(500) days of him - timothée chalamet x oc

day (176)

Filming had been rough today. Underneath the stifling English sun, Timothée had been doing take after take of the sword fight between Hal and Hotspur. On top of wearing heavy metal armor, the two boys had to swing swords and wrestle, Timothée vomiting several times due to the heat and exertion. I felt my stomach tighten with worry whenever he would retch, but he always played it off with a smile, saying it "makes me tougher."

I was currently milling around the flat, itching to bathe after sweating all day. My skin felt grimy and sticky as I turned the faucet of the bath on, getting the right temperature before I shed my clothes. The sun had set some time ago, the only light emanating from the candles I had lit in the bathroom. If I was going to take a bath, I was going to take a bath. There was an amazing claw foot bathtub in the bathroom, just begging to be used. I figured now would be a perfect time as any, with Timmy still being on set.

I had a tendency of buying too many bath products, enjoying smelling the various salts and scrubs, always putting whatever caught my eye in the shopping cart. Grace claimed it was my old woman tendencies, but sometimes an aromatic, warm, luxurious bath was necessary. I had acquired quite the collection, pouring different colored liquids into the bath, sprinkling various herbs and scents into the rising water as well.

I dipped my toes cautiously into the steaming water, making sure it wasn't going to scald my skin. After gaining enough courage, I took the plunge, submerging my entire body, the heat pickling against my skin. I threw my hair into a messy bun and sank further, enjoying the relaxing feeling that only a bath could provide. The warm water was doing a great job at loosening my tight muscles, which had been taught as a bow all day. The London traffic outside buzzed, the occasional honking of a car horn penetrating the walls. I felt my eyelids grow heavy as I leaned my head against the porcelain, letting them shut briefly.

I'm not sure how long I had dozed for, but by the time I sluggishly opened my eyes, I heard Timmy get home. The familiar click of the lock and him dropping his shoes by the door made me smile. "Honey I'm home!"

"In the bathroom," I yelled back, my fingers playing with the mountains of bubbles. I heard him shuffle down the hallway, knocking before turning the knob on the bathroom door. He looked exhausted. His porcelain skin browned from being in the sun, dirt covering his face and caked on his hands.

"Hi," he breathed, walking over towards me and pressing his lips to mine. "Care if I join?" He asked against my lips.

"Lucky for you the water's still warm," I teased, my eyes traveling to him undressing. I felt my cheeks heat, unsure that I would ever be able to look at him without coming undone. He made my chest hurt. He carefully stepped into the water, choosing to sit opposite me, his legs stretched to envelope me. "How was the rest of the day?" I murmured, running my fingers up and down his legs, hoping to relieve some of the soreness. He closed his eyes in bliss.

"Long. But we're making progress. Finally nailed the fight sequence."

I nodded, my eyes taking all of him in while he dozed. He would have to cut his hair soon, as per the transformation of Hal, so I took the time to appreciate his curls even more. He still managed to take my breath away; he was a work of art.

He cracked a hazel eye open. "What have you been up to?"

"Oh, y'know, the usual. Eliminated world hunger, adopted 100 dogs."

He opened both his eyes now, looking at me, through me. "Come here," he whispered, his voice raspy. He was magnetic, pulling me to him. I slid between his legs, settling my head on his chest, his arms wrapping around me. I turned my head and pressed a kiss to his jaw, his lips meeting mine for a short, sweet kiss. I hummed in pleasure.

We had gotten into the routine of being in each other's company after a day of work, sometimes too exhausted to exchange more than a few words. It was normal by now, not having to speak but knowing exactly what the other person was saying. Our own little language. Our own bubble.

We reveled in the silence, the sound of our breathing and Timmy's heart thumping in my ear the only sounds. He must've dozed again, his head chin bobbing as his head snapped up, clearly trying to keep himself from falling asleep.

"Time for bed?" I giggled, placing my head under his chin so he could better rest. He hummed a reply, his fingers skating across my skin under the water.

Our days usually went from sun up to sun down, meaning we had to get sleep wherever we could get it. I was fortunate in that some days I wasn't needed on set, but this wasn't the case for Timothée. He caught up on his sleep during days off, me usually closing the door to our bedroom for him to dream all day. He worked so hard and it was so obvious how important his work was to him, putting in 110% every day.

"Does it ever get to be too much?" I asked quietly, intertwining his fingers with mine.

He shifted, contemplating. "Yes and no. Work is work, but it's a chance for me to hone my craft and learn from the best. Plus I get to see you every day, so that makes it all the better," he said, his lips curling into a smile. I nodded, satisfied with his answer for now.

Timmy wasn't one to talk about the downs of his career, often choosing to remain positive, something I admired immensely. Sometimes he'd let slip that he was afraid of going under, the acting world ready to chew him up and spit him out. Other times he would wish his private life would remain private, firmly believing in the right to his own life.

I turned slightly, my fingers dancing along his jaw. "What?" He asked, pressing his lips to my palm.

"Just thinking about how much I love you," I said, almost a whisper. His arms tightened around me.

"I love you too," he whispered, kissing the top of my head. "My star."

I still wasn't used to I love yous, each as if it were the first. Butterflies erupted in my stomach whenever he said those words, smiles on our faces.

We stayed in the bathtub a while longer, both of us on the verge of sleep by the time we decided to get out. We left our clothes in a pile, figuring they could be a tomorrow problem, and made our way to our bedroom. Timmy collapsed on the bed immediately, but I hung back, leaning against the door frame. "Hungry? There's some food in the fridge," I said, hoping I could coax him to eat something.

"Nope, just need you," he said, his voice muffled from resting his face on the duvet. I nodded, shutting the door behind me and climbing into bed, his arms around me immediately. 

We shifted so his head was on my chest, cradling him as I ran my fingers through his hair, twirling stray curls. He sighed in content. He loved when his hair was played with. I pressed my lips to his forehead, his eyes already shut, most likely for the rest of the night. I grabbed my phone and set the alarms for the morning. 4:30, 4:35, 4:50. I never woke up to my first alarm, something that annoyed Timothée to no end, him usually having to be the one to get me up.

"Goodnight," I whispered, snuggling further under the covers and closer to him. He pressed his lips to the back of my neck.

"Goodnight, my love."