Well... my dad is going through one of his things again. So I kind of just need to leave for a while," I tell him.

"Dammit. Okay. Stay safe, I'll be there really soon," he tells me. I hang up.

"Y?N! Get the fuck down here!" my dad screams at me.

He's an alcoholic, and when he drinks, it's terrifying. I stand in my room for a second, debating whether or not I should obey. I decide it's best to comply instead of resist for now.

He's leaning against the counter, a beer in hand, staring at me with wild, drunken eyes.

"Where the fuck are you going?" he asks, his words slightly slurred. I realize I took my backpack down here with me.

"Oh... nowhere. Just a friend's," I reply rather shakily. He stares at me.

"No you're not. You're going to that fucking boy's house. I know it. Don't lie to me," he says, his voice dangerously quiet.

He slams his fist on the counter, which startles me and makes me jump back against the wall.

"Don't lie to me!" he screams. Is he drunk enough to hit me right now? I don't know.

A knock at the door makes my stomach flip. Timmy is here already? Why would he come to the door?

My father looks at me and raises his eyebrows.

"Well answer it!" he yells. I nod quickly and open the door a crack.

Timmy stands there, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He cranes his neck to try to look over me.

"Why would you come to the door?" I hiss through the gap. Before he can answer, my father pounds up behind me and swings the door open so that it bangs against the wall, leaving dents.

"What the fuck are you doing here you little shit?" my father growls at Timmy. Anger boils inside of me at the way he speaks to him. Timmy's eyes go wide with fear and he gulps.

"I'm... here to pick up Y/N," Timmy says weakly.

"No. She's gonna stay here all night. Sorry, not happening. I'm not gonna let you take my daughter just so she can end up needing an abortion or some shit," my father says lazily, swigging another gulp of his beer.

I shake my head in disbelief. What is he even saying?

"I'm just going to hang out with him. That's all," I tell my father, moving to step outside.

He grabs me by my backpack and yanks me back in with so much force that I trip over our doorstep and slam against our tile floor. I smacked my head against the wall as I went down, and I feel it throbbing as I try to stagger up.

"Hey!" Timmy yells. He shoves my dad back, pushing him by the shoulders.

No no no no.

That was a mistake.

I know what's going to happen before it does. As I regain balance and stand up, my dad seethes for a second before throwing his beer on the ground, letting the bottle smash all over our floors. He grabs Timmy by his shirt, and whirls him around, pinning him against the wall.