MiniSeries About Timothee Chalamet

I Wont Change My Number (The end)

Info - missing someone, mentions of alcohol, time jump, pining for someone, mention of a panic attack, running out of a wedding, confessions and crying

Ten years. It felt like more and it felt like less. I didn't forget him. We saw each other at events, we texted every now and again. I'd dated and so had he. I was surprised at the hurt in my heart when he'd gotten engaged. I cut off my relationship after that. I knew it wasn't fair if I was still this worked up over a man I'd dated ten years ago.

One night I got drunk and I took out my "Timothée" box. None of my other exes had a box. There were long dead and dried flowers that had been the last from him when he left. I hadn't been able to throw them out. Pictures of us littered the bottom. I'd even become a bit fan-girly and made edits of him. There was our small Scrapbook, and the cards he'd given me on birthdays. In here were the letters I'd written him over the years and never sent. Also the chocolates he'd gotten me as a gift that I'd felt too sick to eat after the breakup, long expired now. Finally, the sweater he'd liked me in the most. I cried over that box for hours.

It was months since then and all I'd done was wish Timothée good luck on his marriage through text. He hadn't responded and I worried, I worried our dumb little promise had been broken. Had he changed his number? Or was he ignoring me? Which would hurt more?

I didn't want to be on social media, it was the day of his wedding and I knew I would be mentioned somehow. I just laid on the couch watching a comfort movie and snacking.

There was a sharp bang on my door. I was alarmed, who would it be? When I used the peephole I was shocked to see Timothée. I wrenched open the door. He looked a mess, his face red and his eyes leaking tears. His hair was disheveled, though I could tell earlier it'd been styled. And he wore, oh, he was wearing his groom's suit. I looked into his eyes.

"Can I come home?" He asked emotionally.

"What?"

"YOU said maybe we could try again and I want that. Please," he begged.

"Y-you're getting married," I said in shock. He got on his knees and clasped his hands together.

"She came down the aisle and I whispered your name. I had a panic attack in front of the whole church thinking of how If I did that I'd never have another chance with you. I'd never get to kiss you, or hold you, or sleep with you, or make love to you. I didn't love you right before, let me show you. We can do this."

"You ran out of your wedding, for me?" I asked, still not grasping the gravity of what he was saying. He circled his arms around my waist.

"Y/n, y/n, y/n," he was practically praying. I kneeled down to be on his level.

"Timothée," I said, and it was all he needed to hear. He pulled me to him and kissed me deeply. I was on his lap and kissing him. This didn't feel like our last kiss, there was no finality here. This was a kiss of sweet new beginnings. I was wildly excited.

"I never really let my heart give you up," I said into his mouth.

"Neither did I," he said.

"I love you Timothée Chalamet."