❪ 𝐼𝐍 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 ❫ timothée chalamet imagines

ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᵛᵒᵘʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ

MIRRORBALL BY TAYLOR SWIFT

timothée was at your apartment so often that your neighbours had mistaken him for your room mate several times.

he even had his own set of keys, and your apartment housed more of his clothes than his own.

"mrs zhōng wants you to have these ."

timothée shut the front door behind him, and you looked up from your book, watching him place a tupperware container on the table.

mrs zhōng, your friendly elderly neighbour, was always leaving you baked treats, often delivered via timothée, claiming that 'you could never have too many sweets.' you were sure many doctors would have to disagree with mrs zhōng.

timothée took off his jacket and set his keys noisily down on the counter.

"i have a special treat for you." he grinned, lolloping over to where you were sat on the couch and throwing himself down onto your outstretched legs.

"for me?" you threw your head back in mock surprise, placing your hand on your chest.

timothée pulled something out of his back pocket, displaying it proudly against his chest, and you instantly gasped.

"no fucking way! you actually did it!"

timothée nodded, and you grabbed the book.

it was your copy of 'somehow i manage' by micheal scott, a book from one of your and timothée's favourite shows, the office. and there on the cover, like the best fucking friend in the entire world, timothée had managed to get steve carell's signature.

the second you found out that timothée was doing the film 'beautiful boy' with steve carell, you had shoved the book under his nose, begging him to get it signed. you never expected timothée to actually do it, though.

see, it was things like this that made you fall in love with him in the first place. which wasn't really fair, since he was so nice and so cute that you just couldn't help it.

"am i you favourite person in the world, or what?"

"definitely."

timothée grinned, rather smugly, and you knew that he would probably use your words against you in the weeks to come.

drawing your legs into your chest, and making room on the sofa for timothée to sit properly without crushing you, you looked over at timothée.

his dark, unruly hair had been pushed back by the wind, coiling back on itself like a flurry of storm clouds, his eyes deep and warm, and patient as the night itself.

it was true. he really was your favourite person in the world.

you thought back to what saiorse had said earlier, when she had stopped by to borrow one of your dresses.

"y/n." she had said, watching you scroll through timothée's instagram, zooming in and analysing, admiring, each picture of him.

"you have got to talk to him, it's just getting sad to watch you mope over him like a sad little lemon."

"geez, thanks, sersh. you're a true friend." you had rolled your eyes, but grinned through your fake annoyance.