"all of the guys tell me lies,
but you don't."
how to disappear
-Lana Del Rey
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
Speaking to the police resulted in nothing for June. No further actions were taken because "nothing important was stolen." June stayed at Timothée's place that night. And the next night. And the night after that. He would notice June zoning out multiple times throughout the day, deep in thought. She was constantly wondering why someone would've stolen a picture. Her expensive headphones were laid on the kitchen counter that same night, practically screaming, "take me! take me!" And yet, they decided to steal a picture on a fridge.
Timothee knew everything about June. He knew how she liked her coffee, and he knew about her fear of moths. He knew how her eyebrows scrunched together tightly when she was thinking too hard, and he knew her jaw would tighten right before crying. Every night at 3 AM, as if his body was trained to do so, he would check to see if June was still up. And she always was. She would stare at the ceiling the whole night, trying to figure out what was so special about the damn picture. There were probably a hundred pictures of the two of them on the internet.
Timothee held her in her arms each time he saw she was still up, rocking back and forth until the thousands of thoughts in her mind had run out.
As she drifted to sleep, he would watch her for another minute before going back to sleep—just to see if she was alright.
"Stop staring at me, weirdo." June joked, her eyes still shut. She could feel his gaze.
Timothée placed a kiss on her forehead, "Sorry." he apologized, making June laugh. He shut his eyes immediately.
Timothee spent the past three days distracting June from her worries. He dragged her to two different bookstores. June had reached for a random book on the shelf and read the back cover. She put it back after concluding that she wasn't interested. Timothee still bought it for her.
While June sat on the floor of the living room reading her new book, Timothee was sitting behind June attempting to braid her hair. He would occasionally plant a kiss on her cheek.
Timothee even performed the entirety of "Drive-in Saturday" by David Bowie for her after noticing her begin to pick at the skin on her nails again. She laughed hysterically and threw a pillow at him as the song came to an end. The rest of her worries swooshed away after that.
On the second night of staying at Timothée's house, the both of them were on opposite sides of the couch, sharing one blanket. Timothée answered a call from Pete as he sent out emails with his phone on speaker. June was reading the book Timothée bought for her, occasionally tuning into the conversation.
Randomly, Pete said, "You know who has to get laid?" June let out an airy laugh from her nose after hearing his words, her eyes still focused on the page in front of her.
Timothée threw his head back as he laughed, his focus leaving his computer screen, "who?" he asked in between a laugh.
Pete took a bite out of his meal, "You," he said, his mouth full of food, "Aye, June! Do my man Timothée a favor and—"
Pete's words cut off when Timothée abruptly hung up, his face turning red. June couldn't help but laugh, and once she started she couldn't stop.
Recently, there had been a certain type of tension between Timothée and June.
That same morning, June had been struggling to put her earnings in due to the dark lighting of Timothée's apartment. The light in his bathroom was way brighter. She turned the knob to the door and stepped in, still attempting to put the earnings in even without a mirror. Immediately, June's eyes widened a bit in embarrassment. Timothée had just gotten out of the shower, his hair soaking wet and a towel wrapped around his bottom half. It didn't help that the bathroom was incredibly small, June nearly bumped into him. "Oh—shit, sorry." She mumbled, nearly doing a double take at the sight of his v-line.
June couldn't make eye contact with him for almost 5 minutes after that.
Later that night, the two were both on the hard wooden floor of Timothée's apartment, looking through old childhood pictures Timothée had of him and his family.
"Is this you?" June asked, holding up a picture of a newborn baby with scraggly hair.
Timothée reached forward for the picture, squinting his eyes to get a better look, "Yeah," he laughed.
"If I was a boy— my parents were gonna name me Frank," June told randomly.
"Frank?" Timothée repeated, before breaking into hysterical laughter. The kind of laughter that was contagious to anyone who heard it.
"You must've been an accident." He snorted, tears forming in his eyes from laughter.
