OPPOSITES ➢Timothée Chalamet

➢ C͖͎h͓̺̻a̡̟͓p̢͎͜t͙͚̦e͙̻r̡̡̙ 16

FALLING, LITERALLY

~JOHNSON~

THE MOMENT when I found myself walking towards the hotel, in which we'd most likely die, it felt as if the time was passing as slowly as never while my thoughts were loud in my head. I felt like voices were in my head, whispering, yelling and screaming as if they wanted to break free. My hands were shaking and I shivered because of the cold night air hitting my skin, but at the same time I felt as if I was standing in flames, the fire burning my skin and for some seconds I actually felt the pain.
It felt as if every step towards the building hurt badly and I just wanted to turn around to leave. What would happen if I was selfish for once and leave just to save my own bloody life?
I gritted my teeth as my hands clenched into fists, nails digging into the skin of my palms, surely leaving marks but I didn't care at this point. I just didn't want to feel this uncertainty. I didn't want to wonder if we'd be alive in one hour. I guess Timothée knew what I was thinking because he grabbed my left hand and as I looked at him he kept his gaze stubbornly on the building that we were towards.
The fist that my hand still was in, slowly undid and I intertwined our fingers even though no one had to say a word, because we made an silent agreement that it would make things awkward.
When we reached the door of the hotel, we stood there for one second and I took a deep breath before nodding at Timothée. I dropped Timothée's hand as the automatic sliding doors opened and we walked inside in a normal pace.
The hotel looked luxurious, marble floor with expensive furniture standing in the lobby. There was a reception standing at the end of it and behind the reception two stairs went up, to the suites, I supposed. My hands started to clench into fists again as we walked towards the reception but I really tried not to show anything.

„Good night, Ma'am and sir." the receptionist said and gave us a short nod, as soon as we stood in front of the reception.
„Would you like to have a room?"

„No, but we'd like to talk to someone." Timothée answered, his voice stern.

„Do you want to talk to a special worker, guest or the manager?" the man asked and I immediately cringed at the words even though I was prepared since William had told us about the code.

„We'd like to talk to the owner." Timothée answered and the receptionist nodded. He gestured us to follow him up the stairs and as soon we had reached the top, he walked towards what seemed to be a janitor's closet.
The question about what the fuck we'd do in a janitor's closet was on the tip of my tongue before he unlocked and opened the door. We saw an elevator inside and it made sense. Of course they'd hide the entrance to get to the auction. We stepped into the elevator silently and he pressed the button that was labeled basement before sticking a key into a keyhole and twisting it around. Shortly after, the elevator started moving downwards for a short time and as it stopped, I was afraid of what I'd see if those doors opened. I closed my eyes and took another deep breath before the doors opened with a small ding. I must admit, I expected everything except that, when I took a look at the situation in the ‚auction hall' what they would call it.
It was a huge hall with a big stage and chairs surrounding it in the back. There was a band on the stage, which was playing slow jazz music while there were game tables set up in the front. As I'd expected there were men, that were dressed in nice looking suits and women, that were mainly dressed in elegant dresses so I'd perfectly fit in. The whole thing was illuminated in a warm light that matched the atmosphere of the criminals, which were playing roulette, billiards, poker and even were throwing darts against fields hung up in the wall. There were waiters, dressed in white suits, walking around the room while plates full of wine, champagne and shots were balancing on their hands. As afar as I could see, you weren't able to buy any food which was quite sad, regarding the fact that I hadn't eaten that day. I looked at Timothée and he seemed tense, with his jaw clenched and teeth gritted as his hands formed fists too, which was understandable since he never actually planned on even taking one step back into that business. I nodded at him courtly before we started walking into the crowd, trying to stay together. While walking I grabbed a glass of champagne to look casual while Timothée took the red wine. We walked to a spot that was kind of empty and just started chatting.