LOVING IS EASY! T. CHALAMET

declaration

tw: mention of bipolar disorder
FLASHBACK!
september 2nd, 2017

INSTAGRAM!

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nolan you make me live whenever this world is cruel to me.

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tchalamet thinking
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REAL LIFE!
9:17 am

Timothée rolled over in bed, greeted by nothing but Nolan's kitten, Genevieve. Frowning slightly, he reached over to pet the animal, only to have her scurry off. He sighed, throwing the duvet off of his now chilled body, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Out on the patio sat Nolan, drinking a glass of orange juice and smoking a cigarette. Softly sighing again, he stood up and went into the bathroom to freshen up.
Outside, Nolan was completely oblivious to the man inside. Nolan was too into his own head. The past few weeks have been filled with nothing but a growing, fresh thrill. It all seemed to happen too quickly, all of the feelings slamming into his chest repeatedly. It came in waves. No, surges.
It came in surges.
Like when you're in the ocean, and the waves come on after another. You get it the first time, and take is easily, softly falling into the water. And then you get up.
Another wave comes.
And another.
Until you find it hard to breathe.
Like your next breath might be your last.

Timothée was suddenly next to him as the clock struck 9:30 am and Nolan's phone alarm went off.
"Timmy? Can you close your eyes for a second?" Nolan asked, looking up at him.
Furrowing his brows, Timothée reluctantly agreeing and turning around, the sun blinding him. He closed his eyes, and all he heard was the glass being set down. "I hope you're not pulling out a ring right now, Nol" he joked.
"Why would I be doing that?" Nolan asked defensively, with a bit of harshness in his voice.
Timothée quickly turned around, eyes snapping open. Nolan had a tight look on his face, an expression Timothée would come past for months to come. "It was a joke, don't seem too repulsed by it, god."
Nolan's face immediately softened, as he mumbled apologies to the man, standing up to face him. His hand found place on Timothée's cheek caressing the soft skin with his thumb. "I have to tell you something." he whispered.
"I am in love with you. You and I both know I'm not the best with words, so bear with me. I love you, Timmy. Being with you fucking terrifies me. Every second of the day I'm thinking about you. I'm fucking terrified of losing you. You've made me whole again. I know I haven't been the easiest to deal with. I have bipolar disorder. If I'm going to love you, you have to know me. You have to know the me where I jump from on this to another. When I block everyone out, and when I jump from party to party. This is a part of me, and I've learned to live with it. And I beg of you, stay with me. I love you. I love you. This disease isn't who I am, it is only a fraction of me. My soul is as full and pure as it has ever been. You make me feel like I can do anything. So please, stay with me. Stay with me until you can't anymore, until it begins to do nothing but hurt you. Stay with me through it all. And no matter what, I'll be in your corner."