✔ Statistics » Timothée Chalamet

F o r t y - F o u r

"Getting up" Timothée shrugged his shoulders, before letting out a yawn that spoke of his body's deepest desire, sleep "For you" There was no chance he wanted to miss the day. He wanted to be there for Manon in her day of glory, for he was more than confident she would get the job, she had to.

"No, no, no" Manon pulled his arm as gently as she could, and he fell right back into bed, as though he hardly had any strength to get up "Don't do that".

"You don't want me there"? A frown took over his features, one that perhaps if he hadn't been so tired and less perceptive, wouldn't be there. 

"Of course I do" She ridiculed his precious reaction "But you had an exhausting day last night, you need to rest" Manon nodded as she watched his tired eyes, those that fluttered with might in an attempt to keep him awake. Their little secret in Italy began picking up traction. Timothée was getting more interviews, and he was always out and about, arriving later than usual, far more tired. She was happy for him, accompanied him on his journey, but first and foremost, she looked after him, and she wanted him to get the sleep he deserved. 

"But I want to support my future wife" The boy murmured to himself, sending careless butterflies right into her stomach, the thought of it seeming an astonishing fantasy.

"And I want my future husband to not have dark eye bags at least until he's thirty" Manon tilted her head to the side, sending him one of her adamant glares "Go to bed".

"I hate it when you're right" He let out a disappointed groan, before returning to his side of the bed, the girl tucking him in to ensure he would be most comfortable.

"Which is always" Manon chuckled as she leaned closer to him, pressing a kiss to his forehead "Now rest easy, my love. I'll be back before you know it" He watched her as she changed into her power attire for the day, leaving him to advance back into the world of dreams, those that no longer differed from reality, for he was living the life he had always dreamed of, sowing the seeds of emotions in plenty of strangers, accompanied by his best friend, the love of his life.

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When the sound of passing cars became unbearable and the sudden uneasy feeling he had overslept came into view, his eyes stirred into reality, taking in the surroundings, the empty space beside him, still marked with her favorite perfume.

He stretched his body and let out a groan, greeting the new day with what seemed like much dismay, before finally clearing himself of the bed and taking on the rest of the apartment.

Walking into the kitchen, he stumbled across a glass, a trail of coffee beans going all the way down to the bottom, where an unfinished layer of the inflaming beverage had remained, one perhaps forgotten at the rush of the morning, left to grow cold as life hurried past it.

On the counter rested a prepared meal, perhaps colder to the touch, but still good enough for him to devour, the thought behind it far too precious to give up on. Even when she was late, had places to be, she took care of him, and for that, he was thankful. 

Timothée grabbed the meal, and after a minute of pacing impatiently around the microwave, headed towards their spot, a window embellished in plants of all kind, those laced with spikes and the exact opposite, delicate to the touch.

 He ran his palm over the flora, feeling the damp soil, realizing they had been watered, taken care of by the soul that noticed those that could not speak. He smiled to himself, appreciating the life in front of him as the city bustled with life below.