delicate. / timothée chalamet au

nineteen.

Trigger warning*

(Topics such as: substance abuse and death)

It's cold... the type of breeze that slaps you in the face unexpectedly when you've become so normalized to warm air. I stand next to my mother, trying my hardest to keep my eyes trained to the floor so as to not get distracted on anything else but looking like I'm not high. 

I feel bad, my mom is crying a river next to me and instead of being a good daughter consoling her I'm focused on myself, trying my hardest to absolve the fact that I'm high at my own brothers funeral... by stealing his prescription. I have a feeling karma is going to get me bad for this whole thing one day.

"Now to say a few words on Jace, his little sister, Rosie," A man who I have only seen once before in my life, just the other day when I was tasked with picking out a casket, embraces me in his arms. I face all my family, all of Jace's friends, and my eyes start feeling heavy. I quickly unfold the typed up eulogy I wrote just the night before, and take a deep breath.

Don't sound high, Rosie.

"High..."

I shake my head, clearing my throat, "Hello, thank you all for coming today, it means a lot to us all, I'm sure it would mean a lot to uhm-- Jace too, so thanks."

I look back up from my paper and see at least forty eyes on me, all teary eyed and full of pity.

Just finish this shit, Rosie.

"I was told that, when someone who you love dies, it is okay to feel sad, to feel angry, and to feel guilt. I-- have to be honest, when I heard that it made me feel-- selfish. Like, me feeling badly for myself was somehow taking away the importance of the loss of the real victim. But overtime, well, over the last week, I've found that-- anytime I feel sad, or angry, or guilty, I realize it's because I think of Jace... and in some weird kind of twisted way, it makes me feel like a piece of him is still with me."

I look back up from my paper again, seeing women and men wiping their faces with already wet tissues, and all of Jace's friends trying to mask their pain with perfect posture.

"I want to," I continue on, "I just want everyone here to know-- that instead of trying to run from your grief, you should allow it, and with it the beautiful memories of my brother, who will be with you every time you do."

"That's a load," A familiar voice speaks out.

I look up slowly from my paper once again, and suddenly everyone is gone. Jace is sat at my chair with rows of empty seats surrounding him.

"Jace?" 

He has his signature smile on his face, and his deep brown eyes look more lively than I've ever seen before.

"You know it's really funny that you said all of that, which by the way was beautifully put Rosie, but it would've been a whole lot better if you yourself followed it."

I'm like a statue, I cannot move from my place... am I really that high right now?

Jace's stare turns blank, "Is that how you justified your actions every time you stole money from mom and bought poison to put into your body? Was that you thinking I was there with you?" Jace stands up from his seat, "Did you really think you could replace me with drugs, Rosie?"

Tears are streaming down my face and I don't know how to breathe in anymore.

"Is that why you went out with guys that treated you like dirt? Is that why you would purposely go out of your way to risk your own life, for a fucking pill! Rosie, what the hell went wrong with you? Where is the girl that went with me at midnight for frozen curly fries?" He's standing face to face with me and I can smell his scent. His welcoming, warm and safe scent that reminded me of a simpler time.

"I'm sorry! It's just-- you died! You're gone Jace-- how the fuck was I supposed to-- how is this even happening right now?" I ask him, as he looks down to me with no pity.

"You stood here, at my own fucking funeral, high from pills you stole from my bathroom cabinet, and preached to people to remember me, when you yourself won't even let people call you by the nickname I called you!"

"Jace-- I... I don't know what to say--"

"Whenever you do figure out what to say Rosie, I'm certain it won't ever be about me. You don't keep me with you by keeping me hidden, you need to tell people... before it's too late."

I wipe my tears from my face, and find the confidence to look back up to Jace but when I do, he's gone.

"Jace! Jace!"

"Rose? Baby, wake up, it's me," I'm shaken awake and surrounded by the familiarity of Tim's bedroom with Tim's worried eyes on me.

He wraps his arms around me tightly whispering to me, "It's okays," and, "You're okays." As my labored breath starts to slow, I start to cry in his arms letting the dam of suppressed emotions breakthrough.

"What happened, mon amour?" He gently swipes the tears out of my face.

"My brother used to call me Rosie, thats why I don't like to be called that anymore," I confess.

Tim looks at me sadly, "I know that sounds like a really stupid thing," I continue, "But that's why, and I just needed you to know that."

Tim scoots closer to me, pushing all the hair stuck on my hit sticky face behind my ears, "It's not stupid Rose, I'm guilty of it too."

"Your sister called you Timmy?"

He nods as me softly, and I can see even in the darkness of the room a small twinkle in his eyes.

"Timothée, I think we need to start talking about them more, I think I at least need to because I think it's eating me alive," I cry out.

"Okay baby we can talk about them, I promise." He lays me down beside him pulling the blanket over my chest.

"Just rest okay," He stares at me delicately as I shut my eyes closed embraced in his warmth.

This is the first time he's ever seen me cry.

----

i feel like a quarantine therapy session is much needed next chapter, you with me?