Always You (Timothée Chalamet Fanfic)

It's Always You

The cool autumn breeze of the night swept into the open window. My body was momentarily suspended in the mass of water around me. The ledge felt cool beneath my hand as I reached for the glass of red wine. I drew the cup to my lips as I let my body sink further into the warmth. The sound of the street jazz performers drifted in from below.

Thoughts about my chaos-filled day swam around in my head. It had been a busy day at the Louvre Museum. My first day as a curator in the most well known museum in Paris was more surprising than expected. After my entire life dreaming of it, you would expect that I'd have been well prepared. However, not a lot can prepare you for being the only woman in a room full of over 40 men, most of them twice your age. I sat in the meeting shrinking into myself more and more due to the constant sideways glances I was receiving. Younger Jordan would've been disappointed in my performance at work. However, it's easy to talk about not caring what others think, but it's another challenge when you're put in that situation.

I shook the disturbing memory from my head. The sweat beads on my forehead were a good indicator that my time in the very-warm bath was over. I stood and dried myself off with the first towel my eyes landed on. My apartment was a good reflection of my past week: items strewn everywhere in utter disarray. I tried to ignore the mess to avoid feeling even more unsettled.

As I put on my loose sweat pants and soft violet camisole, I began to feel more calm. Focusing on the jazz music from below aided me in shifting myself back into the comforted mood that the warm bath brought to me. I checked the time on the clock above my bed and saw it read 9:20. In ten minutes, I expected a knock on my door. Timothée and I had made plans to catch each other up on both of our exciting days at our favorite location: the apartment building's roof. Our apartments share a wall, and considering his usual noise level when he's home, the current quietness suggested to me that he was already upstairs. So much for walking up together. I rolled my eyes and sighed, considering how prone Timmy is to changing plans without any warning. I gathered my things (a bottle of wine, the basket of vegan bakery treats, and my keys) and headed out the door. The climb up the fire escape was a challenge, but the clearer sound of the musicians from below made it worth it. As I reached the top, I soaked in the scene that I often took for granted.

The mix of new and old buildings blended to make the most picturesque night scene only Paris can provide. The park across the street provided orange and yellow leaves that brought vibrancy to the color scheme of the dull bricks in the surrounding buildings. The night lights polluted the air so the stars shone vaguely in the sky. The moon peeked through the clouds in an attempt to outshine the night lights of the city.

I turned around and faced the rooftop where I found Timothée lounging on a fold-able chair. He had arranged our table and chairs in the middle of the rooftop herb garden he started last year. I remembered meeting him for the first time in this very spot as he began to plant the garden. After a few minutes of small talk, I remember the first bonding moment we had.

"It'll be good for the people in our building to have these fresh herbs up here," he had said through a smile, his eyes squinted from the sun beaming down on us. "Not to sound selfish, but I had the idea initially just for my own benefit. I'm vegan, so I do a lot of cooking."

"No way," I said. "Me too! 4 years going strong."

From that moment on, we had been inseparable. I had been struggling to find a friend in the city after I moved here by myself from London once I finished university. I soon found out that Timothée had moved to Paris around the same time from Camberley, which is only an hour car ride from my home. He was everything that I was not, which made him the perfect companion. His spontaneity, goofiness, and optimism balanced out my structured, worried, and quiet disposition. We shared the same taste in almost everything: films, poetry, food, etc. The divide came in music. Timmy and I both shared a love for jazz, but disagreed on any other genre. This had been the source of countless disputes when it came time to put on a record. However, our mutual love for Chet Baker resulted in what is now an extremely over-played record.