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andguesswhat · 10 months

Text

Well, who is going to read this anyway, right?

Yet the background:

After Tim was in Paris at Fashion Week, I was in Berlin and I saw a young actor on stage there, twice, Tim's age, same height, same jawline ;) A great actor, full of energy and joy. Mmh.

I thought an encounter would be interesting. I had some trouble writing it, though, because the real Tim got in my way more than once and I didn't feel like dealing with him. But Jonas was batting his eyelashes in my head and said "pretty please" so I tried and tried until I finally found my Timmy again and now I finally finished it on the day I know for sure that I will leave fandom for good.

So that’s it then. My farewell. My legacy…

For @gatoenlaciudad

The Nature of the Night

Jonas pulls the wool cap over his head and is about to walk through the stage door when Mascha, the assistant director in charge of the evening, appears and stops him.

"Timotheé Chalamet wants to see you."

"What?" Jonas asks puzzled.

Mascha makes a motion with her arms as if she can't explain it either.

"I don't know but it really seems to be him. Checked it. Here," she pulls her phone out of her pocket, unlocks the screen and holds it under his nose. Jonas sees the image gallery with pictures of Timotheé Chalamet, they are rather private photos, respectively not images from his movies or from the red carpet. On these photos the actor is often wearing a cap and loose clothes.

"Looks exactly like him, talks like him, says his name is Timmy and would like to meet you. He sits in the canteen."

Jonas is still a bit confused when he aborts his intention to go out of the stage door and goes after Mascha in the direction of the canteen. A Hollywood actor had been in the audience? And he wants to meet him?

In the meantime, Mascha babbles on that she had already heard that Hollywood actors are always smaller in real life than they appear on the big screen, or no, in this case not smaller, but somehow thinner, inconspicuous, normal, unspectacular. Although he had been really nice, and also pretty pretty. So maybe he was special after all. She smiles at him.

Jonas doesn't even get a chance to think about what he should make of all this, because he's suddenly already standing in the cafeteria and walking towards the table where the figure in baggy clothes, leather jacket and a cap is sitting. The young man looks up and yes, it is definitely Timotheé Chalamet, smiling at him. Reaching out his hand.

"Hi Jonas," he pronounces the name in English, "thanks for stopping by. I'm Tim."

Jonas takes the other man’s hand and says rather automatically than consciously, “Hi.”

The Hollywood actor turns to Mascha and his smile is getting almost conspiratorial. "And thank you very much for helping me with this." Mascha blushes.

Well, he is definitely nice, Jonas thinks. Friendly. But he seems kind of jaded, tired, stressed. Especially his smile. Like he is sad or something.

While Mascha leaves, Chalamet motions Jonas to sit down, so he sits down opposite him. And while he wonders what he should actually say, Chalamet… Timothée… Tim… the Hollywood actor takes over.

"Sorry to bother you. I saw the play, and I really, really loved it. I was here yesterday too, watched the Kafka piece. Loved that also. Very funny. And your performance was awesome."

"Thanks." Jonas says in some kind of delirium because this still feels kind of unreal. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to ask something? For example, what someone like Timothée Chalamet is actually doing here? Yeah why not. "How come that you... ?" Yes, what actually? "...that you came here?" Well that sounded somehow stupid, but it shows his whole confusion.

"I was just in Paris…,” the actor begins to explain. “I met someone who told me that they have surtitles in the theater here in Berlin and I got curious. Wanted to see something new. So I decided to come here. I don't know if you know, Hollywood actors are on strike right now... So I have time... And I'm really glad I came here. It was very inspiring."

A notion that this here is real sinks in and Jonas has to smile. A bit proudly. Kind of shyly. Probably quite stupidly, too, but it's not every day that a Hollywood actor compliments him.

He knows Chalamet, has seen a few films with him. Call me by your name... Dune... Beautiful Boy... And he was in this Wes Anderson movie, too, wasn’t he? When Jonas thinks about it, he's seen quite a few movies with him.

Sure, he's interested in what other actors his age do and he thinks Timothée is a good one. He always liked his vulnerability.

"That is very nice of you to say, thanks," he says humbly and Timothée smiles back at him.

"You want a drink, too?" Timothée lifts the beer bottle that's in front of him.

Jonas nods, turns to Karim, the bar keeper behind the counter, and gestures for him to bring him a beer.

And then a conversation begins. It's quick. Faster than he would have thought. Timothée asks him a lot, about the play, about him as an actor, but also a few private things. Jonas talks and tells, getting more and more comfortable with the situation with every minute passing by.

Timothée all the while is looking at him attentively.

Still sad, though, Jonas can't help thinking, he looks really sad to him, the sadness giving him a somehow distant and absent aura.

Tired, Jonas reassures himself, he is probably just tired.

Although Timothée keeps asking him questions, it's not a questioning session. And although Jonas realizes that Timothée is very cautious when he speaks about himself, probably because he can’t talk about personal stuff, it's a very pleasant conversation.

Soon `Timothée´ changes in Jonas’ mind to `Tim´.

"Have you been here before?" Jonas asks him. “In Berlin?”

"Yeah, twice, actually. At the film festival. The Berlinale."

"Oh! When have you been there? I've been there twice, too. I mean, I’ve been here with two films I was in."

"Wow, really? Cool!” Tim looks at him appreciatively for a second before he continues. “I was there in 2017, with Call Me by Your Name.” He smiles and adds with a soft voice. “I have very fond memories of that trip."

"Ah okay, then we missed each other by a year.” Jonas realizes. “I was there the first time in 2018. What about the second time?"

"That was 2015. But man, this feels like it's from another lifetime."

Tim pulls out his phone and googles himself plus 'Berlinale 2015'. "Man, look at that!"

Again, Jonas has a cell phone under his nose, this time he sees a really young-looking Timothée Chalamet, a boy, who he would not immediately associate with the man in front of him. He smirks.

