Long Timothee Chalamet Stories

The One (P6)

Warnings - alcohol, drunkenness, secret information, break up, murder suicide, covering information.

I'd gotten slightly tipsy before therapy, knowing it was the only way I'd be able to say what I needed to say. She looked at me in fear as I came in and sat down. I tried to act composed but it was obvious something was off with me.

"What is happening here, y/n?" She asked.

"I love him, I c-can't picture life without him. I'll die if I can't be with him, I know I will," I proclaimed. She was looking at me oddly.

"Well of course, he's your match," she said plainly, penciling something down.

"No, not Theo, Timothée. Timothée is the love of my life. I've been lying to you. I went to see him. I've been cheating on Theo and I don't even care, because Timothée and I, we are meant to be," I told her.

"This is very bad y/n," she said sternly. "You'd throw your match away, for this boy?"

"I already have plans to, I'm leaving Theo. I don't know why, but it didn't work for us. The spark wasn't there," I said dismally. "I know that probably means I'm a fucked up, terrible person, but-"

My therapist got up quickly and locked the door. I looked at her oddly as she placed a piece of black tape over a security camera. Her phone and laptop were both shoved under some blankets, and into the corner.

"You must not tell anyone I said this to you," she said, and leaned in conspiratorially.

"Of, of course," I stuttered.

"You have long been my favorite client, and this is why I am risking telling you this. The Match's aren't exactly what everyone thinks. I can't go into detail, but if you do some research about a company called Brute Work Tech, you may find some answers," she told me.

I left the office with my world spinning, and not from the alcohol, no I'd sobered up quickly at my therapists revelation.

What could this all mean? It didn't change my plans, I was on my way to Theo's to break up with him. Soon, I would lay guiltlessly in Timothée's embrace.

"Theo!" I knocked at his door. He answered with a broad smile.

"Just the person I always want to see," he beamed, and tried to kiss me. I backed away.

"What is it?" He asked, pulling me in and shutting the door.

"I-I want to break up Theo," I said plainly.

"Very funny," he laughed.

"It's not a joke," I said solemnly.

"You can't be serious, we're matched!" He exploded. I winced.

"I don't feel it, it's never been real for me. You can't honestly say it has for you," I said.

"It just takes time, sometimes the fireworks take time!" He pleaded. "I know I love you, that can be enough to wait for the explosions."

"But I don't love you," I said, realizing I needed to be brutal. "I've felt that spark, that matched spark, with someone else. Theo I've been cheating on you. I don't want to give it another go, I don't care about you enough for that. I just want to go home."

I realized home meant Timothée, and it was true.

"No!" Theo screamed, and fell to his knees with angry sobs. He clung to my leg, and guilt at at me as I tried to pull away. Then he was up, going to his coat pocket, and I was trying to make it to the door.

"Don't move," he growled and I heard the click of the safety being turned off on a gun. "Turn around!"

I did as he said, hands up defensively, tears now in my eyes.

"Why do you have a gun Theo?" I asked him.

"Safety precaution," he said.

"Don't do this," I begged.

"I've got nothing left! My match is leaving me. I'm that undesirable that the person I'm meant to be with in my fucking dna doesn't want me!"

"I never said you were undesirable! Not everyone has a match, you could still find someone! You could be happy," I tried.

"Shut up whore, if I'm going to be disgraced, so will you!"

The shot rang out. The pain ripped through me. I fell to the floor, blood going everywhere. My vision blurred with pain as I watched Theo turn the gun on himself, push it into his mouth, and pull the trigger. Brain matter and blood scarred the walls. He was dead, but I wasn't yet!

I managed to pull out my phone, and called 911. I told the operator everything. She said a team was on their way, prepped with EMTs. Next, I called Timothée who was weeping, begging me to stay on the line with him, but I couldn't, there was one last call I needed to make, even though I could hardly speak.

"I need to talk to Dr. Jaminson please," I sputtered out.

"We're sorry, no one by the name works here," said the lady.

"Check again," I begged.

"No records of her ever working here in fact, are you a patient with us?"

"Yes, y/n y/l/n," I gasped.

"Mmm, I think you have the wrong number, we have no patients by that name, goodbye."

I stared at the number I'd called until the EMTs arrived. It wasn't incorrect.