When In Rome ► Timothée Chalamet

5 | Strangers

Y/N

_

"How did you guys meet?"

Elliot and I were dropping our stuff in our dorm, and preparing to go shopping. I glanced around the plain room, the white walls untouched and uninteresting. Even the bedsheets were white. I felt like I was standing in the middle of a giant sheet of paper. Timothée was standing in the doorway, watching up grab our things.

Elliot looked up at me when I asked the question, and flipped the wallet in his hand.

"At orientation," he explained, "funny story actually."

"Funny?"

"Well, not funny, but-"

"He almost broke my painting," Timothée cut in, "I was sitting on the bench outside, and this idiot wasn't watching where he was going."

"To be fair, I was looking at my phone to see the time," Elliot laughed, "didn't want to be late when meeting Y/N."

"Yet you were still late," I added, lifting my purse over my shoulder.

"Ah, minor complications."

"So you almost broke a painting, and that's how you became friends? That's... not what I expected."

"Well, it didn't go quite like that."

"Then how did it go?"

"That's for us to know, and for you to find out," Timothée stated, hitting the side of the door, "you guys ready yet?"

"He's an impatient baby," Elliot whispered, as he walked past me and out the door.

As I followed after them, I started to think. It was odd how people that had just met were seemingly best friends, especially with all those inside jokes, they had. I suppose when you find the right people, everything just clicks.

The Confalone Merulana was an Italian furniture store a couple blocks away from the dorms, so the three of us walked there quickly. As soon as we got in, we knew it was the perfect place to go.

"Elliot," I said, patting his back, "we are going to live in style from now on."

"I couldn't agree more."

"You guys go have fun," Timmy said, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I'll just look around."

The two of us watched as he walked off and disappeared into an endless supply of pillows and blankets. I glanced at Elliot, expecting him to say something, but he just nodded at me and walked off towards the lighting department.

I followed after him, not sure what to feel about this whole situation. Of course, I could always feel nothing, but I just couldn't comprehend it all. It's amazing how a city like Rome could be so big, but still be so small.

I ran into Timmy, after all.

"I think we need to go for a rustic look," Elliot said, pointing at a lamp, "I like this."

"It looks a little dim though, why would we need that?"

"Late night reading? Late night cooking?" he paused, before smiling, "late night sketching?"

"What's that's supposed to mean?"

"Hey," he shrugged, "I'm just saying, Timothee is going to be hanging around a lot. Get used to his constant artistry."

"You talk as if you've known him forever."

"Maybe I have, maybe I haven't."

"Elliot-"

"Relax, I'm just messing with you," he explained, "I just noticed how the two of you seemed to have something going on. I'm not stupid, I sensed that tension between you guys."

"There's no tension! Let's just drop this conversation and look at lamps."

"Ah, dear lamp," the boy joked, picking one off the shelf, "I would love to turn you on."

"ELLIOT!" I whispered, smacking his back, "oh my god, don't say stuff like that."

"I can't help it if I'm secretly attracted to lamps!"

"Okay, we're getting out of here," I said, grabbing his hand, "we're going to pick out some flowers now."

"Bummer."

I dragged him over to the greenery aisle, where a stack of multicolor flowers were laying in rows. I made the assumption that the two of us couldn't handle the responsibility of taking care of a real plant, so fake ones should do.

"Roses are nice," I said, reaching my hand through the metal shelves and picking a handful of pink flowers up, "what do you think?"

"Hm.. I like them, but they don't speak enough volume. Throw in some lilacs and we should be good to go."

"Purple and pink?"

"Love it, let's just find a vase."

I shrugged, and tossed the flowers at the boy. As I spun around to find the vases, I caught a glimpse of Timothee at the other end of the room. He was distracted, his eyes gazing over a display of sketchbooks. I paused for a second, watching as he picked one up and started flipping through the pages.

Even though the pages were blank, he seemed to see a picture on every page. It was as if he could envision the sketch that would fit on that canvas.

"Um, hello?" Elliot's voice rang out from behind me, "Earth to Y/N?"

I snapped back into focus, and gulped. I could see the smirk on Elliot's face, but I shook my head and narrowed my eyes, "don't even think about it."

I spun back around, but Timothee was gone. I guess he moved on from that part of the store. Shaking away those thoughts, I reached for a simple vase and showed it off to my roommate.

"Bland," he said quickly.

I showed him a yellow art deco vase.

"Doesn't match the flowers," he commented.

I held up a round, green one.

"Perfect," he nodded, tossing the fake plants inside.

I had to give it to him, the guy had style. Clutching the vase, we weaved in and out of aisles, picking up anything that caught our eye. Soon we were checking out, our assortment of decorations piled into bags.

"Did you guys have fun?" Timothee said, coming up behind us. He had something tucked underneath his arm, but I couldn't get a good look at it.

"Fun isn't the word I'd use," Elliot remarked, "I'd say, we were artistically envisioned."

"While shopping?"

"Room decoration is an art," my roommate snapped, "respect it!"

As I followed the two out of the store, I glanced down to see what Timothee had clasped in his hand.

It was the sketchbook.