"Wow."

"Yeah, I look 10!" Almost a little embarrassed, Tim puts the phone away again. "Youth! When was the second time you were there?"

"In 2019 with 'the Golden Glove'."

This time Jonas pulls out his phone, googles 'Der goldene Handschuh' and shows Tim a picture of him with the heavy makeup that turned him into the serial killer Honka.

"That's you? Wow. What's the movie about? How did you get this role?” And before Jonas can answer, Tim adds with a smirk and a drawl, “Did they choose the prettiest guy to make him the ugliest?"

For a second Jonas just looks at Tim. If you say something like that, you have to be able to endure to wait a second for the answer.

Tim’s smile becomes even more coquette, he blinks.

Then Jonas answers, ignoring the last question and their conversation goes on. And on.

They talk about movies, theater, and everything that goes with it. It flows, in each other, around each other. It’s fun.

To a certain extent Jonas has the feeling that tiredness or sadness are falling off Tim. His remarks become more and more extravagant, his enthusiasm bigger and bigger, the "Noooo!"s and the "Yeeeesss!"s longer and longer, the "Man!"s and "Exactly!"s more and more emphasized.

"That's what I'm always saying!" And Jonas is the last one who can't keep up, even if one volume quieter.

They don't even notice that everybody else has already left until Karim comes up to them. "I'm really sorry to interrupt but we're closing now."

Again, for a second, Jonas just looks at Tim, because he can't even gauge what this means for them now, for their situation.

"Can we go somewhere else?" Tim asks. And Jonas starts breathing again, even if he did not know that he had held his breath.

"Maybe somewhere not that crowded?” Tim continues. “Somewhere where no one recognizes me?"

And then he adds what Jonas has been thinking all along "I just don't want this to end."

If it weren't kind of weird, Jonas would have thought Tim sounded almost pleading. Even weirder, that he just almost had the feeling that Tim wants something from him.

Probably the alcohol making his mind go wild. Also: just so typical for actors, always all in with the possibilities. But Jonas enjoys the encounter way too much to let it end.

"Yeah, sure," says Jonas, even though he really doesn't know where to go with him. Berlin is always crowded.

He then doesn't know why he says that, probably he can also blame that on the alcohol or simply because that had been his plan for tonight before Mascha stopped him and put him in this situation with this man here, or maybe just as a test, but he says, "We could also go to my flat. Nobody to recognize you there … but a fly on the wall or something. I mean, if you don't mind."

"No, no, I'd love to. Honestly, that's the safest for me. And I’d love to meet your flies."

A smirk.

So much for that.

Tim pays, apparently tipping neatly, as wide-eyed as Markus looks and they head out the door, immediately zipping up their jackets. Berlin is cold.

"Can we walk?"

"Yeah sure, it's not that far. I just have to unlock my bike over there," Jonas points to his bike on the lamppost and walks towards it.

"Okay, I just need to sort something out," Tim says, walking towards a black car parked across the street. Jonas sees out of the corner of his eye that he opens the door and speaks to the person in the car.

Tim's whole body suddenly tenses, his voice sounds angry and becomes loud.

Jonas can't understand everything, but there are a lot of annoyed No's in it. "No, I'm not going to do that!" At some point Tim takes some papers reluctantly, tucks them annoyed between his jacket and hoodie, slams the car door shut and comes back toward Jonas, who is waiting for him with his bike at the lamppost.

Tim's face is incensed.

"Sorry..."

That's all he says.

And Jonas doesn't ask either.

They start walking, Jonas pushing his bike.

When Jonas suddenly notices that the car is slowly following them.

A strange feeling. Like from a bad movie or something.

Tim looks behind, makes a frustrated sound and then starts to talk anyway.

"You know, it's just so annoying! I can’t do anything! Not a fucking thing! … My assistant is now driving after us because he wants your address...I'm on a work trip, so everything has to be under control” Tim wiggles his hands overly dramatic, “at all times!” He sighs. “I'm sorry. It's just incredibly embarrassing."

"I can give you the address, no problem," Jonas says unconcerned.

"But I don't want to give it to him."

Jonas nods. He understands. It's a matter of principle.

He feels sorry for Tim. Sure who doesn’t know the stories about how badly Hollywood actors are really treated. But then you see the movies, beautiful and laughing stars on red carpets and read about all the luxury mansions.

If it's that bad, they should just stop, make smaller films, less limelight. Right?

But what would he do when pretending is gradual, when there's always a little bit more what you're doing that you wouldn't do if you weren't in Hollywood, and you don’t realize it because everybody around you just does the same?

Too often he's read some lurid headline or been told about actors on self-destructive downward paths from whom he didn't expect it.

He envies no one in Hollywood. But if he were asked to be in a Hollywood movie, he wouldn't say no either, would he?

He thinks about whether he should suggest the idea he has on his mind right now and decides without further ado, yes, he should. He gets on his bike and says, "Come on, get on the back, we shake them off."

Tim's eyes get big, and before the grin on his face has fully unfolded, he's already jumped on the back of Jonas' bike, holding onto his hips, and Jonas pedals off. A sharp turn to the right, then into the park. Narrow paths, trees and bushes to the right and left. They can't follow them there.

Tim behind him whoops with joy. It sounds contagious. Jonas grins contentedly to himself, his heart beating, the adrenaline still rushing through his veins.

He loves situations like that.

“I would have loved to see their faces, man,” Tim laughs behind him.

In front of his apartment they get off the bike and Jonas brings it into the backyard.

He lives in an old apartment building with high ceilings and creaking floors on the 3rd floor. He loves his apartment and is also quite proud of it.

The fact that he can now show his apartment to Tim, Timothée Chalamet, seems a bit surreal to him.

