timothée chalamet requests

☾ request ten (2)

your pov

"No, leave me alone." I whine, gripping onto the headboard, getting dragged off the bed.

"Get up," y/f/n says "it's two o'clock."

"So?" I rebut, finally feeling my ankles get let go.

"You have to get out of your room," y/f/n says "I haven't seen you in weeks and you're worse than you were the last time I did." he sighs.

I feel the corner of the bed dip and I finally get the strength to sit up.

"There you are." he smiles, brushing the frizzy and knotted hair away from my face.

"Why do I need to get out of my room?" I ask, upset that my sleep was disrupted.

"Because, it's been months since you've actually been yourself or gone out. I don't want to find you glued to the sheets the next time I come by to check whether you're alive or not."

Y/f/n has been my best friend for as long as I can really remember. We've been through everything together: happy times, sad times, break ups, accomplishments, failures, loss - everything in the book of life. He's never left my side, despite all the stupid shit I did that gave him clear reasons to. And he's definitely been my rock these past seven months.

"It's hard."

"I know," he says "but we've got to back to your old self, the happy you."

That sentence makes my lip tremble and soon tears fill my eyes. "He made me happy." I cry and throw myself back down on the sheets.

He sighs. "I'm so sorry, y/n, I really am."

"Thank you." I mumble, burying my head into the pillow. I finally let the rest of my tears soak into the pillowcase and sit up, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "Let's go out."

"Really?" his face lights up.

"I need a drink," I nod and sniffle, getting off the bed and catching sight of myself in the mirror "or maybe a few."

Later that night...

"Three shots!" I laugh, slapping my money onto the bar top. "Three shots, please."

The bartender shakes their head and pulls out three glasses. I recognize the head shake, it's the same head shake I get from anyone who gets annoyed of drunk me.

I've only come up to the bar about a good fourteen times in the past two hours.

"Hey!" y/f/n yells, tapping my shoulder "are you getting the shots?" he asks, shouting over the barking music. He just sent me to get them.

I nod and turn around handing the bartender the money and they slide the shots over for me to grab. I grab one, give the other to y/f/n.

"On three?" he asks.

I nod and immediately start counting. "One, two, three!" I yell way louder than necessary.

We take the shots and I yell again after the liquor went down my throat, numb to the burning of it after taking quite a few tonight.

I turn around and grab the other shot. "Take it!"

Y/f/n shakes his head. "You take it!"

"Okay!" I make no protest and down it.

Y/f/n laughs and gives me a high-five. I take all three shot glasses and put them back on the bar.

"Thank you!" I yell to the bartender. They just nod once, quick to tend to the next customer.