In Your Eyes ✧ Timothée Chalamet

28 - make it make sense

E L L A

I knock harshly on the door the moment I make it up the steps.

I left Timmy far behind me because I didn't have the patience to wait for him to park Lola. I was way too anxious and eager to get to my brother and make sure he was still very much safe since we last spoke on the phone.

Aaron doesn't open the door yet though, no matter how many times I knock. Instead he speaks from behind the thick wood. 'Who is it?' His voice is harsh, but theirs a hint of worry in his tone that only I can pick up on.

'It's me A, open up!' I yell desperately and the door flies ajar. He lets me in and a few seconds after I enter the apartment Timmy makes it up the stairs and rushes inside with me. Aaron slams the door shut once we're both in and locks the door, but before I can make out a word to him I study the state of our living room.

The dining table chairs are scattered all across the floor. The couch is wrecked as well, along with it's pillows which now lie on the floor with the fluff that used to be stuffed generously inside of them now dispersed messily all over the ground instead.

I rush over to the kitchen where our squirrel fund used to be hidden. But now it's placed in plain sight right in the middle of our kitchen table, completely empty without one penny left to spare.

Timmy clears his throat. 'How much money was in that thing?' He asks, and I can tell he feels reluctant to even ask such a question.

But I swallow hard and answer anyway. 'About nine hundred bucks... maybe more. Most of it was Aaron's money but I helped out.'

Timmy looks at me and my brother somberly. Not with a look of pity, but instead with a twinge of sympathy in his expression because he's never had to be in a situation like ours. His parents aren't loaded but they have enough, at least enough to keep his life as comfortable and stable for him as humanly possible. He starts to speak up again though. 'I can-'

But I cut him off before he can get another word out. 'Don't even try to finish that sentence Timmy.' The thought of him helping us in anyway made me feel sick to my stomach. I could never take handouts from people, even when I know it's from the heart. I've always worked for what I got. That's how I was raised. To fend for myself. To depend on nobody but my own self when it came to money and stability in life.

Aaron is an exception though when it comes to accepting aid. Because we've always helped eachother out along the way. We've taken beatings for eachother as children and helped eachother out in every tough situation either one of us has ever had to face. That makes it okay for me to accept things from him. But not from Timothée. I could never use him like that.

Timmy goes quiet not letting out another peep in fear of offending me or Aaron again. I look at the empty can one more time, as if our money will magically reappear out of thin air and make the pain in my chest feel less prominent. But there's still nothing there. Nothing at all. And the sight of it makes my throat dry up.

Aaron sits down on the fucked up couch in defeat and lets out a guilty sigh. 'I'm sorry El. Maybe I forgot to lock the door or maybe-'

I stop him before he can continue withering away in his own guilt. 'This wasn't you Aaron. This was someone else.'

'But who would do this to us?' He asks, and I don't know for sure but I definitely have a hunch.

I shrug my shoulders slightly in response to my brothers question though. 'I don't know who did this, but I have an idea Miles does. I mean he did tell me to call you. He must have known this was going to happen.'