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“I won’t do it!”
“Timmy…”
“I won’t!”
“But—“
“No!”
“Come on, baby, we talked about this. We’ve got to—you’ve got to!”
“Fucking no, Armie. I mean, are you kidding me right now? How am I supposed to do this?? Seriously, you’ve seen me play poker—I can’t bluff for shit!”
“Calm down. You can do it, Tim. I know you can. You’re the strongest person I know. I have confidence in you.”
“Is this some fucking pep talk? ‘Cause that’s excellent. Go right ahead. Please prepare me to suck face with some girl I barely know. I want to hear every word of it! Let’s get this right. Maybe I should take notes.”
“Tim, I—“
“No, really, tell me what to do, Armie. How do I kiss her? How am I doing this? Do I let her gross saliva lick all over my face? She smells like fucking olives, Armie, did you know that? Should her tits be in my face while I grope her ass? Should she grab my dick, or am I supposed to just go ahead and fuck her, too? Is that part of the deal?”
“Of course not!”
“You sure? ‘Cause Liz probably worked that one into a clause somewhere. I mean, what the fuck—we should probably just birth a couple of kids while we’re at it! Then everyone will be so on board with the fact that there’s no way I could possibly love you. Nope, not me! Timmy Chalamet is All About the Pussy, folks, just like every other serious Oscar contender! Can’t you tell? I mean, doesn’t every kid go to acting school and try to perfect his craft because he’s desperate to be featured on PopSugar?” Teeth grind, the bitter scrape of his echo is thrown back to him by the concrete dock.
“Stop. Stop it. Ease up, all right? You know this shit will blow over. You won’t be shut out. No one will fucking remember any of the details in a few months, and you know that.”
“Do I? Do I really know that, or am I going to be forever remembered as the thirsty asshole who posed for sleazy hired paps on a fake vacation that was awkward as fuck right from the beginning? Everyone’s gonna know, they’re not stupid. Our fans will fucking hate me. And with that fucking EW article dropping a week early—everyone saw how fucked up and ridiculous all this shit is, so sure, let’s make sure we jump dead into it! Yeah, that’ll work!”
A sigh. “You know we don’t have any choice in this, right?”
“No choice? You’re a rich man with a rich family, Armie. Don’t tell me you couldn’t find another way around this fucking mess!”
Stillness haunts the quiet reply. “Not one that didn’t involve a court appearance…and supervised visitation with a court liaison…and…and I can’t do that, Tim. My kids…they can’t handle it…they…they’re too…”
A crackly sigh deflates him, folds him in. The ache burns now, replacing the fire. “They are. I know. What is…I don’t want them to suffer…or you. You know that.” A thick silence. “I love you all so much, goddamnit…”
“She made her demands clear, Tim. We both signed it. It’s the only way, the only way to—“
“Stop.’
“But—“
“I’ll do it. You know I will. I’d never risk you or them, and you know it. I just—“
‘I know, I know. You think I want to see that girl paw you, see your hands on her skin? Those goddamn pictures will be everywhere. Do you have any fucking idea what this will do to me?”
Silence.
“I’m dying, Tim.” Thin, strained. “I miss you so much, you little fucker! You should be here, with me, in my goddamn lap…”
“Armie.”
“Open for me, panting for me. God, I need it, Tim. That’s where you should be, taking me, feeling that stretch—god—knees bruising my hips, my breath on your neck…”
“Armie.” Deep breaths, a gulp. “Jesus, you know I want that, too.” Pleading, the voice shrinks. “I miss you. I miss the way your skin smells, the way you sort of growl the first time you hug me, how you smell my hair while you put your hands on me…”
“You should stop talking.”
“How you curve your spine and dig your fingers in to the crease of my ass when you want to fuck me harder…”
“God, Tim. I just… I can’t—“
“No, you can’t, not for another four days. Until the work is done and this fucking photoshoot is over and I can get away…disappear.” Long puffs of static. “Can you last until then?”
“No.” A gurgle. “No, I can’t.” His voice has shrunken to an airless whisper. “I don’t share, Tim, not with anyone. Ever.”
“No, you don’t, do you hear me? And not now, either, because I’m yours and everyone fucking knows it, which is why this is all so monumentally stupid!” A harsh exhale. “You think I want to sit on a fucking boat? I hate boats.”
“You don’t hate boats.”
“I do now. What if I fall off?”
“Grab onto the rail.”
“Yeah, that won’t be awkward as my girlfriend tries to eat my face.”
The acid washes between them both again.
“What if I just hang my mouth open like a carp until she gets the hint?”
“What if she doesn’t get the hint?”
“Ahhh…then I throw myself off the boat and hope the sea takes pity on me?”
“Yeah. On me, too.”
“Huh?”
The voice is deep. “Then you’ll be wet.”
“And?”
“And slippery…and glistening…and goddamn delicious...and irresistible, Tim.” Low, the gravel of a deserted road.
It hangs heavy.
“How did we let this happen, Armie?”
“What?”
“Oh, don’t play dumb—how did we let ourselves become hostages? Why is everyone else in our lives calling all the shots?”
“Because, Tim, if we suck it up now, we get it all. Finally. For good. All. Of. It.”
“Liz actually agreed to the final terms? After all this time?”
“Yep, as long as we agreed to hers.”
A thick swallow. “And you’re sure?”
“About what?”
“You’re sure that this is what you want?”
“Tim.”
“Just—I need to hear it. We’ll never come back from it, you know. This is permanent. Whatever happens, we’ll forever be those two guys who turned gay for each other, who thought their movie was real life.”
“Turned gay?’
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. I do know.”
“Well?’
“Well what?”
“Are you sure?”
“Timothée Chalamet, do you think I’m ordering lunch here, like I’m just casually going to change my mind and scan the fucking menu again for something more appealing? Are you out of your mind? You think I’m not scared? I’m fucking terrified, but I have zero choice when it comes to you, so fuck you very much for that. Do you really think ‘recovery’ was ever in my stars after we met? I’ve been fucking mad for you for as long as I can remember because I have no idea what the fuck even happened in my life before you, and we are close—so close—to getting everything we want, everything we’ve waited for, every goddamn dream I’ve ever had.”
“Every dream?”
“Yes!”
“But…what dreams?”
“You, Tim! That equates to you, you fucking idiot. You’re all I’ve dreamed of in the last three years, and fuck you if you say you don’t already know that.”
“I guess I do.” A soft chuckle. “I just like when you say it.”
“You little shit.”
“But you still love me…”
“I do. I fucking do.”
“Look, I…I need to go. Ferry’s leaving soon.”
“Yeah. Ok, ok.” Several heavy breaths, the hiss of static. “Take care of yourself, Tim, understand me? Please. You’ll do fine, I know it.”
“All right. I….I guess I’ll see you in a few days?”
“Yes, absolutely, you will, and then we'll disappear to our spot, really get back to…well, back to us. Ok?”
“Ok.”
“I really love you, Timmy.”
“I love you, too.” A quick breath. “Armie?”
“Yeah?”
Eyes squeeze shut. “Don’t forget, ok? Promise me that when you see the pictures, you won’t forget who I really am, you won’t forget that I love you more than anything in my life, that I’d never—“
“I will. I promise.”
“Ok, good.” Eyes open. “Later, Armie.”
“Later, Tim.”