ALPHA || TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET

010

(tw: mentions of blood)

I dab at his bloodied eyebrow with a wet tissue, feeling him wince as I gently press against his skin. He sits on the sink counter, his posture hunched over, teeth gritting every so often at the pain. A bruise has begun forming around his eye.

Blood begins running from his nose again, and he leans his head forward while I hold tissues under his nostrils, his hand covering mine.

Other than the bass of the music from outside the bathroom, the two of us have barely said a word, complete silence other than his grunts of pain, my responses of "sorry," and his "no, I'm the one," all under our breath.

Apparently the club bouncers deal with this kind of thing quite often, whether it's someone spilling someone else's drink or someone dancing with another's girl or guy (even if that isn't precisely what happened). The boy whose name I'd forgotten had up and ran after the intervention. Timothée had stumbled back, his face battered and doused with sweat, and I'd immediately leapt towards him, gripping his shoulders, pushing the hair from his bloodied face and switching between "what the hell were you thinking" and "holy fuck, Timothée" while he exhaled exasperatedly and wiped his nose with his hand, wincing as he touched his forehead.

One of the bouncers confronted me for information, and I quickly collected my hysteria and told him what the guy had been doing. "Well. Good boyfriend you have here," he'd replied.

I toss the bloodied wad of paper into the trash and run a new one under the faucet. I wasn't sure why I'd been so adamant about wanting to clean him up. He was probably here with his friends. He was probably here with a girl, a thought that surprises me, one I secretly hope is untrue.

The adrenaline in his body from earlier is wearing itself out, all except for the sharp breaths in response to his discomfort. His hair is tousled, large pieces falling in front of his face which I move behind his ear. I'm standing quite close to his face, in between his legs, like I'm sure many have stood in this restroom, but in a different context.

His hand covers the paper towel under his nose as I return to gently dabbing his eyebrow, and he winces, his eyes shutting. "I'm so sorry," he croaks. He sounds like he's about to cry, and my heart is breaking to see him like this, especially since it's all my fault.

And I don't know what to say in response. I don't know what to feel, while I am also feeling so many things. How did he happen to see me? Why did we have to be in the same place at the same time? Why the hell did he have to be here - but what if he hadn't been? What would've happened if he didn't intervene?

I can't respond with the ever-scripted "it's okay," because I'm still processing everything, and I am a melting pot of emotions. I put my arm down and give him a hard look, his eyes asking questions of his own.

"I suppose I should thank you. Or maybe I should just start with hi," I finally say.

He exhales a short chuckle through his nose, his eyes closing weakly. "Hi," he says as he hangs his head, in the softest, most bashful way I've heard him say it, totally different from the dark stranger I met just a couple weeks prior.

A giggle escapes me just as my eyes well up with tears again, overwhelmed. "Your nose," I choke out, bringing his head down with my hand, inserting the balled-up paper towel under it.

"Hey, are you crying? Hey." He moves my arm down and holds my face in his hands. "Hey. You're fine. You're okay."

I think of what's happened tonight and the utter coping-mechanism hilarity of it all, the tears leading to a contrasting laughter. I shut my eyes as the giggles escape, his hands on either side of my head, leading him to giggle in return, his eyes becoming crescents. And all the while it's so innocent, so enchanting, us buzzed from alcohol and giggling in the bathroom while I'm cleaning blood from his face.

I'd kiss him right here, right now, my cheeks shining from the pathetic tears of shock, his wounded but mesmerizing face so close to mine, if I were that stupid. I scold myself for thinking of his bruised face as mesmerizing.

"Stop it," I say, reaching to tilt his head forward just as another trickle of blood makes an appearance. He's wincing, all the while he's letting out the smallest chuckles, his mouth hanging open. His eyes are still locked on me as I hold the paper towel under his nose, his hand covering mine like before.

"Thank you, but...what the hell were you thinking?" I say in an exhale, and it sounds rhetorical.

A pause, followed by his response, "I saw you pushing through the crowd earlier. You were following behind someone. A friend? Ow, fuck. I saw you and wanted to say hello."

"Okay, so hello," I flirt, and I don't know if it's the booze or me, but it's intentional. A giggle escapes him.

"Just. You know. Wanted to say hi." His nose has stopped bleeding by now, and he holds the paper towel in lap. His real, genuine grinning face, the one that you don't actually see in the movies, belongs in a museum.

"You were sitting with that guy at the bar, um. I'd kinda lost my friends in the crowd and was making my way out when I saw..." He pauses there.

"I had to... I needed to intervene. I'm really sorry it got out of hand, that wasn't my intention, "he apologizes again.

It's quiet for a moment, but not completely. His eyes ask me questions, mine give him answers. My hands feel down the sleeves of his black bomber jacket, lined with two psychedelic stripes on either side, like I'm trying to prove to myself that he's real.

"You look great tonight," I say coyly, noting the smell of cologne on his neck.

I swear he just moved closer by two inches. "You're absolutely stunning."

God, if it were the right situation, I'd kick open one of the bathroom stalls and drag him with me.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he asks playfully, and I nod. He looks down at his lap. "Sorry if I ruin everything. But I walked a mile out of my way the other day so I could come to your damn coffee shop. Had to make sure you were real." He's blushing so very hard. "Sorry if that's weird."

My hand rests on the side of his head, his curls nestled between my fingers. I kiss his cheek. "Let's get you home."

**********

author's note

wowieee i never thought i'd get this much response to this story! thank you <3

your votes and comments make me smile from ear to ear, and i'd hug all of you if i could. make sure to give my profile a follow! ok bye now see u soon! <3