Timothèe Chalamet Imagines

✤can't sleep✤

Your POV

I sit upright in bed very suddenly, extremely frustrated that I am thinking about this one moment. Why, why, why did I have to say that in front of my collogues? I just sounded so stupid. Sure it was two years ago, and I work somewhere different now. But god I can't get my own ridiculous words out of my head in this moment, at 2:29am on a Wednesday morning.

"Y/N?" Timmy groans in bed next to me, unmoving. I literally roll my eyes in the dark at myself. Now I've woken him up with my own ridiculous anxiety.

"Nothing. Just go back to sleep," I whisper through the darkness. I watch him from above; his features, smooth with sleep, look so perfect. He's laying on his stomach with his head turned to the side against his pillow. His mouth is parted, and I can hear his shallow breaths leaving and returning his body.

For a moment he's completely silent and still, and I'm convinced he's asleep once again.

"What's wrong?" he asks quietly. He doesn't open his eyes, and I can hear the exhaustion in his words.

"Nothing. I'm sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep. Don't worry about it," I tell him. It truly is stupid - and it's not worth sacrificing his precious sleep for. He's been so busy and exhausted lately.

He lays for a few more seconds before slowly opening his eyes and propping himself up with one arm, half-sitting up in the bed and rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

"Tell me what's wrong, and I'll go back to sleep. You've been moving around for hours now," he says through a yawn. He slumps his shoulder against the headboard, his body turned sideways towards me.

"Ugh, I'm so sorry. It's absolutely ridiculous... but you know when you just keep thinking about something embarrassing from a long time ago and it haunts you in the middle of the night to the point where it makes your skin crawl? Because that is me for some reason right now," I tell him. My words are sort of rushed - I've been wide awake and completely alert for hours.

He doesn't answer for a moment, but yawns again.

"Yeah. I get it. Sometimes I think about... talk shows... oh god, the things I've said on live TV..." his voice trails off and he looks down, obviously lost in thought and exhaustion. Even through the darkness I can see the dark circles that shadow under his eyes. A stab of guilt courses through my chest at the thought that I woke him up.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to send you down the same spiral," I tell him when he hasn't spoken in a while, but is instead still looking off into space. He snaps his gaze back to me.

"No, you didn't. But I definitely get it. I'm sorry your dealing with that right now. Can I ask what it is?"

"Just that random time, like, two years ago when I gave that pitch to the sales team at work and it just went terribly. Everyone was staring right at me with confusion because my facts were wrong, and I had the wrong slides pulled up. And then I started stuttering and people awkwardly clapped and I sat down at my desk again and it was just terrible." I try not to rush my voice. It definitely lifts a bit of the weight from my chest to say it out loud and to another human being.

He chuckles softly and runs one hand through his sloppy, bed-head curls.

"Little things like that can get to you. But just remember - none of those people remember that. Only you remember that, because it happened to you. And you work at a different place anyway, so it doesn't matter. In the light of day you'd just laugh this memory away and you wouldn't give it a second thought. It's only that your mind is empty and void of stimulation, so your brain makes up lies to panic you," he tells me.

"For someone who is so obviously exhausted right now, that was extremely well-said and actually made me feel way better," I tell him thoughtfully. He laughs gently.

"Good."

He slumps lower down on the bedframe before entirely laying down again, pulling the covers over his shoulder and curling up once more.

I lay down next to him, my face inches from his so that I can feel his even breaths tickle my nose.

"I love you," he whispers, shutting his eyes.

"I'm so sorry I woke you up. I know how busy you've been and how sleep-deprived you are right now," I tell him.

"It's fine," he mumbles, close to sleep already. I reach my arm out of the blankets and gently smooth his curls back, running my fingers over his forehead and through his hair until he falls asleep, which is not long after.

I'm going to stop writing so much down here because I don't want to be too dramatic or anything but I just wanted to let you know that I might not be writing as much through the next few weeks because getting rejected really put me back into a dark place. I'm waiting to hear back from NYU now, and if I don't get in I honestly don't know what I'll do with myself. I'm just feeling really shitty and awful, and when I'm depressed it gets really hard for me to do things like this. I won't disappear, and hopefully this is only temporary, (or somehow I'll still find the motivation/happiness to write?) idk. if I feel inclined to write, then I will. thank you so much for reading :) you are all so special to me, and this has been *surreal* :) (iykyk)