When In Rome ► Timothée Chalamet

26 | When In Rome

I thought it would only be appropriate to suggest a song from Roman Holiday. Seeing that this is the last chapter, if you'd like the full experience, please listen to Mattinata, by Andre Rieu.

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Y/N

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For the rest of the night, we couldn't get our eyes off of each other.

It was like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders, and I finally was able to stand on my own. As soon as the presentation was over, we started to make our way over to each other, desperate to feel the other's touch; to know we weren't just imagining things.

As soon as he stepped off the platform, he was swallowed up into a crowd of people, all praising him for his success. I knew I wouldn't be able to get to him, and we wouldn't be able to be alone, so I waited. Letting the others pass me by, I stood along the side of the wall, waiting for the one second where I could look him in the eyes again.

My heart was aching to talk to him again, and my fingers longed to be able to run across his skin. It was unbearable to know he was trapped in a crowd ten feet away from me, yet I couldn't reach him. I saw him push his way towards the end of the mass, not breaking eye contact with me. I didn't want to talk just yet though, I wanted us to be alone when we finally did. Shoving my hand into my pocket, I pulled out the one thing I knew I had.

Flipping a coin into my palm, I held it up so that the shiny surface would catch his attention. His eyes glistened as he saw the silver quarter in my hand, and nodded his head with a hastened urgency. Sending him a soft smile, I put the coin back in my pocket, and disappeared from the room.

_

Rome was cold at night.

I stood overlooking the Trevi fountain, watching the water shimmer as it fell into the pool below. A chilly breeze flew through the plaza, droplets of water hitting against my bare arms. I could see the faintest twinkle of the stars above me, speckled through the velvet sky; something I never usually saw in Brooklyn.

Then again, Rome was different.

Pressing my knees against the stone wall, I peered over the water, my reflection staring straight back at me. Was this the face Timothee painted? I didn't feel like a work of art, but I suppose everyone is in the end; they just haven't found their artist.

"If you lean any further, you'll fall in."

I let out a relieved sigh, a smile creeping onto my lips. The sound of footsteps grew louder as they approached me, delicately hitting the pavement, until I saw his face next to mine in the water. The tension between us was undeniable, the corner of his sleeve brushing up against my arm as we stood side by side.

"For a second I thought you wouldn't come," I laughed, watching the waves ripple across our faces.

"But then again," he grinned, brushing his messy curls out of his face, "I thought the same thing about you."

I turned to face the boy, seeing him up close for the first time in a while. It seemed unreal how I could have never seen him again, if I had just sat in a different train compartment, but maybe I'll blame it on fate. Hovering over me, the boy slid his hand around my waist, pressing me against his chest gently. I wrapped my arms around his back, melting into the hug.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, "Timothee, I really am."

"You don't have to be," he muttered, resting his chin on top of my head, "all that matters, is that you came back."

I let my fingers tap along the fabric of his sweater, closing my eyes to the sound of his heart beating. I could have given all of this up; I could have given him up, but now that was the last thing I would ever do. Pulling away, I tilted my head to look up at him.

"You won," I said, running my fingers along his cheek.

He nodded, kissing the top of my forehead, "that's not what matters right now."

"Did you know I would come back?"

"A part of me knew."

"How?"

He chuckled, the sound ringing out into the area. Everything about him was so beautiful, and I hated myself for doubting any of it. The boy reached into his pocket, pulling out a golden euro, and waving it in front of my face. He flipped it into the water beside us, the soft splash sending ripples around it.

"Two coins," he said, "you threw two coins into the fountain that day, remember?"

"I remember."

"One coin means you'll come back to Rome, two coins means you'll-"

"Come back and find love," I cut him off, the smile on my face undeniable, "and I came back to find you."

I could barely get those words out of my mouth, before I found his lips pressed against mine. I had kissed him before, but something about this moment was eternal, so full of meaning. I ran my hands through his wavy hair, tugging lightly.

This was my own Roman Holiday, was it not? We met on accident, but riding that train was the best thing to have ever happened to me; to happen to us.

My eyelids fluttered open, as I drew back from his touch. We were so close, I could see the little freckles adorning his cheeks, scattered like the stars above us.

"What happens next?" I asked, gazing up into his emerald eyes.

"Whatever you want to happen," he whispered.

"What I want is right here."

"In Rome?"

I nodded, "with you."

The boy nuzzled his head into the crook of my neck, his warm breath tickling my skin. Lacing my fingers through his, I pressed our palms together, and stared up at the sky.

"When in Rome," the boy mused, standing upright, "do as the Romans do."

"And what's that?"

Pressing another kiss onto my lips, he lifted me into his arms and spun me around in a circle. I laughed, clutching onto him for dear life. A life, that for some wonderful reason, had him in it. Setting me back down, the boy answered the question I had always wondered:

"Fall in love."