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meetmyothersouls · 1 year

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It's Not You, It's Me

Part 12

Warnings: recovering from an accident, bruising, wedding, braxton hicks/contractions, violence/violent situations, a single gun (not used), feelings of dread and sadness, this is quite long so, please bare with me. Not proof read

What should have been a weeklong hospital stay, turned into two, then three, then before you knew it, Timothee had been in the hospital for a month. During yours and Timothee's stay, there was an interesting new development in your pregnancy: Braxon Hicks contractions. The first time you had one you thought for sure you were going into labor, luckily the hospital Timothee was staying at was the same hospital your OBGYN was at and the same hospital you were delivering in. So, your doctor saw you every time you had one, "just to make sure," you told them. By the time, Timothee was released, and a quick wedding ceremony was in order, you were eight months and a week pregnant, feeling like you were about to burst at the seams.

The week that Timothee was released from the hospital was exponentially busy, filled with dress fittings (your least favorite part considering), physical therapy for Timothee, somehow getting a church on board for a last-minute wedding, finding an ordained minister (which ultimately did not work out. Luckily, Timothee's best friend Stephane went the extra mile and spent the week getting ordained) and finally (and almost forgotten) obtaining a marriage license. Nicole took the matter of guest list, invitations, decorations and food into her own hands.

The night before the wedding, Timothee seemed distracted. He paced the floor of your shared apartment, biting his fingernails. He hissed in pain as he bit one down too far, drawing blood. The sight brought on one of the fake contractions. You winced a little as you got up, walking them off seemed to help.

"What's goin' on, Tim?" You asked, walking over to him. "Not getting cold feet, are you?" You asked, mostly joking.

Timothee quickly turned his neck to look at you, wincing in pain from the movement. A lot was still difficult for him, and it worried you to no end. "Of course not!" Timothee smiled, the bruising around his eyes and faded into a nasty yellow color, but somehow, he still managed to look insanely attractive. "I should be asking you that, you know? The one who always runs off." Immediately your faced dropped and Timothee quickly added, "I'm kidding. I'm kidding! No, really, everything's great, y/n. We're getting married tomorrow, our daughter's gonna be here any day now. What more could I want?"

You winced again at a second false alarm contraction and Timothee put a hand on your belly and ran the other through his hair. It was something he did when he was nervous. Then, his index finger went back into his mouth as he chomped on the already torn fingernail. You chalked it up to last minute jitters as you closed your eyes.

"We don't have to do this, you know?" He said quietly.

Your eyes popped open and you pulled his other hand into yours, hoping to minimize the torture he was putting his fingers through.

"I know, but a ceremony is important and I think your mom would flip if we didn't have one."

"I know, but-" Timothee slid his hands out of yours and went back to pacing the floor. He'd mellowed out a lot since the beginning of all this. And the accident left him a little fragile. Secretly, you hoped he'd get back to his normal devious self. Maybe after the wedding and after the baby was born, he'd settle back down.

"But....?"

"But," Timothee sighed, launching back into a pace. "I'm just freaking out. And probably over nothing. It's stupid. Forget it."

You rolled your eyes. "No. Fuck that. You can't just say that and then tell me to forget about it. What's going on, Timmy? Tell me."

You waddled over to him, hoping it looked like anything other than a waddle. You stopped him mid pace, pulling his hand from his mouth and took it in yours. His other hand went to your cheek as he brushed strand of hair behind your ear. He sighed again.

"Just tell me, baby," you urged him gently.

"I'm just waiting for something to happen. Something to go wrong."

His anxiety was talking again, and you were getting better and better and calming his rising panic. You'd been talking him off the ledge a lot lately. Sometimes were easier than others. You weren't sure how this one was going to go.

"Nothing's going to happen, Timothee. We're going to get married and then hopefully have this baby, like, two seconds after," you laughed. It was getting hard to breathe with how the baby was positioned.

He nodded, smiling as he took your face in his hands and kissed your lips tenderly before building up to a deeper, more passionate kiss.

"Let's go to bed," he said against your mouth. "Tonight's the last night I get to have sex with you as y/f/n y/l/n."

The next morning came early. Timothee had physical therapy that morning, so Nicole picked you up to begin getting you ready for your wedding. You couldn't believe it was happening. Your wedding. You were marrying Timothee Chalamet.

Nicole stood behind you as she zipped your dress up. Your hair was done, your make up was perfect and the dress, though heavily modified due to your pregnant belly, fit you like a glove and was somehow not the least bit uncomfortable. You looked beautiful and that was something you never considered yourself. Your eyes glistened a little as tears built up.

