Forbidden Fruit •Timothee Chalamet (Stepbrother)

9. The day after

(Warning:mentions of abuse, trauma,drugs)

I wake myself up hacking and look around in confusion to see myself back at home in my own bed,with my sheets fitted around my body like someone has cocooned me.

Was it all a bad dream?

I place my hand on my throat that feels extremely dry.I look over to my bedside and see the white uniform from last night on the floor beside it.It wasn't a dream.

How come I don't remember how I got home? How come I don't remember the rest of the night? I drink the water on my bedside and gently rub my throat in discomfort, when it hits me.Timothée slipped something in my mouth. It was a pill.

I wobble out of bed,getting a head rush as I stand up. My legs ache with every step I take,like they will give out at any moment.I walk over the bathroom mirror and see bruises all over my body.I start to gently press on each black and blue mark trying so hard to try to remember how I got them.

There's a huge bruised area on my back when I look back. It's from being slammed on the hard floor.

I hear Timothée's foot steps as he appears holding the biggest bouquet of roses I've ever seen.
I see him pop his head out behind them while he sets them down on my bed giving me a remorseful smile. I just stand in the entry of the bathroom perplexed.

"I went to the family doctor." He says, as he makes his way to me but takes every step delicately.He pulls a pharmacy bag out if his pocket. "Painkillers and some muscle relaxers to help you sleep." he states, holding the bag up.

"Wh-What did you give me last night?" I question,still disoriented at the situation.

"Rohypnol." he responds honestly with a blank look on his face.

I shake my head a little trying to take in what he just said.Where did he get Rohypnol? Isn't that a sedative?

"I had to Amelia. I didn't want you to remember more of that then you needed too."He justifies as he walks over to my bathtub.

He is right.I didn't want to remember any of that.I should be thankful that he did what he did.

"What are you doing?" I ask, while I watch him pour Epsom salt in the tub.

"Running you a bath." he says nonchalantly. "Now get in, your bruised." He orders with concern all over him.

I try to lift one of my legs into the bath but I grimace as I attempt.

I try again "OW!" I yelp at the sharp pain that bolts through me.

Timothée watches me disheartened before grabbing me and lifting me in the tub, setting me in the water as he hurries to bring over the pharmacy bag to me. He opens the paper bag and pulls out the painkillers, opening them up as his hands shake with anger.He's angry seeing me in pain.

"I caused this, I caused all of this." He tells himself with horror.

"Timothée none of this is your fault." I say, in attempt to reassure him while I watch him pour two pills in the palm of his hands.

"Open up." he says, as he places the pills in my mouth and hands me over water to wash it down.

The hot water feels so good on my sore body and Timothee starts to strip.I feel him dip his body in the tub behind me,scooching me forward a little as he straddles me in his lap. His arms wrap around me and I feel him press his lips against my neck.

He starts to suds up some soap and lather my hair in circular motions, while I lean my head back on his chest. It feels so good to be in a warm tub in his embrace while he washes my hair.Even after something this traumatic, moments like this are so fleeting.