a/n: hehe i’m writing again lol
warning: drugs lol and bad writing
he wasn’t sure why he went. he wasn’t sure why he was with her.
but he was bored, and sad, and the days of new york began to blend with nights and nothing felt normal.
timothée met her at a party, she stood out like a sore thumb; obviously young and gawking at everything around her. her name was tiffany, andshe made him feel special as he spoke, like he was a true celebrity, and he didn’t mind she was only 19.
they talked over his drink and her cup of malibu as if she was supposed to be there and totally didn’t sneak in. he liked that she felt special when she went in to kiss him, and accepted it under his three shots and basically the whole bottle of bourbon. he stopped her as her eager fingers tumbled to his belt, telling her “not like this.” they exchanged numbers and he went on like he would never hear from her again.
until he did. until she texted him asking if he wanted to go to a friend’s party to smoke. he wasn’t sure why he said yes, but he did. at least there was free weed.
the party was outside of manhattan, in a house on an ordinary suburban street. it felt like he was back in high school, and it made him feel grossly out of place for his age.
but tiffany was cute and there was free weed.
the strong smell of weed and the muffled music blaring from the floor above hit them immediately as they stepped in, and she looked comfortable as ever as timothée felt like an intruder. down the hall was the lit kitchen and two girls her age stood pouring themselves a drink, one stopping to stare at him.
he didn’t even think of being recognized. fuck.
tiffany forcefully kicked off her shoes, motioning for him to do the same, and led him upstairs. as they gained up the carpeted spiral, the music got louder, and he could recognize the song, red hot chili peppers’ ‘under the bridge’.
the girl basically dragged him to a room, going on and on about how he would “love my friends”. when she opened the door, both of them were met with a bedroom full of about five kids all in their late teens to their early twenties.
on the floor, in between the door and the bed (which held a boy attempting to roll a blunt), laid a girl sprawled out, eyes closed and completely consumed in her own world. if he didn’t know better, timothée would’ve thought she was dead.
“she okay?” his whisper was met with a giggle from tiffany, who patted him mechanically.
“yeah, she’s always like that,” her hand still tugged at his as she stepped over the girl and other to the bed.
begrudgingly, he too stepped over the girl and sat on the bed, painfully aware of all of the eyes on him.
the boy who sat on the other side of the bed shot him a look, then to his date, “who’s this tiff?”
“he’s cool, bryan, don’t worry.”
timothée wanted to throw up. on the ground sitting next to the girl we’re the rest of group, all silently watching him.
“are you...?” one peeped, trailing off as he gave them and answer in the form of a smile and a nod, which felt too plastic.
the one he assumed was bryan chuckled, still embarrassingly struggling with his blunt, “i thought you were gay.”
that hit timothée in the chest, and he forced himself to laugh, “i get that a lot.”
from the floor he could hear humming, causing him to look at the laying girl, who pushed herself onto her forearms, staring directly at him. her eyes narrowed, like she was dissecting her, but flashed to tiffany, a smirk growing across her face, “they’re getting older each time, tiff.”
next to him, he could feel the girl tighten up, scoffing at her friend, who was now moving close to bed, almost like she was moving towards timothee’s spot.
“shut the fuck up, y/n, that’s rude,” tiffany spat, sneakily snaking her hand up timothees back as if she was attempting to be alluring. turning to him, she pressed a smile, “she’s just a bitch.”
stopping a foot away from the bed, the girl presumed y/n rolled her eyes and lolled her head slightly, eyeing down timothée, “i’m just kidding. you’re probably the youngest one she’s ever brought.
the comment was met was a swift throw of a pillow from tiffany, caught and greeted with laughter from the group, finally breaking the painful tension of the room.
swiftly, y/n stood up, stepping over to bryan and pulled the tray from him, finishing the shitty roll job herself as she sang silently. conversation resumed on the ground silently, and tiffany pulled at timothees arm as she talked to bryan about whatever.
he watched the girl, though, as she packed the paper and licked it shut. an air of confidence bounced around her, as if she didn’t really care about anyone in that room, or the entire house.
with a flick of her lighter, she turned around taking a deep hit before handing it out for timothée, “here, you’re the guest.”
it took him a second to register what he said as he digested her outfit, an opened hawaiian shirt over a lettuces bralette and baggy sweatpants. it was as if she was trying to hide herself yet stand out at the same time. accepting her offer, timothée used the movement as an excuse to get out of tiffany’s grip and took a deep hit, hoping he could feel less perverse in a random house.
he watched y/n take a seat by his legs on the floor, as if they have been friends forever, and handed back the blunt to her. she leaned her elbow on the bed her arm brushing past his hip, an intimate moment as the song faded into ‘tranz’ by gorillaz.
