Tʀᴜʟʏ? - ᴀ ᴛɪᴍᴏᴛʜᴇ̀ᴇ ᴄʜᴀʟᴀᴍᴇᴛ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛᴏɴ

20

My bag was packed and I was ready to go to my moms, as she and my brother were going to be at her house in Connecticut and I was going to go straight from the house back to the set for Little Women. My heart pounded mildly as I ungracefully dragged my bag out of my dorm building, hearing the wheels squeak under the weight of two weeks worth of outfits. Today I was wearing a set of gray sweatpants and sweatshirt, my hair in a messy bun. I had a mild hangover from the night before but I was thankful I didn't drink much. As I reached the parking lot, I heaved my suitcase into my car. My heart continued to pound. I was going to see my brother for the first time in years. I began to wonder what he would look like. When he left, he had a gap between his two front teeth and floppy brown hair. I brushed the thought off, trying to ignore the pang of sadness I had felt for so long, when all I felt was that I missed my big brother.

As I got on the road, a certain someone drifted into my mind. Timothèe. I stopped the smile that threatened my face as soon as I felt it coming on. Unfamiliar butterflies circled around my stomach. He hadn't texted me at all since last night, but I could hardly blame him, as it was only six in the morning. I could feel as if his presence still lingered on me, like a perfume you couldn't wash away with a shower or the smell of campfire sticking on your skin. I remembered his movies. The way his face would contort into deep emotions, he would embody the role he was given. I remembered my hand on that face. My fingers brushing through the curls. Those hands he used to play piano and guitar had been wrapped around my waist, holding my head still, and around my shoulders. Then the lips. The lips which had said wise lines with emotions I could never fake. I remembered how soft they were on mine. I longed for them now, but selfishly I knew that I had to stay detached if I didn't want to get hurt.

After a while, I pulled into the driveway of my childhood house. The shutters were closed tightly and the house looked cold. I took a deep breath as I took my key out of the ignition and stepped out of the car. Walking to the back of the car, I pulled my suitcase out and prepared myself to walk inside. The house exterior was still painted the pastel yellow that was my moms weak attempt to brighten things up. The gray light reflecting from the overhead clouds just made it more depressing. I walked onto the creaky porch and lightly tapped the door. I waited for a while until footsteps sounded and I was greeted by my mothers stern face.

"Hi." I said, giving a completely fake smile. I watched as her eyes dragged up and down my body, looking at my appearance.

"Hello. Come in." She said curtly. I didn't realize it would be this tense. I struggled to get my suitcase over the threshold. Once I finally got inside and shut the door behind my, I saw my moms judgmental stare.

"You can put that in your room."

"Okay."

As I opened the door to my room, nostalgia came crashing down. It was the same, bleach white room. Flowing linen curtains with lace lining the edges. White bedpost, white duvet, an abundance of white pillows. The only splash of color was a light brown teddy bear on the center of the bed, of which I had affectionally named Mr. Legs when I was young. He was a gift from my brother when I broke my leg falling out of a tree. I turned and walked to the white wardrobe. Small blue flowers had been carefully hand painted onto the pastel vines that lightly coated the inside. I unzipped my suitcase and started taking out my clothes, hanging up the few dresses and sweatshirts I had brought. After I finished unpacking, I sprawled out on my bed. I know it was rude, but I didn't feel like talking to my mom right now. My phone buzzed next to me and I picked it up, mindlessly scrolling through my notifications. Suddenly, a green notification appeared on the top of my screen. I'm confident that I felt my heart skip, if just for a beat. It was from Timothèe. Instead of opening it, I shut off my phone and placed it face down on the end. I took some deep breaths, trying to regain my train of thought. Does he know what he does to me? i'm Does my name at the top of his lock screen make him react the same way? Questions ran through my head like trains running through the station. Eventually I decided to grow up and respond. I quickly opened it and read what he said.

T. : sleep well?

My heart fluttered and a blush stretched across my cheeks. I took another deep breath and started crafting my response.

Me: not too bad. hbu?

I hovered over the chat for a while, but eventually realized he wouldn't be responding back immediately and if he did I would most likely seem a bit stalker-ish when my read receipt was sent immediately. I hopped up from my bed and decided to change. It was after lunch now and my stomach was growling. I sighed and pulled out a nice blouse, pairing it with a short floral skirt. I put a delicate gold necklace and thin golden hoops in my piercings. I sat in front of my white vanity with my old hairbrush, watching as the bristles moved through my dark hair. My eyes watched the movements carefully. It brought me back to when I was younger.

After I was done getting ready, I shoved on some white flats and a bracelet. I quietly creaked open the door to my room, my shoes quietly tapping the floor as I walked down the faint hallway to the living room. As I peered around the corner, I didn't see my mother in sight. I raised an eyebrow and continued along, heading to the kitchen.

"You look nice," my mom said. I practically jumped out of my skin as I saw her, slowly rocking on the ancient rocking chair in the darkened corner of the living room. She didn't look at me once, only focusing on the thick book in her hands.

"Thanks." I said, once I had regained my composure. She hummed in response and an awkward silence settled over the room.

"Do you have anything to eat?" I asked. Her eyes flicked up to me, giving me a stare.

"You can wait until supper." She responded. I pulled out my phone to check the time.

1:00 pm. And I hadn't even had lunch. My stomach seemed to grumble in the response.

"I haven't had lunch yet," I explained. I swear I saw her roll her eyes.

"There's celery sticks in the fridge. Help yourself," She said. I took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen, faking a gag once I was out of her sight. Celery sticks, sure. Next she'll tell me to have some spoonfuls of water, because that will quench my hunger. I opened the fridge and pulled on my lip with my finger. I was utterly bored. When would my brother get here?