June flicked Timothée's forehead at his comment, rolling her eyes playfully with the tiniest of smiles growing on her face even as she tried to act annoyed.
As the two observed the pictures spread out in front of them, June smiled at a photo of Timothée and his sister. The smiles on their faces were large, and the sunglasses Timothée was wearing took up more than half of his face.
"My family wants to meet you," Timothée told. "My sister and my dad read all your articles."
The sentence alone was enough to make June's heart warm up. Timothée had brought up visiting his family with June a few times. His family was currently staying in Italy, so it would be a tad bit difficult to visit his family while she had work.
"I'll take a week off from work and we can visit 'em." June shrugged casually, continuing to go through the pictures. Before Timothée, June would've never taken time off of work just for a trip. But now, she was completely different.
She had become more relaxed and found herself being less awkward and introverted. She walked into work every day with a smile, and it was noticed by all her colleagues.
"You really wanna?" Timothée asked.
June looked up, "Yeah— I don't see why not." She shrugged.
"Venice is beautiful in the summer," Timothée said through a grin, thrilled that June agreed. Before he could utter another sentence, his eyes were drawn to June's hair. He noticed the strands in her hair now appeared to be wavy, rather than straight. "How'd you get your hair like that?" Timothée asked, reaching forward and touching a strand of his hair.
June slapped his hand away in a playful manner, "Like what?"
"Like—wavy."
June frowned, "I just let it air dry."
"I like it."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Timothée answered, genuinely meaning it. He leaned forward to kiss June on the lips.
"Bagels?" He asked, standing up and offering his hand to help June up.
June grabbed his hand, "Say less."
The two of them grabbed their jackets. June snorted when Timothée grabbed June's puffer jacket on accident but didn't notice at all because he was too focused on the conversation they were having.
Timothée and June intertwined their fingers as they began walking on the harsh sidewalk outside of the apartment complex.
Surprisingly, the night was pretty quiet in New York even with all of the people walking around everywhere. There was an occasional honk from a car and chatter of people on the street.
"Do you think I should move?" June asked randomly.
Timothée turned his head to look at her, "Do you wanna?"
"No, but I think—" She stopped herself mid-sentence, "I don't know." June sighed.
"You can stay at my apartment for as long as you'd like, Frank," Timothée told reassuringly. "Even if it's for another fifty years."
June couldn't help but smile, he always knew what to say. Like a wise grandpa.
June turns to face Timothée, "Nice jacket."
Timothée looks down at his jacket, "I thought this was mine!" He gasps in betrayal.
June laughed loudly while Timothée still looked shocked. He reached into his pocket after getting a notification.
June's laughter came to an end when she saw a certain look on Timothée's face. The previous tiny smile he had on had completely vanished. He now looked confused. He stopped in his tracks.
June also stopped, "What?"
Timothée showed June the screen. June squinted to get a better look. A big notification on the screen read,
"AirTag Found Moving With You. The location of this AirTag can be seen by the owner."
June looked at Timothée, looking shocked and confused. Immediately, he threw off the jacket and began digging through all the pockets.
"I can't find it," he said frantically.
June looked like she was gonna throw up. "Check the inside pockets," she suggests.
Timothée reached into the left inside pocket and found nothing. He stuck his hand into the right side, pulling out the white circular device.
June begins breathing rapidly, feeling terrified. She held onto Timothée's left arm. "What the fuck do we do with it," she said in between breaths.
"Let's breathe first," Timothée says after seeing her panicked state. June copied Timothée's slow deep breaths. She held onto Timothée's arms extremely tightly, and he let her.
Unfortunately, no bagels were consumed that night.
When June had slowly begun to relax, she said, "Do we destroy it? Or should we take it to the police?"
Timothée looked completely lost. He had no idea what to say. He felt like freaking out, but that would make June freak out again, and then they'd both be freaked out in the middle of the street.