But reality quickly catches up with him: Beautiful apartment or not, he had forgotten how many things were lying around and how untidy it was.

"Sorry," he mumbles embarrassed and gathers a few clothes to quickly throw them onto the bed.

"No worries," Tim laughs, "you don't have to clean up for me. I always leave my stuff lying around too, much to the chagrin of... others."

It was just a little pause but there definitely had been something Tim hadn't been allowed to say. A drop of sadness. For a second there is this life again that he is crammed into.

"Another beer? Or would you prefer something else?" Jonas asks and ignores the melancholy, even though the contrast fascinates him.

"What else have you got? I have to admit, although the German beer tastes more interesting than the American, I'm not that much of a beer guy."

Jonas thinks about the visit from his best friend from school last weekend.

"Gin? I have some Gin and sweet soda left."

Tim nods. "Perfect, I'll take that."

While Jonas goes to the fridge and prepares the drinks, Tim takes a look around the apartment.

Everything in his apartment merges into one another. Large rooms with large passageways. Lots of painted walls, lots of posters, lots of books, lots of photos, lots of nice things to look at, as Jonas thinks.

"A nice apartment that you have."

"Thanks."

Jonas sees Tim's gaze fall on the colorful fetish boots with extra high heels and platform soles lying next to the bathroom. Just like the ones Jonas wore in a scene on stage tonight.

"Did you have to practice?" Tim asks, amused.

"Yes, I asked our costume designer for an extra pair. We haven't performed the play for quite some time, I didn't know if I could still do it."

Tim laughs. "You could. You rocked it!"

Jonas grins and holds the drink out to Tim.

They sit down at the kitchen table and Tim takes out the paper that was stuck between his leather jacket and hoodie, puts it on the table, then takes off his leather jacket and lays it over the paper. He does not address it.

Jonas can guess what it is, though. Probably some kind of contract that he can't say what's happening tonight. Or what is going to happen.

"Man, this place is really nice,” Tim repeats. “Very cozy."

"Thank you."

They toast.

"Have you always lived in Berlin?"

And with that, their conversation continues.

Jonas enjoys it immensely.

At some point, Tim talks about his current impressions of Berlin. He apparently just rode the subway for a while yesterday. "It's a bit like riding the subway in New York. You see so many different people. All their styles. It's amazing. It's really inspiring. Especially the attitude with which some people wear their deliberate ugliness. There was one guy who shaved off his hair here and here," Tim points to his head, "then wore it long here and here, and wore it long here, then he wore huge glasses, a mustache, an absolutely ugly jacket, everything was ugly, nothing fitted together, so that in the end everything fitted together. Yet he knew he was the coolest of them all. And he was right!"

Jonas smiles and looks at Tim's perfect curls and his perfect appearance. "So, do you want a hairstyle like that now?"

"No, but I would like to know where one gets the idea to walk around like that in the first place! If you spend too long in L.A., you forget."

Jonas nods. The rich and the beautiful. Where optimized beauty and pleasantness are the most important commodities. That has always bored him.

Tim is beautiful, too, but what makes him interesting is the longing he radiates. This longing for whatever. And the infectious, liberating laugh that Jonas has just heard from him on the bike.

Jonas looks at their empty glasses.

"Another one?"

"Yes, I’d love to," and after a moment's hesitation, Tim adds, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but do you have anything to smoke?"

Again, Jonas thinks about his friend's visit. Because yes, he has. Ben had brought some weed and there's still some left. "Wait, I'll get it. By the way, you can sit on the sofa if you want. It's more comfortable."

Tim doesn't need to be told twice, goes to the sofa and sits down on it. "Oh man, it's so cozy, I don't know if I'll ever get up here again."

"That's the whole point," says Jonas with a grin, rummages the tin of weed off the packed shelf, puts it in his pocket, fills up the two glasses and joins Tim on the sofa.

His sofa corner is very cozy, a huge soft sofa, with huge soft cushions, a huge cuddly flokati rug, surrounded by books, books and more books, lots of records and his guitars. Jonas thinks it's a great place to curl up in, especially during the cold season.

He gives Tim his drink, puts his on the side table and while Tim talks, he starts rolling the joint.

It's nice to notice that Tim is now talking more about himself and seems more and more relaxed. Jonas can well imagine that he's probably enjoying getting out of his rut and forgetting the rest of his life for a moment. Maybe not the rest, but his life as a Hollywood star with all its stressful obligations. Simply escaping, breaking free.

"I was so impressed yesterday, by your colleague," says Tim. "The way he squeezed through the rows naked. With his figure, with his..., I mean, he really didn't have the biggest one, right!?"

In yesterday's production, Jonas' tall, corpulent colleague wears only a tie and shoes for quite some time and squeezes his way through the packed rows to the amusement of the audience.

Jonas lights the joint, takes a drag and hands it to Tim. "Does that mean you wouldn't have dared it if you were him?"

"I would, yes , but I mean... When you look at yourself, for example, I mean, then it’s no problem to say, of course, I can do it, you know, ...well endowed like you are," Tim continues, laughing impishly and taking a drag on the joint.

Yes, Jonas is also naked for quite some time in this production and yes, this time too, Jonas can't really tell how serious Tim's come-on is, so he decides to be a bit bold.

"And that means you would have only dared to do it because you're well endowed yourself?" He puts on a playful arrogant face, "Just like me."

"What? No, well... yes. I mean… Man! How the hell did we get here?" Tim laughs out loud, but is then back in full explanation mode to make a point. "I mean, that's what it's all about, isn’t it? It's all about overcoming. It's great when you get the chance to try it out. As an actor."

Jonas nods and takes the joint that Tim holds out to him again. "Yes, definitely, it's great when you have to overcome yourself because it’s your fucking job, yeah."

