When In Rome ► Timothée Chalamet

22 | Pack Your Bags

Y/N

_

I felt like I was living in hell.

Weeks had gone by, and with each one, I felt like I hated being in Rome more and more. It seemed impossible, hating such a beautiful city, but every little thing about it would remind me of him.

Of Timothee.

I wasn't sure if he moved on from me, I wouldn't doubt it, but I held myself back from trying to find out. I made the choice to end things, and I had to keep that. On the brightside, my grades have gotten considerably better, I'm currently holding a strong B in the class, and I'm more focused than ever.

With the exception of wanting to punch Percy in the face whenever I saw him. I stopped looking at the clock, or looking out the window, because there was no reason to. Ever since that day in the pavilion, it seemed like the boy's locker had been abandoned. He no longer lingered outside in the hallway, and I hadn't seen him around the school either.

It was like he had completely disappeared.

"I understand your grade isn't at its maximum capacity, but your speaking is impeccable."

I was standing alone in Professor Enzo's classroom, listening to his praisings, even though I felt like I didn't deserve any of them. I kept my eyesight on the floor, unable to look him in the eye. I could barely look anybody in the eye these days.

"So I'm giving you the opportunity to mentor here next year," he continued, "I think you'd be a great edition to our program."

"You want me to be a teacher's assistant?"

"Yes, and occasionally, I'd like you to teach the actual class. Are you interested?"

"Of course," I nodded, "Thank you."

I should have been bursting with happiness, but instead I felt dizzy with emotions. If I had heard this last month, I would have been over the moon, but now I wasn't sure if I wanted to come back to Rome at all, even to teach. It was a great opportunity, but I was afraid of what, or who, I'd run into.

I didn't want to be constantly reminded of what could have been.

A few minutes later I was walking out of the classroom, passing by the spot where the boy would stand. Even though he wasn't there, I felt like his presence was eternally marked in that spot, watching me walk past. I continued my lonesome journey through the courtyard, out the gates, and back to the dormitories, my heart and mind empty.

It didn't feel right, none of this felt right. I felt like I should be on the back of his vespa, traipsing the city and tasting gelato. But I was here, standing outside of my dorm room, trying to find my keys. Once I found them, I slid them into the lock, and swung open the door, dragging myself through it.

"You're later than usual," Elliot called out from the kitchen, "got in trouble again?"

I heard him set down his spoon, before sliding into my view. He had a speck of pesto sauce on his cheek, a result of his latest food creation.

"The opposite, actually," I sighed, "he wants me to come back next year to help teach."

"y/n that's amazing! Did you say yes?"

"Yup," I nodded, clicking my tongue, and setting down my backpack, "did you pack your bags yet?"

He gestured over to his side of the room, his suitcase strewn lazing on top of his mattress. It seemed to be bursting at the seams, his assortment of clothes and souvenirs too big to properly fit.