his blood - timothée chalamet [18+]

24

my eyes wandered loosely, i can feel the skin of my eyelids pressured against my eyeballs, the quiet speaking and reflection of light—had woken me up.

i was on the kitchen table with timothée sitting watching me. his head drops, like a sign of relief.
he lays his hand on the table—not wanting to look at me.

"lacy please tell me this isn't a figment of my imagination," he says softly, his voice was tired.

"castellan?"

"prescott." he says, lifting his head back up, his hands still had blood on it, a lot of it.
"you are okay. you are okay," he says again, trying to convince himself, he kisses my forehead, i lift my uninjured arm to his face, gently rubbing my thumb against his cheeks and jaw.

"i'm okay," i kissed him back, resting my head down.

"what happened?"

"you were shot."

i noticed the thread on the counter, the blood in his hand, the bullet that was pulled out of me all on the table.

i expected clyde stitched me back up, but he didn't. and he wasn't here.
it was timothée.

"you weren't awake for hours,"

"how many hours?"

"10 hours lacy,"
"i lost you for a whole minute,"

"i died," i mumbled.

"i couldn't last that minute without you, a part of me died as well lacy prescott," his voice shakes, i realized how beat red underneath his eyes were, how sad he was.

"in those moments of waking up,..i was hoping you were there and you were," i say, a tear breaks through my skin, "you're the only person i wanted to see." i say.

"my forever lacy."

i began walking again, his stitching was well, i was able to move my arms again, not the same—but good enough.

the pain was tolerable, but he was there so i barely felt anything. he was my distraction from the chaos around me.

he wanted to carry me the rest of the way, but i made him stop.

"i am able to walk timothée, i wasn't shot in the leg,"

"i won't let you," he says.

"let me. i'm okay,"

"no," he says, i knew he was exhausted.

"please," i say, moving off of him, "you haven't slept in hours, i can't let you carry me the rest of the way,"

"i wouldn't mind,"

"you never mind,"
"timothée? what happened the the old couple at the house?" i say while following him up a trail.

"dead. shot in their sleep," he says.

my heart drops, just a stinging pain that followed into my mind.

"and where is clyde and belle?"

"clyde stole the bad guy's car,"
"he took belle too,"

"are they coming back?"

"yes. only clyde. he's getting us tomorrow,"
tomorrow felt like forever. we needed to go now.

"to where?"

"our final destination. somewhere secret. somewhere actually safe," timothée says. "hours away from here,"
"landtop valley."

landtop valley.

"trouble doesn't follow there. it's not guarded. not controlled by psycho humans. it's safe."

i nod, still walking.

"thank you for saving me,"

"you weren't going to die. not like that, not ever. i don't intend it. not under my watch," he says.
"that day. that hour. you lost hope. please hold onto hope lacy. even with every last fiber in your body. hope is what keeps you alive," he says.

i did lose hope quick. losing hope would mean i'd never see timothée again, belle, and clyde. i would never have a chance to reunite with my family or even see life move ahead of me.

it's silent now.

"timothée? are you still mad at me?"

"for what?"

"the argument with clyde and stuff,"

"like i said it before. i can never be mad at you lacy,"

"you mean it?"

"i like you a little too much if you haven't noticed prescott. trust me—i love you." he says.

"you don't hate me? not even a little?"

"i can never hate you either."
"too memorable. too rare of a person to hate."

"okay," i exhaled, relived.

during the walk he told me the truth, the story behind his ex, why she left him. he did suffer from an alcohol problem. he suffered from a serious accident that during his construction job to support his family at 17, so for a while he was hooked on pain killers, doctors found out and permanently took it away—till he found his way to alcohol.

he worked for his family. he suffered for his family. he did it all.

"i try to do what's best for my family but it goes downhill it always does," timothée mumbled.

"but you kept going. you wanted to provide for belle."
"that's all you ever wanted timothée,"

he stopped drinking for belle.
but once he stopped drinking it was too late,
his ex had already moved on. she didn't want him or belle.

"i'm sorry i jumped to conclusion," i say.

"i practically lied. i don't blame you lace."
"i just didn't like labeling myself as an alcoholic,"

"you shouldn't be afraid of your past timothée, i'm only judging on present time,"

"am i doing well at present time?" he asked.

"right here. right now. you are doing
absolutely perfect."
"and your past was just as strong"

i move myself closer to him, pressing my lips against his, he moves his hands around my neck, rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

"you're even more cute with bandaids wrapped around your arm," he says between our lips, i laughed at little.

"you're the one who made it."