"And I just would think that your colleague needs more overcoming than someone like you. Well, anyway, I don't think I've ever seen so much nudity on stage for so long."

Jonas laughs, takes a drag on the joint and hands it back to Tim. "Welcome to German theater."

"Really? I need to come here more often," jokes Tim before he gets serious again. "It was really well used though. The contrast. Him presenting his nudity so confidently and forcing it on everyone and your nudity, on the other hand, being so vulnerable. That was great."

Another compliment. "Thank you."

Tim takes another drag. "Today, on the other hand..." He looks at Jonas with a challenging grin, "Today, on the other hand, you looked quite sexy."

Okay, Tim is definitely flirting now, no mistake in that. Jonas also notices how much Tim's voice has changed. Whereas at the beginning it was a bit put on, very keen to sound serious and grown-up, now it's suddenly very soft...

It almost seems as if Tim forms words differently now. As if each word first glides gently over Tim's tongue and is then brushed velvety by his lips.

It is definitely too early for the weed to hit, so this is real.

And although Jonas is aware that Tim probably knows what he's doing, he thinks it’s not artificial at all, it's completely genuine and pure. Purely erotic.

"When you ripped that one costume off your body on stage today," Tim says, again very softly, and now it seems as if the words are also being touched by Tim's front teeth, "I thought how much I would like to lick that belly."

Jonas gnaws on his lower lip and just looks at Tim. He is completely fascinated and finds the moment so beautiful that he doesn't want to interrupt.

"Sorry, for saying that," Tim says even more gently, his eyelids fluttering down apologetically.

"No, no," Jonas quickly puts in, "I didn't mean... I wasn't..." And then finally says the most important thing, "I don't mind you saying that. I was just… "

"Okay, good." Tim chuckles softly with relief, his eyes are back on Jonas. "Because sometimes I say things I shouldn't say. I definitely don't want you to... But I feel really comfortable here with you. And I had the feeling... I don't know..."

Lips, teeth, tongue. Jonas wonders if you can somehow absorb these words that come out of Tim's mouth and taste them.

Tim puts the extinguished joint in the ashtray on the sofa table and moistens his lips with his tongue.

Bites his lower lip with his teeth and then asks:

"Can I kiss you?"

"Ja klar," Jonas slips out in German, full of approval.

Tim's lips curl into a grin and he leans towards Jonas, his lips already very close to his. "That's a yes, right?"

Jonas can taste the words, they taste sweet and smell of weed. He grins back. "Yes."

And then they kiss. Gently.

When Tim buries his hands in his hair, he himself buries his hands in Tim's curls.

It feels good, very nice.

An exchange of tenderness.

How can you not find that beautiful?

Jonas has never really fallen in love with a man.

But he likes to make out with one or sleep with him.

Was there actually a term for this? Probably. But he doesn't want to specify it anyway, he doesn't really want to rule out the possibility that he might fall in love with a man after all some day.

But mostly he likes kissing men because it's not so emotionally charged for him. It feels more equal. Of course, it always depends on the woman or the man and you can't generalize, but often he's much more relaxed when he's making out with men. Because then he never feels like he has to deliver. It's all about the feeling, the need for closeness and tenderness, the kissing.

Their hands run over each other's bodies and, as is the case when you make out for some time, desire slowly sets in. He notices it on himself, he can see it in Tim's eyes when he looks at him, his lips moist and half-open.

Jonas is ready. He will take everything he can get from Tim and when Tim whispers in his ear. "I wanna fuck you,” Jonas closes his eyes for a second and lets the pleasurable shiver that these words trigger flow through his body.

"But only if you want to. We don't have to do this," Tim adds quietly as he kisses Jonas' neck, pressing his hard cock against Jonas' hips, his hands feeling his body.

It's been a while since Jonas has slept with a man in this way. But he likes the feeling of being taken and actually has it far too rarely.

"I just need to go to the bathroom," he says shyly between all the snogging.

"Yeah, sure..." Tim slowly lets go of him, his eyes clouded with desire.

A little embarrassed, Jonas heaves himself up from the sofa, but Tim stops him by the wrist. He looks at him before hesitantly saying: "There's someone. But I'm not cheating. I just want you to know that. So if you don't want to go on, that's totally fine, okay?"

Jonas nods, responds a quiet “Okay...” and goes into the bathroom.

It doesn't change anything for him. This is a special night that will never happen like this again. He knows he won't regret anything.

When he returns, Tim is flipping through a book that he has taken down from the shelf.

It's ‘Jagannath’ by Karin Tidbeck.

Tim looks up to him. "Sounds interesting."

"Yeah, it's really cool. Completely weird stories but beautiful, a man falling in love with a zeppelin for example, fantastic and realistic at the same time... You'd like it."

“I have to remember that.” Tim puts the book aside, grabs Jonah's arm and pulls him onto the sofa so that he buries him underneath him. "But now I wanna fuck you. "

Jonas' cock twitches in response.

"What's that in German?"

"Ich will dich ficken."

"Isch will disch feeken?"

"Ja, fick mich."

They laugh, pull their hoodies over their heads so that their hair is sticking out in all directions and intertwine with each other.

Jonas can't believe who he has in front of him. It's not about the famous actor, it's about the young man, he didn’t know a few hours ago, who came to him and almost sought refuge with him. A small miracle of lucky coincidences that led them here.

On a night like this, he wants to take everything he can get...

And then Tim murmurs into his ear:

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard, Jonas. So hard that you will still feel me tomorrow on stage..."

Jonas gasps involuntary.

God, where did that come from? But he can't say he minds.

They continue kissing, grabbing each other between their legs.

Tim's cock is anything but small, but it doesn't scare Jonas, the anticipation of it only makes him hornier. And Tim's determined but sweet, caring nature removes any doubts that he might have.

Jonas lets himself go. He is amazed at how Tim suddenly appears. So confident. He takes responsibility, and that's extremely sexy to see.

