Forbidden Fruit •Timothee Chalamet (Stepbrother)

54.Forgive me

(Warning:mentions of abortion, smut,sexual content.)

We ride in silence towards Timothée's place, the air shared between us filled with upspoken words that are physically weighing us down. The space in the back feels tight and suffocating. I can sense the anger in his silence, and when I glance over at him, I see the shattered expression on his face.

"How could you have kept this from me for so long?" Timothée gazes straight ahead, refusing to meet my eyes, as the words fall from his lips, carrying the weight of a broken heart.

I struggle to find the right words, my throat constricting every time I speak. "You aborted our child? You got rid of something we created together without a second thought?" His voice tremors with anger and pain as he asks. "How could you do something like that, Amelia?" 

"That's not how it happened Timothée. You don't know the circumstances." My voice quivers as I defend myself. "We were torn from each others lives, remember? So don't pretend that you understand why I made the decision I made." Tears fill my eyes and begin to spill down my face, flashbacks of that horrible time I spent by myself in London start to rush into my head.

"Well, we're together now!" Timothée words lash out, sharp and filled with emotion." and I deserve some answers! Why did you do it?" His lips draw together tightly, and he looks like can barely stomach the thought. 

My mind races with a thousand explanations,but no single answer seems to be enough.

"There isn't a simple answer." I sob.

"This isn't a time for you to be vague Amelia." He presses on, his voice cracking. "That was my child too, and you knew-" his voice breaks off, and I realize tears are streaming down his face. "You knew how much I wanted a baby with you," Timothée continues, his voice barely holding back the flood of emotions his feeling. "You knew how much I would have adored that child."

This moment feels like the first time I've seen vulnerability from him since I've seen him again. He's been exuding such power, but now I catch of a glimpse of the softer, more vulnerable side of him that I missed so much.

"I'm sorry Timothée," I murmur, reaching out to take his hand. "We were so young, barely 18, and our child was conceived while we were detoxing from drugs." I try to explain through tears. "My body was too frail when I got to London, and the doctors told me carrying a baby would be dangerous for me." Tears stream rapidly down my face as I continue."I was scared, Timothée. So fucking scared because you weren't with me. I was completely alone."  Timothée's gaze flickers to mine, our eyes meet again as he finally turns to face me,both of eyes filled with tears. The conversation is breaking us both apart.

"You don't know how terrifying it was being there." My voice quivers as I reveal. "How completely alone I was. Separated from everyone. Separated from you..." I swallow hard, struggling to continue."I didn't think you wanted anything to do with me anymore..much less a baby."

He looks absolutely heartbroken,his tears running down his face uncontrollably, clouding his beautiful eyes. "Why would ever think that?"  Timothée asks, hurt.

I hesitate, biting my tongue,not wanting to bring up the letters or the way he rejected me and left me alone. He's already hurting, I don't want to make it worse by pointing fingers and placing blame on him. He looks devastated, and it's obvious to me that he's contemplating what could have been. I sit there, allowing him to grieve the possibilities that were wrenched away. I grieve with him, silently.

Then, Timothée let's out a whimper.He turns to me,his head falling into my chest, and he clings defeatedly to my shirt, his grip tightening around my stomach while he sobs uncontrollably. My reaction is delayed, but I swiftly tighten my embrace around him, pulling his head closer against my chest. I begin to soothe him, hushing him softly like a child. While I knew this revelation would be difficult him, I never would have guessed it would cause him to get this emotional. His powerful, authoritative cult leader persona crumbles and he whimpers again, pressing his face into my lap.