Forever, Yours ➹ Timothée Chalamet

2 | Butter Sticks & Butterflies

And then the clockwork began.

For my second day, I can't entirely say that I've got everything melded into my mind like it's been there for centuries, but I can say that I picked it up quickly enough. I only wish I could do that with everything else in my life. Specifically writing, because that's a problem that my whole career is riding on, not to mention my bills and will to survive in this world.

A few hours passed, and I began to notice that everything was incredibly packed on Mondays, nearly double the amount of customers from yesterday. To be fair, Paris was just as busy a city as Chicago, but....no. Stop, Vera. I kept glancing through the stream of people packing into the tiny bakery, wondering if I could catch a glimpse of familiar green eyes and chestnut hair.

There were spaces in time where I distracted myself, but my thoughts always led me back down that path. I mean, who could blame me? The boy had a certain charm that left you reeling for another conversation, another handshake, and even just another look at him. I'd like to describe him as an aftertaste—hits the hardest when it's gone, and isn't always a bitter ending—but that's not entirely appropriate to say. A lot of people might assume something dirty out of it, and that's not what I mean by it at all.

"Vera, did you hear me?"

I spun around at the sound of Bella's voice, nearly dropping the pan of croissants in my hand. Whoops.

"Oh, no, sorry," I said sheepishly, setting the tray onto the marble counter, "can you repeat that?"

Bella didn't seem too bothered by it (thankfully) and instead gave me a soft smile. She jutted her chin out towards the door behind me, waving at it.

"Butter," she said.

"Butter," I repeated.

And butter it was.

Turning towards the storage door, I swung it open with a slightly dazed gleam in my eyes. I didn't realize I had been zoning out. I do it far too often, and I might accidentally wander into a busy street, walk off a cliff, or accidentally trespass into a top-security area and go to prison one day.

Okay, those are clear exaggerations, but you get my point.

Going into the basement to restock supplies was surprisingly pleasant, because a refreshing breeze of cold air surrounded the metal staircase, winding all the way down to the very bottom of the pit. Bella had shown it to me on the first tour of the place and I found it incredibly interesting.

If I remembered correctly, all dairy items were tucked into a large, white fridge towards the left of the space, so I kept my destination in mind as I listened to the sound of my steps echoing off the stone walls.

It was simple. Go to the basement, get the food, and go back upstairs. Maybe swipe a chocolate bar while I'm at it, but who knows?

But as I turned the corner to the cellar, I came face to face with something incredibly strange and alarming.

The slim figure of a boy had graced his presence before me, and he seemed to be stuck through the cellar's window in an attempt to sneak in. His legs were already inside, his feet just grazing the concrete floor, but the other half of him was still pushing his way through from outside.

He definitely didn't work here.

And in the logistical sense of it, it would be justified to grab a nearby baguette and start beating the unwanted intruder back out the window, but I didn't think to at the moment. In fact, I could barely think at all, because in that split second, I caught a glimpse of strikingly green eyes—and it's not like the color was rare to surround someone's pupils, it was just that I had been thinking about those eyes since yesterday. Those individual eyes — not just green, but blue and gold mixed in with a shimmering glint. I don't know why I ever found myself too attached to a pair of eyes, but here I was...