Tim pushes Jonas' T-shirt up.

"Now I can finally lick your belly. It's so lick-worthy" he breathes and then does just that. Licks Jonas' lower belly and Jonas tries to get his breathing under control. It's torture, the way Tim lets his tongue glide slowly over his skin and grins at him with amusement.

At some point Jonas can't take it any longer, tugs at Tim's shirt and finally they tear the rest of their clothes off. Jonas' gaze falls on the chain around Tim's neck. It's not a normal necklace. He wouldn't know the difference from an imitation, but he knows Tim wouldn't wear one. The stones are real. And Jonas never thought he would be so impressed by it.

They are both naked now, except for Tim's expensive necklace, and Jonas lets Tim spoil him, lets him take him, lets him after some extremely sensual and erotic adjustment fuck him.

It feels good. Tim is on top of him, ramming his cock into Jonas, while jerking him off with his hand. It's hot. Jonas is breathing heavily, biting his lips, he closes his eyes and stretches his head back in pleasure.

They are both in a frenzy, changing positions, seeking ecstasy, seeking climax. And Tim guides him, more than he had expected.

"Don't come yet," Tim finally gasps breathlessly and then he thrusts into him from behind a few times, moaning deeply and loudly, and comes.

Stagnation for a second while Jonas' cock wants to explode, a feeling of loss when Tim pulls out of him but before he can mourn it, Tim's hands are all over his body.

"I make this good for you, too, baby, I promise. Lay on your back."

Jonas has to laugh breathlessly. As if that wasn't already good. "This was already awesome you know," he gasps and lies down on his back.

Besides, no one has ever called him baby before.

Tim just grins, leans over his cock and takes it unceremoniously in his mouth.

God.

He looks at him so devotedly that Jonas bites his lips with a moan.

Fuck, this is hot. He breathes heavily, his belly rises and falls, it doesn't take long, wet and hot tongue, sweet lips giving pressure, Tim’s gaze so fucking devoted, then suddenly two fingers up his ass, finding his sensitive spot, rubbing it... He closes his eyes and finally comes - "Fuck!" - in Tim's mouth.

Hissing. Just hissing.

In his ears, in his body, in his brain.

Dazed, Jonas sees Tim sit up and wipe his mouth.

Slowly the buzz subsides, the world around him becomes reality again.

Tim drops onto the sofa next to him, buries his nose under Jonas' shoulder and cuddles up to him, grinning almost shyly.

"Was it good for you?"

What a question! "Yeah..." Deepest, most exhausted conviction.

Tim smiles contentedly.

When Jonah's breathing has gradually calmed down again, he turns to him.

Looks at the famous face. Looks at it closely. Sees the small scar on his cheek.

Yes, of course, this was desire and sex. But in front of him is someone who has sought unprejudiced closeness above all. The kind you just need sometimes. And Jonas gladly gave it to him.

The hurdle of taking it and giving it is smaller among them actors. Due to their profession they are used to quick closeness and the possible quick distance afterwards.

That's why Jonas isn't fooling himself about this night.

Lost in thought, he runs his fingers over Tim's jawline.

"Have you noticed that our jawlines look very similar?"

Tim laughs. "Yes, I have! We should take photos and put them on top of each other to see if they fit or something."

"And do you also sometimes think that it’s weird that in some photos you look completely normal and then sometimes you look like you've swallowed … I don’t know… a Christmas gift?"

Tim chuckles even harder, "Yes. A good friend of mine sometimes teases me about it, asking if I ate an anchor before the photo shoot or things like that."

Jonas nods approvingly. It fits.

"They once even retouched my bones in a photo for a magazine," Tim continues. "Man, I was mad!"

Tim reaches for his sweatpants, pulls his cell phone out and lies back down next to Jonas. He googles himself again and shows Jonas the relevant photos.

"Wow, that looks strange. Why did they do that?"

Tim shrugs his shoulders. "Don't ask me!"

He turns on the camera. "So, let’s take a photo of our jawlines.”

Jonas and he appear on the display. With their jawlines. “I think it also has a lot to do with the angle and the light."

They both start turning their heads, jutting their chins forward and doing whatever else they can think of, laughing, looking serious, looking silly while Tim is taking photos.

Afterwards they are checking the results. There are terrible photos, there are terribly silly photos, there are beautiful photos.

For a second, Jonas would like to have them himself, but he knows he doesn't even have to ask for them.

“I'll show them to a friend later. I know he'll love them," Tim says softly while they keep watching.

Jonas wonders if this is the same friend with the anchor comment when suddenly a call comes in. Tim makes a short sound "shoot!", hastily pushes the button and turns away from Jonas.

Jonas didn't want to lurk, but he was looking at the display anyway, so he saw that there was no name on the display, just a nail emoji and an exclamation mark, and the photo wasn't recognizable to Jonas either.

"Hey, just wanted to check how you're doing," Jonas hears a man's dark, soft voice coming from the other side of the phone before Tim quickly turns down the volume.

"Hey, I'm good. I'm good." Tim's voice is very soft and very familiar, Jonas can even hear that he is grinning happily, "I'll call you later, okay? I'm in the middle of something."

Jonas can't hear the other voice properly now, but it sounds like the man is saying something teasing like "Oh, in the middle of something? Okay, then do everything I would do."

Tim chuckles softly. "You know, actually I was just talking about you. I've got some photos I'll send you later." Jonas is completely fascinated that Tim's voice sounds so different now. So incredibly familiar, so at home.

"Oooh, can't waihhht!" The man's voice, on the other hand, is lovingly teasing and clearly too loud for Jonas not to hear it.

"No, not photos like that," protests Tim, again laughing. "You'll see."

The other man says something else, quieter now, so that Jonas doesn’t understand it and Tim softly responses, "Yeah, later."

