(500) days of him - timothée chalamet x oc

day (19)

A phone buzzing in my ear is what woke me up. With my eyes still closed I grabbed for the device, mumbling a "hello?"

"Well good morning to you too," a cheery voice replied on the other line.

I scrunched my eyebrows, trying to place the voice. "Why are you calling me so early?"

I heard a chuckle, "It's 11:30, it's not early for the rest of the world." I groaned and rolled over, burrowing further underneath the covers in an attempt to fall back asleep. "Hello? Stella? You still there?"

"Hmm, yeah. What's up?"

"I was hoping we could get together today? To go over the script?" Timmy asked, hastily adding the last part. God his voice made me want to melt into a puddle.

Finally giving up on sleep, I sat up, phone wedged between my shoulder and my ear as I fumbled around for my watch. "Yes of course, where and when?" I tried to keep the conversation professional, making my voice as even as possible.

Silence for a moment. "You could come to my place? Or we can go somewhere else?"

I thought about my options. On one hand, I knew the temptation of Timothée and I alone together was great, but facing possible paparazzi if we went somewhere more public was also risky. "Let's do your place. What's your address?"

And that's how I found myself standing at the front door of Timothée's apartment. It wasn't very far from my own apartment, opting to walk instead of take the subway. It was a rare sunny day February, and I needed as much vitamin D as I could get. I was still bundled up to my eyes as the temperature was well within the 30s, but at least it wasn't snowing.

I knocked twice. "Timmy? It's me."

"Just a sec!" I heard him call from the other side of the door, which clicked open a moment later. "Hi," he breathed, a smile spreading across his face.

"Hi," I replied, my mouth turning up as well. We stood for a moment before he cleared his throat.

"Come in! You can just drop your stuff by the door," he rushed, opening the door for me. I nodded a thanks. As if by habit he pressed his lips to the crown of my head, pulling away much too soon. It looked like he had just gotten out of the shower, quickly pulling a shirt over his wet curls. I felt my mouth go dry. Jesus get it together.

This apartment of his was similar to the one in LA, but this was definitely more Timothée. A bookshelf was in the far left corner, boasting an impressive collection. I reminded myself to ask Timmy to borrow a book sometime.

Next to the bookshelf was a large black leather couch, which was a stark contrast to the bare white walls. The space was modern and simple, and I itched to explore more. "This place is beautiful," I complemented after shedding all of my layers, pulling off my hat and scarf as well.

"Oh thanks. It's not much, but it's home," he replied. "Do you want anything to drink?" He asked politely, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his head.

I shook my head. "No, thanks."

"Hmm, okay." More silence. "Let me just go grab my stuff." He shuffled off in the direction of his bedroom, leaving me unsure whether or not I should follow him. I heard him rummaging through drawers, opening and shutting them closed with a thud.

I walked quietly, wanting to check out more of the apartment. There was a piano and guitar sitting in another corner, stacks of sheet music surrounding the instruments. I smiled to myself, imagining Timothée scribbling on the papers and singing quietly to himself. Speaking of, he still hadn't come out of his bedroom.