✔ Statistics » Timothée Chalamet

F o r t y - F i v e

That day, the heartbroken boy did the same thing he did every other day. He composed himself as much as he could, took a deep breath and wiped his tears, walking into the room, watching her as she stared at him with an empty reaction, gifting him a smile that he had long learned meant, she did not remember.

"Hey" His voice trailed off, as positive as he could make it sound, for it was not her fault that she did not remember, and taking anything out on her would be unjust.

"Hey" She smiled, pausing a movie on a laptop that rested on her thighs, averting her full attention to him, used to pausing everything at his arrival "How are you"?

"I'm fine" He lied, the way he found himself doing every day since that accident "I got you something" Timothée pulled a wrapped box out of his backpack and handed it to her, their touch cold against each other.

"Thanks" Manon examined the package, presenting him with a thankful glance, before putting it aside on the drawer, leaving it to be opened another day.

"Any updates"? He leaned his head to the side, wondering to himself if there had been any news, his mind in a frenzy that there were, and he would have to face the consequences of his own ruin.

"Actually, yeah" Manon let out a sigh, as though dreading to have the conversation "I might be going home today".

"Home"? He raised his brow, sinking further into his seat. He was her home, not so long ago, and now he didn't bear any meaning to her.

"With my parents, back to England" The girl informed him, studying his features, the misery he tried to hold back, and before he could quite react, compose himself further, she opened her mouth again "I don't think we should talk anymore after this".

"What"? He raised a desperate question, for in his days of visiting, it never seemed as though she was uncomfortable. She seemed to enjoy having him around, or so he thought.

"I like you, okay? You're nice and you're funny, you're great company to keep" The girl explained wholeheartedly, her eyes darting between the thin air as she put together an explanation "But I can't do this anymore. I know what you're trying to do".

"I get it, okay? You want me to remember, trust me, I do too. And I try so hard, but it's not happening" Manon shook her head, merciless with her words, directed at him, and herself, as though admitting the hard truth both were attempting to avoid "And every time you walk into the room, I know how disappointed you are. I am too. I'm just, so tired" Her words quickly turned into a whisper of desperation, of loss and despair.

"This isn't good. For either of us" Manon looked down at her palms, drawing circles across the hospital sheets, bringing up a topic so sacred.

"So what"? He pulled himself back, restless at the idea "We just never see each other again"?

"Maybe it's for the best" The distant girl admitted plainly, staring right into his soul, shooting an arrow through him with the simplicity of one vacuous gaze "I'm sorry, okay? For your loss and your pain, I didn't mean to cause any of it" Tears were soiled in her eyelids, speaking of the pain she herself hid for so long.

Timothée couldn't say anything. He found himself frozen, resting his palm over his forehead in attempt to comprehend the situation he was in. How could he have gotten to the point he was losing her? What had he done wrong? Why was life so cruel?