A small, subtle smile plays around Tim's lips for a second as he hangs up and turns back to Jonas.

"The friend I was talking about..."

Jonas nods. The friend...

Tim lies down next to him again. They both look up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Jonas has never had an open relationship, doesn't know if he could have one, but he can imagine that sometimes it's almost necessary to keep a relationship healthy when there are certain obstacles like distance or time or whatever. To give this space is the real love story of it, he thinks.

Still, Jonas is interested in something.

"When did you decide you wanted to sleep with me?"

Tim thinks for a second.

"I don’t know… I got interested in you when I saw you in Kafka, I thought you were sexy when you ripped off your clothes tonight in that play, I wanted to kiss you, when I asked you if I could kiss you, I wanted to fuck you when I asked you if I could fuck you. Did it feel to you, like I planned it?"

"No, no. But you never know what kind of good actor you have in front of you."

Tim laughs out loud. "I'm such a bad actor in real life. If you only knew…” he says, sounding quite miserable. “In any case, I don't fly from city to city and snack on pretty actors, if that's what you mean."

Jonas smiles. "No, that's not what I meant."

He thinks to himself that he wanted to sleep with Tim when he dropped all his covers, figuratively speaking. This peeling off of the famous actor to reveal his inner self is what Jonas got stuck on.

Tim turns himself to Jonas and looks at Jonas seriously and gently. "I didn't plan this today, but I can't say I didn't take every opportunity that came my way. Something pulled me in your direction. It was fun, it was liberating, it was beautiful."

Jonas nods. "Yeah, I loved it, too."

“You know, for me it’s complicated to have that,” Tim reflects and lays down again to look at the ceiling. “I don’t want to complain but sometimes everything is so difficult when I go outside… outside of my bubble, you know. Like I’m an interfering body, a disruptive factor. So I stay in my bubble… But people change, friendships change… So sometimes you don’t see things, you don’t realize things, I mean, these are my people, right?”

Tim is now completely in his head, talking more to himself than to Jonas. “You trust them, you’ve trusted them for years! But there are moments you feel that you just adjusted, you adjust your respect, your love for them... All those connections float like ice floes in the sea after a ship has passed through, still together but tilted. They actually no longer fit together, but they are still attached. And you can't change that just because you think things should be different... These ice floes are connected … and there are so many… and you’re frozen to them... So you adjust."

Jonas doesn't really understand what Tim is saying but he feels a big confusion. He feels sorry for him.

Tim turns to Jonas, his gaze deep as the ocean.

"You know, I envied you there on stage so much. Having so much fun. Looking so carefree."

The sentence echoes a little in the room before Jonas manages to reply, he even needs to clear his throat a little.

"Envy is a good reason to change something, isn't it?"

Tim just laughs bitterly.

Jonas feels bad, he shouldn’t have said that. "Sorry... that was probably very naive, I’m sorry. I was just thinking about my simple, boring life... and how often a feeling like that has always been a reason for change. For me. But I can imagine - "

"No, I'm sorry... It's good that you say that, it's important,” Tim says softly and kisses Jonas on the lips, before he stands up, "I shouldn’t be so cynical. Can I use your bathroom? I need to pee."

"Sure."

Jonas looks after Tim as he goes to the bathroom, once again lost in thought.

He is glad that his own world, his surroundings, are still so small and clear. Although it is getting more difficult for him, too. Making more and more films, he has already realized himself that he has to bend himself on other levels.

Jonas hears the flush, hears the water tap running.

When Tim comes out of the bathroom, his gaze falls again on the high heel shoes with the platform sole.

"Can I try them on?"

Jonas rests his head on his hand and looks over at Tim with amusement and curiosity. "Sure, if they fit." He is relieved that Tim hasn't fallen back into sadness because of what they said.

Tim puts the shoes on and stands up. Completely naked, the silver chain with the gemstones around his neck and the high heel boots on his feet. He spreads his arms out with a grin.

"Same height, same jawline... Apparently we also have the same shoe size!"

Jonas smiles. Tim doesn't look like he can `rock´ the stage in them, but his confident posture shows that it's not the first time he has tried shoes like that, Jonas guesses.

In any case, he looks stunning. Jonas has to think of his queer colleague. When he himself wore these shoes for the first time and thought he looked silly, his colleague said: "It's not about how you look in them, it's about the fact that you're wearing them.”

And this is so right, as hot as Tim looks in them, it's just makes it so insanely sexier that he's wearing them.

Tim seems to have a similar idea in his head. "Wearing shoes like that does something to you, doesn't it?" he says and walks over to Jonas. The first steps are a little wobbly, making Tim smile, then he walks on with more grace than Jonas would have thought, and finally seductive as fuck.

Right in front of him in front of the sofa, Tim stops and looks down at him.

"Suck my cock.”

Jonas grins. This is hot as hell.

"What is that in German?"

"Lutsch meinen Schwanz."

"Okay, lootsh my shwounz."

Jonas loves everything about this situation.

That they are playing, that they are having fun, that they trust each other, that Tim sees this as a safe space to do all this and explore it.

Jonas slides down to the edge of the sofa so that he has Tim's cock right in front of him and takes it in his mouth. He hasn't done that for a long time either, especially not with such a big one, but it feels sexy doing it, as it stiffens in his mouth.

Tim’s hands bury themselves in his hair as Jonas licks and sucks, and Jonas thinks it can't get any hotter when Tim suddenly pulls him violently by the hair so that Tim's cock pops out of his mouth, forcing him to look up at Tim, mouth open, gasping for air, lips wet with saliva.

Tim bites his lower lip as if being surprised by himself and smirks at Jonas sugary sweet and innocently as a puppy.

"Sorry, it was just too tempting to do that." Words again brushing against tongue, teeth and lips.

