SFW Timothee Chalamet Fanfiction P2

No Doubts

Warnings - alcohol, drinking, argument, PDA, insecurity

The party was a gorgeous affair and celebrities were everywhere. Timothée seemed to know every single one, and he seemed to get on best with the girls. He'd always had a lot of female friends, and it didn't really bother me until tonight.

So far, he'd been approached by Billie Ellish, Saoirse, Zendaya, and Florence. I knew he had movies with some of them, but still. Watching him kiss their hands, with only polite thoughts I was sure, made me look down at my pathetic figure in shame. The last straw was when Emma fucking Watson came over to hug him. She was kind of course, but she'd been my vote for most gorgeous celebrity since I was eleven. I adored her, and I was sure if she said the word, any straight man would leave their non famous girlfriend in a heartbeat.

I left Timothée to get to the drinks. I pounded back several shots. Usually alcohol made my anxiety lessen, but not tonight. Every touch that didn't land on me made my blood boil.

I marched over to him after a few more shots. I was considerably drunk now. I pulled on his collar and messily made out with him right in front of the three girls he'd been speaking to.

"Baby, that isn't really the mood of this party," he said, but he was smiling.

"Take me home," I requested. He looked reluctant.

"Fine, I'll get a cab," I slurred. He must've realized I was drunk. He grabbed my hand, thumb running over my knuckles.

"No, no baby, I'll take you sweetheart," he said, and kissed my hand. My anger only grew when he took ages saying goodbye to everyone. Once in the car, I crossed my arms in fury. I felt like a lot match, my flame feeding on anger.

"I get the feeling," Timothée said after a bout of silence. "You are unhappy with me."

"I bet all your beautiful celebrity friends can help you puzzle it out," I muttered.

"What was that?" He said, genuinely having not heard me. Suddenly, the anger dissolved into sadness. Tears streamed down my face.

"Woah, baby, Mon Amor," Timothée pulled to the side of the road. He pushed his seat back, and collected me in his arms. I sniffled against his chest.

"Talk to me," he said as he rubbed soothing circles on my back.

"Y-you have so many pretty, famous, talented friends. I'm just me. I don't look like them. I can't do what they do. One day you're going to realize how mismatched we are, and you'll leave."

"Oh, Mon Amor, why didn't you tell me that was what was bothering you. I would have shut up those nasty thoughts right away."

"I don't see how you like me," I said, snuggling further into his arms.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I do, we'd never have a problem like this again. I am enthralled by you, you have me, body and soul. Baby, I daydream about, some nights I can't sleep thinking about how lovely you are. You are enchanting in every way. I wanted to stay at the party, because at the end of it, I was going to ask you to move in with me."

"Really?" I said, head popping up.

"Yes, really, my beautiful, beautiful girl," he said, and leaned forward to kiss me. "No doubts okay? And if you do, tell me."

"I will Timmy, I love you," I said.

"I love you too."