his blood - timothée chalamet [18+]

4

it was supper, i sat beside sophie. i stabbed my carrot with a fork, watching timothée walk into the room, he sits across from me, there were so many other seats left open. but he decided to sit near me. dear god. 

"once again he is staring at you lacy," sophie says,

"i can feel it, wish he'd stop," i mumbled.

"do you want me to yell at him? i'm very good at arguments by the way," she says. "i can fight as well,"

"no no, i'm okay. thanks though, i just...." i paused.

she waited, her eyes widen, "come on, finish what you were gonna say lacy lacy,"

i inhaled.
"sophie can you keep secrets?"

"like no other,"

"okay i'll tell you later,"

but now he is staring again, timothée was looking at me like a shark for blood, he would not give up, until i finally looked at him, long enough for him to stop.

i sat in sophie's room, ready to confess the bad decision i made last night, "i had sex with timothée,"

"who's timothée? is that sergeant 82 real name?"

i sighed, "yes. and i had sex with him!"
"you cannot say his real name either!"

"no it's okay. it's okay," she tries to calm me down, "really it's fine, was it good at least?" she asked, out of no where.

"oh my gosh sophie!" i throw a pillow at her, laughing, "yes. the best, hate to admit it,"

she laughs, "then it's fine! why are you petrified?"

"for starters i just met him and—"

i wanted to admit my guilt, archer, my boyfriend.
but he's dead.
there should be no guilt.
but there was—alot of it.

"hook up culture is fun," she says,

"im not really one for hook ups," i sighed, i regretted sleeping with him even more,

"then ask him out,"

"nope. he doesn't seem like the dating type either,"

"you never asked lacy,"

"no, just no,"

i went back to my room, just to by surprises he was there, timothée. "can we talk?" he says, sitting on the couch.

"i told you. i need away from you,"

"but why?"

i nod.

"i can't keep away from you," he reveals, "i look for you everywhere,"

"we just met timothée,"

"and? that doesn't mean anything,"

"and—i had a boyfriend. who died for me to get here. just for me to have sex with some other man?"

it was silent now, "the guilt is getting to you huh?"

"yes, terribly,"

he nods, "you want me here or do you want me out,"

i was hesitated, something in me wanted him. but something told me we'd be bad for each other. "i need you out,"

he exhaled, taking a step back, "alright prescott, if it's what you want,"
"then i should listen,"

"timothée,"

"what?"

"do you hate me?"

"i don't think anyone can hate you lacy,"