timothée chalamet requests

☾ request thirteen

your pov

I laid on my stomach, head on the pillow as I looked out the open patio doors.

The Italian breeze hits my face well in the 100+ degree heat of the summer. It's too hot to wear clothes so, I've opted for underwear and covered myself up lazily with the thinnest sheet possible.

As I closed my eyes, the bathroom door shuts loudly; startling me. Seconds later, the toilet flushes and the door to my room opens up.

The bathroom connects both rooms.

"Y/n-" Timothée walks in and immediately turns his back to me. "Woah, sorry."

I sigh. "It's fine." I say and sit up, covering myself better with the sheet. "What's up?"

"Well," he clears his throat "I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go out to dinner later."

"Timothée you can turn around," I roll my eyes "I'm decent." He turns around with some blush across his face. "And it's nothing you haven't seen before." I remind.

He laughs and looks down at his feet. "So," he clears his throat again "dinner?" he asks, looking back up at me.

"Do you mind staying in?" I ask "I can't deal with all the heat today."

He shakes his head. "I don't mind staying in. I'll cook."

"Alright."

"Okay," he smiles "six o'clock sound good?

I nod. "Perfect."

"Okay." he smiles again and goes back through the bathroom, closing both the door to it and the one to his bedroom.

I throw myself back on the bed, slapping my hands on my face.

I try to go on a destination vacation once every summer and I'm currently in an Italian villa for two weeks. I'd originally booked the trip with my childhood best friend, but she had a family emergency that came up; very understandable.

After I tried getting anyone to come with me, I was about to call the travel agency and airline to cancel my trip and give me my refunds.

Then I got a text: "heard you're going to Italy."

That text was all it took for Timothée to somehow later convince me that we were going on this trip together. And here we are.

Now, Timothée and I act friendly. But there's lots and lots of history between us that has to do with more than just being friends.

We met in high school and dated in our early twenties while I was in college and he was acting.

It wasn't a nasty breakup, it was amicable.

And given the fact that we know one another inside and out, we'd decided to stay friends.

I don't know what they put in the air in Italy, but it has completely changed our familiar friendship and environment between one another.

If it's not the air, it's the fact that I lounge half-naked in the yard to tan while he sits across from me reading a book of poetry or that no matter where we go, we get mistaken for a lovely couple.

Six o'clock....

I stood next to Timothée as he dropped all of the stuffed raviolis into the pot of boiling water.

He turned up the heat. "Shouldn't take more than five minutes for them to cook."

I nodded. "I'll clean up the table." I say and walk back to the dining room, leaving him to watch the ravioli cook. We would have used the kitchen table to prep, but it was far too small to do so.