Juicy ~ Timothée Chalamet (Timothée OC's)

AND THEY WERE ROOMATES

i guess i have to say wrap it before you tap it, even though it's not my responsibility at all given this is fan fiction. i wish i had time to respond to ignorant comments from those who aren't mature enough to even be on this app, let alone read what i put into the world, but i don't. anyways i wanted to share this with those who still support me to this day and again with those going as far as making a tumblr to send requests in, i love you all so much💗
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Moving to New York was the hardest thing I've ever done. It wasn't the fast pace of city life or the fact that everything was brand new that had me worried, it was the cost to live there. I could deal with the other things.

Even with the money I'd set aside from every paycheck, freshman year to now, wasn't enough to last me more than two months. I had looked at many, many, many, apartments before deciding to look for a roommate. It was a last resort.

I took a trip up East from my Midwest home and met a plethora of future roommates, but only one in particular sat right with me.

Timothée Chalamet.

The way his name rollled off my tongue was nearly enough to send me back home packing, I just had a feeling, you know?

None the less I had to be smarter than that, yet as he sat across from me in the coffee shop, I found myself entranced by the life story he couldn't help but spew my way. It was like he had word vomit, I'd barely gotten a word in myself and it was a wonder he didn't question me.

He was the most sweet and nervous of the bunch of candidates. Normally those things would be a red flag where I'm from, but the way he made me laugh, along with how he carried himself, and the genuine care how I found my way around here, let me know I'd met my match.

So I waited until he had talked himself hoarse and returned the favor. I told him I was fulfilling a dream of my younger self, my family and I were from a small town, how I had never been in a city this big, but I could feel the creative energy run through me when I took in the scenery, or walked down the sidewalk, I told him how I felt I finally belonged.

Him being a native, accepted that statement rather quickly and supported it. He sat back in his chair with a smirk.

"I've been looking for a roommate for months and, it may sound strange, but you're the only person I can see myself co-existing with." He said with a true smile on his face.

I let myself smile before answering, "I've met with a few people today and you know what? I think you might have read my mind."

And that was endgame. A week and a half later we were moved into our place.

There was string of time, months, where we spent every second together. Going furniture shopping, finding our favorite breakfast, lunch, and dinner spots, we went grocery shopping together, he even went as far as walking me up and down the streets near and far just so I'd be familiar with the area.

But just as fast came a time where he wasn't home much at all and our schedules became complete opposites.

He had dropped out of NYU when he finally got his big break and the night he got the e-mail we celebrated with shitty champagne and take out. As for me, I had landed an internship on top of small indie roles that paid the bills.

"When are you leaving?" I place more noodles on my plate.

"What's today?" He asks, mouth half full.

"Wednesday."

"Thursday, Friday, Saturday.." He lifts a finger for each day.

"You can't be serious right now-"

"Next Friday." He holds nine fingers up toward me.

"You leave next week and had to count the days on your hands..out loud?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Look I have a lot going on up here," He taps his temple with his finger, "Don't judge." And sends a smirk my way.

"I'm not judging! It's kind of refreshing that you didn't pull out your planner." My smirk turns to a smile, "You nearly have your whole life written in there, down to each hour."

"How do you know it's down to the hour? Have you been reading it?" He asks quizzically, his face deathly serious.

I pause from taking a bite and stare at him with a confused face, "Please tell me you're joking."

After a moments pause he bursts out laughing, "No shit I'm joking, I'm not that fucking weird," He takes a bite of a dumpling, "It's planned by the week, day, and THEN the hour." He grins.

Now it was my turn to laugh, "Have you ever considered therapy?"

After loading our dishes, and the dishwasher flooding with bubbles (due to the fact he put Dawn where the Cascade was supposed to go), and both of us throwing said bubbles at one another, we cleaned up and sat down on the couch to watch our show.

I laid down and was nearly asleep, feeling the after effects of our champagne, on my end of the couch. I watched him take another swig from the bottle before closing my eyes.

I could feel his face hovering over mine, "Y/N?" He tried to whisper.

"Yes Timothée." I keep my eyes closed.

"I'm gonna miss you when I leave," I feel the couch dip behind me, his head stuffed in the back of my neck, "I miss you already." His voice is sleepy and rough.

I feel my cheeks heat at his words, such innocent words but in this moment they felt different. Maybe I'm drunk.

"I'm gonna miss you too Tim." I glance back to find him softly snoring softly behind me, peacefully burrowed uncomfortably beside me.

I really look at him for the first time. Of course he's been beautiful, but right now he looks angelic, so serene as he sleeps. I face forward again and let the heaviness of sleep take over me.

That night I dreamt of myself in his arms for the first time.