Long Timothee Chalamet Stories

The Twin (Part 7)

Info - heart ache, argument, someone punching someone else, pining, sickness, bullying, mentions of sex, guilt

"You can't, what does that mean?" I asked desperately.

"I'm not there yet," he swallowed hard.

"We got our initials tattooed on each other!" I snapped.

"You got my brothers!" Luke shouted.

"I didn't try that," I said with tears in my eyes.

"You can't be mad because I'm not ready."

"Look, Luke Chalamet! You introduced me to your family, you asked me to your family's cabin for the weekend. You said we should get tattoos for one another! But you don't love me?"

"Fine, I love you," he said, not making eye contact.

"I don't want to force it out of you!"

"It's just a word, you know how I feel. Why do you need that particular word," he demanded.

"Because that word describes a feeling," I snapped.

"Look, I said not to pick a fight this weekend," he argued.

"F-fine," I sniffed. "But I'm not sleeping in this bedroom tonight, it'll only cause the stupid fights you're so afraid of."

I stomped out of the bedroom and out onto the deck. I stared at the gorgeous view as I tears fell from my eyes.

"Y/n?" I heard Luke's voice, and I whipped around with hope, but it was Timothée.

"Oh," I said.

"You're crying!" He said in panic. He ran over to me. He looked like he was about to pull me into his arms, but he stopped himself.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Like you care," I sniffled.

"I do, I truly do " he said, and his warm hand was placed on my arm.

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, tears still streaming down my face.

"Can I at least comfort you then? It hurts to see you just crying with no help."

"Fine," I relented. He pulled me close and I laid my head on his shoulder. I turned my head slightly and breathed in his delicious cologne. It was slightly floral, and rich.

"You smell nice," I mumbled, and he let out a shaky breath.

"You really like me that much? That a simple compliment makes you shaky?" I asked.

"I mean yeah," he shrugged.

"So what did you do after we kissed?" I chuckled.

"Pinched myself like one hundred times, screamed under the hot tub water, and then kinda cried because you said you didn't feel anything," he listed. Guilt gnawed at my heart.

"Wonder what you'd do if we fucked," I whispered, almost joking.

"Uhhhhhh," he moaned and laid his head on top of mine. "Don't give me false hope."

"Babe, I just wanted to say...what the hell?" It was Luke. I jumped away from Timothée. Before either Luke or I could say anything, Timothée shot up and stalked over to his brother angrily.

"I don't know what you did or didn't do, but you've got an amazing girlfriend, act like it dickhead," he snapped and walloped him in the stomach. Luke hunched over, and I had no idea what to say.

The ride home was very quiet. Luke kissed me for a long time when he dropped me off at home, but it felt like he was trying to prove something again, even if Timothée wasn't around.

I was dreading school the next day. For some reason, both Chalamet boys were absent. I didn't have any texts from Luke until the end of the day when he sent a message saying "sorry I wasn't around babe, me and the idiot brother came down with something nasty. It just hit us in the middle of the night."

I began my walk home. I didn't want to go home. I was used to visiting Luke after school. I didn't like being home to be honest. Before he'd introduced me to his family we'd take a walk or go to a park or a diner. I realized Timothée must like taking walks too, if he'd seen me when I was in my old house. As if if conjured him, I saw him.

He was cowered, hands in front of his face. He looked deathly pale, and once in a while he had to cover his mouth to cough, but something dangled from his hand. I ran over without thinking.

"What's going on?" I asked the three boys.

"Chalamet made a joke, he thinks he's a smart cookie," one growled.

"Yeah, what was it?" I asked. They looked embarrassed at this.

"We didn't exactly understand it," another said, and I heard Timothée hack out some phlegm.

"Well then leave him alone, he's clearly sick," I said. "He probably didn't know what he was saying either."

They grumbled something about how shameful it was to be saved by a girl and stalked off. I turned to a sweaty and sickly Timothée.

"Why in the world aren't you in a bed, sleeping!" I demanded.

"You left this at the cottage," he said, holding up the necklace Luke had gotten me. It was a heart pendant.

"And you thought it was necessary for you to drag your sick ass to school to give it to me?" I asked.

"I'm fine," he said, before sneezing three times, making sure the necklace was away from him so it didn't get germs on it.

"You're clearly not, let me help you home," I said.

"Luke will hate us."

"I don't care right now, I'm not letting your sick ass get beat up in the street," I said. I took the pendant and slipped it over my head.

"Luke told me why you're pissed at him," Timothée muttered.

"Why would he tell you?" I grumbled.

"Because I wouldn't stop pestering him, and he wanted to sleep, and I was sitting on top of him," he said nonchalantly. I couldn't help it, I burst into laughter.

"Are you ten?" I asked.

"You have the prettiest laugh I've ever heard," he sighed, I abruptly stopped.

"Don't hide from me. I can stop with the compliments if you want, but don't not laugh because some loser thinks it's pretty."

"You're not, you're not some loser Timothée," I said quietly.

"Then what am I? To you?" He asked slowly. We locked eyes. I felt like he was a magnet and I was metal. I couldn't help the way I was moving in.

"Y/n, y/n, y/n," he said under his breath.

"We're here," I said shakily, pointing to his front door.

"Right," he nodded, and turned to go.