OPPOSITES ➢Timothée Chalamet

➢ C͖͎h͓̺̻a̡̟͓p̢͎͜t͙͚̦e͙̻r̡̡̙ 10

JEALOUSY

~CHALAMET~

I MUST ADMIT that hearing everything that happened with Y/n had been killing me. I had worked as a waiter, most of the times just serving food and drinks to rich snobs that most likely would be bloody drunk by the end of the night. Even if I wouldn't admit it back then, I was worried. I'd heard everything he'd said and every little part of their fight, even the little make out session (ew). I'd heard the wince of pain that she let out when he punched her.
And I was even more worried when she got into the limousine with her nose bleeding and a split lip after she had asked Brook everything we needed and Agent White had recorded it.

"Bloody hell, Y/n! Are you okay?" I quickly asked as I jumped out of the limousine and crouched next to her seat to take a close look at her face. I had seen the battle scars that she had. I'd seen the way that she'd been hurt. And the worst of all: I'd hurt her.
But then I slightly froze. A few hickeys grazed her neck, a clear evidence of the way she'd made out with Brook. I quickly got up again and cleared my throat before handing her a napkin while I avoided her gaze. I quickly walked back to my seat and started driving in silence. I admired her through the little mirror and just looked at every little detail of her. Her make up had started coming off on her shoulders, revealing scars and the one of a bullet. The way her hair was naturally pretty and the way that she managed to look great even with a bleeding nose and a split lip.

God, what was I thinking? I flinched at the realization that I'd basically been checking her out.

I let my gaze wander back onto the road, just then realizing that it had been raining and it was almost impossible to see through. It was a wonder that I hadn't crashed yet.

"That was a risky move, y'know?" I suddenly said, making her look at me.
"You could've gotten seriously hurt or killed." I added drily while looking her in the eyes through the mirror.

"Are you talking about the make out or about the fight?" She then asked and raised her eyebrows.

"Both." I said through gritted teeth.

"Why?" She plainly asked but I didn't answer.

༺༒༻

"SO WHAT did you mean by "both"?" She asked while letting herself slump into the couch. We had arrived some minutes ago and she had already changed into comfy clothes while I was still in my suit.

"Seriously, Y/n? He could've hurt you worse in combat or he could've killed you. What if he did something else? You heard what he said." I said while raising my voice, disbelief stinging in my voice.

"First, I had a gun so he couldn't have killed me." She said and stood up, anger slowly building in her voice too.

"Then why didn't you just use it from the start?"

"Second." She said, ignoring what I'd said.
"I wouldn't let that happen. No one touches me without me wanting them to." She scowled while staring me dead in the eye.

"Oh really?" I asked, still through gritted teeth while I still tried hiding my anger. Which was really hard since I used to (or still had) anger issues.
"Then why'd he touch you?"

"Because I wanted him to! God damn it, Timothée, why is this such a big deal?" She said  and hearing my name roll of her tongue almost made something inside of me snap. Some little part of me wanted to shove her against the wall just because I had heard her say it in this moment.
"You're an asshole, you know? You make out with random women and now tell me what to do? It's so stupid." She yelled.