Timothée Chalamet One Shots

rock-a-bye baby

    Timothée promised he would join you in bed after washing dishes. You followed through with your nighttime routine hoping tonight would be different and you could catch at least two hours of sleep between your brain working overtime to feed your anxiety. Just thinking about it commenced the nerves. You took a deep breath.

    "I'm fucking exhausted!" Timothée groaned as he bounced into the bedroom. Somehow he was still a walking ball of energy at 10pm. "Incredible job on dinner by the way, baby. I had no idea you could cook like that." He bustled into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

    "Just following the recipe," you responded, making yourself comfortable under the comforter.

    "Well, it was amazing." He poked his head out from the bathroom, smiling through the toothbrush in his mouth. "You're the best."

    "Thanks, Timmy."

    Then he was back in the bedroom. His shirt and pants came off his body and were tossed onto the edge of the bed. He switched off the lights and turned back the blankets to join you in bed, immediately scooping you into his arms as he did so. The anxiety subsided for a moment when his arms came around your body and his fingers laced with yours. You thought you would be okay after he pressed his lips to your shoulder.

    "Night, my love." His voice was smooth and deep in your ear.

You squeezed his hand and let the sound of his breathing rock you to sleep—sleep that only lasted for half an hour.

Anxiety numbed your body until it paralyzed you. Your thoughts ran a mile a minute until you simply couldn't think at all so you just lay there with Timothée's arms draped around you and stared into the dark, allowing your mind to take control of your body. Sometimes it felt pointless to fight it. Then the tears started. Maybe you needed to pace.

You delicately maneuvered your way out of Timothée's hold to walk around the room hoping it would calm you down. Your pathetic attempt at deep breaths sounded more like desperate gasps for air when the silent tears evolved into sobs. All you wanted was one second where your brain would simply shut up.

You didn't notice Timothée stirring as you paced. "What's the matter?" he asked, reaching over to turn the light back on. He noticed the tears streaming down your face and the frantic look in your eye and switched into protective mode. "Hey, babe, what's going on? Are you okay?" He got out of bed to come to your rescue, his hands holding you steady.

"I can't breathe." Your sobs drowned out your words.

"Yes, you can, it's okay. You're okay." Timothée held your face in his hands. "Look at me. You're okay."
"I just can't go to sleep, I can't breathe."

"Breathe with me," Timothée said. "In..." He inhaled. "...and out." He repeated himself when he noticed you weren't following along. "Breathe with me, love. Deep breath in."

You joined him this time. The love in his eyes reassured you that everything would be okay.

"Come lay down with me." He crawled back into bed with you, refusing to let go of your hand. "Keep breathing." Timothée cradled you in his arms, kissing your forehead as he rocked you back and forth. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, I promise. I'm right here."

You synced your breathing with his, finding comfort in his stability and the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Hard time going to sleep tonight?" he asked, looking down at you nestled in his chest.

"Almost every night," you answered. "Anxiety's been kicking my ass lately."

"You've been doing this every night and you didn't tell me?"

"I thought I was overreacting."

"Never. You can tell me absolutely anything, baby, that's what I'm here for." He squeezed you tight, guilty for all the times he couldn't comfort you when he needed to. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. Are you feeling better?"

"A little."

"Lay down."

You settled back into bed as Timothée turned out the light once again. "I'm right here," he reminded you while he wiped the remaining tears from your face. His hazel eyes smiled through the darkness.

You looked back to Timothée for comfort whenever you felt your anxiety creeping back up again. "I've got you," he continued to say.

Those words and his presence lulled you into a deep slumber. Timothée didn't close his eyes until he was absolutely certain you were fast asleep.