When In Rome ► Timothée Chalamet

6 | The Courtyard

Y/N

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"I think we cleaned the place up nicely."

Timothee had gone back to his place, while Elliot and I finished decorating. Apparently the boy had enough money to rent out an apartment space, instead of staying at the dorms.

Lucky duck.

"Yeah," Elliot said, "I love it."

I watched as he scurried off into the kitchen, and I jumped onto my bed and sighed. My backpack was laying wide open at the floor next to me, and I caught a glimpse of the sketch tucked neatly behind my textbook.

Glancing towards the kitchen, I quickly pulled it out and stared at it. Even though the drawing wasn't colored in, I could still envision those dark green eyes taunting me. Something about Timothee made my stomach churn, and it was too soon to find out why.

"You want spaghetti?" Elliot said, walking in abruptly.

I shoved the picture under my pillow quickly, panicked that the boy saw it. He didn't seem to have any reaction to my sudden spaz, so I nodded.

"Pasta sounds good," I agreed, "do you want me to help you?"

"Yeah, if it's not a big hassle," he said, "could you run to the store really quickly?"

"Sure," I obliged, getting up, "what do you need me to get?"

He smiled, and passed me a thin slip of paper. I glanced down at the srinkled sheet, trying to read the illegible writing. I think I could make the most out of it, so I slipped on my shoes and grabbed my wallet.

"I'll pick up breakfast too," I said, "muffins?"

"Muffins in rome?"

"Is there anything wrong with that?"

"Absolutely not," he winked, heading back into the kitchen.

Grabbing my keys, I slipped out of the dorm room and made my way towards the elevator. It was around evening, so the sky outside was already starting to go dark. The sun cast a golden glow around the city, making it seem like I was walking through a sunset in itself.

The nearest grocer was across the street from campus, so I decided I'd pass through the school courtyard to get there. I passed by some people on the streets, most of them looking ready to go out on dates or head home from work.

I was going to grab some.... Cheese puffs. At least that's what Elliot wrote down on the list.

Passing through the large metal gates of the school, I shoved the list back into my pockets and skipped towards the courtyard. The cobblestone pathway made my footsteps ring out into the area, a sound I found amusing. A few people were lingering around campus, chatting and whatnot, so I paid little attention when I entered the courtyard.

That was, until I noticed a curly haired boy sitting under the pavilion.

He was sitting cross-legged on the bench, hunched over a sketchbook in his lap. A thin pencil was gripped in his hand, and the sunlight seemed to reflect off of his serpent green eyes.

I stopped skipping, and paused for a second, wondering if I should say something to him. I was surprised to find him here, especially since he said he was going back to his apartment. Maybe there was a sudden change in plans?

I took a few steps towards him, before coming to the decision that it would be best not to say anything. Shouldn't disturb the working artist! I passed him silently, my ears searching for even the smallest hint that he saw me.

"You're not going to say something?"

The sound of his voice caught me off guard. I mean, a part of me was hoping he'd say something, but I truly didn't believe he would.

"S-say something?" I fumbled, pretending I hadn't seen him, "what did you want me to say?"

"I'm not sure, maybe a hello?"

"Oh. well hello, then."

"What are you doing in the courtyard?"

"I couldn't ask you the same thing," I questioned, flicking a stray piece of hair behind my head, "I thought you went back to your apartment."

"I was going to."

I blinked twice, waiting for him to say something else. When he didn't, I bit my lip awkwardly. Something about Timothee struck me as odd. The way he acted towards me was often on and off, but considering I had met him yesterday, that was explainable. I just found it interesting how he could seem so open, yet mysterious at the same time.

"I'm heading to the store," I said, breaking the silence, "Elliot and I are having a pasta party."

"Pasta party?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding, "spaghetti!"

"Hm."

"Do you..." I strained, going out on a limb, "...want to join us?"

"No."

"Alright, that's cool," I mumbled, slightly taken aback at his quick response, "I'll just be off to the store then."

I turned on my heels and resumed my previous course, but the sound of a sketchbook snapping closed enthralled me to stop. The thud of Timothee's footsteps grew louder as he ran up to me, his art supplies tucked neatly under his arm.

"Follow me," he said, quickening his pace.

"Where are you going?"

The boy didn't answer, but kept his unknown path. I felt the crinkle of the shopping list in my pocket, and I glanced at the store across the street. I knew I needed to finish getting what I came here for, but my curiosity got the better of me.

I ran after him, unsure of where I was going.