OPPOSITES ➢Timothée Chalamet

➢ C͖͎h͓̺̻a̡̟͓p̢͎͜t͙͚̦e͙̻r̡̡̙ 11

"IF WE WERE VILLAINS"

~JOHNSON~

TO SAY THAT I WAS MAD is a shameless understatement. I was raging. I wanted to go back and just shoot a bloody bullet into his head. But I couldn't. I needed to finish the mission because I'd lose my job otherwise. I was walking through the streets of Versailles, the cold air hitting my face, making me shiver slightly. I didn't know what time it was and I didn't care. I had passed a few closed shops and supermarkets but then I noticed a bar. It was dimly lit and the only people inside were teenagers, some other people and a few bartenders that were serving them. I just walked inside and sat down on a worn out leather barstool, waiting for a waited to pay some attention to me.

"What can I make you?" I then heard someone ask, making me look up quickly. A bartender was standing in front of me, a slight smile on his lips. He maybe was in his late twenties while he had blonde hair and brown warm eyes.

„One vodka soda, please." I said and gave him a warm smile. He nodded and then walked away to make my drink. I pulled a five euros out of my coat pocket and placed them onto the counter, ten seconds before he came back with my vodka soda.
„Thanks I mumbled and he gave me a short smile again. I downed my drink in a few gulps and then ordered some pure vodka that stung my throat while drinking it.
I knew that I was getting tipsy and ordered some water so I wouldn't die while walking back to the hotel. Yes, I would go back to the hotel even though I didn't want to.
As I sipped on my water slowly, suddenly someone slumped down on the stool beside me, causing me to flinch slightly.
I looked into the direction and my eyes met with the ones of a quite handsome stranger, a man with brown hair and grey eyes. He had a cigarette that wasn't lit yet between his lips and gave me a brief nod.
„What kind of cigarette is that?" I asked and pointed at it while hiding my drunkenness successfully.

„Weed." he strictly said and I nodded.
„Wanna buy some?" he asked and looked at me. I took another sip of my water before nodding slightly.
„I can give you ten for fifty euros."

„That's unusually cheap." I remarked and looked at him with a questioning look.

„A discount because you got a pretty face." he said and smirked.
Usually that comment would've made me punch him but I didn't care in that moment.

„Fine." I said and shrugged before handing him fifty euros. He handed me a pack of ten and I stood up to leave.
„I'll give you five euros extra for a lighter." I said and he shrugged as he handed me a lighter.

„Just take it. I don't mind." he said and I nodded before leaving the bar. I was still tipsy as I walked back to the hotel but I didn't mind so I lit one cigarette and inhaled the smoke deeply like I had done so many times before when I was in Highschool. I hadn't been a drug addict but I smoked every now and then just to relieve some of that stress inside of me.

༺༒༻

I THREW MY CIGARETTE on the floor and stomped on it before entering the hotel. The receptionist of course let me pass and I quickly took the elevator since I was too tipsy and high at the same time to take the stairs. I grabbed a handle inside of the elevator for support and then waited for the door to open with a ding. As I stepped out of the elevator, I quickly walked back inside, scolding myself for my dumbness.
Wrong floor.
When the door opened for the second time, I finally stepped out of the elevator to realize that I'm on the right floor. Bingo.
I tried walking as gracefully as I could, with vodka and weed in my system. I pounded on the hotel door and after about a half minute a sleepy Timothée opened it. He had messy hair and was rubbing his eyes as if he had just gotten up. Well, he did because I just woke him up.