“god, i fucking love this song,” y/n mumbled as she took another hit.
“hey, don’t hog!” tiffany jested, causing her friend to roll her eyes and reach over timothees lap in defeat. there was obviously distress between the two.
placing her head on her elbow, y/n looked up to timothée, like a puppy. she sat like that for a moment, the boy holding his breath for no real reason, before she smiled softly, “how’s your mom?”
her laugh was quiet, but was sweet in tone, “yes, your mom. i used to take dance lessons with her when i was like five. you used to show up to the studio and parade around like a little prince.” the last part of her sentence wasn’t in bad demeanor, but more of a kind sentiment.
the memory of his mom’s studio settled something in timothée’s stomach, allowing his spine to relax, “she’s good. that’s gotta be a long time ago, she stopped teaching kids after a while.”
lifting her head up to be suspended by her hand, pieces of y/n touched the end of his knee, and he could feel her warm breath through his leg’s jean covering. “i loved ballet, but i hated the tights. one time i ripped them during class and your mom made you go get extra ones for me,” she paused to laugh, her eyes dancing around his face, enjoying the nostalgia, “you were so pissed.”
that memory felt alien to him, as that time of his life was more of a blur, but was obviously something the girl held on to fondly. he accepted his smile, opening his mouth before he was cut off by tiffany, who pulled him into the conversation with bryan.
timothée felt y/n’s eyes on him the whole time.
after thirty minutes of bland conversation, he excused himself to the bathroom, directed downstairs by a body in the room, and timothée felt he could finally breathe as he walked through the empty first floor.
opening random doors slightly to find his way, he heard a sudden voice behind him, forcing him to spin around, “it’s the one next to that room, gabby doesn’t know where anything is.” leaning against the kitchen island, y/n didn’t look at him as she picked through a bowl of grapes on the counter. her hair cascaded over her face, and the lighting of the room allowed him to really see her.
“i assumed this was her place,” he itched at a random place on his arm, just to fill up the air until she finally looked at him, smiling.
“no, this is my place. the folks are out, so i invited my shitty friends over so i wouldn’t be scared alone.”
“you don’t like them?” he knew that was a stupid question.
laughing softly, y/n tore away eye contact and laid herself over the counter as if she was exhausted. through her arms, he could hear her muffle “do you?”
that was fair. the boy didn’t know what else to do, so he just turned into the bathroom. his own reflection felt off, uncanny and elongated in the harsh bathroom light. without doing anything but staring at himself, he flushed the toilet and let the water run for a bit, just to save face from standing in a strangers bathroom for three minutes.
y/n still laid there, bent over the island, and turned her head to look at him.
“there’s a pool in the back, do you wanna sit with me out there?”
the stars were much clearer than in the city, the air clean laced with the smell of cut grass and the soundtrack of crickets and the random bird chirp. the two of them say on the porch of the pool, the moon’s light reflecting off of the chlorinated water and onto their skin.
slipping off her shoes, y/n gently slid her feet into the pool, soft ripples circling around her ankles. timothée could feel her body heat radiating next to him, and he watched her hands tighten on the stone edging of the deck.
suddenly, she looked at him, “you know, i wanna be a director.”
humming, she smiled as she looked across the still water, “yet i’m studying anthropology.”
he could sense the masked hurt in her voice, “where do you go?”
“nyu, i’m commuting to save for an abroad trip.”
“paris.” happiness dropped from her statement, and timothée stifled a laugh quietly.
looking at him sideways, y/n scrunched her nose, “i don’t know a lick of french, but i want to take some side classes at la femis. even if i’m technically there for ‘the study of culture perseveration’.”
“it’s not hard to pick up.”
“easy for you to say, mr. i’m-so-perfect-and-french.”
timothée allowed himself to laugh fully at her stab, all of the tension from the stuffy house leaving.
“i have a question for you,” allowing himself to relax on his hands, timothée looked over the girl’s body, “if you don’t like your friends, why not get new ones?”
running her hand through her hair, y/n thought for a second before returning her gaze back to him, “can i answer with a question?” she waited for him to nod and laid her back down on the deck, staring up at the sky, “why are you here with my friends when you’ve got cooler ones in the city?”
despite the heat of the words, a comfortable silence passed between the two, as if they both knew the answers to their questions. after a couple minutes, y/n looked up at him, eyes shining from the moonlight, “i don’t understand how you put up with tiff, she’s so fucking annoying.”
and for the first time that night, timothée could actually relax.
wow this is shit but i needed to write
