MiniSeries About Timothee Chalamet

The ghost

Info - ghost Timothée, paranormal activity, attempted rape, Timothée attacking people, losing the love of your life, slight reincarnation mentioned, mentions of murder

He'd said the kiss was just a test, to see if he could kiss someone. We hadn't done anything since except cuddle.

"Do you miss her just as much?" I asked one day. Amelia, he'd told me her name. I was glad it was a pretty, at the least the man I loved was pining over a pretty girl. She'd been married off to someone else. He'd been seen as too dramatic and romantic to marry her.

"Not quite as much since you," he'd said after a long time, his feather light touch soothing me. I spent as much time as possible in the old mansion. It had gained me a reputation. Not to mention sometimes I visited Timothée's grave, making sure it was clean and always had fresh flowers. That certainly didn't help.

There was a group of three boys who had taken it upon themselves to bother me at school. The problem was I knew one of them had a thing for me. He'd always call after me, listing off lewd acts I could be doing in the abandoned house.

Today, as I walked to the mansion from after school, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around but saw nothing. When I turned back around one of the boys was in front of me smirking.

"Where ya going sexy?"

"None of your concern," I snapped and walked quickly around him. I clutched my books to my chest as I power walked. If I could just get to the house I'd be fine.

"There's nothing in that place but old furniture. I can give you something better to ride than a Victorian couch arm!"

I walked faster but I heard the footsteps pounding after me. More steps joined and I was panting when I heard the whoops of all three. My heart was drumming painfully as I took the bend. I could see it now. Something or someone, grabbed my skirt. It fell down a little and I felt hot tears. I didn't stop, my skirt could be around my ankles but I wouldn't stop!

"Timothée!" I cried as I burst through the never locked door.

"What is it?" He asked in terror.

"Three boys, they're after me, and-"

"There you are!" Said one of the boys.

"Who were you talking to? There's no one here," said the second. The one who had a crush on me looked ravenous.

"She's mental, maybe a good dick with fix her," he growled in anticipation.

"Or she could give some head to fix her head!" The second snickered at his dumb joke.

"Timothée," I squeaked.

"Why'd you run here for refuge? There's no one around to save you, or hear you scream," said the most aggressive one, and he grabbed my arm. Suddenly he was blasted back into the wall.

"What the hell!" Shouted one.

"You dare disturb me!" Timothée's voice was dark and dangerous. He'd told me he got angry when people trespassed in his home. I'd been an exception.

"What the fuck is this some sort of prank?" One snarled. One was lifted up, clawing at his throat as if it was being compressed. The next slid sideways into the wall hard. An accent vase broke on my would be attackers head.

"Let's get out, this shit is haunted!" Said one.

"Allow me," Timothée offered, and they all were dragged out of the house by their ankles. My heart was beating fast and I could hardly breathe until I felt whispy arms circle around me.

"Are you alright my dear?" He asked in my ear. I turned to him. He was smiling at me in a way he never had. I kissed him as hard as I could so he'd feel it.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"For what?" I asked.

"For setting me free," he smiled.

"What do you mean?" I asked in alarm.

"My unfinished work is done, the one I love, returns my love," he said to me. "And now I can move on."

"Wait, what! No! Timothée no! You can't tell me you love me and then leave," I wailed, he was fading.

"I'll always remember you," he said sweetly.

"Stop, stop!" I begged clutching at him, but he sifted through my hands easily. I sobbed on the floor of the old house. It felt like hours until I got unsteadily to my feet.

I didn't attend school for a week. I told everyone I was sick, because I felt that way. Losing someone you loved should qualify as an illness, one with no cure.

My first day back I sat reading a book on the green, when someone tapped my shoulder. I looked up and nearly fell out of my seat.

"Timothée!" I said. Because before stood his twin, only in color. He looked alive and well and healthy.

"H-how did you know my name?"

"Why did you come over here?" I challenged.

"I felt like I HAD to meet you, I can't explain it," he shrugged.

"You're new, aren't you?" I asked.

"Kinda, my family just moved back."

"Back?"

"We lived here when I was like four, we needed up moving away but we just moved back in town," he said with his hands in his pockets.

"Do you, d-did you have any relatives here?" I asked cautiously.

"Oh yeah, my great, great, add about a million more greats, grandmother was the first. She had two sons but one died."

"D-did she kill him?" I asked bluntly. He looked too surprised to be offended.

"How did you know that?"

"I just did a report on your family for town history month," I lied.

"Wow, you must have really dig deep, very few people know that part," he said.

"So, you said like you felt like you HAD to talk to me?" I asked, moving closer.

"Yeah, is that weird?"

"Not at all, have lunch with me Timothée."

"You know I'm named for him, my ancestor who was killed?"

"I figured," I smirked.