✔ Statistics » Timothée Chalamet

T w e n t y

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

In the midst of the chaos storming through her brain, the daring simplicity of the daisy she cradled in her hand brought great comfort to her. The flower glowed proudly under the sunshine, its golden core reflecting the image of the mighty star above. 

Manon always loved daisies. As rebellious as her, they were, bewitching anyone who came in their way all so they could grow wherever they only wished, unable to be ruled by anyone.

The daisies also carried familiarity, their very sight sending her back to her childhood, to the affluent mansions that were overrun with the petty flower, to the point the owners grew tired, and let the daisy become the ruler of the land.

More than anything, the minuscule flower held memories, time spent with Timothée running through untamed daisy fields, or appreciating their bewitching beauty from afar. Those were memories she treasured for years, memories that supported her throughout her lonely stay in France after their devastating separation, providing her with hope that one day, she would return to those same fields, and not alone, but with Timothée by her side.

Manon sat down on the turf below her and found herself wondering what Armie meant. After all, Armie had known Timothée in his recent years, whilst to her, it was getting to know the boy all over again. 

She found herself buried in her thoughts, looking back at her encounters with the boy, trying to find the times where he'd shown her that he wished to be more than just a friend. 

But as she held the flower in her hand, she knew she was breaking her skull to no avail. Her thoughts would never settle, her anxiety would never come to a stop. It was an endless cycle, a torture meant to last for eternity, and she was so, so was exhausted of the endless chase. Her whole life she'd been chasing him, and now that he was within reach, she had not a word prepared.

So she ripped the first petal of the daisy instead, letting an oldened childhood game settle her never-ending doubts.  

"He loves me" Manon uttered to herself, inspecting the first petal as it was quickly overtaken by the wind, being sent away to a further land, where all was well, she'd hoped. 

"He loves me not" She continued monotonously, ripping yet another petal, remembering her days back in France, the days where she first learned about the game that all girls her age seemed to be playing. She always denied participating, perhaps in an attempt to deny her feelings for Timothée, knowing that she couldn't bear to say it out loud, not to others, and not to herself. But there she was, doing just that, out of complete desperation.

Her voice continued, altering between the two sentences as she tried to bring sense to her thoughts.

Timothée was her stability in life, a promise of a better future. He kept her from going insane, from succumbing to the loneliness she so badly felt, even if he wasn't particularly aware of it. She was so thankful for having him in her life, for getting to meet someone as pure and as kind as he was because truthfully, she was the polar opposite. Had her grandmother been in her senses, the old lady would surely ramble something about love, but Manon didn't want to admit it to herself. She couldn't. 

But she felt something, something powerful. It stretched throughout her whole body, overwhelming her, yet making her feel all the more complete. As if it was the missing piece of the puzzle called her life, healing the hole in her heart she wasn't even aware of. With him, she felt capable of everything, but knowing it was all in her head, kept her tied to the ground she walked on.