“Don’t be sorry for that one,” Jonas pants.

Tim lets go of him then, lies down on the floor, on the soft flokati carpet, props up on his elbows, his high heels rammed into the floor so that his legs are bent, half open, and purrs invitingly, "Come on. Go on."

And Jonas is happy to oblige. He slides off the sofa, runs his hands over Tim's bare thighs, kisses the inside of these thighs and licks over Tim's shaft before he takes him in his mouth again.

Tim purrs like a kitten, one hand again in Jonas’ hair.

"A shame, I already came," he coos dreamily and adds dryly. "Or that I'm too old now.”

Jonas ignores the remark, tries instead to take Tim's cock deep down his throat, causing Tim to gasp out loud, even though he himself has to let go of the cock afterwards to take a breath.

Tim smirks at him. “Well, in any way it’s not you, Joni baby, you suck like an angel.”

Jonas rolls his eyes but has to smile anyway. He bends over Tim, strokes Tim's chest with his hair, lets it glide over his skin, finally moves to Tim's lips and kisses him.

Lazy deep kissing, while their cocks are pressing against each other.

"Who says you always have to come to have fun?" he asks, wraps his hand around both cocks and jerks them leisurely.

"Where you're right, you're right." Tim licks his lips, his breathing getting audible.

Jonas has to smile. He hadn't had such relaxed, sexy and sweet making out in a long time.

“Turn around,” Jonas whispers softly.

Tim does as told and as soon as his dick tips the rug, he involuntary grinds it into it, followed by a deep moan.

Jonas has to laugh out loud, he knows this feeling. “As soon as you feel it, you can’t resist, right?”

“No, you can’t,” Tim moans wholeheartedly, “and God, I need a rug like that, too.”

Jonas laughs even harder. It looks sexy like hell though, the way Tim rubs his naked body against the carpet on his knees with the high heels on and his dick getting buried in the soft rug.

But Jonas actually wanted to do something else. So he begins to kiss Tim’s shoulder blades while letting his hands glide over Tim’s body.

He makes his way further and further down, kissing, licking, touching... until he reaches Tim's ass. He straddles the ass a little so that he can first lick underneath it, bite it lightly, before he finally devotes himself to Tim’s entrance. Very very lightly, very very gently, he licks Tim's hole, hears Tim gasp, sees his hole contracting, feels his body whole contracting, feels how much Tim is enjoying it. He positions his cock against the hole and presses very very lightly against it. No further. No more.

Bends over Tim, and alluding to the fact that Tim told him earlier that he would still feel him on stage tomorrow, Jonas whispers in his ear: "And you'll still be thinking about me tomorrow night wondering how it would have been if I had fucked you for good." And with that he withdraws his dick and lies down next to Tim on the carpet grinning.

A protracted moan, Tim's fingers desperately clawing into the carpet, he clenches his body for any contact, but there isn’t any.

"If I'd known what a nasty bitch you are…" he growls.

But Jonas knows that Tim enjoys it. Enduring the teasing sensation. Writhing his misguided body, mourning the false expectation.

Jonas cuddles up to him, holds him, so that they lie entwined on the carpet and he loves how Tim’s body still twitches every now and then because it didn’t get what it wanted.

"Oh you filthy torturer, thou may rot in hell!" Tim laughingly exclaims eventually and Jonas has to laugh with him. "That's actually what I was going to suggest to you when you came out of the bathroom,” he says. “To give me a stage performance."

"Okay…" Tim says, apparently glad for the distraction and gently pushes Jonas away to get up, sighing after all. "Oh man, I can't remember the last time I had such a craving for a butt plug... Anyway..."

He pulls a chair from the kitchen table, sits on it at an angle, legs crossed, naked with boots, looking vulnerable, trying to find an attitude, trying to feel proud and strong, until his posture collapses again and he begins to recite Biff's monologue in ‘Death of a Salesman’.

“Now hear this, Willy, this is me. You know why I had no address for three months? I stole a suit in Kansas City and I was jailed. I stole myself out of every good job since high school. And I never got anywhere because you blew me so full of hot air I could never stand taking orders from anybody! That’s whose fault it is! It’s goddamn time you heard that! I had to be boss big shot in two weeks, and I’m through with it! Willy! I ran down eleven flights with a pen in my hand today. And suddenly I stopped, you hear me? And in the middle of that office building, do you hear this? I stopped in the middle of that building and I saw – the sky.“

Jonas has goose bumps all over his body and almost doesn’t dare to breathe.

„I saw the things that I love in the world. The work and the food and the time to sit and smoke. And I looked at the pen and said to myself, what the hell am I grabbing this for? Why am I trying to become what I don’t want to be? What am I doing in an office, making a contemptuous, begging fool of myself, when all I want is out there, waiting from the minute I say I know who I am! Why can’t I say that, Willy? Pop! I’m a dime a dozen, and so are you! I am not a leader of men, Willy, and neither are you. You were never anything but a hard-working drummer who landed in the ash-can like all the rest of them! I’m one dollar an hour, Willy! I tried seven states and couldn’t raise it! A buck an hour! Do you gather my meaning? I’m not bringing home any prizes any more, and you’re going to stop waiting for me to bring them home! Pop, I’m nothing! I’m nothing, Pop.“

The pain, the grief. The vulnerability. The grace nonetheless. The attempt to maintain dignity.

„Can’t you understand that? There’s no spite in it any more. I’m just what I am, that’s all. Will you let me go? Will you take that phony dream and burn it before something happens?“

Jonas never wants to see another Biff again.

It is absolutely touching.

He is unable to say anything, he can just let it resonate.

"Some texts you don't forget, do you?" says Tim a little absently.

