Kiss Me ⚘ Timothée Chalamet

10 | Quiet Comforts

Y/N

_

RINGING, that's all that I could hear.

I was lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling without saying a word. I felt like I was drowning in the pool of tears I cried myself into. I was weak, and I was alone. I knew I should call one of the girls, but my phone was charging in my room, and I didn't feel like getting up. Somehow the hard floor felt better than how I actually felt.

The sound of keys fumbling into the door lock caught my attention, but I closed my eyes and tried to ignore it. I didn't care about anything at the moment.

"Hey!" I heard Timothée call out into the apartment. He didn't see me yet. "I bought groceries!"

I heard the crinkle of groceries bags get set on the counter, but I just stared into the pitch black abyss of my eyelids. Then I heard a gasp, followed by the sound of something crashing onto the ground. I guess he saw me.

"Oh my god," he panicked, his footsteps running towards where I was laying, "hey, hey, hey, wake up!"

I kept my eyes closed, my body heavy. I felt his hand on my cheek, his thumb running against my tear stains. His hands were warm, and I almost flinched at his touch.

"[y/n]?" I heard him whisper. There were a few moments of silence, before he spoke again, "oh my god, she's dead."

Then he smacked me.

My eyes shot open, and I let out a heavy wheeze, the left side of my face burning. Timothée was just staring at me in shock, and I couldn't do anything but try my best to catch my breath.

"Jeez," I whimpered, clutching my cheek, "what's wrong with you?"

"I thought you were dead!"

"Then why'd you smack me?!"

"Just in case you weren't!"

I let out a sigh, slumping back onto the floor. Now I was tired, sad, and apparently I also looked dead. I expected the boy to return back to the kitchen where the shopping was, but instead he just lowered his back onto the floor and lay there next to me.

"What's wrong?" he said softly, both of us staring up at the ceiling now.

I didn't feel like talking, "nothing, I'm fine."

"If you were fine, you wouldn't be crying on the floor."

"It's my skin care routine," I lied, "the tears are good for the skin."

He didn't say anything, but instead turned his head to look at me. I couldn't bring myself to look back, but some part of me wished I could. Just thinking about Leo was too much for me.

"Lucky for you," he smiled, "I just bought ice cream."

My ears perked up, "you did?"

"Yeah, I'll go get you a bowl, and you can tell me why you're crying."

"I don't feel like talking about it."

"Then no ice cream."

I frowned, propping myself onto my elbows. He knew he won the argument, and scurried off towards the kitchen. I slowly stood back onto my feet, and made my way to the couch, sinking into the cushions. I wanted to melt right through them, into the ground, and into the center of the earth.

Timothée returned a few moments later, with two bowls in his hands, and a sympathetic look on his face. God, he probably thought I was an overly emotional loser.

"Here," he said, pushing one towards me, "now talk to me."

"It's not a big deal... you don't want to hear it."

"Then I'll sit here and stare at you, until you open up."

"You do that already, you creep, why should it bother me now?"

He laughed, twirling around his spoon, "because this creep doesn't want you to be sad."

I knew I was being hard on him, but I felt like my body was filled with negative emotions that needed to be let out. I hated that I was taking it out on him, so I decided to listen to what he said.

"My ex-boyfriend came here," I mumbled, "telling me he wants me back..."

I told Timothée the rest of the story, from finding Leo drunk outside, to kicking him out of the apartment. The boy listened to every word, and didn't interrupt me once.

"So that's it," I finished, "now I'm sitting on a couch eating away my sorrows."

"No one ever said that was a bad thing," he nodded, scooping a spoonful of chocolate ice cream into his mouth.

"Saorise and Daya tell me it is," I laughed weakly, "and they're always right."

"Well forget about what they said. At least just for right now."

"Thanks for listening, Timothée."

"I thought my name was Bagel Boy?"

A soft giggle escaped my throat, and suddenly I found myself smiling. I wasn't sure why that was. I always assumed he was just a prick who'd get amusement out of teasing people, but it was clear he wasn't. He didn't seem anything like that at all.

"I can call you that," I said cheekily, "if you want."

"Only if you let me call you chipmunk."

"I'm going to pass on that."

"Bummer," he grinned, holding out his hand to take my bowl, "want some more?"

"I'm good, but thank you."

He hopped off the couch, retreating into the kitchen and placing the bowl in the sink. I propped my legs up into my chest, curling up into a ball, listening to the sound of the tap water running. And for the first time, I didn't think about Leo.

All I could think about was Timothée.