Timothèe Chalamet Imagines

✵surgery✵

Your POV

"Ow," I whine.

"I know, I know. Just lay down and try to fall asleep."

"But my knee hurts so bad."

"I know it does. I'm sorry," Timmy whispers, leaning over me and tucking me into the covers of our bed.

I just had a huge knee surgery, and I'm still out of it from the anesthesia. Getting home was strange and disorienting. I can't remember what time of day it is. All I know is that Timmy has been with me since I woke up.

"My knee..." I whisper. The last thing I see before I fall asleep again is his face leaning over mine. Then I'm out.

***

When I wake up again, the room is completely dark and my knee is throbbing with pain. It switches between aching and stabbing, and I try to sit up.

What time is it? Next to me, where Timmy would usually sleep, the bed is empty.

"Timmy?" I croak out into the darkness, barely sitting up. I feel like a child again, calling for my mother.

I hear him run through the hallway and he appears instantly in the doorway, rubbing his eyes and striding in quickly. Even through the pain and darkness I have to appreciate how cute he looks in his plaid pajama pants, hair all fluffed up around his head.

"Hey, Y/N. How are you feeling? You need to take your pain meds... you start the antibiotics tomorrow so we don't have to worry about that. How are you feeling?" he repeats himself, walking over to me and stands by the bed, petting my hair with his fingers.

"I'm still... tired." My voice sounds strange and weak. I can kind of feel the anesthesia still in my body, but I think it's mostly gone. I just feel disoriented.

"Okay. Here," he says. He reaches over to the bedside table and hands me two of my prescribed pills and a glass of water.

I take them gratefully and swallow them.

"How come you're sleeping in the living room?" I ask.

"I didn't want to accidentally touch you or anything. Sorry," he adds, seeing my face fall. "I think I'm gonna grab my sleeping bag and sleep on the floor so I can be closer to you," he says.

I feel so guilty that he's doing this for me. Judging by how quickly he came, I'm sure he wasn't actually sleeping in the living room.

He reaches up to the top of our closet and pulls down a sleeping bag, grabbing a pillow from the bed next to me.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" he asks me as he lays down the bag.

"Yeah... it really hurts," I complain. Usually I'm not so whiny and needy but I'm so tired and it really does hurt.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice thick with genuine sympathy. He stands and leans down, kissing the top of my head. "I wish I could take it away for you," he whispers. I smile. Just his words make me feel better.

I lay back down and try to get comfortable. I fall asleep very quickly, exhaustion and pain getting the best of me very easily.

***

The next time I wake up, the room is flooded with sunshine. I feel more clarity now, and definitely more pain. The numbing they did has officially worn off, and I can actually feel how deep the incision is.

I don't want to call for Timothèe though, because that seems ridiculous. I sit up and start to move my legs, but I accidentally cry out in pain when I try to move my right knee.