after the end - timothée chalamet & marcus baker

16

marcus brought back everything needed for libby. the epien, he sealed the windows shut, made sure the heat was on; he did it all for libby.

"safe like you said." marcus stands close besides me as we both watch libby, she got her color back and seemed to be more herself. i turn around to hug him gently, in a loving friendly way.

"thank you."

he chuckled. "no more thank you, it's for libby as long as she's okay." he places his hand behind me, hugging me back.

i start to overthink the kiss that him and i shared. it was something in the moment, i didn't mean it. i hated how much my brain wouldn't empty out griffin.

i still looked for griffin with everyone i met.
every kiss, affection, word.
it reminded me of griffin, like there was no escape.
don't date or fall in love was a promise i kept.
because they'll end up gone.
i don't think i can bare to put myself through that.
not after him or my parents.

i let go of the hug, placing my arms to my side. "that kiss—i didn't know why i did that." i mumbled.

he turns his head, no longer looking at me. softly letting out a huff. "it's okay, friends right?"

"friends."

i can see how unsettled marcus had look, like it meant more to him.

—

i asked everyone around the house where timothée was but no one seemed to know. annabeth was usually with him but i didn't ask her because she was alone, probably waiting on him.

i was skeptical on where he had gone, he doesn't usually leave without notice, someone had to know. i walk back upstairs double checking me and timothée shared room.

but nothing. 

i glance over the bathroom door that was connected to our room. i jiggle the door knob but it was locked. banging on the door with concern.

"timothée!" i say loudly, waiting for him to respond, but he didn't. it seems like i've been saying his name for far too long. and although if he was playing the quiet game, he would've said a slick remark back but no words were exchanged.

i knew something was wrong.

i can't remember how many times i hit my shoulders against the door trying to get it opened. hitting it harder and harder each time to get it to creek open.

and it finally did.

the door swings slowly open and there timothée was on the cold floor. his eyes roll back with foam in his mouth. i didn't hesitate to rush over to him with panic in my heart, i moved in a stutter trying to think of ways to help.

i tilt his face to the side, feeling my eyes water, on the verge of sobbing feeling useless.

"t-ti-timothée, come on stop."i say loudly, trying to get him back to normal, keeping him to his side. "please listen, stay with me."

i watched him have a seizure, the feeling of
grief like i was being stabbed in the heart, i'm going to lose someone who meant the most to me again.

his eyes still rolled back. the stiffness and twitching didn't stop. his body gives out, his eyes opened slowly, he grunts lifting himself up with the back of his arms. he looked so sick, he reflexes almost like he was choking, quickly rushing to the toilet to throw up.

i go over to help him, but he signals me to stay away with his hand, he had no power; laying his back against the wall, with his eyes still closed and nausea on his face, he moves himself upwards to flush the toilet.

"timothée, answer me." i asked to see if he can cooperate.

he nods, turning his head at a different direction away from me. "go." he mumbled.

"i'm not leaving you."

we both sat on the bathroom ground, i was traumatized with what i've just seen. his skin was so blue, if no one were to check, he could've been dead.
and thats what scared me most.

he opens his eyes slowly, looking at me from across the bathroom. "are you really crying?" he says insensitively.

"i-i was scared." i muttered, with the distasteful feeling down my throat.

"suck it up fate, i'm fine." he says, getting up to look into the bathroom mirror. he drinks water from the sink and fixed his hair, still looking terribly tired.

his words hurt me, but i kept quiet. i get up, putting my hands near his shoulders. "you shouldn't be getting up this fast." i said with concern.

"qu-quit worrying about me." he says, he sounded drunk although he wasn't, he was still very dizzy.

"i should be worried." i panicked, quickly getting up to gesture him to sit back down.

"no you shouldn't, get over it." he says with more anger, closing the faucet.

i begin to stutter again. "why are you like this."

"like what?" he exhaled, worn out.

"you just had a seizure—i have a reason to react the way i did."

"no you do not, you don't know me or who i am." he holds onto the sink, his vein shown through his arms and hand. "do me a solid and don't tell anyone this happened." he says, looking into the mirror as his eyes projected onto me.

i leave the bathroom as annebeth passes me.  "what's going on here?" she looked at me confused, while he was still in there.

he looks at me and i look at him. "i don't know, ask him."