Long Timothee Chalamet Stories

The One (P7)

Warnings - recovery, government conspiracy, horny, mentions of suicide

"No, you're not fucking moving," Timothée growled.

"I just want some water," I said. Timothée and I had been inseparable since the incident with Theo. His family hated me. Timothée's break up had gone much better. She'd been sad, but said she didn't feel the spark either so they shouldn't kid themselves, and that they both deserved a chance to be happier.

He wouldn't let me do anything. He was serving me hand and foot. One of the hardest parts was that now, we could've had some awesome, guilt free, love making, but he wouldn't allow it. I couldn't shower alone (this part I didn't really mind), or go to the bathroom alone. He helped me eat and got me everything I needed. I realized this is what a match was, someone willing to lay down so much for your safety and happiness.

Because I was practically bed bound, I'd been doing research on Brute Work Tech. There was almost no trail. No businesses with that name, no copyright, no news articles. Most results suggested similarly named businesses, and then at the bottom were a couple Reddit and tumblr posts I'd disregarded. As the search got more difficult, I was starting to think I needed the common internet dwellers opinion.

"I wish you'd stop obsessing over what your therapist said," he whined as he handed me a glass of cold water. "It'll only stall recovery."

"I just have to know Timothée, it is so strange," I said. I'd called back the therapy office multiple times, I'd had Timothée call too. Finally, my number had been blocked after they suggested I get psychiatric help for obsession.

"I know it's weird, but there's probably a logical explanation," he said, coming over to cuddle next to me again. I felt the press of his hard cock against me. I couldn't focus when he was like this, it happened on and off and it drove me nearly to insanity that he wouldn't let me do anything about it. Jerking him off wasn't going to reopen my wound.

"Baby, please, please let me do something to you. I'm practically a fountain over here I'm so needy," I begged.

"N-No, we can't," he said, and I knew he was convincing himself as well as me.

"Then please remove your hard on off me, it's too distracting while I research," I said. He sighed but moved away slightly. I felt the absence of his body like a missing limb.

I clicked on the Reddit thread, it was about conspiracy theories.

"I have a theory that this whole Match thing is a farce. We have matching DNA, then wouldn't we be siblings or twins? I'm no scientist, but it seems too convenient that they've had no mismatches. No complaints."

"Hey," said one comment. "You have to add in a bias someone who would take that test would have. They probably fully back the idea of everyone having The One for them. They also probably have confirmation bias, once they were "proved" right, they had already bought into their match being perfect for them. A lot of this isn't science, but mindset."

None of these were helpful. I'd seen truly matched couples, you couldn't fake their connection. Finally, at the very bottom, before the thread was locked, was a comment with the key words I'd searched. There were about fifteen downvotes, nothing too egregious, but enough to stick out.

"My cousin worked for the company that created the match test, only before it wasn't called, Matchmania, it was called Brute Work Tech. He didn't work on finding a love potion or anything like that, he was analyzing personality data of workers, like what makes a harder worker, what makes a lazier one. I have no idea where he is now, his whole life has been wiped clean, as if he never existed. Brute Work Tech is not a thing on a Google search, and we suddenly have a Match Test that is considered infallible. It just seems off to me," said the user who had since deleted their account. I was horror struck. Commenters under the user were making fun of them for being so insane, and/or lying for upvotes. The user never defended themselves because the day after that comment was made, their account was deleted.

"Timothée, what if we weren't matched because we're meant to be together, what if we were matched for something else?" I asked.

"Huh?" He asked in confusion.

"We've got to break into MatchMania headquarters."