Long Timothee Chalamet Stories

My Boyfriend's Sister's Boyfriend (p5)

A/N - I want to warn y'all. The F slur is used in this chapter. That word is very offensive to me, and even though it probably wouldn't be frowned on me using it since I'm Queer, I still don't feel comfortable typing it out. I replaced the a with the at symbol.

Warnings - use of the F slur, abuse, use of twink in a derogatory way

Several weeks went by. I went home every week night, exhausted. It was if keeping myself away from Timothée took a physical toll on me. It wasn't getting any easier.

Even as I sat at Dillon's place, watching tv with him, I was preoccupied. I kept running over everything Timmy had done and said today.

"Holy shit," Dillon said as he looked at his phone.

"What?" I asked.

"That twink mother fucker broke up with my sister," Dillon said. I was too stunned to reprimand him for his language. Timothée was single. He'd broken it off. What did this mean? What would work be like Monday.

"I guess now is as good a time as any," Dillon said. My heart jumped into my throat as I saw him pulling a small black box from his pocket.

I didn't hear the proposal speech. I didn't hear myself say yes. It was as if someone was playing a loud buzzing sound in my ears. But then I realized, I hadn't said yes, Dillon was still looking at me expectantly. This was my chance, my only chance. Could I do it?

"This is unexpected," I said, my voice too shrill. Dillon's face turned sour. "I mean don't you think we should wait a little. We've only been together a year."

He stood up abruptly, ring box gripped tightly in his hand. He wasn't saying anything. His expression grew angrier and angrier.

"I mean, we could just wait a little bit. It wouldn't be so bad if-"

He had lifted his foot, and kicked me in the chest. I flew off the couch and onto the floor. The wind was completely knocked out of me. He came over, and pressed his foot to my chest. The back of my head throbbed.

"What do you mean, wait a little?" He asked venomously.

"I'm sorry," I gasped.

"Is this because of that fucking f@g?" He demanded.

"Don't use that word," I snapped. He knew how much I hated it. I'd reprimanded him a million times when he had aimed it at Julie.

"Answer me," he spit.

"No, it's not. I want to marry you, I do, I promise."

"Then put on the ring," he said, dropping the box on my face. I shakily took it, and pulled the ring out. Seeing it on my finger made me sick.

After that, he shifted into loving mode. We took pictures, and he kissed me. I felt like a robot, going through the motions. I was finally able to come up with an excuse to leave.

I drove straight to Timothée's apartment. I knew there was no longer the threat of Julie being there. I was banging on his door. He opened it and looked me up and down cautiously.

"You broke up with her," I didn't know why it was the first thing I said. His breath hitched.

"Did you?" He sounded hopeful. Tears spilled from my eyes as I held up my ring hand. The engagement ring glittered there.

"Oh," it was all he could say. He deflated like a ballon. The normally jubilant boy was falling in on himself.

"W-why are you here?" He asked, rubbing at his eyes.

"Because I want to sleep with you," I confessed. He looked shocked.

"We can't kiss, or cuddle. But I desperately want to fall asleep next to the person I love once in my life. Please, do this for me," I begged.

"Of course, I'd do anything for you," he promised, and let me in.

If things at Dillon's had felt unreal, this was the most real I'd ever felt. Every movement seemed to change my life. Things felt so heavy and meaningful as Timothée led me to his bedroom.

He carefully got into one side, and I the other. We ended up talking until we fell asleep, still facing each other. I didn't mention what Dillon had done, and I had taken off my ring the second I slipped into bed. I felt content, for that moment.