Timothèe Chalamet Imagines

✥tests✥

Your POV

I grip the small stick in my hand, holding it upside down. I clench my toes again and again against the hard, cool tiles of our bathroom floor.

It has to be positive. It has to be. I can't handle another negative. 

I don't think I've ever wanted something more in my entire life. 

I'm gripping the pregnancy test so hard, I might break it. 

I look up at the ceiling, take a deep breath, and flip it over. Now all I have to do is look down. The answer is facing me, in my hands. I don't have the courage to do it. I keep staring at the ceiling, still as stone, refusing to move my head just inches. This defines everything. 

I need to stop overthinking this. 

I take in a deep breath, and snap my head down. 

I grab my chest when I read it. 

'Not Pregnant'

The words register in my brain, and my heart sinks. My chest literally feels like it's constricting itself. I take in one shaky breath before covering my mouth with my hand, and sobbing into it. The test falls to the ground with a loud clatter, but I don't really hear it. I stumble over to the counter and double over on top of it, still holding one hand over my mouth to muffle my brutal sobs. 

I can't do this anymore. I can't continue to be this disappointed every fucking month. It will never happen for us. Never. 

I fold my hands together in front of me and sink my forehead down on top of them. This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't happening. 

I really thought this was going to be the one. I really thought this was going to be positive. 

I'm sobbing soundlessly, sucking in heaps of air and squeezing my eyes shut as hot, salty tears stream down my cheeks. 

Behind me, I hear the door creak open. 

"Hey, do you know where - what's wrong?" Timothée's voice is casual at first, but his tone changes quickly to one of genuine fear when he notices me hunched over. I stand up straight and turn to face him. 

"What... what happened?" he asks me. He's frozen in place, one hand still on the doorknob. 

I point down at the pregnancy test on the floor. 

He clenches his jaw before slowly bending down and picking up the pregnancy test. He swallows and nods when he reads it, his eyes reddening with glossy tears. He continues nodding, just staring at the words. 

'Not Pregnant'

I can't manage any words. I just sink to my knees, the hard floor pressing against my bones, and bury my face in my hands. 

After a few seconds, when he's recovered from the shock, I feel Timothée's arms wrapping around me. He holds me close to him, his face near my shoulder. My sobs are ugly now. The soundless heaves have turned into gruesome, loud, scream-like noises. 

I feel his body shaking against mine. This is just as sad for him as it is for me. 

We wanted this so badly. So badly. 

"It's never going to happen," I whisper, coughing in between my words as I continue sobbing. The taste of my own tears is thick on my tongue. 

His arms hold me tighter as I say these words. 

"Come on," he says back to me. He stands up, holding both of my hands in one of his, and starts pulling me out of the bathroom and into our bedroom.