SFW Timothee Chalamet Fanfiction P2

Panic

Info - first red carpet, feeling embarrassed and sad, running away, Timothée with a panic attack, mention of true crime

"I'm so excited to be here with you Timmy!" I said and kissed his cheek.

"I'm excited for it too, you look phenomenal," he smiled. We got out of the limo. Timothée's hand was on my waist, that is until we met Taylor. He hugged her and so did I. He was back with his arm around my waist for the first picture. I was beaming, I felt so special and happy with Timothée.

My heart fell when he moved away from me for the next picture. I'm fact, every other picture taken was with Taylor. I felt discarded, like a piece of trash.

I gulped down potential tears. I tried hard to smile at the cameras. I didn't want my unhappiness to be evident and hurt Timmy's career. So I put on smile after smile.

I was so relieved once we were in the ballroom, no cameras, no faking. I exited easily and walked down halls until I found an empty room. I sat on the couch and tried to distract myself from my sad thoughts and feelings. I tried to tell myself it was all for press, it was his job. I just didn't know why he would've invited me if he were just going to do this. It would've hurt less to not be invited.

Finally, they came, the tears, I couldn't hold them back any more. I was gasping for breath and sobbing. My shoulders shook and tears streamed down my face. I was trying to stop, to calm down, but all I wanted was my boyfriend.

As if I'd made a wish to a genie, the door opened and Timothée was swimming before my vision.

"Baby, oh thank God I found you," he gasped and pulled me down into his arms. He rocked me as he rubbed my back.

"Why'd you leave? You had me so worried Mon amour. I was asking after you and no one knew, I was so scared," he said desperately.

"Well," I said sitting back and mopping at my eyes.

"You only took one picture with me. I had been so excited to be here with you. I-I thought you didn't care if I was gone," I said.

"You thought I didn't care?" He demanded.

"Baby, I was contractually obligated to take a certain amount of pictures with Taylor. I was going to make sure our pictures were all when we left. I was so, so fucking worried about you," he told me all this while holding my face on his hands. He pecked my lips once, and then again, and again.

"I-I was panicking," he said shakily.

"Every true crime story you've ever told me about someone just up and disappeared was floating through my head," he told me and he was actually crying.

"If something ever happened to you I-I don't-" he broke himself off and was breathing shallowly.

"Oh Timothée, Timmy baby," I said anxiously and pulled his head down so he could lay on my chest.

"I'm here, listen to my heart beat," I soothed him. He clutched at my shoulder. He kissed the parts of my chest that weren't exposed.

"I wanted to spend the night with you I promise," he whispered.

"Timothée, I want that too."

"Come back with me?" He asked.

"I'd do anything with you," I swore.