timothée chalamet imagines

wait all day

your pov

I groaned as I pulled away from the kiss, looking into Timothée's droopy eyes.

I stretched, letting out another groan and snuggled deeper between the sheets.

"Do you have to go?" he asks, grabbing my hand and interlocking our fingers.

"Yeah."

He wraps his arms around me. "Don't."

If there's one place in the world I'd want to spend the rest of my life at, it's in Timothée's arms.

"I have to." I force myself away from him. He pouts, I lean in and kiss him again. "Don't miss me too much, okay?" he just nods.

I get out of bed and go to our bathroom, closing the door behind me. I turn on the shower and start to undress. Once the water is too my specific liking, I step inside.

While I start brushing my teeth, I hear a small click, but choose to ignore it. I spit and scream when the shower curtain's yanked open.

"God Timothée," I put my hand over my chest "you scared me!"

"Sorry." he almost whispers.

I continue brushing my teeth as he just stands there. "Do you need help with something?"

"No," he shakes his head "no help needed." he says and closes up the curtain.

I finish brushing my teeth and hear him starting to brush his at the sink. I wash my body and hair, getting lost in a trance as hot water falls on me.

When I'm done, I reach for my towel hanging outside on the wall and lazily dry my hair. I wrap my towel around my body tightly and open up the shower curtain to step out.

"Oh my God!" I shriek.

Timothée's sitting on the toilet with the lid closed, resting his chin in his hand. I walk over to the sink, plugging in my hair dryer.

"What are you still doing in here?" I ask.

"I don't want to be away from you."

Timothée has been here for three solid days, just coming back from seven months of work without seeing me or being at home at all.

I walk over to him. "You won't be away from me for long, not for a while. I don't want to be away from your either, but I still have to work."

"Quit your job," he takes my hand and kisses it repeatedly "I'll take care of you."

I shake my head and blush. "I'm not quitting my job, Timothée."

"Why not?" he whines.

"Because I like it!" I exclaim "and I'll be able to keep it for good if I showed up on time for once."

I walk away and turn on my blow dryer, the hot air hitting my roots. He gets up and stands behind me, watching me through the mirror.

We don't break eye contact, it's like a staring contest between us. I finish drying my hair and walk over to our closet.

He trails right behind like a puppy. "Do you need help getting dressed?" he asks.

I pull a blouse off a hanger. "No, thank you."

"Okay." he whispers again.

I dress myself as he stands there, once again. I walk to my vanity, where I have all my makeup laid out.. He sits on the bed behind me, watching, as I start to put it on.

At this point it seems like all he can do is watch and follow me around. It takes a good fifteen minutes of staring and silence for me to get done.

He stays on the bed, surprisingly, as I go grab perfume and spray it on. I walk back into the closet, grab my purse, and put it on my shoulder.

Timothée shows up again, standing in between the doorway. "Walk me outside?" I reach my hand out for him to take, and he does.

We walk downstairs and to the front door. I take my keys out of the bowl and he opens the door for me, I thank him.

We walk out to my car, I open the door and throw my purse onto the passenger's seat.

"Have a good day at work." he says dryly.

I reach my hand up, rubbing my thumb across his cheek. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want you to go." he whines again.

"We've already talked about this." I sigh. It feels like I'm almost disciplining a child, but it's actually a grown man, my husband that is.

"But I want you to stay."

"But I have to go." I sternly tell him.

"Alright," he says "fine, just go." he takes my hand off his cheek, making it drop to my side.

I bite my lip, feeling disappointed and slightly frustrated. "I love you." I tell him anyway.

"I love you too." he responds and leans down, giving me a long and sweet kiss to the lips.

I get into my car, starting it up. I watch as he walks back to the front door. I back out of the driveway and go down the street.

When I make a right turn, I pull over halfway down the street I'm on. I groan loudly and hit the back of my head against the headrest.

I pull out my phone, the ringing cuts short and goes straight to my boss's voicemail. "Hi, Martha. I'm so sorry, I won't be coming in today. I just woke up with this massive, massive headache," I exaggerate "if you need anything, call me and I'll try to get back to you. Thanks." I hang up.

I put my phone back into my purse and proceeded to make two more right turns, ending back up in the driveway.

I grab my purse and get out of my car. I pull out my keys and open up the door. "Timothée!" I call out as I turn around to close it.

"What?"

I get startled and turn to my left. He's sitting on the couch: the one right next to the door and the one right in front of our window. I put my purse down and go sit next to him.

"You have to stop scaring me." I run my fingers through his hair.

"I don't mean to," he says "I'm sorry." He rests the side of his face against the couch.

"I thought you'd go back to sleep once I left, it's too early for you to be up."

He shakes his head. "I wanted to stay down here," he says "I like it down here, the couch is more comfortable than the bed."

I smile. "Were you going to wait here all day for me to come home?"

He shakes his head at first, but then starts to grin widely. "Yeah."