Timothèe Chalamet Imagines

✧frustrated✧

Your POV

Tears of frustration well up in my eyes as I stare at the equation.

f(x)=2tan (x/pi) + 4

How the fuck do you find asymptotes?

I've been working on this one math problem for about two and a half hours now. I'm book smart; all of my high school classes were AP, my GPA is above a 4.0, and I work hard for good grades. I don't take anything less than an A. But math is my one weakness - the one area that I'm just average in. And I hate my teacher, and I hate graphing functions.

I slam my computer shut in frustration, tapping my fingers with pure anger and hysteria. I just want to get it right!

"What's going on?" Timmy peeks his head through the slightly ajar door of my study.

"I just can't do this stupid problem, and I've been working on it for hours," I say, trying to wipe my hot tears out of my eyes before they fall down my face. This is such a stupid thing to cry about.

"Awww, don't worry. You'll get it. Maybe you just need a little break?" he says, stepping all the way into the room and walking over to me.

"No, I don't need a break. What I need is to figure out how to find the dumb asymptotes," I say defeatedly.

"Come on. Just come sit outside with me for ten minutes. I promise you'll feel better," he says. He leans down and wraps his arms around me.

How am I supposed to resist that?

"Yeah. Okay," I say with a sigh.

He laces his fingers around my own and pulls me out of the study, through the kitchen, and to our backyard. He climbs into the hammock, sitting sideways on it so that there's room for me to sit next to him. I rest my head against his shoulder as we sway lazily back and forth, our legs dangling lazily over the side of the hammock.

I bring my fingers to his hand and trace each of his long fingers. Just touching him makes me feel better. We sit silently and absorb the summer afternoon. The birds chirp and the sunshine cascades over us like a warm blanket.

We sit outside like this for a while, and I almost fall asleep laying against him.

"Y/N?" he whispers, questioning if I'm awake.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yes. But I should probably get back to it," I say, sitting up. I slide out of the hammock.

"Okay. Just don't stress yourself out too much. You can do this," he tells me, following me inside.

"Thank you," I say. I wrap my arms around him when we're back in the kitchen. His long arms find their way around my waist, holding me tightly against him.

"I'll cook you dinner while you work," he whispers softly into my hair.

I grin against his shoulder before slowly tearing myself away from him and back to work in my study. Sitting down and opening my computer, his words run through my mind.

"You can do this."

I repeat it over and over while I work through the problem, the smell of tomato soup and sandwiches wafting in the room after a while.

not me writing this because I'm so annoyed that I can't figure out asymptotes. ugh. also thank you for the well wishes for my surgery! it was terrifying but it went well. send me any requests!!! love you guys <3