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

35 | Armie

All this drama is corroding my heart like a toxin. I don't know how much more betrayal, abandonment, disappointment, hurt and loss I can take. It feels like I've lost everything.

They say that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Even though I feel weaker than ever, totally sapped of my strength and will to go on, I feel an inexplicable, overwhelming need to prove my strength to Timmy. I don't know why, but I need to prove myself worthy of him. I suspect it's something innate that all males share. We prowl the earth in search of a mate, someone to breed, someone to help us sire our lineage. We have to protect that life partner, guard them with all of our physical strength and material resources. And that impulse manifests itself now in this urge to be strong for Timmy. I can't have an emotional breakdown. I can't worry or scare him. I'm going to be happy for him and support him in every decision he makes. I want to be the rock that he leans on, if not as a life partner then as a friend.

Acceptance is the hardest part. I have to accept that Timmy isn't in love with me anymore - I no longer hold his precious heart like I once did - and he's moved on with the help of all his boyfriends. Now he's marrying Eric. He's all grown up, engaged to a lumberjack-firefighter-hulk-of-a-man. Moreover, my wife has filed for divorce and we're in the process of separating.

It's a lot to accept.

When I'm overwhelmed, as I am now, by circumstances that I can't change, I find myself raring for a good workout. I'm about to go for a jog, when the doorbell rings.

To my shock, Timmy is standing at the door of my new apartment. I didn't give anyone the address, so he must've gotten it from Elizabeth. Which means he knows everything.

Timmy's hair is an absolute mop of messy chocolate-coloured curls. He's wearing a loose-fitting tee and high-waisted booty shorts that show off his perky ass, trim waist and endlessly long, skinny legs to the world.

I lean against the doorjamb, partly to appear casual and partly to conceal the buckling of my knees in reaction to his beauty. I'm truly whipped.

"Hey-"

"Armie... I'm so sorry. I heard about what happened with Liz."

Sighing, I sweep a hand through my hair.

"It's not your fault." I wave him inside. "Come in."

Timmy steps inside and looks around. Had I known he would be dropping by, I would've cleaned up more. The kids' toys are strewn all around the floor in plain view.

"Nice apartment," he remarks genuinely.

"Thanks. It feels suffocatingly small after the house, but...this is only temporary. I'm in the processes of looking at houses right now."

"It's still way bigger than mine."

"That's just the way it is in New York."

Timmy nods, chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip.

"So, uh... You're looking better."

"I did get a haircut, yes," I concede smilingly. "And some sleep. I'm still just...trying to cope with everything."

All in all, I'd say I've been doing alright. The people closest to me know I haven't exactly been happy, but my children give me the purpose and strength I need to get up in the morning and I just make it through one day at a time.