𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐓, timothée chalamet

𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣

real life

"... So." Stevie started, picking at the grass of the field in which they were sat. Herself and Timothée had gotten changed back into their normal clothes whilst the catering department had packed them a picnic. They had taken the picnic basket and blanket and found a shaded spot in the park that they were shooting in.

"So?" Timothée raised an eyebrow at the girl that he knew so much yet so little about.

"Like Greta said: What has happened to you since the break up?" She rested back on her elbows as the cool autumn sun rested in the sky.

"Well you know I was in the middle of filming Miss Stevens when it uh... when it ended." Timothée started, earning a nod from Stevie. "Well, yeah... and you know I signed the contract for Call Me By Your Name in 2013 and then it finally happened. Then after that it just kind of didn't stop. I just kept booking role after role. Then the Oscar nomination... It was just crazy. I don't know. It still is."

"Okay..." Stevie tilted her head at the boy. "You literally just read me your Wikipedia page. That doesn't really tell me much about who you are now. The man you've grown to be. What are your interests? How are your family? Do you still sleep with your socks on? Is your favourite fast food place still Chipotle? Who are you, Timothée?"

"Well, who are you?!" He raised his voice a little, her words touching a nerve inside of him that he didn't know existed. "I still think I'm the same person that I was! But you... You're so different. You're so... bland. You don't laugh at my jokes like you used to and you don't sing anymore and you don't even wear your hair in that stupid pink scrunchie that you were oh so obsessed with. You don't even call me Timmy anymore! Who the fuck is Timothée? And even worse who the fuck is Stevie?! Your name is Stef!"

"Jesus Christ." Stevie tried her hardest not to laugh. "Do you need to take some deep breaths or something? I grew up Timothée. That's what changed. That's exactly what Greta was getting at! You know 18 year old Stefanie, not 21 year old Stevie. Just like I only know 19 year old Timmy, not 22 year old Timothée."

He sighed deeply. "Well, 22 year old Timmy still likes rap music, he still FaceTimes his Grandma every Sunday and yes, he still sleeps with his socks on. His family are all great, no changes really, except Pauline moved to Paris. His favourite fast food place is actually In N Out now... Hollywood changed him, man." Stevie smiled, rolling her eyes at Timothée's poor joke. "And what about Stevie? Not to sound rude but the only things I know about you from the break up to now is what Sonny has told me... and he didn't really let much slip. What's your story?"

Stevie pursed her lips, unsure of where to start. "Well. You broke up with me. I cried for a few weeks. I graduated. I filmed my first movie over the Summer. I got a place at Georgetown to study International Relations, but declined it—"

"Sorry, you rejected your admission to Georgetown?" Timothée stared at the girl with a furrowed brow.

Stevie shrugged. "I knew after stepping foot on the set of The Nice Guys that it wasn't what I wanted to do. Why waste time, money and energy on something that you aren't wholly passionate about? Anyway, then I interned for Hillary Clinton on her presidential campaign. Then I dove straight back into acting and I didn't stop."

"Again." Timothée cleared his throat. "I could read that on your Wikipedia page. We need the nitty gritty. Why did you stop singing?"