"Let's— let's take it to the police," Timothée said, his eyes focused on the device in his hand.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
June waited in the crowded and extremely loud waiting room while Timothée spoke to a police officer. She had been sitting in the old and uncomfortable seat for almost two hours now.
It seemed like all of New York was in this police station tonight. June couldn't stop picking the skin off her nails. She could feel the stitching in her socks and it was driving her insane.
She wondered how long the AirTag had been in her pocket.
June sighed when she finally saw Timothée coming back after two fucking hours. "They took it," he explained, referring to the AirTag. "He said he would call once they figure out who it belongs to."
"Where are we gonna go?" June asked. Her eyebrows were scrunched together, making a tiny little vertical line.
"We can stay in a hotel— it'll be fine." He reassured. In fact, he had been reassuring June all night. It's what she needed. Every over-thinker needs an under-thinker to tell them that It'll all be fine.
June said nothing else. She nodded and grabbed Timothée's hand, following after him.
Quickly getting back to Timothée's apartment, they grabbed their stuff as quickly as possible.
June had barely muttered one word the whole time until they had gotten into bed at the hotel, and the both of them were sitting up. Timothée looked over at her phone to see she was looking up "AirTag price."
Timothée snorted, making June look up. "This person spent a whole twenty-seven dollars and seventeen cents on me." She said with her eyebrows raised. "I'm flattered."
"That's six whole coffees," Timothée told while he rested his head on June's shoulder, tracing tiny circles on the back of her hand like he always did.
He almost immediately lifted his head up after seeing how torn up her cuticles were. "Holy shit, Frank," Timothée said before making his way over to his backpack and digging through it.
He returned a few seconds later with multiple bandaids. He grabbed her hand and carefully wrapped the most injured-looking fingers with spider man bandaids.
"You carry Spider-Man bandaids with you?" June asked, looking surprised.
Timothée frowned, "You don't?"
"Great point."
After wrapping her fingers he lifted her hand to kiss the back of it. Not long after that, the two had drifted to sleep.
June had to return to work the next day. Timothée had walked her the whole way, his arm wrapped around his shoulder as per usual.
"I like your beanie," June said through a smile to Timothée. She pulled the beanie down to cover his eyes.
He took it off to uncover his eyes. "I like your face," Timothée said with a grin before kissing her on the lips and then placing the beanie on June's head. "Keep it."
New York was finally starting to get sunny. It was the type of weather where the sun is bright, but there were still traces of snow on the ground. "You're too kind," June said, pinching the side of his face.
"What would you do without me?" Timothée sighed sarcastically, pulling the door open to Vogue headquarters.
"I guess we'll never know," June grinned back, stepping inside.
Timothée continued to walk her to the elevator, "I'll miss you, work dork." He frowned dramatically, then kissed her on her cheek.
"What are you gonna do while I'm gone?" June asked, laughing at his actions.
Timothée shrugged, "Rot in bed and repeat your name a million times until it's 5:30."
June snorted and shoved his shoulder, "Later, Tim." She said before stepping into the elevator.
While Timothée began walking out of the building, another voice yelled, "Hold the elevator!"
June immediately put her foot in between the two doors to hold them open. That voice belonged to Callie. She ran into the elevator, completely out of breath.
"Hey, July." She said in between breaths.
June rocked back and forth on her feet, "Hey, Callie." She said with a small smile.
Callie slowly began to catch her breath. "What's new?" She asked, her heart rate returning to normal.
"Nothing really— I have a lot of work to do," June told.
Callie sighed, "Me too."
The both of them were silent for a few seconds. June hoped Callie wouldn't say anything else. She was tired of socializing.
"Wanna grab coffee later?" Callie asked.
June was so awful at saying no. She always was. So instead of saying, "no thanks," she said, "Yeah, sure!"
Callie stepped off the elevator while June remained inside of it, "See you at two!" She shouted.
"I hate myself sometimes," June said under her breath when the elevator doors shut again.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.