𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 • 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡é𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐭

46

peaches
Timothée Chalamet

ALTHOUGH SHE LOOKED so frail and weak, Timothée couldn't help but stare at her. Her beauty still radiating off of her inside her small apartment where Timothée would be spending the next few months with her.

"Stop staring." She mumbled, one eye opening to glare at the young boy who simply smiled, planting a kiss on the girls lips. "Stop! My lips are chapped jesus." She shuffled around, grabbing her chap stick and rubbing it into her lips.

"It doesn't matter to me." He smiled. Neither knew what their relationship was. Neither wanted to ask what it was. To them they were best friends who kissed. They enjoyed kissing. Just like they enjoyed cuddling and holding hands. Timothée turned her face and planted another kiss onto her now smooth lips. "Better?"

She nodded, stretching before standing up and going to the small kitchen. This is what she enjoyed about Timothée. He never told her to sit down, that he'll get it and that she doesn't want to waste her energy. She enjoyed getting her own stuff now she wasn't being waited on in a hospital. And Timothée respected that.

"Is Armie coming over later on?" She asked, coming back in with two rice cakes and peanut butter slapped in the middle of them. Timothée nodded and she smiled. She loved Armie with all of heart. But never in the way she felt towards Timothée. Nobody could ever come close to replacing Timmy. Not even Tom.

And Tom hated that.