Timothèe Chalamet Imagines

✤angry✤

Your POV

How the fuck could they do this to me? I am - was - one of the best writers on their team! I've got so much more natural talent than half of the people who they didn't let go! I don't even care if that's conceded, it's the truth. I have brought that company so much of their newfound success, and even if I am young, and new at this, I am damn good at it. I worked so hard for this career, and now it has completely vanished within the hour!

I am seeing red as I walk out of the elevator, down the hallway, and to our apartment door, which I open with a bang. I throw my things on the ground, fancy laptop and everything. I don't even care.

"Um... Hi," Timmy says, walking into the front room.

"I just lost my job," I spit.

"Oh my God, what? I'm so sorry. What happened?" he asks, walking towards me.

"Apparently they had to let people go out of the blue, and I guess I, the writer who has raked in tons of money, was the first on their list!" I say bitterly.

"I'm so, so sorry. That's incredibly unfair," he says, reaching out to hug me.

"No! It's not just unfair, it's the end of my fucking career! I worked so hard for that stupid job! Do you know how hard it is to find a stable income as a writer? It's not like acting, where you have a manager that does all the searching and dirty work for you. I actually have to figure it out myself so that I can live!" I yell at him. I see hurt flash across his emerald eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that..." he says carefully. Great. Now I feel terrible. The guilt makes me want to walk away from him completely, which is just what I do. I walk into the kitchen, and pace around.

What the hell am I going to do now? What on Earth did I do to deserve this bad karma? I won't find another job for months! This one took me almost a year to score.

My anger quickly subsides into panic, and suddenly I am pacing with worry rather than frustration. I feel tears brewing in my eyes as I run my fingers through my hair, which is one of my nervous habits.

I suddenly stop moving and slump into a kitchen chair, resting my forehead directly on the table and beginning to sob with loss.

I feel a hand run down my back. Timothèe tries to comfort me as I cry, completely falling apart.

When I finally calm down and sit up, sniffling, he sits next to me and reaches for my hands, holding them tightly in his own.

"I'm sorry I snapped. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that," I say, bringing my eyes to his, still sniffling.

"No, Y/N, it's fine. Don't worry about it," he says shaking his head quickly.

"I'm just so worried about what will happen. It took me forever to find that last job. And now it's completely gone," I say defeatedly.

"You'll find a new one. You're brilliant. It truly doesn't make sense that they let you go at all. They don't deserve you if they didn't realize how incredibly talented you are," he says earnestly. I treat him horribly and he still tells me the most caring things.

"I love you," I say.

"I love you too," he replies, squeezing my hands.