"Oh, honey," Nicole said, leading over to grab a few tissues. She handed them to you over your shoulder and you patted your eyes, careful to not smudge your perfect eyeliner.

"I'm sorry your parents couldn't make it here, sweety, but I just want you to know that long before today, I already considered you a daughter."

"Make that both of us" Timothee's dad, Marc, said from behind you. He must've snuck in without you noticing, which wouldn't be hard to do considering how much was on your mind. He looked quite handsome in his tuxedo with light blue accents. "Y/n, I'm not sure if you've given it any thought...and there's no pressure at all of course, but...if you want, I'd love to be the one to walk you down the aisle today."

Tears immediately welled up in your eyes, which prompted Nicole to grab more tissues. This time, she dabbed your eyes for you.

"I'd love that thank you, Mr. Chalamet. Or...should I call you Dad now?" You chuckled but cringed at your awakardness.

But marc offered you a genuine smile and his arm and said, "I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

Timothee's POV

I stood at the altar, my hands a sweaty mess. Normally, Y/n wouldn't want a big ceremony, and I knew she was doing it for everyone but her. That's one of the reasons I fell in love her. Her selflessness.

I'm lost in thought as the music begins playing and the groomsmen with the bridesmaids began to walk down the aisle and joined me on stage. Part of me, unfortunately, worried about her not showing, but these thoughts are instantly put at ease when the music changed and my dad brought Y/n out, his arm interlocked with hers.

Everything stopped and there was only her. She looked...beautiful. Pregnancy certainly made her glow like an angle sent straight from heaven, just for me. My eyes began to fill with tears and I didn't even try to keep them from falling. I wiped my eyes with one hand, keeping the other one behind my back, shaking like a leaf. Her dress, which she was so worried about made her look even more angelic. The fabric fell off of her shoulders, exposing my favorite spots to kiss, and draped down her arms. Lace covered the plunging neck line, a modification Y/n added to not show so much skin. A satin tie gathered perfectly around her waist, showing off a perfectly round baby bump. Then it hit me. Both of my girls were here on my wedding day.

And then, we locked eyes and she waved at me. Wiggling her delicate little fingers, in my direction. I couldn't help but chuckle. My dad helped her up the three steps. Words were spoken, but I didn't hear a damn on of them. Y/n hugged my dad before he joined my mother in the front row.

Stephane greeted the guests, speaking eloquently I'm sure, but all I could see, all I could hear, all I could think of was her. The day I'd waited for, since I saw her in that coffee shop so long ago, was here.

It must've been time for vows, because Y/n cleared her throat and said my name. Her eyes were glossy as she spoke.

"Timothee, my love, my world, my everything. We've been through a hell of a lot together, haven't we?" She chuckled and sniffled a little, and I reached out to grab one of her hands, rubbing an encouraging thumb over her fingers. "There have been moments in my life, where I didn't think I had a purpose, a reason. But then you came along, and you gave me two." She placed a hand on her belly, and she gripped mine tighter. "I never thought I'd get married, and I definitely never thought I'd have one these." The guests laughed and so did I. "But I'm so happy, Timothee. I'm so happy that I get to spend forever with the two of you. I love you," she said to me, her voice going a bit higher in pitch as it did when she was about to cry. "And I will never run from that. I promise.

Reader's POV

You breathed a deep sigh of relief as you finished your vows. You decided that you weren't going to write anything down. You were going to speak directly from your heart. You laid it all out for him in a way you hadn't ever before. And Timothee looked at you, happy tears welling up in his still bruised eyes.

Timothee opened his mouth to speak, but smiled instead, as if gathering words to say.

"I'm not as poetic as my beautiful bride here," he started, and you rolled your eyes knowing very well how eloquent he was when he spoke. Still, the small crowd of maybe 100 guests laughed. "So, I had to write mine down." Timothee reached a hand into his pocked, fishing for his vows. He finally pulled out a folded white sheet of paper. It appeared wrinkled and worn, like it was folded and unfolded countless times over numerous days as he worked out his feelings onto paper.

"Y/n," Timothee said, "I-" he cut himself off with a short, shaky breath and a light emotional sob. It was your turn to comfort him, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. He looked up at you and pulled his lips in to form a smile one does to push back a lump forming in their throat. He was trying so hard not to cry.

I love you. You mouthed.

