Falling ♡ Timothée Chalamet

06 - signs

Morning comes, and all I did throughout the night was distract myself from the constant havoc occurring in my mind. I read some books, finished up some homework and watched a funny movie that I did not even crack a smile to.

I couldn't sleep due to all the chaos occurring in my house, and my leg was aching more than usual. But once morning came I took it as a sign to leave.

I leave my room before Aaron can wake up and talk to me again and once I'm downstairs I find my dad passed out on the living room couch with a bottle of vodka sprawled out beside him.

I leave without looking back.

I need to think, I need to get the facts straight and figure out what I'm going to do now because it's hard enough avoiding my father when I come home but now I have to add my brother onto the list of people I need to avoid once I enter my not so humble abode.

I don't know where I'm headed until I find myself on Timothée's block. His house is only a few steps ahead but I can't help but pause and take in the sight of it. It looked the same way it did years ago. I don't know why it would look any different, but the sight of it just brought back so many emotions.

My mother used to drop me and Aaron off here when my dad was in one of his bad moods and she was afraid she couldn't control his temper. So instead of putting us at the risk of getting hurt, she would drive us to the Chalamet house and sometimes we would have to sleep over and when we'd go back home the next day we'd search our mothers face and arms for a new bruise or a scratch or cut.

Any sign of abuse.

My mother always wore marks and scars that he gave her. And now after all these years I think I may actually have just as many as she did if not more scattered all over my body. It was sickening. The thought of it made me want to puke and just picturing my mother with all those marks again brought a new wave of emotions on me that I couldn't handle.

Before I can even process what I'm doing I've made it to their doorstep and I'm knocking lightly on the door. Fuck what am I doing here? What will I say? What if his mom opens the door? Or his dad?

The door opens. Thank god.

It's him.

'Ella?' He's shocked and he's staring at me. At my bruise which I so carelessly forgot to cover up, at my face which probably looks so fucking full of sadness right now and at my eyes. My tear filled eyes.

Before he can say anything else I fall into him, letting go of the crutches and holding onto him instead. He hugs back, and he holds me up so I don't fall.

I haven't hugged him like this. Not even when we were kids. And as he held me close I started to realize just how good it felt. To be held so close to somebody. I felt so cared for by him.

I felt safe in his arms.

I don't realize I'm crying into his shoulder until I start to taste the salty tears that fall out of my eyes. So I let go, but he doesn't. He still holds onto me and keeps me balanced so I don't fall over, and I appreciate him for that.

'W-What happened to you? What's wrong? Tell me.' He's afraid, not of me but for me. He knows it's serious. Why else would I be showing up so unexpectedly like this?

Looking like a complete and utter mess.

'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I came here and that I didn't call you beforehand to check if this was okay with you. I just didn't know where else I could go right now.' I'm rambling and he holds me tighter, trying to steady me again.