Italy In The Spring [h.s]

18

Aurora's P.O.V

"Get in the fucking car, Timothée," I groan, standing beside the door and waiting for him to get inside.

He's acting like he can't walk or even function. Like fuck, it was a mild concussion and three stitches. And he wasn't on the verge of dying, Harry just knocked the shit out of him. They made him stay in the hospital for one day, and Timmy was acting as if he was on his death bed.

"Is he still there?" He stands in front of me with his arm crossed. "I'm not going back there if he's still there."

I roll my eyes and check the watch on my wrist, wishing he would hurry up and get in the fucking car. I'm already dreading having to drive him back to the house which is going to take thirty minutes. And I just know he's going to be complaining the entire ride back.

We still need to have the conversation about us taking a break... and possibly even breaking up. I'm leaning more towards the breaking up side, but first I want to see his reaction when I mention us taking a break. He's not going to be happy, that's for sure.

"Yes, Harry is still there. He's not leaving anytime soon," I reply shortly.

"Then I'm not getting in the car," he turns his nose up and I'm literally two seconds away from strangling him.

"Timothée Chalamet. Get in the fucking car before I give you a severe concussion."

He stares at me in retaliation, refusing to move, "I'm not going to sleep under the same roof as him."

I release a deep breath and press my fingertips to my temples, closing my eyes before I lose my fucking mind, "Then you can sleep outside. Just get in the damn car."

"No."

I snap my eyes open, staring so harshly at him I'm afraid he'll die on the spot, "Get in the goddamn car or I'm leaving you here."

"I'm not going to talk to him," he finally speaks, slowly getting inside the car.

I slam the door shut behind him and stalk over to the drivers' side. "I wasn't expecting you to. He doesn't want to talk to you either, in case you haven't noticed," my hands snap the seatbelt around my torso and I angrily start the car, hoping this thirty-minute car ride goes by as fast as it can. Maybe I'll speed.

He remains quiet, keeping his arms folded over his chest like a child. I don't even bother striking up a conversation.

Until I do.

"I think we need to take a break."

If Timothée were driving, he probably would've run off the road.

"What?" He snaps and whips his head to the side to look at me. "What do you mean we need to take a break?"

"Why wouldn't we?" I reply and cast a brief glance his way. "Do you not remember all of the shitty things you said to me two nights ago? You're lucky I didn't immediately say I want to break up, because I'm leaning heavily towards that option."

Rage boils from him, steam and red hot anger licking the side of my face as he sends me a death glare, "Breaking up?"

"Yes, Tim. Breaking up. Remember how you wouldn't put it past me to cheat on you and how you hate that stupid nickname I gave you?" My eyes stay on the road, too afraid I might run us into a ditch if I were to look at him.

"I didn't mean any of that. I was just... mad."

A sarcastic laugh slips past my lips and I shake my head, "Sure, okay. I think I know you better than that."