Kiss Me ⚘ Timothée Chalamet

13 | Listen To Me

Y/N

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PER ADRIANA'S DEMANDS, I took the day off from work to film and edit Timothée's audition tape.

Setting the stuff up in my apartment wasn't too hard, considering I was well educated in movie equipment, it was just getting the boy to memorize his lines was the problem.

"I'm glad you came," I recited, my eyes scanning the script in front of me, "I thought you had changed your mind."

Timothée nodded his head gently, trying his best not to look into the camera. He was nervous, I could tell.

"Change my mind?" He muttered, "Of course I was coming."

I looked up from my paper, waiting for him to continue. He stared at me blankly, opening and closing his mouth like a fish, unsure what to say.

"So you do smoke," I said for him, "that's your next line."

"I thought it was I'm nervous?"

"No, Timmy, that comes after the smoking one."

"It does?"

"Yep."

He let out a disappointed sigh, throwing up his hands and slumping down to the ground. I watched as he curled himself up into a ball, his head resting on his knees in disappointment.

"I can't do this," he said, his voice muffled.

Setting down my script, I turned off the camera and went to go sit beside him. Acting was hard, I understood that, and I didn't want him to feel like this role was too much for him. He was perfect for it, I knew that.

"Hey," I whispered, placing my hand on his back and rubbing it gently, "you can do it."

"No I can't."

He lifted his head to look at me, his green eyes shiny with pity. He was so good, and it broke me a little to see that he didn't believe in what I saw.

"Let's run it again," I nodded, "one more time."

"I'm going to mess up again."

"We've got all day, don't worry."

Standing up, I held out my hand and pulled him onto his feet. Picking up the script, I flicked on the camera and started again.

"I'm glad you came," I said, "I thought you had changed your mind."

"Change my mind? Of course I was coming," he paused. ".... so you do smoke."

"Sometimes."

There was another pause. Soon that pause turned into hesitation, and Timothée was back on the floor again, beating himself up about it.

"Timmy, it's okay," I assured, "you just have to believe in yourself."

"I can't!"

"Come here," I sighed, opening my arms.

He slowly got up and wrapped his arms around me, tightening himself into the hug. We stood there for a while, rocking back and forth in silence, trying to find a little piece in the situation. I ran a hand through his hair, kissing his cheek and pressing my forehead against his.

"Timothée, you can do this," I nodded, "you wanna know how I know?"

"How?"

I tilted my head towards the backdrop, where he was standing a few moments earlier. He was too humble for his own good, and he needed to know that he had every right to be confident.

"I see you up there," I started, "and I see what you can do, and it's clear you're not like anybody else."

He shook his head, "that's not true."

"It is. It is Timothée. Listen to me."

He hesitated for a moment, before letting out whimper in agreement, "I'm listening."

Cupping my hands around his cheeks, I stared into his eyes and told him the only truth that I knew.

"You're going to be a star, Timothée," I whispered, "you're going to be a star, Timothée Chalamet."

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