𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮: 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏.
𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚 - 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐃𝐞𝐥 𝐑𝐞𝐲
۵
Your steps haltered once you had reached the familiar wooden door. Timothée had been quiet the whole walk to his house and you were seriously beginning to worry; you've never seen like him like this, he's always smiling and being goofy every chance he gets, this is a whole new person.
Once the slender boy unlocked the door you reached up to kiss his shoulder, encouraging him to step in.
No sounds were heard in the house, apart from the steps that rang throughout the empty space as you made your way to his room, him following close behind.
Once Timothée sat on his unmade bed, you locked the door before making your way beside him.
“What's wrong, Timmy?”He moved closer to you, being subconsciously attracted to your body heat, it seemingly overpowered his loneliness. “I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't describe it.”
You were caught off guard by his monotone raspy voice “Can you try for me, please? I want to help you.”
He remained silent, gazing off into the distance as though you weren't here.
Once you began to get up from your spot, Timothée quickly grasped your wrist.“I'm sorry, don't leave. I just really don't feel like talking.”
Your eyebrows furrowed upwards at his desperate state. He thought you were leaving because he didn't answer your question.“Calm down, Timmy. I'm just going to make you some food, you haven't eaten in a while.”
He nodded his head slightly, relieved before his slender figure began to get off the bed. “You don't have to come if you don't want too, you seem really tired.” You quickly attempted to interject though he simply ignored you by walking into the kitchen.
A sigh left your lips, feet caring you to the figure slumped on the counter. He eyed you, his gaze on every move your body makes as you gather ingredients for the French toast.
Timothée took note of the loose strands of hair falling onto your face while you buttered up the pan. His lender fingers unexpectedly ran through your hair, gathering it before tying it into a ponytail. His movement was lazy, spending the small amount of energy he had for your benefit.
His breath was still softly caressing your cheek, allowing his presence to be known. You tried to concentrate on the meal the best you could, adding some pepper to the toasted bread before placing in on a plate.
“You can sit down. I'll bring you some orange juice.” Timothée did as you said, sitting on the lonely chair. Hooded eyes still on you.
The glass cup was set in front of him and before you could pull away he tugged at your wrist for you to sit beside him.
He ate quietly. For him it didn't have flavour, no taste, but he knew that wasn't due to your cooking skills.“I don't want to press you, I just want to understand what you're feeling-- or aren't feeling, just so I can help and be here for you.”
You tried your best to reason with him, his lack of words making you feel increasingly unnerved by the second. He chewed slowly before washing down the toast with the beverage. Timothée's intent wasn't to make you feel uneasy, he needed time to organize his thoughts in order to be able to explain his troubled state without sounding like a complete mess.
At first, he hesitated, fearing that you'd ‘call him out’ for exaggerating and faking his emotions, claim that he didn't make sense. That was until he remembered who you were. You have only been friends since freshman year but you somehow managed to care more for him than anyone has ever had most of his life. Aside from his family at least.
However, Timothée's state of mind really seemed to suppress any positive thought he fought to keep.
“You can tell me.” Your soft skin brushed up against his, encouraging him.
“Being sad is a feeling you get after something unfortunate happens, maybe you're afraid, you lost your phone, damaged your favourite shows or possibly a dead dog etcetera. This is different, there may be reasoning but most of the time there isn't. It's this numbness that overtakes your body, it's tension in your heart, there aren't any thoughts that are positive enough to make you feel any better. The worse part is that you can't cry to relieve your mind from your situation if you do cry it's most likely because of the stress of not knowing what to do with yourself. I haven't showered in two days nor have I eaten. This was my first meal.”
His words hit harder than you'd foresee. He was depressed, there's no doubt about it.
“It's so hard.”
Suppressing your tears the best you could, you got up from your seat making your way behind the green-eyed boy and hugging him. Timothée leaned back, craning his head so he could read your expression. “I'm here for you.”
۵
The water was lukewarm by the time you'd finish rinsing off the shampoo from his hair. Timothée has always enjoyed long baths after a long day at school but this time was different. You'd been there so long that the sky was now golden.
You diverted your gaze after he took the towel from you. He didn't seem to mind that all the water from his body was now dripping all over the floor. After you realize that he's covered you turn to hand him clothes. “I settle them by the radiator so that they'd be warm when you wear them.”
Timothée felt his heart swell with adoration. He felt himself feel better, not good, just a little less from okay. His self-control beginning to creep in. He was still exhausted but now he knew that you were really here, and would always be. You cared for him deeply and it's a fact, one that his depression couldn't dominate.
Timothée was aware of everything, though now he was just fearful of getting worse in a snap of a second.
“Common let's lie down, you look sleepy.” you held his hand for what seemed like the 20th time today, it still didn't feel enough.
You sat against the headboard of the bed. Timothée's white shirt hugged his body loosely as semi-lied down next to you, head on your chest while your small hand caressed his halo of hair.
“Stay please.”
His sweet voice was barely audible “Of course. I'll stay until you're all better. What you're feeling won't last much longer, I'll make sure of that.” his body was still flush from the warm bath, arms now wrapped around your stomach
“Thank you, this is the best I've felt in days.”
A gentle smile overtook your features after your lips made contact with his forehead. “We'll talk to your parents about this tomorrow. I'll be right there by your side. Trust me, even if I don't know much about what you're feeling I guarantee you that you'll feel much better soon.”He smiled at your devoted state.
Timothée finally smiled.
≼.≽≼.≽≼.≽
𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌.