Forbidden Fruit •Timothee Chalamet (Stepbrother)

55.Moth to a flame

(Warning:mental health, mental illness,smut,sexual content.)

Flashback to seven years ago, in Paris,France.

                                                                   ( Timothée's Pov)
☆.｡.:*
The cool air hits my skin as I find myself confined within these four walls I've grown to despise. Six torturous months have passed since my father sent me to this high-end rehabilitation and correctional facility in France. Amelia was sent away, more than 200 miles away from me,to London. I don't know how much more of this I can take, but I realize that no matter what, I must push through this situation to get back to her.

"You have a visitor, Timothée," The nurse announces, and my father enters the room, moving slowly.

My eyes immediately fill with hatred as I lay eyes on him. "Hello, Son," He greets me with a satisfied smirk, his hands casually tucked away in his pockets with no regard for the hell that he's put me through the past few months.

I give him a cold, hard glare, refusing to acknowledge his presence. He had taken me away from her, leaving me to rot alone in this place, and yet he expected me be to pleased to see him?

He lets out a long weary sigh, "Come on, son. You can't stay upset with me forever, I did what's best for you." He says as he rolls his eyes at me.

I scoff angrily. "You think what's best for me is to rip me away from the one person I truly love?  You didn't do what's right for me, father. You did what suited your own fucking agenda." I say, my voice laced with bitterness.

He brushes me off and I shoot him another glare. "You might be pleased to know that you won't be staying here any longer," He declares. "You've been here long enough. I'm taking you to meet your grandfathers old colleagues today. They're the backbone of the cult, if you will. You'll be shadowing them while you stay with your grandmother, This way, you'll learn what it takes to be the new leader."

"How many fucking times do I have to tell you? I don't want any part of your god damn cult, and I don't want anything to do with you! I wish I wasn't even your son. I've never felt a connection with you." I snap at him once again, defiance and frustration bursting from me.

"Timothée,this is not your choice! "He snaps back at me, his voice growing impossibly stern. "You will be the next leader of this cult, regardless of whether I need to force you into the role or not. You will pack your bags and leave with me. This is a new chapter, and you will leave behind this childish bullshit and become a man!" I look at him with open disgust, feeling an icy coldness creep into my veins. He is forcefully imposing a life upon me that I want no part of, using threats and manipulation to mold me in the vessel of his legacy. My father has never loved for simply being his son, he only sees me as vessel to continue his ambitions.

"Have you heard from Amelia?" My voice trembles as her name surfaces in my thoughts. "Is she okay? I tried to call the facility in London, but they won't me speak to her. I assume you instructed them not to let me." I fix my gaze on my father, the hate for him coursing through me.

"She's doing well." He says bluntly. "Ansel actually went to see her." He drops the statement as if he's purposely twisting the knife in my heart. "You should let her go, Timothée. Let her your brother take care of her. He's better suited for her anyways."My father looks at me coldly.

"No one is better for her than me." My voice turns harsh as I give him a poisonous look.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news..but she seems to have chosen a different path for herself after she leaves London." My father continues ruthlessly. "She's going to NYU, with Ansel."