Long Timothee Chalamet Stories

My Boyfriend's Sister's Boyfriend (P7)

Warnings - smut, oral (female receiving), cheating, abuse, name calling

"Y/N, where the fuck is your ring?" I heard Dillon growl. In seconds I was slammed back against the wall. My head hit it with a sickening sound. I was too dizzy to respond. His hand was around my neck.

"You really lost the ring?" He snapped.

"Let me explain," I gasped. His grip eased on my throat.

"I took it to the jeweler," I coughed.

"Why?"

"It kept slipping off, I didn't want you to have to pay for it to be adjusted. You've done so much for me already. I didn't want to bother you," I explained. The flattery worked. He was smiling, releasing me. He didn't thank me of course, just seemed pleased with my answer.

"Get a picture of it when you get it back," he requested.

"I will," I promised. I rubbed my neck gingerly. No apology came as we hung out. Dillon was becoming more and more foreign to me. I could think of a million things I could talk to Timothée about, but I couldn't think of anything that I cared to know about Dillon. The time he was over passed arduously. I was afraid to enforce a leaving time, for fear he'd hurt me again.

Finally, he was gone. I threw on pajamas and tried to de-stress. All I could think about was Timothée. I didn't know what I was going to do. Did I disappoint everyone in my life? Choose myself and what I wanted? If Dillon was like this now, what would he be like down the road? What if we had kids. I would let him push me around before I ever let him touch my child.

My thoughts were broken by an insistent rap at the door. I got up, wondering who the Hell it could be, and hoping against hope that it wasn't Dillon. I opened the door to see, Timothée.

"Timmy, what are you doing here?" I asked. I saw him grimace at the nickname. It must hurt him to hear it.

"I'm asking the board to be reassigned," he confessed.

"What?" I asked.

"I can't do this, I can't have you just out of reach, It's torturous. Maybe if I had to suffer alone, but to know you feel the same way? I can't hurt you too, I can see how hard it is for you as well."

"Timothée, you can't do this. What if we never see each other again?" I asked, and I found that my eyes were burning. Tears were falling. He moved forward, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

"I don't want this anymore than you do," he said softly. "But you said you're trapped. I'd be more than willing to help, even if you didn't want to be with me. But you've got to be willing, and I don't think you are," he said gently.

"It isn't because I don't love you," I said, through sobs.

"I know," he pressed his forehead against mine.

"I have something to give you," he said, after a moment. He pulled a thick stack of paper from his bag.

"But first, you left this at my place," he said, handing me my engagement ring. I nodded, slipping in my pocket. I felt sick wearing it, especially in front of Timothée.

"Here," he handed me the stack of papers, they were all in envelopes.

"What is this?" I asked, scanning the material.

"Ever since the day I met you, I've been writing you letters everyday. Just my thoughts. what I wish I could tell you. Stuff like that. I thought you should have them, since I'm leaving."

I looked at the effort of love in my hands. He'd taken time to hand write me letters, everyday, since he'd met me. Had Dillon ever done anything so sweet, even with prompting?