Timothèe Chalamet Imagines

❀letters❀

Your POV

Tears well up in my eyes as I wave a final goodbye. He's walking away now... 3 feet away... 4 feet away... 5 feet away...

No.

I run to him one last time and wrap my arms around him as tightly as I can, burying my face into his sweatshirt. I just hold him for one more second before finally letting him go.

"I love you," he whispers for the thousandth time today, letting go of his suitcase and brushing my hair behind my ear. He smiles sadly at me, and his eyes are glassy. He runs one hand through his hair and looks to the side, pressing his lips together.

"Go," I croak to him, trying to force a smile. He nods, avoiding my gaze, and squeezes my shoulder before walking towards security.

And that's it.

He'll be gone for four entire months for something he's filming in Sweden. And he won't have access to his phone or the internet the entire time. So we're going to be heavily relying on written letters - something that sounds beautiful, old-fashioned, and romantic, but is really just a painfully long waiting game.

I almost can't bear to watch him turn the corner, but I do. He gives me a small wave before turning, and he disappears from sight. I know he wanted to stand there longer, to give us a longer last gaze at each other. But he can't stand this either. Better to rip off the band-aid than peel it slowly.

I just stand there for a moment, feeling completely empty. Of course I'll see him again, but it's going to be such a long time. We've been dreading this day for the last few months. We've tried to make the most of our days. But each moment just seemed to be another one inching us closer to this terrible separation.

***

Somehow I make my way out of the airport and back to the car. On my way home, I pick up a coffee that's way to expensive in hopes that it will cheer me up. It doesn't.

I am now pathetically curled on our couch, changed into his sweatshirt, crying and trying to control myself. Neither of us are clingy, but of course I'm going to miss him. Four months is a long time to not wrap my arms around him, or run my fingers through his hair the way he likes, or feel his soft lips against my skin, or see his absolutely adorable grin.

Thinking about all of the things I love about him makes me even more upset, and before I know it, I'm sobbing into a throw pillow we found at a farmer's market a few months ago.

How am I going to go this long without him?

No, no. I'm making this worse in my head than it actually is. It's going to be fine. We'll be able with to write to each other... sure it's going to take a long time for our letters to reach each other but it's better than nothing...

I pull my head up from the pillow and wipe my cheeks with the sleeve of Timmy's sweatshirt.

I have to pull myself together.

I force myself to stand up, and I do the one thing that can distract me more than anything: cleaning.

I start in our bedroom - the closet. I go through every item of clothing I own for the first time in years and create huge piles to keep and donate. After that, I decide to wash our bedding. I strip the bed of everything and toss it all into the washer. Now what? Kitchen. I wipe down every surface, dry every dish, and even mop the floors.

I flop myself on the couch again, exhausted but still feeling the same emptiness inside. I've only killed about 2 hours. How am I supposed to get through the rest of the day?

I close my eyes, pull Timmy's hood over my head, and curl up, trying to fall into a deep, painless sleep.

***