Forever, Yours ➹ Timothée Chalamet

24 | Forever, Yours

VERA

_

HE'S BEEN GONE FOR THREE DAYS.

It's almost as if Paris had lost every trace of Timothée, and now it was bleak and distant. It seemed impossible. This city was everything beautiful, yet I couldn't bring myself to walk down it's pavements without searching for him at every corner.

He was on the run.

Again.

I doubt I could remember a time where he wasn't off on one of his schemes, or at least letting his mind run wildly for him. My life felt boring, to say the least, and the thrill of his company was replaced with worry without. No one knew where he was. The police were looking for him, blasting his blurry ID picture all over the news.

"He's not at his apartment, so we can rule that out," Avery sighed, staring out the window, "it's a lost cause at this point."

He and Sam had come to visit a few hours ago, mostly out of their own concern, but we all knew why we ended up together. No one knew what to do with him gone. When we were bored, he'd always have some plan ready for us to fulfill. When we were alone, he'd appear at random, spewing out facts from the books he'd read.

But he was missing, and it felt like a part of ourselves were too.

"He knows the city like the back of his hand," Sam added, face planted into the cushions of my couch, "it's not like he's lost."

"But he's wanted for 'trespassing'," I frowned, "and assault."

"He barely even touched Gagnon," Sam remarked spitefully.

"And it's Timothée's house to begin with," Avery added.

"Which is stated in the Will."

"Which would prove his innocence."

"But we're the ones that have it," I stated finally, "and he's nowhere to be found."

We were stuck in a rut, not sure what to do. He could have been caught for all we knew—though we all collectively hoped that wasn't the case. We just couldn't function without him. We were brought together with the sole purpose of helping him seek justice, but we screwed it all up, and now we're leaderless.

It wasn't that the three of us couldn't lead, it was that we didn't want to.

It didn't feel right. That was Timothée's job. It would be like putting a badge on a toddler and calling them the president. Hell, I can't even make metaphors sound right anymore.

Our strayed thoughts were cut off by the sound of my apartment door swinging open, and Toni walking in.

"Alright, quit moping around," she said, tossing her keys on the table, "the whole place smells like gloom now."

My roommate was well acquainted with the members of 'The Book Club'. They'd been hanging around for the past three days, either crying, complaining, or stealing food from the fridge, but she put up with them anyway. She put up with me all these years, so she had practice.

She and Sam were a dangerous duo, I'd learned. They both were quick to a joke, and snappy to a sarcastic remark. Chaos in its pure form, as Avery called it.

"It's always smelled like gloom in here," Sam groaned from the couch, "your apartment is so tiny."

Toni scoffed. "Insult my humble abode one more time, and I'll have you living in the sewers."

"Maybe I can meet Remy the Rat."

"He's out of your league, Brontté."

"Wait till I pull out that Chardonnay, and see what you have to say," Sam shot back, "we're both men of great taste."