TAKE IT EASY • TC ✔️

38: Clarification

01/06/21 THIS HAS BEEN RE-WRITTEN SO HOPEFULLY NOW YOU WON'T WANT TO GOUGE OUT YOUR EYES AFTER READING IT!!!1!

There were other times, too.

Other times that Timmy barely registered what was happening.

The week after the beach trip with Lu was a string of table reads, screen tests, auditions. And they didn't all go badly. It was just that there were a few days, especially Wednesday, that drained Timothée completely, so that the evening rolled around and he was ready to collapse. Ready to fall into bed and spend the rest of the week not thinking about that line he'd fumbled over or the way the casting director had looked at him after that one scene.

He got into his apartment, and there was a flashing light on the answerphone, signalling that someone had left a message. It wasn't really a surprise ; his phone had been turned off all day, left in pockets and bags and dressing rooms. Timmy dropped his backpack onto the sofa, only just refraining from dropping onto the sofa himself, and went to see who had left a message.

"Hey, Timmy. It's me. I want to talk to you but you're not...you're not picking up so just...Call me back when you can."

Saoirse's voice made Timmy want to crumple. He went to delete the message, but stopped himself at the last second. Put the phone back into the cradle and then did two contradictory things: made a cup of coffee and went for a nap.

Timothée was good at feeling sorry for himself, even more so when he was curled up in blankets with a hot drink. It set the scene a little. Made it easier to convince himself that he was sad enough to deserve pity, even if that pity only came in the form of a power nap and a mug of coffee.

He crawled into bed fully clothed (although he did shove his shoes off) and grabbed the two pillows from the other side of the bed that he never used. Timmy propped himself up and sat there, wondering if he'd get the role from today. Wondering if hearing Saoirse's voice after that night would ever sting any less.

When his coffee was cool enough, Timmy started taking small, pensive sips. He'd managed to get all the way to the dregs, right down to the acrid grounds at the bottom of the cup, when there came a feverish knocking on the door. Timmy groaned. Set down the cup with more force than necessary and hauled himself out of bed.

"Timmy, Timmy, Tim, Timmy, Timothée, Timmy Tim, Timmy," Lu chanted from behind the door. He wiped the corner of his lip and watched her face light up.

"I'm going shopping," she announced, and Timmy fixed her with a blank stare. "Do you need anything?" Lu asked.

"Coffee," he replied shortly, rubbing his eye. "What time is it?"

"Six thirty," Lu said. "Just coffee? What kind?"

"Oh, like, the actual grounds, not the capsules."

"What brand?" she asked, looking at him expectantly.

Timmy ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "Whatever they have," he replied.

"Okay. So while we're on the topic of food and stuff, I'm making stir fry and you need to tell me how to do it," she said. "Please. Thank you."

"Do what?"

"All of it," Lu admitted.

"All of it?"

"Yeah, like...everything. And what ingredients to buy."

Timmy looked at her and wiped his mouth again. His breath stank of coffee and he swallowed, grimacing. Hoping she hadn't noticed.

"So you want me to make it for you?" he asked.

"No!" Lu protested. "I want to learn how to make it. You're gonna teach me," she smiled, and Timmy breathed out slowly.