Calling Him By My Name [Armie Hammer + Timothée Chalamet | Charmie | mxb]

9 | Armie

Timmy finds me in a rare moment of anxiety, leaning against the railing of the apartment balcony as I reflect on the reality of the situation. Summer is ending - and so too is our work on this film. Tomorrow is our last day. I've been fighting a lot with Luca lately, and we both know it's because we're sad and don't want the experience to end.

"Hey," he mutters softly.

I know he can read the turmoil in my eyes when I turn them on him.

"Hey."

Timmy comes to stand beside me and my heart twists with a pang of longing. He's so unaware of how beautiful he is, with his feral curls askew and pale skin aglow in the moonlight. I'm going to miss him something fierce, that's for damn sure - but this isn't about me. I have to think about Timmy, and be strong for him. It's like with my family; they make me want to live and care for something other than myself.

I cover his hand with mine, brushing my thumb over his knuckles and tracing up and down between the webbing and the nail.

"Are you coming inside," he asks.

I lean over to press a light smooch to his forehead.

"I'm coming."

After our nightly bath, I swaddle Timmy in warm blankets, kiss every square inch of his face, lick the lingering drops of water from every vertebra of his spine, make him hot tea and cuddle patiently with him in the hopes that he'll relax enough to get some rest.

He doesn't.

"Go to sleep, beautiful..." I attempt to put Timmy to bed with loving words and soft caresses, but his abnormally huge eyes refuse to shut.

"I don't want to." He scowls up at me, dark curls fanning out around his heart-shaped face. I exhale deeply into the hollow of his throat. I know why he won't let himself fall asleep, why he's afraid to. Like me, he doesn't want to miss a moment of the scarce few ones we have left in each other's company. But I have to believe this isn't the end, that our friendship will continue strong after filming ends, for the sake of this sweet boy. I have to be strong for him.

"You can close your eyes," I murmur assuringly, though of course he doesn't. "I'll still be here when you wake up. We can do whatever you want after work tomorrow. Anything. We'll have so much fun...but you need your rest, and it's super late. Come on, sweetheart, for me."

"I'm trying, but..." Timmy's fingers seek out mine in the dark, lacing them together and laying my hand under his cheek. He keeps his eyes open.

"But what, gorgeous?" I can't help the affection spewing from my lips, the pet names and adoring gestures; Timmy awakens something visceral in me that I've only ever experienced with my wife and daughter. I want to take such good care of him, make him happy with me, forever. I care more about his fucking pinkie toe than my entire well-being. Despite my efforts, he's still tense and anxious, and it kills me that there's nothing I can do.

For other films, I would work with a costar for six or seven weeks and then it was just over. We'd go our separate ways and I could just shut the experience off like a slight switch; I felt nothing but a sense of professional accomplishment. Yet I'm confident that things with Timmy will be different. I need them to be. Elizabeth will absolutely adore him. She'll welcome him into our home, as will I, and he'll never be made to leave. One way or another, I intend to keep this precious angel close to me for as long as that's where he wants to be.