Jonas still can’t say anything. So instead he takes his guitar off the stand, leans his head against the edge of the sofa and starts to play and sing a quiet version of a song he sang today on stage…

„Outside the window, they are singing, inside the doorway, there’s me…“

At some point, Tim gets up, comes over to him, sits down on the floor next to him and leans his head on Jonas' shoulder.

The air is tinged with melancholy, but Jonas hopes that not being alone makes it only half as heavy.

When Jonas finishes, for a moment there is only silence.

"That was nice”, says Tim quietly.

"Thanks."

"Can I have a go, too?"

“Sure.” Jonas pushes the guitar over to Tim.

Tim starts to play and finally sings softly along.

It sounds a bit like Bob Dylan, even though Jonas doesn't know much about it.

Like this they go on and on, they sing, they play and they quote lyrics, talk about roles and special moments... everything. One thing leads to another and inspires the next. Soon they are laughing again, soon they are joking around again, just quieter and softer than before.

At some point they move over to the bed, lie next to each other, on top of each other, the high heels off in front of the bed.

They keep talking gently until they eventually both fall asleep.

The next morning, Jonas wakes up.

Tim is standing next to the bed, still naked, looking at his cell phone.

"I didn't mean to wake you, sorry. I have to contact my assistant or else he’ll have a heart attack."

Suddenly there's that wall around him again.

"What's your address?" Coolness.

"Maria-Hedwig-von-Wachenheim-Allee" says Jonas, although it's not true. He was just looking for a long and complicated street name.

It serves its purpose, though, Tim laughs out loud. "What?"

Jonas stands up and holds out his hand. "I can type it in for you."

When he gives Tim the cell phone back, Tim raises his eyebrows. "But that's not the address you just said."

Jonas shakes his head, "No."

The cell phone vibrates and Tim answers it.

"Yes, I was just about to send you the address." He sounds already annoyed and stressed again.

"No. No," his voice is stubborn, and once more his whole body stiffens. "No, I won't do that... No, he doesn't have to sign it... No... I'll wait outside... Yeah."

He hangs up.

"I can sign the papers. I don't mind," Jonas says quietly.

Tim answers all the louder for it, he rages. "But I do! I don't want that. I want a different feeling, you know. I don't want to be safe for once. I want to be able to trust someone. To be allowed to. I mean, what's going to happen?"

Jonas bites his lower lip. He feels sorry for Tim.

Then he says, playfully dry: "So you think I'd better not sell your sperm in my ass on eBay?"

For a second the anger disappears and Tim laughs out loud. Smiles warmly at him. Says after a second, "You remind me of this friend, you know, the one who called yesterday. He would have tried to calm me down, too... But I mean, really what's going to happen? What kind of rumors do you think there have been about me? Or photos that weren't real. Everything has already been said!"

Jonas thinks of Tim naked in high heels.

Tim must be thinking about that too, as he admits with a laugh: "Okay, not everything yet..." He sighs and points towards the bathroom. "Anyway, can I have a quick shower?"

"Yes, of course. Do you need any clothes?"

"Nah, I’ll be fine." He takes the T-shirt from the floor, smells it and makes a face. "Hopefully."

"Wait..." Jonas gets a pair of underpants and a T-shirt he can spare from his wardrobe and hands it to Tim. "Here."

"Thanks!" Tim smiles at him and goes to the bathroom but turns around again, looking serious. "I hope that ... I hope you don't feel ... I hope you don't feel that I've taken advantage of my position or something like that... "

Jonas smiles and shakes his head. "No."

When Tim has closed the door of the bathroom, Jonas pulls on a pair of boxer shorts and a shirt himself, goes to the kitchenette and makes himself a coffee.

What a night.

He loves those nights.

Totally unexpected and magical.

Even if it was only for that night, it was beautiful.

He hasn’t finished his coffee yet, when Tim comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered.

Jonas holds up his cup, "Do you want one too?"

"No thanks, I'd love to, but I have to go," says Tim apologetically.

To be honest, Jonas is quite happy that Tim is now back at a distance. Anything else would have been awkward and he's glad that Tim isn't even trying.

As Tim puts on his leather jacket, Jonas has an image in his head of how this night has been a slow peeling down to the core and Tim is now slowly putting on all his layers again.

He wonders if there is another way.

Maybe you can aim so high that you don't let yourself be taken in, but in the end you end up like everyone else.

"Okay...," Tim slips into his sneakers, ready to go.

"Wait." Jonas sprints to the bookshelf and picks up the book by Karin Tidbek that Tim scrolled through last night and hands it to him.

Tim smiles warmly, "Thank you. Thank you. I wish I could give you something too. I had a very nice evening, a very beautiful night. I'll carry it in here." Tim puts a hand over his heart.

Jonas is touched. He nods.

The distance is there, but the connection remains.

Tim opens the door and walks down the stairs. The floorboards creak their typical old building creak.

Tim laughs and looks up at Jonas again.

"Man, I love it, you can't even really sneak away in these houses."

A wave of the hand, one last "Bye!" and then he's gone.

Sure, the next days Jonas googles Tim, but every time he does, he soon stops again. It feels strange and what he sees often doesn't match up with the Tim he met.

Mascha seems to have used the evening Jonas spent with Tim to fall into a rabbit hole. She now knows all about fake PR relationships, queer actors in Hollywood and Tim and his likely partner.

But even that more or less goes in and out of Jonas' head. He doesn't want to think about if he likes what Tim is doing or not.

In the end, it has nothing to do with their night.

The night was bigger than both of them. And that's how he wants to remember it.

Shortly before Christmas, he receives a small package from America.

Christmas underpants, a cool ‘bauhaus’ T-shirt and a book he doesn't know yet.

Also enclosed is a letter...

#charmie #after all kind of #although maybe not as you expect it #Armie Hammer #timothee chalamet #Jonas Dassler #Sorry Jonas probably your first time ;)#my legacy #my farewell #last one #timothée chalamet

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