"I love you too," he whispered back. He huffed out a breath and refocused. "I wrote this a week after I met you and-"

Timothee stopped again, cut off by something different this time. He turned his head to someone in the audience, someone that caught his attention. Instantly his face changed. Your smile dropped from your face and your snapped your neck in the direction he was looking in. Your stomach tightened, contracting again at the sight of the man standing in the back of the crowd. He entered quietly, Timothee must have seen him out of his peripheral vision, there was no sound upon his entrance; even the large church doors didn't make a sound. But a man that you knew from long ago stood in the threshold and his presence was just as menacing as you remembered.

"No," you whispered. "No. No. No."

The two of you, seconds ago standing in front of each other, holding hands, exchanging vows, shifted to face the man at the door. His face was twisted in an ominous smirk, making his dark eyes appear evil. His hair, as black as night, was styled as perfectly as it was the day you left him and decided to erase him from your life. But now, here he was and by his looks, he was here to ruin it.

"Y/n," Timothee said, not taking his eyes off of the wedding crasher. "Who is that."

You wish he hadn't have asked that. Because saying his name out loud would acknowledge that fact that somehow, he reentered your life. You spent so long trying to forget him, to repress him from your memory. But of course Timothee would ask. Why wouldn't he? You never spoke about Jacob. Not after what he did.

"His name is Jacob, you said. "And he's my ex-fiancé."

Timothee's grip on your hand tightened to the point of pain and the muscle in his jaw strained as he worked it. "For now," he sighed, as if he knew this would happen. You thought of what he said the night before. I'm just waiting for something to happen. Something to go wrong. And here it was. "We're going to skip over the fact that you've never mentioned this to me and figure out what the fuck is going on."

Jacob looked around the church, an obnoxious fake look of awe plastered to his face. He clapped his hands in mocked amusement and then held them out to both of you as he took slow, but deliberate steps towards the front of the church. "Oh, I hope I'm not too late. Y/n, I missed your invite, but you know I'd find you eventually." Jacob grabbed a wine glass from a woman's hand and downed the entire thing in a single gulp. He looked at Stephane. "Is it too late to object this shit show?"

Stephane stepped forward, an elegant swagger to him even in the most awkward situations. "With all due respect, uhm, sir," he added in disgust, "objections are reserved for legal matters only, emotional reasonings are not valid for objections. So, unless your objection is of legal stature, we won't be stopping the wedding."

Timothee pulled you closer to his body as Jacob pursed his lips in thought. Another fake contraction tightened around your belly, this time building in intensity. This time, a wince was hard to hide. Your hand went to your belly and your breathed out a big puff of air.

"Are you okay," Timothee whispered over his shoulder.

"Yeah. Yeah. Braxton Hicks," you reminded him.

"Oh for the love of God, Y/n. Really? Pregnant at your own wedding? I know you're trash but this," he held out his hands as if showing you to a crowd gathered to see a freakshow at a circus. "This is next level!" Jacob laughed in disbelief.

"Hey, man. Get the fuck out. You weren't invited and this is a private event. You've said what you needed to say. And whatever the hell went on between you two is clearly over. She doesn't want you. And no one wants you here right n ow. Leave. That's the last time I'll ask.

Jacob's lips pulled into a sadistic smirk again, and a sinister laugh vibrated in his throat. The guests looked horrified and a few of them already picked up their bags and walked out.

"Jacob, please. You're ruining my wedding day." Just like he ruined your life.

"Your wedding day?" He laughed out loud. "This was supposed to be OUR wedding day, y/n. Remember all the plans we made? All the things we did together, all the memories we made together? ALL THE LOVE WE MADE?!"

"Stop."

"You can't just throw that away."

"Stop it, Jacob."

"But you did. Didn't you? You threw it all away. You threw us away, y/n. Just like you threw me in prison!"

"BECAUSE YOU KILLED MY FAMILY!" You screamed. The remaining guests gasped, and Timothee's head snapped to you. You didn't tell him this. You didn't tell anyone anything. You couldn't. As soon as Jacob went to prison, you entered the witness protection program. You started over. You weren't sure how Jacob found you. How he was out of prison.

The rest of the guests were leaving the church in hoards at your outburst. Stephane still stood behind Timothee. You saw Larry hiding out in the corner. He'd have you if you needed and if god forbid anything happned to-

Jacob pulled his hand he'd been keeping in his pocket, revealing a heavy black handgun. Anyone left in the church aside from Stephane and Larry had fled. And Jacob began walking causally around the pews, waving the gun around as he talked.

"You know, I've had years to think about how this would all go down. Because I knew you'd change your name. I knew you'd move and hide. And lemme tell ya, you were a tricky one to find," he shook the gun at you as talked, "They did good with you."

Jacob pointed the gun in your direction, and instantly Timothee opened his mouth to speak.

