delicate. / timothée chalamet au

twelve.

i walk into my third midnight meeting this week, since i haven't been able to sleep through one single night for a week now.

i see damien in the middle of talking to someone as his eyes shift to mine, a concerned look spreading on his face, I assume from looking at the bags under my eyes. i give him a small smile and take a seat waiting for the meeting to start, and as the people pile in i'm overcome with the fact that all of these people here are in pain too. and how they are willing to share their stories to a room full of strangers just to feel some sort of release from their struggles, or anger, or sadness. hearing them talk about their past and present pains helps me feel less lonely in my own pain, and when hearing the same people progressively becoming better each time they share, it fills me with a weird sense of hope. hope that maybe one day it'll get better for me too.

when everyone settles in damien asks who would like to share first, and for some reason, i do the unthinkable. 

i raise my hand. 

damien looks at me shocked. "oh, rose?-- go ahead." damien says giving me the floor.

i shift uncomfortably in my seat, and am now very aware that all eyes are on me. it's now or never rosie, you got this. 

i open my mouth and just then the door opens and a tired messy haired tim walks in. he stops mid step when his eyes lock on to mine.

okay-- nevermind... abort, abort this plan.

i can see him thinking whether or not he should turn back and dash, and i think he would have if damien didn't call him out.

"tim! so good to see you. please sit-- and witness this miracle as rose has willingly volunteered to speak."

tim gives damien a tight smile and takes a seat giving a glance my way and quickly trains his eyes down to the floor.

"uhm hi-- i'm rosemary-- but everyone calls me rose." i see everyone nodding their heads, already knowing my name. 

"but i guess everyone knows that because i see you everyday but i-- just never really talk unless damien over here forces me too. uhm, i guess cause i'm a pretty shy person-- i mean i didn't really used to be shy-- i was just more of a quiet person. like in high school people would classify me as this nice yet more reserved girl. like i knew everyone and was actually pretty social, but i kept to myself at the same time. i was always very lowkey, even with my so called "best friends" -- if that's even what they were." i swallow hard, having not let myself ever speak about this to people before.

"i got involved with the wrong people, is as simple as i can put it. we started to go clubbing in sophomore year. they'd plaster videos and pictures of them drinking or smoking and shit all over social media-- and you know how things happen in high school... shit gets around. they were all my best friends-- they said we'd all have this under control? but we were fifteen, so obviously we didn't." i'm able to send a small smile to damien, letting him know i'm feeling okay sharing.

"i was pretty simple-- in high school, a night playing video games with my brother-- jace-- was as good as it could get," i sigh lightly as i feel my throat start to tighten.

damien takes notice, "it's okay rose, at your own pace."

i nod and continue.

"jace was my older brother-- and my best friend. literally the only person i felt i could be one hundred percent unapologetically myself with. i guess thats what family means? jace-- was like this six foot heartthrob in my school. people would often come to me to get to him. i mean he was actually the perfect human. decent grades, decent athlete, outstanding son and brother. the only times we ever fought were--." i pause. "was when i got too invested in the stuff my friends were doing-- uhm," i swipe a tear off my cheek.

"anyway-- one day-- when he was driving us to school, and he uhm-- he passed out."

i shift uncomfortably in my seat.

"uhm and then we crashed into a tree and i couldn't get him to wake up-- so i called 911 and they took him to the hospital. and instead of the "oh you just have a mild sprained wrist" it was a, "oh seems like you have stage four mesothelioma. good luck with that though."

i look up slowly and see damien silently encouraging me to go on.

"it was maybe a few months after our dad left-- for his other family. and jace was doing everything in his power to be the new male role in the house. and with our mom suffering with a deep depression, and money being tight-- chemo was something we couldn't afford." my voice starts to shake.

"so he said he wanted to stop doing the treatments... just told me one day at the hospital. he was lying in his hospital bed, looking unbelievably tired and in pain--" i let out a sigh.

"but he told me with a certain strength in his voice-- like he already made up his mind. and i got mad and stormed out, then i did the only thing that made me happy in those days-- i got drunk-- pissed off my ass drunk-- and then i... went to the nearest bank and started screaming for them to give me their money, so i could save my brother. but i was this seventeen year old small girl crying drunk, so instead they called the police to take me back to my parents. they ended up letting me off with probation just so i wouldn't do dumb shit like that again." i clear my throat.

"and when i got back to the hospital... jace just laughed at me. and i threw ten one dollar bills at him and jokingly said, "that should cover it." 

"but he looked at me like he was so at peace with his decision. and he told me he was in so much pain-- he just wanted it to be over... so i held his hand while we watched the office-- it was his favorite show-- and he passed away," i sniffle.

i look up for the first time and see tims eyes fixated on me.

"and even still i feel like i could've done something more for him-- and looking back on the way he left... it felt like he made the decision to just kill himself. like he didn't even want to try and fight-- he just wanted to take the easy way out, which was very unlike him. and i had no one to rely on for the pain i was in-- the pain i am still in. and it's been almost two years now. my mom has been on a cruise to distract herself from having to be reminded of it even now. she called it "a mini escape," but i'm unable to escape from it. even when i am happy, and everything in my life seems to be going the right direction-- my mind wanders to how i'll never get to talk to my brother again. and i think about it constantly, because it's never felt real that jace is gone. i often kept thinking he was just going to come through my bedroom door randomly and ask to play gta or something. and i struggled with it for a long long time. my "friends" couldn't empathize-- they didn't even know for a few weeks, and my english teachers tried talking me through it-- but nobody understood, except for the alcohol, except for the drugs. god... that sounds so dumb-- but it's the truth. it was an escape from the feeling-- of complete and utter loneliness. but throughout the years, i've been able to control it more, but on days like today- his birthday- it's especially tough." 

i clear my throat and take a look around the room.

"so-- that's why i'm here." i say awkwardly.

i look over to tim quickly but turn to damien the second our eyes met. damien had a soft but proud smile on his face. "thank you rose, for sharing." i gave him a small smile back and sigh in relief that the attention was no longer on me. as damien begins to talk to another member, i feel my phone vibrating in my back pocket and quickly grab it to see what it could be.

1 new notification

from: tim

wait for me at "our spot" after this?

my heart starts pounding so fast, so hard, i'm pretty sure everyone is able to hear it. i look up and see tim looking right back at me intently. i give him a simple nod, and he does the same to me.

throughout the duration left of the meeting, i'd steal nervous glances of tim who never looked back at me. instead, he looked to be in deep thought-- which made me even more anxious for what was awaiting after this meeting.

our spot, i keep thinking. and i cannot fight the growing smile on my lips or the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.