My Sister's Best Friend [T.Chalamet]

14

y/n pov

"Wait! Wait"

I turn and see Timothée running behind me like a crazy lunatic. I can't help but smile at that. He chose to follow me; he left Saorise. I paused in my steps and let him catch up. He slaps his hand on my shoulder to catch his breath. "Wait," he says as he regains his breath.

He moves his hand towards the back of my neck to push himself up. "So, you're really going to go to the party. By yourself?" he asks me.

I fold my arms, "YES," I reply harshly to him. Does he not get the message I just sent to Saorise? Was he not there?

He tries to get my hand but then I pull back. He tries several times. "y/n look"

"no"

"y/n"

"no"

"Come on"

He keeps trying to grab my hand and I keep slapping it away from him. We look like children right now, bickering over the most childish things. "Why do you want my hand, Timothée?"

"Do you trust me?"

"NO"

His face falls slightly as I return a sarcastic smile. He just laughs in my face, placing his hand in front his mouth as if he is trying to hide his laughter. "Come on, let's go."

"where"

"surprise"

Reluctantly, after several bickering I give in, and he calls for a cab. The cab drops us off at some street called East Village. The colours of the store's springs vibrate throughout, followed by the echo of old-school classic music from bars. Bringing both tranquility and reviving life in the streets, to the people, and to the soul.

We stop at a stall and the smell of their food drifts into my nose, making my stomach grumble. I press my hands and arms on my stomach, hoping Timothée won't hear my stomach practically making sounds like thunder. Timothée pays the man money, and he gives him a pizza but it's slightly different. It's rolled up and wrapped.

"For you," he says, placing it in my hand.

"Tim- "

"No, you didn't eat anything when we were there or when you left in the morning. I don't trust you to have eaten anything so far today, so just eat this." He pleads, "It's got all your favourite (disgusting) vegetables on there." He says this as he takes my hands and wraps them around the pizza, pushing them towards my mouth so that I can take a bite out of it.

He smiles after I take a couple of bites from the rolled-up pizza, placing his thumb on my jawline and rubbing it slightly. "Good," he murmurs, "so perfect."

"hmm?" I mumble, as I can't hear what he just said, mainly because I'm focused on eating. Man, this pizza tastes so good, and he's right. I haven't had anything to eat today.

"Nothing," he murmurs, still smiling at me with his thumb against my jawline. I looked into his eyes; in his light green eyes, there was a kind of green that spoke to the soul of nature, of fresh wands of grass and new buds, and his eyes were that of bright colour, bold, and beautiful. Why had I never realised this before? It brought me comfort, solace, and relief. I felt safe with him around me. I felt his breath against my lips from how close his face was to mine. I thought he'd look back up, but instead he remained facing me as his soft eyes stared into mine. They shuffled back and forth between both of my eyes until they had stopped at my lips. I looked down at him, looking back at his eyes, when I noticed he was now staring at my eyes again.

I could not help but feel slightly nervous as his eyes kept moving back to return to my gaze or my lips. I took small gulps to swallow my pizza, as my throat began to feel more and more dry.

He made me feel nervous.

Comfortable.

He brought comfort, but nobody had ever made me feel as nervous as he did.

Instantly, our gaze broke when I began choking like a complete lunatic, covering my mouth to stop my spit from flying out. The bite I had taken of the pizza was stuck in my throat. Timothée moved his thumb to my back and began slapping my back with this hand in an effort to aid me.

After a few seconds, it got better, and he began laughing at me as I wiped my lips with my sleeve. I looked at him, hoping he would stop, but every time he looked back at me,. He would begin laughing again. That made me laugh at him. "Why are you laughing, Timothée?"

He put his hands in his pockets and began to control himself as his laughter quietened down. He tilted his head to the side and gave me a wide grin. "Don't just die on me yet, y/n. I can't lose you."

"I- "I stuttered a few syllables but could not contrast a sentence with what he just said to me.

He walked over to me, slightly hesitant at first. Then placed his arm around my shoulders, still tense, keeping a small distance between my shoulders and his arm. I moved my head towards his arm so that he could take it as an assignment. I was comfortable with that. He relaxed and we began walking down the street as he pointed out to me his top recommended stores for any specific reason or situation.

***

(1044 words)

I thought I'd double-up, as this chapter is kind of small. 

How we feeling about it? Finally, some action! are they developing feelings now? or have they already developed the feelings? we'll see more to come...

sorry if this writing is kind shit; i'm still learning, i guess practice will help but please let know what you guys think (about my writing, the storyline, the characters, etc.). if you have any suggestions, feel free to comment down below; i don't mind.

i thought i'd make them go to karaoke and sing but i'm not making my y/n annoying like the harry potter fanfics; this one should be bearable, hopefully.

I hope y'all had a nice weekend :)