My Sister's Best Friend [T.Chalamet]

13

I take the cab home, ignoring Lorenzo's calls and texts. Instead, I find myself hovering over Timothée's contact name. I've felt guilty this entire afternoon for how I treated him this morning. he's right. He's been so nice to me, and I've treated him like shit.

When I arrive back home, I open the door and hear laughter from two voices. I enter and see Saorise and Timothée seated at the kitchen island. As soon as Timothée sees me, his smile turns into a scowl. I look at him, silently pleading—my eyes pleading to his oceanic eyes—for forgiveness. We stare for a few seconds until Saorise comes over and engulfs me in a hug. As she does, I keep my focus on Timothée, furrowing my eyebrows and continuously mouthing'sorry' to him. He nods at me, comes over, and joins the hug.

She pushes Timothée off and hugs me for a few more seconds, and then we sit back down. Both Timothée and Saoirse have a cup of coffee in their hands. I walk over to the tap and take a glass of water.

Timothée pov:

"How was the interview, then?" I ask Saoirse. I look over at y/n. she's sat down opposite us now, but she's not got anything in her hand. I can't help but slightly worry. has she even eaten anything today? so far? she thinks nobody realises. well, Saoirse doesn't realize it, but I've never seen her eat anything. except that disgusting veggie-covered pizza she finished yesterday but then late at night, when she thought I was asleep, I heard her go to the bathroom. I turned on the floor to go back to sleep, then I heard a sound as if somebody was vomiting and the tap as if she was trying to cover the sound. she turns to the tap for a glass of water and takes a sip from her glass.

as she takes a few sips, my eyes begin to focus more on y/n. I don't think I ever realised this before. Christ, I knew how pretty she was, but I never realised how perfect her features were. Her eyes. So perfectly rounded, placed below her perfectly arched eyebrows, and her plump lips full of colour. As she took a couple of slips from her glass, I couldn't help but picture her lips-

"Ow!" I yell as I snap back to reality and Saorise slaps my shoulder again.

"you fucker. you didn't watch my interview. did you?" she says this to me.

at first, I thought to justify but then I shook my head and reach over for an apple from the fruit bowl. purposely, avoiding the peach. (Not most of you know yet but you will soon understand why.)

"No," I reply, taking a bite from the apple, "but in my defense, I had just gotten the entire set of breaking bad and so needed to start it."

she opens her mouth to say something, then shuts and continues to drink her coffee.

it's awkward for a few minutes because of the silence. until Saoirse murmurs, "Besides, all they did was ask me about you anyway."

I look down at the kitchen desk, feeling slightly guilty. Saoirse is such a talented actress but in Hollywood, nobody recognizes that. they only care for a women's beauty. Unfortunately, that's  the only way they can thrive in the Hollywood industry.

"So, y/n, what do you want to do for your birthday then." Saoirse asks her. She's changing the subject, but it is an important subject to be discussed anyway, seeing as this caused a small argument between y/n and me.

I look at Saorise, avoiding y/n's gaze, mainly because last time I asked her about this, she argued so I try to avoid it by ignoring her contact. Instead, I let Saoirse and y/n discuss this, slightly hoping she may agree to celebrate it- with us.

She shrugs her shoulders and looks at Saoirse, who raise her eyebrows. "Well, I'm waiting?"

"For what?"

"What do you want to do for your birthday?"

"Seeing as you guys were so busy," she instantly replies, "I made plans with my friends."

I see Saoirse's face fall and her breath turns heavy as she takes a few deep breaths. The only thing covering the sudden silence was.

"Listen, y/n. I know I've been slightly busy with everything. The filming and interviews were when I promised mum and dad I'd look after you but don't think for a second; I haven't forgotten about you. You're my sister. I promised mum and dad I'd be there for you and I still am. Don't think for a second you're lonely You're not."

I see y/n's face faulter for a bit. She looks slightly shocked. As if nobody has ever said this to her before. The light in her eyes increases, just like the hope in this room.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, y/n asks Saoirse if she can go to a party.

"a party?"

"Yeah. My friends are hosting it... to celebrate my birthday."

"Where is it?"

"His house is near the upper east or west side. I don't remember exactly."

"Ok..." Saorise pauses, "who is he? What's his name?"

y/n pauses and begins to slightly gnaw at the inside of her cheek, moving on to her bottom lip. She looks at me, and I can't help but smirk at her current situation. I'm guessing the guy hosting the party is Lorenzo, but she can't tell Saoirse who he is yet.

She looks at me and her eyes change, mischief gleaming. "Dylan."

"Dylan??"

"Dylan Efron"

Saoirse's face falls and I see her jaw tightens as she clenches her teeth. "No," she exclaims, "you can't go." Saoirse walks over to the kitchen, washes her mug and then exits the kitchen.

"y/N, don't," I whisper but it's too late. She's out the room, following Saorise.

"WHY?" she asks Saorise, to my surprise; she's not shouting, just asking. "Why Saoirse? I came here. I listened to mum and dad. I'm behaving now. I've made friends. I don't even drink. Ask Timothée."

Her face turns red as she looks at me, sending me to stare at the floor.

"Saorise, look at me, please. they're my friends and unlike you, they want to celebrate my birthday and spend time with me." She takes her keys and walks over to the door. "I'm going to Dylan's party." She says and before Saoirse or I can reply,. She's out the door.

I turn to see Saoirse, who throws herself on the soda. I don't know what to do. Stay here with Saoirse or go follow y/n. I know y/n. she must have gone over to Lorenzo's; besides, Saoirse has another interview in a few more hours.

"Good luck for the interview, Saoirse." I say and follow you.

***

(1110 words)