Timothèe Chalamet Imagines

⫷journal⫸

Your POV

Timmy has been gone for the entire day. Most of the time I'm not super clingy, but for some reason I've been really lonely today and I just want to be near him.

I aimlessly walk around our bedroom, waiting for him to get home. It's 7:42. He's not supposed to be back until 11:00.

'At least he's filming near here so he can come home every night,' I think to myself. The months of his absence are far worse than this.

Deciding I need to do something rather than brood over my loneliness, I step into our walk-in closet and start going through all of my clothes. I make a pile of donation clothes and after 30 minutes of sifting through shirts, skirts, pants, and random articles of clothing I haven't worn in years, something catches my eye.

It's on Timmy's side of the closet, on the highest shelf, tucked underneath his huge pile of hoodies. It's a little ribbon. Curiosity gets the best of me and I jump up to tug it down, knocking several sweatshirts on top of me. After struggling to get all of the hoodies back in their place, I realize that the ribbon was actually a bookmark, and it's attached to a journal.

I didn't know that he journaled. I'm about to open it mindlessly and start reading, but I suddenly stop myself. Who am I to read this? I wouldn't want anyone to read my journal. And he was hiding it, so I shouldn't read it. I tuck it back in its place and turn to continue sorting through my clothes, trying to put it out of my mind. I can't.

Why would he hide it? No... thinking that is just spiraling myself down a very dark hole. He just wants to keep his thoughts to himself.

Twenty minutes later, I am staring straight at the bookmark ribbon, internally debating how terrible it would be if I read it. I can't stand it.

I impulsively pull the journal down and flip it open, finding a random entry. It is from a few months ago.

October 5th, 2020

I had a very good day today. All of my days seem to be good lately though. Filming has been great. Y/N is so supportive of me, even though I know spending so much time apart is hard for her. It's hard for me too. I've never loved someone so much in my entire life. My parents love her. Pauline loves her. She's perfect. I want to spend the rest of my life with her.

We're filming in New York, so I get to stay at our place every single night. Today our costume designer brought in bagels for lunch. It was amazing. I'm really tired, and Y/N is asleep next to me, so I feel like the light from this lamp is going to wake her up any minute.

It melts my heart. He's never told me that he wants to spend the rest of his life with me. Guilt eats away somewhere in my chest, but I want to read just one more entry. I flip to several pages later to the most recent entry, which was yesterday.

December 20th, 2020

I just finalized the plane tickets for the trip to Paris I'm surprising Y/N with!!! We're going in January. I know she's going to love it, and I can't wait to show my favorite place to her. She's always saying that she wants to go with me. And for some reason, she loves it when I speak French. I can't wait to show her all of my favorite shops, and the Eiffel Tower, and our little apartment there. Seeing her face on Christmas morning when she opens the tickets will be priceless. Our trip is going to be incroyable.

The cutest part of this is that he actually wrote out three exclamation points. But... France??? We're going to Paris!

"Uh... hey."

I scream and drop the journal on the ground. Timothée is standing in our closet doorway.

"What are you doing here? You scared the shit out of me," I say, gasping and clutching my heart.

"I got off work early," he says.

I suddenly realize that he caught me reading his journal.

"Oh no... Oh I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I knew I shouldn't be reading it when I was. There's no excuse. I'm so sorry. I invaded your privacy. I'm sorry," I say earnestly. His face is expressionless.

"It's fine, really. I'm not mad. I don't have anything to hide from you. Well... at least..." he trails off.

"Um... I read about the trip. I'm so sorry," I add, nervously. A huge grin spreads across his face.

"So? Are you excited?" he asks giddily.

"YES!" I scream, running straight to him and hugging him as tightly as I can. "I'm so sorry that I ruined this," I say into his shoulder.

"Y/N, it's fine. I don't think I could've kept it a secret a day longer anyway," he says over my shoulder. I squeeze him as tightly as I can.

"I missed you," I say.

"I know. I missed you too."

"You're not mad that I read through your stuff?" I ask.

"No. I'm not," he says.

I smile. We're going to Paris!