Timothèe Chalamet Imagines

❁20 days❁

Trigger Warning: This depicts descriptions of eating disorders. If this could trigger you in any way, please do not read.

Your POV

It's been 20 days since I've been admitted to the clinic.

They're forcing calories into me. They're watching my every move. They're weighing me every day.

They've cut off my contact with the world.

I'm not allowed to have my phone in here. And I haven't been allowed to talk to anyone or have any visitors for the first 20 days. I have been confined to the white, suffocating walls of my room.

They have been the worst 20 days of my life.

But today I'm finally allowed to move to the next step. I'm finally allowed to see my friends and family.

Timmy is coming to visit today.

I stare at my reflection in my bathroom mirror.

I look different than I did 20 days ago when he took me here. I've gained back eight pounds already, and I can't help but notice that my face looks fuller. My bones don't poke out beneath my skin as prominently as they used to.

I stare at the mirror and am lost in thoughts of imperfection until my counselor, Julie, knocks on my door and comes in. Julie checks my vitals and weight several times each day. She's also my main support person here.

"Hey, Y/N! How are you feeling today?" she asks brightly.

I force a smile and nod.

"Good."

"Great! Your visitor is waiting downstairs. I'm sure you'll be excited to see someone! I'll bring him up now if you're ready," she says.

"Yeah, I'm ready," I tell her. I step back into the main part of my room and sit cross legged on my bed.

She smiles and leaves.

Am I actually ready? No. I don't know that I can handle seeing him right now.

But I know that I need to.

Minutes later, Julie comes back and I see Timmy behind her. My heart flutters at the sight of him. I missed him. She holds the door open for him and he walks in. He's walking like he's nervous; both hands in his pockets, looking down, a serious facial expression.

"I'll give you two some privacy," she says, shutting the door behind her.

Timmy nods and gives her a small smile before striding quickly over to me and wrapping me in his arms.

I let myself fall against him, the familiar feeling of his body against mine enveloping me. I genuinely smile for the first time in 20 days as we hold each other silently, relishing the moment.

He pulls away after a while and sits next to me on the bed.

"I missed you," he says. We both sit facing the window, and he swings his legs over the side of the bed.

"I missed you too," I tell him.

The morning sunlight pours in through the window, illuminating the room with it's warm rays. I propped the window open, and we listen to the birds chirp outside.

"How have you been?" he asks me. He fiddles with his fingers, twisting his rings over and over again. He looks right at me when he asks it, and the sunlight seems to illuminate his already bright green eyes. His eyelashes cast shadows along his face.

"I've been... okay. It's really isolating to not be able to talk to anyone," I admit.

Seeing him in person is strange.

"Do you think you're making progress?" he asks.

All I do is nod, avoiding his gaze.

We sit in silence for a moment.

"Well... I think physically I'm better... but changing my perspective of this is hard. It's hard to completely reconfigure my thoughts," I tell him.

"Yeah. I can't imagine..." he says quietly. He moves his hand on top of my hands, which are folded in my lap. I missed this feeling.

"I think about you every second of every day," he says, looking at our hands.

I move myself closer to him and lean my head against his shoulder, staring out the window at the blue sky.

"I think about you too. You're my reason for wanting to get better."

These 20 days have been painful and terrible, but this moment makes me remember why I'm working so hard. What I have to live for.

"I love you," he tells me softly.

"I love you too."

***

We spend the rest of the day playing cards and talking in my room. Every hour or so, Julie comes in to check on me. Timmy starts bouncing his knee and rubbing the back of his neck, looking around the room uncomfortably when she takes my vitals and weighs me.

"It's just scary for me to see you like this," he says, when Julie leaves after that.

My group session is in the evening. It's when I talk with the other girls here who are recovering. I used to hate them, but I'm growing to like them. When it's time for that, Timmy has to leave.

"Now that I can visit, I'll come every morning," he tells me. We're standing at my doorway and he holds my hands gently in his. I nod gratefully and smile. Seeing him gives me the motivation to work harder through this recovery.

"Thank you," I say.

He moves one hand to my head, slowly moving my hair behind my ear.

"You can do this," he says, looking right into my eyes.

I give him a long hug before he finally has to go, and Julie takes him back downstairs.

I watch him walk down the hallway with a new feeling of hope in my heart.

These 20 days have been hard, but I believe him. I can do this.