Corey Fogelmanis Imagines

14 || Call Me By Your Name

A/N I respect everyone's beliefs. If your beliefs conflict with my story on romance of two men, and if you have strong feelings against it, i may not understand it, but I will not be hurt by your decision to skip this. I will not however, tolerate nasty comments on my story. This is not very sexual as I'm really not comfortable writing about real people in an intimate way like that but its pretty sensual. I recommend to watch/read Call Me By Your Name, it's a fantastic piece of art in movie and book form and just beautiful in every way. Timotheé Chalamet and Armie Hammer do an excellent job with their portrayals. If you have a request for another scenario like this with two other people lmk, and I'll post one to tumblr.

This is Timotheé Chalamet

And of course this is Corey Fogelmanis
.......
Corey Fogelmanis travels to his family house in England for the summer. His father is in the theatre business and has been transferred to London to oversee a show he has been working on in Los Angeles. The Prodigal Son will show at the The Old Vic in London. Timotheé Chalamet, who stars as the Prodigal Son, stays with his bosses family for familiarity and to experience British culture with companionship from his directors son, Corey. However, things take a turn in one direction that was unforeseen.
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Something about London makes my constantly tight chest feel at ease. I got here a week early with my uncle, and spent it reading in coffee houses, watching movies, absorbing the culture, and playing music on my guitar.

I was playing Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles when I heard many constant rings from the door of the apartment.

The moment I unlocked the entrance it was loud with love, and I was immediately swept up in a hug by my mother.

"I missed you sweetheart!" She chided and I mumbled an "I miss you too." amidst the reconciliations and travel bags everywhere. My father gave me a loving pat on the back when my eyes settled on a familiar character. Whenever he travels for business he often lets one of his younger performers stay with us.

The thinks it's important to watch out for people who are just starting out and takes care of all their needs while we're away.

Normally I don't mind, but a dilemma soon made its way into my mind. We have three bedrooms. One for my uncle, one for my parents, and one for me. Now we have an odd man out and I'm confused as to how this is going down.

"Honey you don't mind sharing your room do you? The pullout couch is very comfortable, you can sleep on that right."

The irrational anger I felt was very prevalent in my veins and left me at unease. Sharing my room means playing my music in front of another person, reading and trying to hide my emotions, and other personal and intimate things are now impossible.

I shrug my shoulders and move my sheets from my perfectly comfortable best and position them on the couch.

The boy playing The Prodigal Son enters, "Hey man, sorry about this situation. I promise you I don't mind sleeping on the couch." I shake my head and continue to make the bed.

"My mother would have a fit. I don't mind, really."

The next day I woke up with a sore neck and a headache.

'Ugh', I groaned whilst rubbing my neck. Timotheé was clad in pants and shirtless while putting clothes away in the bottom drawer.

"I claimed some space, hope you don't mind." He said in a nonchalant manner. He heard no response and turned around, "Are you alright?"

I was staring at Timotheé's back in awe, that I didn't even register his question until the moment I was caught. "Oh, yeah it's fine. Sorry I'm a bit sore. I started massaging my temple to prove a point, then promptly flipped over to try and go back to sleep and save myself from further embarrassment. Then I felt a hand gently knead itself into my neck.

"Why does this feel amazing." I mumble into my pillow but my words just mush together. I assume he got the idea of my phrase because he continued the conversation with an explanation. "My mom's a masseuse. I picked up a thing or two." He chuckles and plucks the shirt off of his bed. He gets it on in two seconds and is off.

I already know my ears are red and I yell into the pillow. This is gonna be a long six weeks.
______

Two weeks later, and he convinced me that he doesn't mind if we share the bed. The pullout couch was just torturous and left me popping Tylenol daily to rid my aches.

I slept on the farthest possible side I could get. I think it amused Timotheé. The past two night since I've began sleeping I his room, he's chuckled over my obvious distance. He bids me goodnight with a chuckle consecutively. This night however, he poses a question.

"Do you think I'm going to bite or something?" I shake my head no, forgetting it was too dark for that notion to hold any value. I clear my voice and say no. "I just..." i trail off not knowing how to explain my predicament.

"You just don't want to loose your manhood? Is that it? Listen, I'm 22. You're 18. We're adults. Just because I'm bi doesn't mean I'm going to try and make a move on you." He ranted with annoyance.

I'm shocked for a moment. "You're bi?"

Silence.

"I thought you knew- I assumed your dad told you." He said his words slowly and delicately, as if he was expecting an instant rejection. This confused me, as confidence is the only emotion he's ever shown me.

"My father probably didn't tell me because he doesn't care. I don't either." My heart beat slightly fact. Confidence is my biggest issue due to the fact that conversing with people I'm not close to causes me a great deal of stress. I try to win people over with my self deprecating jokes because any type of humor evades my soul entirely when the attention is in me.

However, it's important that I address this quick and easy because the last thing I want is for Oliver feel uncomfortable around me for a reason as shallow as prejudice.

"Not to be blunt but don't get nervous or anything. I don't care. My father doesn't care. My family doesn't care. Orientation is like a hair color in this house, a description and nothing more. Thank you for letting me know though."

I can make out a smile from the light from a street lamp visible through the cracks of the blinds. He laughs under his breath.

"You are something else Corey."

I go to sleep smiling, and wake up next to Timotheé. His back is to mine, mine to his, our skin is touching, his is radiating heat to mine like a furnace. Needless to say, I am flustered and end up taking a rather chilly shower that morning.