Timothèe Chalamet Imagines

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Your POV

The rain is sleeting down in NYC.

The dark sidewalks shimmer with the gleam of the city's lights. I splash through the puddles of water, watching my feet to at least try to avoid the big pools of water. It doesn't work - I can feel the cold water seeping through my sneakers. Great. Wet socks.

I squint ahead of me, forgetting which intersection I'm at. The street sign says 86th. That means I'm still seven blocks from the apartment.

I picture Timmy sitting at the built-in bench below our huge living room window. He's probably sipping at his herbal tea, wearing his coziest hoodie, watching the rain pour over the city, and waiting for me to come home. He loves to watch the rain from that window.

I shiver under my raincoat, which isn't doing much to protect me from the cold water. All I want to do is be back home. I've had the worst day at work, I missed my train, I hear a noise through the rain behind me and turn.

There's a man behind me.

I'm always on the lookout, especially when I'm walking alone. Timothée never lectures me about being safe in the city. I know he doesn't want to be demeaning, or assume that I can't handle myself. But if I am leaving at night, he'll push down a look of worry and tell me to simply: "be safe".

And I know the dangers of walking alone, at night, in a huge city - especially as a woman. I'm possibly a little to paranoid; always surveying my surroundings, glancing in windows I walk past to check if anyone is behind me, never walking with headphones in.

But I try not to think too hard about the person walking behind me.

I'm squinting at this point to see ahead of me. The rain pounds on the pavement around me, and there are very few people on the sidewalks. They've found refuge in the buildings. I have no desire to wait this out in some shop though. I just want to get home. I debate running home, but I know that I would probably just end up slipping at falling.

My phone buzzes in my hand.

"Are you on your way back?"

It's a text from Timmy.

Just from glancing at my phone, the screen is covered in drips of water. I try to text back, "Yes", but my cold fingers fumble over the wet screen, and the water makes it too hard to type. I shove it in the pocket of my rain jacket again, clutching it tightly.

I glance behind me again, and realize that the man is still there. He's got his hood pulled over his head. This could be kind of creepy, but it could also be because of the rain. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and he glances to his right.

I pick up my pace a little. He's been behind me for a few blocks now.

I make a right turn at the next street and glance behind me again. Thankfully, I don't see him turn the corner after me.

Only four more blocks to go.

A taxi speeds past me, and before I can jump out of the way, water splashes up and soaks my legs. It's cold. I shiver, glaring at the taxi as it disappears into the rain. I just want to be at home.

I keep walking, but turn when I hear something behind me.

It's that same man. I thought he hadn't turned the corner.

My heart skips a beat. He's only about fifty feet behind me. He's staring at me.

I whip around and start walking, very quickly now.

I take deep, shaky breaths. I don't know for sure that he's following me. Maybe he's headed in the same direction that I am. It was only one turn. I try to calm myself down. At the next street, I decide to make another right turn. It's not the way I'm supposed to go, but if I make another left turn I can just be on the opposite side of the block. Our apartment has a back entrance anyway.