ALPHA || TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET

029

Our legs are tangled in my white duvet. My fingers trace circles on Timmy's chest, his neck, his jawline, our bodies enclosed into one another like puzzle pieces. His arms curled around me, fingers grazing my skin, his chin resting atop my head.

As we lie there in my bed after the act, propped up on pillows, my eyes well up once or twice with tears. I hide this, and only nuzzle into his chest and clutch him tighter, stopping myself from any embarrassing outward expression of all I'm feeling.

"I'm glad you told me to come," he half-whispers into my hair, wittiness in his tone, after a long while of our intimate silence. His voice is calmness personified.

I move my head up, coming face-to-face with that wide grin of his, full of giddiness, flirtatiousness, mischief and wonder. Our smiles meet by the lips, and I decide at last that he is my favorite person in the world that I've ever kissed.

"I'm really happy you're here."

——————

"Do I remember you saying that you hadn't watched Call Me By Your Name?"

We're lying on our sides now, facing one another, our legs tangled under the covers. Timmy pulls my duvet further up, fingertips brushing against my bare shoulder in the process, gently moving back the hair around my face.

I'm ashamed at the reminder of this — it's true, I only ever watched him in Lady Bird, and that was before I'd even met him.

"You remember correctly." I stick out my bottom lip. "I'm sorry. I feel bad. But really, I have been wanting to watch it! I think maybe I just started avoiding it more after...you know." Because it was true. The past month had been a roller coaster; a lot of times, I wondered if I'd ever be able to watch another film with him in it.

"That's definitely fair. I forgive you."

"Really?"

"Sure. You just have to promise me you'll see it."

"Tonight." I sit up abruptly. "Let's watch it tonight."

"But it won't be the same if you watch it with me. You need to see it without me to fully experience it, you know?"

"But I wanna see it!" I pout playfully, sprawling out on my stomach next to him.

He's giggling. "Trust me."

"Fine. I just really wanna see it now. Like more than ever. But I get it."

His arm reaches out again and I sit up just a bit, letting it wrap around my shoulders and pull me back into his chest.

"You know, you've talked about the film before with me. You glow every single time."

A smile curls onto his face. "It changed my fucking life."

"Academy-Award nominated actor Timothée Chalamet."

His nose scrunches up as he smiles. "Still not used to that, honestly." His fingers scratch his jawline.

"Tell me more about it. About Italy and shooting."

He's staring up at the ceiling, and I'm watching him replay memories in his head. "I don't ever know where to begin. Those were three of the greatest months of my life, if not the greatest, period. I got to Italy a month and a half early to learn piano and Italian. And getting to experience all of it with Armie, with Luca and everyone else on the set — I've never experienced anything quite like it at all. I never will again. Nothing will ever compare to shooting that film."

He continues talking about Italy, the time he spent there on his own, the time he spent with Armie before shooting, details and experiences of his own that were never mentioned in any interviews.

"You did see Lady Bird, right?"

"I've seen it more than once. It's beautiful, start to finish, and it resonated so much with me, you know."

"San Fran to New York."

"Exactly. Right after watching it the first time, I cried and called my mom."

"The film is brilliant. Greta really is brilliant." He goes on to talk about how much he loved Greta's directing, the material she assigned him to read for his role, working with Saoirse and being intimidated by her presence on set. "You've gotta meet Saoirse. And Greta."

The boy is lost in his head, a glowing smile resting on his face the whole time, telling me all about playing a dead body on Law & Order and being on Homeland. The film Miss Stevens and other early projects, and how he thought he would always remain an indie film actor.

"Guess the universe had other plans, huh?"

"Guess so." He turns to look at me. "I'm sorry for rambling."

"You weren't rambling."

"Also, you don't have to see those other projects if you don't want to. Except maybe Miss Stevens, I really liked that one. But you don't have to—"

"Timmy." My hand rests on his cheek, our heads turned to face each other, his eyelashes fluttering. "I want to see every single thing you've been in."

Looking at him when he's this happy is one of my favorite things, I've decided. Or perhaps just looking at him in general. He kisses me and pulls me tighter into his chest, and I'm resting on my side, his lips resting on my forehead, his thumb stroking my jawline.

"I like listening to you talk, you know. You're full of so much. Don't think less of yourself," I say, looking up to make eye contact again. "Okay?"

"Okay," he nearly whispers, kissing my forehead.

We're back to lying together in our comforting silence once more, before I speak again. "Maybe I'll write about you one day."

To this, he moves my face back up to his, and for a moment, we're just looking at each other. And maybe it's just the heightened emotion, but I come to realize it for sure — that looking at him just might be my favorite thing in the world.