Timothèe Chalamet Imagines

❈overdose III❈

Trigger Warning: This depicts suicide and it's aftermath, as well as mentions of PTSD. If this could trigger you in any way, please do not read.

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

This also may only make sense if you've read parts one and two; this is more like a small series and less like imagines :)

Your POV

It's been three days since I discovered Jack on my bathroom floor.

I'm sitting in Timmy's apartment, alone for the first time since it happened. He went back to my apartment to grab some of my things. I just couldn't bare to go.

Each day has been more difficult than the one before it.

My phone rings next to me, and I stare at it blankly before actually reading the name.

'Timmy'

I reach over and pick it up, answering.

"Y/N?" he asks. I forget to answer. "Um... Y/N?"

"Oh. Sorry. Yeah?" I shake my head to clear it.

"I'll be back in, like, 20 minutes. Sit tight. But I wanted to ask you where your tampons are? I can just go get more though, it doesn't really matter. Also your orange sweatshirt isn't on your bed like you said it was. Is it in the closet or something?" he asks. He's so good to me.

"Um, I think the tampons are under the sink in the bathroom. Sorry - I told you the closet - but yeah, they're under the sink. My sweatshirt should be on my bed... but it could be in my pile of hoodies? It doesn't really matter... I guess I just like that one in particular. Just bring whatever clothes you think I might need," I tell him. My voice is dry and hoarse.

"Okay. I'll check. Is there anything else you think you need? I don't want to be weird and pry around for things," he says. I can hear him shuffling through my hoodies. "Oh - found it."

"No. There's nothing else I can think of. Also, you're not prying. You going through my stuff is literally the least of my concerns right now."

"Yeah. Okay," he sighs. "I'll be back really soon. Maybe we can walk to get a coffee?" he asks. I have not left his apartment the entire time I've been here.

"Maybe..."

"I think it would be good for you, but we don't have to. I'll be back soon."

"Timmy?"

"Yeah?"

"Please hurry," I tell him. I know it's ridiculous of me to be so demanding, but I can't stand the silence of being alone. Every time I close my eyes I see flashbacks of Jack laying lifeless on my bathroom floor.

"I will."

I set the phone down and wander around Timmy's living room. His apartment, (well, it's more of a luxurious penthouse), is huge. It has tall floor-length windows that face the city, and the sunlight pours in this morning. I stand in the sunlight, staring at my shadow and how it copies my every move. I can see little pieces of dust floating carelessly in the bright beams.

The three of us had become so close. I had worked on a project with Timmy, and Jack and I had worked together on a movie as well. It hasn't been released yet. I wonder what's going to happen with it. I didn't see this coming. I knew he had a dark side, and I knew that his mental health was not always great. What did I miss? How did I not see what was happening right before my eyes?

My stomach grumbles. All I've had to eat in the last three days is an apple. I haven't been able to keep anything down, but it's obviously time to eat.