𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 • 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡é𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐭

32

peaches
Rosa Hampton

      SHE SLIPPED INTO his car the morning they were due to be on set. She'd done this plenty of times but because of last both the air felt heavy and she suddenly felt isolated although Timothée was sat right next to her.

The car began to drive as she leans back, the cool air from the slightly ajar window hitting her face, moving her scent right under Timmy's nose where he sighed in content. She whistles a little, attempting to break the awkward silence. It did nothing. Only made Timmy react and quickly turn on his radio.

One of Rosa's favourite bands (Lany) began to be blasted out as Rosa gasped, reaching for the volume where both of their hands touched slightly, electricity flying through each other's finger tips. The things people do to each other in times of attraction.

Timothée smiled, gently knocking her hand out the way, turning up the lyrics to ILYSB. Rosa updated her social media most of the way, spamming with videos of Timmy singing every sing word, her occasionally jointing in.

Mad cool in all my clothes. Mad warm when you get close to me. Slow dance these summer nights. Our discos balls my kitchen light.

Both screamed these lyrics at the top of their lungs, finally enjoying each towers company, slowly regaining confidence to talk to one another, each forgiving one another for the words that they should, but never speak.

The song shuffled and Mystery Of Love began to play out the speakers. A small smile rose to Timmy's face as he looked at Rosa in the corner of his eye. She was mouthing the lyrics, every single one of the lyrics.

Boundless by the time I cried. Built your walls around me. White noise what an awful sound. Fumbling by rouge river. Feel my feet above the ground. Hand of god deliver me.

They turned into the studio as Timothée showed identification as Rosa carried on singing her best. Even whilst they drove around, searching for a parking spot.

Oh oh woe is me. The first time that you touched me. Oh will wonders ever cease? Blessed be the mystery of love.

The radio turned off when the car turned off, leaving Rosa still mumbling the lyrics underneath her breath. Timothée turned to her, placing his finger tips gently under her chin, turning her face to meet his. Rosa felt her heart begin to pound, her lips tingling with the thought of his on hers. But her heart sunk when he merely whispered that they had arrived and he dropped her chin as quickly as he had enraptured it, walking away from his car, leaving a stunned Rosa almost weeping inside as she gasped for breath, her panic attack overwhelming her.