OPPOSITES ➢Timothée Chalamet

➢ C͖͎h͓̺̻a̡̟͓p̢͎͜t͙͚̦e͙̻r̡̡̙ 13

I HATE TRAINS

~JOHNSON~

I HAD SWORN that I wouldn't set a foot on a train for the next weeks or months or years, but here I was. Using the last bit of strength that I had left to carry my annoyingly heavy luggage up the stairs of the train.

"Just let me help you." Chalamet said and held out his hand out while a sly smirk was dancing on his lips.

"I don't need your help." I panted before finally managed to fully pull it up with a big jerk.

„You truly are more stubborn than it is good for you." he chuckled and shook his head while that stupid grin still was on his face.

„Just shut up." I hissed before abruptly storming off to look for our seats. I had decided to switch my bag for a suitcase because I'd bought new clothes that could be useful to blend in with the rich crowd that would be present in the upcoming drug deal. How I knew that the people would be rich? The deal would be like a sort of auction for drugs but I knew that the Shadow Atlas wouldn't bother on appearing if it would be about small gangsters selling bad quality stuff. There would be rich and dangerous gangsters that would try to acquire some of the drugs for themselves. So I knew that I'd have to blend in, and lucky for me I was good at that. But I couldn't be too conspicuous regarding the fact that I didn't have any fake identity to cling onto. If someone noticed me and asked about my name it'd be over.
I was walking into a trap and I had to hope that I wouldn't trigger the mechanism, because if I did, I would die. I was an agent that was walking into a nest of gangsters and other sorts of people.
Timothée would come with me which wasn't the worst idea since he was an assassin and probably knew some people there so he'd fit in.

"Here!" I called out as I found our seats in the first class. They were overdrawn with black leather and quite spacious with TVs on the beige walls because each two seats got their own compartment. On each seat there was a little grey paper bag with earplugs, socks and even a sleeping mask inside. It was a lot of stuff for a 45 minute train ride.

"Hello ma'am, sir. If you need anything just tell me, there's free snacks and drinks and you can keep the essentials in the bag." A pretty female worker with blonde hair on chin length, brown eyes and a suit said as soon as we took a seat.

"I think I'm good, but thanks." Timothée answered and gave her a crooked smile that looked sort of funny. He indeed was in a goofy mood that day.

"I'd like a bottle of water, if you have some?" I asked and gave her a kind smile even though I could see Timothée gulping and holding back a laugh.

"Of course." She said and returned the smile before walking away to get the water.

"Water?" He asked while mocking my British accent.

"Dude, we live in Great Britain, what do you expect?" I asked while rolling my eyes.

"Darling, I'm half American, don't ask but water sounds hella ridiculous with the British accent." He argued while he used the American way of pronouncing water.

"Just please shut up." I whimpered before taking my book out of my bag.
"Tu est très nul." I mumbled and Timothée's head shot up. I had decided to refresh my French a bit, regarding to the fact that we were in France at the time.
He looked at me, his green eyes wide and his brown curls disheveled from the lack of sleep that we both had since we had to get up early in the morning. But even under those circumstances, he still looked like a bloody super model. His navy blue suit looked on point and his black tie was perfectly made because he had learned the technique I showed him, on the day of the first step, quickly.