"Ah, Ah," Jacob said, moving his aim to Timothee. Timothee made sure you were behind him, assuring that if Jacob pulled the trigger, it'd be him that he shot. Another shooting pain rippled through your abdomen, this time your knees buckled a little and it took everything in you not to fall to them. You gripped the back of Timothee's tux, but he didn't seem to notice. Stephane placed one hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles and the other hand on Timothee's shoulder.

"If you can't tell," Jacob started back up when he was sure Timothee was done interrupting. "I'm calling this wedding off. She's not marrying you." He emphasized the word 'you' with evident disgust.

"We're already married," Timothee blurted out. If there were still guests in the room, you were sure his declaration would have resulted in more gasps. Jacob stopped walking and lowered his gun. Taking his chance, Timothee started up again. "About a month ago, I was in a pretty bad accident. We decided that as soon as I was out we'd get married. But we couldn't wait. We got married in my hospital room and didn't tell anyone. This ceremony was all for show and formalities. Y/n is already my wife."

Jacob took in what Timothee had to say and for a second you were hopeful. Your stomach tightened again, and you couldn't suppress the groan of pain you let out.

"Y/n," Timothee said.

"I'm fine," you assured him, even though you felt like vomitting. You started to wonder if these were real contractions. "I'm fine," you said again, unaware of who you were trying to convince.

You gathered yourself enough to stand up straight, thought the pressure building between your legs was starting to increase and became more obvious than it had in the last few weeks. Your eyes found Jacob again, standing right in front of the stairs leading up to the stage.

"No matter," he shrugged and pointed the gun. That's when you felt it, like a water balloon from inside of you bursting. Fluid rain down your legs and onto the stage. If Timothee saw it, he didn't make it known.

"Tim," you whispered. "Tim my water broke." It came out like a sob.

Timothee gripped your wrist tight, you already felt bruises forming. He didn't say anything, he only stood his ground in front of you, his body as still as any statue. Stephane took his place at his side, increasing your shield from Jacob.

Jacob let out a laugh that echoed and bounced off of the walls of the empty church. "Oh no, you don't understand, you stupid fucks! I don't want her. Why would I kill the one I want? No. I'm coming after you."

"Ahh, fuck!" You screamed as another contraction rippled through your stomach. It was unlike any pain you'd ever felt, like your insides being twisted and ripped out. Your stomach tightened so intensely you couldn't move. The only relief was that it wasn't constant. You prayed they were far apart enough to finish whatever this was.

"If she won't come with me...I'll make her a widow. She's so pathetic, she'll come crawling right back to me. Now, come on," Jacob said, waving the gun towards himself, motioning Timothee to follow, but Timothee stood still, completely unmoving. It wasn't until Jacob was halfway to the door, that he realized Timothee wasn't following. Jacob stompped back over, clearly annoyed, not stopping until he was directly in front of Timothee, his nose practically touching Tim's.

"You better learn how to follow directions, pretty boy."

"Fuck you," Timothee spat.

"You want me to kill you in front of your widow?"

Timothee didn't answer.

Behind him, you screamed as another contraction reared its ugly head.

"Y/n," Timothee said, slowing turning around with up turned palms, assuring Jacob he wasn't going to run off or do anything slick. "Y/n, listen to me."

"No. No. Nononono. No I can't do this. I can't. Do go. Don't go with him. Please. I need you, Timothee."

"I know. I know my love. Listen. Listen to me."

You made yourself look at him, and regretted it instantly. You'd seen Timothee in a thousand different ways, but you'd never seen him as broken as this.

"You get to the hospital. Okay? You have our baby and when she's here, you tell her how much I love her and you make sure you tell her that for me every day until you grow old and gray. Until you don't have the strength to say it anymore. But please. Please know that for every ounce of love I have for her-" his hand went to your belly, and you sobbed loudly. "Is nothing compared to how fiercely I loved you."

Loved.

"No! No I'm not going. I'm not leaving you, you can't make me Timothee, please."

"LET'S GO!" Jacob screamed.

"Just give me a fuckin minute!" Timothee yelled, tears rolling down his face.

"I love you, y/n. Don't you ever fucking forget that."

Timothee grabbed your face tightly in his hands and kissed you. Normally, you'd love a kiss that deep and passionate. It was one of those kisses that Timothee put his entire heart into. His tongue wrapped around yours. His taste in your mouth. His lips skating gracefully around yours, even with how rushed it was. The soft noise he made while he kissed you that he didn't even realize he was doing but he did because his entire soul was in the kiss. But right now, you hated it. You hated it because he was kissing you like it was his last. And for all you knew, it was.

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