𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 ME|| 𝐓IMOTHÉE 𝐂HALAMET

14 | untouchable bliss

I woke up to see the sun painting it's early colours on his freckled dashed face. He was glorious, like a painting. 

He looked like a wonderful child, blissfully encapsulated in his own little world in his funny little mind. I wondered if he were to be dreaming - if those precious thoughts might ever be of me.

 Even his unconscious presence caused a chaos in my emotions.

I thought back to last night and how wonderful everything had been, how I'd only ever imagined these emotions up until then and prayed to feel them. Yet here I was in bed with a boy I had all nearly all of them for.

Either way I had been completely vulnerable and honest and nothing bad had happened, who would have thought? 

It felt unbelievable. Memories of back home started to flood in, how alone I was. There, I was always hidden away - from everyone, people saw glimpses of me but I was so terrified then. 

So scared of judgement to the point where it paralysed me from trying to or achieving anything I really wanted for myself.

I moved to London, I did everything that was expected and finally I felt like I could breathe. Timothée was the first boy I had ever met who made me feel wanted for who I was.

It was all wonderful but everything passes I remembered, and even though that thought can bring so much comfort when you feel you are in an unreachable place of desperation, equally it can be just as threatening once you are at an untouchable place of bliss.

I became so nervous I couldn't stay in bed. I put my phone on charge and when I opened it I saw so many messages from people back home. My sisters best friend had texted me a link to an article.

Timothée Chalamet is seen having a steamy hook-up with another summer fling.

Click below for photos.

Another?

I swiped through to see about a dozen photo's of me and him, my legs wrapped around him, me sat on his lap in his clothes, him kissing me against the balcony, him touching me, us laughing. I couldn't breathe. I was so confused, and violated, and ashamed.

A wave of self-consciousness hit me in a flurry and I began to get dressed and grab my bag together. I ran out the door, left a note and fled down his stairs.

Once home I collapsed against the door in tears. 

Lou found me crumpled on the floor completely unravelled and picked me up and whispered soothing words as she helped me change into some pyjama's and fetched me a coffee.

"What's wrong? What happened?" I could only sob as an answer. "Oh Cara, please, come here let me hold you." Charles came out rubbing sleep out of his eyes and sat on the sofa with us.

"Bro, what's going on?" He asked, his voice groggy.

"Timothée." She answered. His voice made my heart hurt more. "Did you see?"

I looked in her eyes and the betrayal of that sentence shook the thoughts out of my head. "You knew?" I choked out in disbelief.

"Cara, I wanted to tell you. I knew that he was famous, yes, but I - believe me, I had - I had no idea this would happen."

I had nothing to say. I walked into my room. 

My tears had stopped. My phone kept buzzing. I opened it to see dozens of texts, some from Adele, Vivien other names that I couldn't be bothered to look at. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

I slept all day. 

I slept all night. 

I woke up the next morning, e-mailed my teacher to say I was sick and slept again. 

I supposed that a girl like me only deserved a few hours of untouchable bliss.

What a beautiful memory to be tainted with so much ugliness.