note: I started this a year ago as a joke but then after some thought the idea grew on me. Enjoy my weird brain.
Timothée found himself in an abandoned storage lot, sitting inside his aunt’s Toyota Camry while he tried to push down the impulse to scream. The location had been the address on a note he had received prior. The handwriting was unsettlingly familiar and read:
It wold be an honor to have your company at the location inscribed on December 31st close to midnight. Please bring a gift to exchange during the celebration. We hope to see you there.
In retrospect, showing up at all had been a grave mistake. He probably wouldn’t have if he hadn’t desperately craved space from the New Years rager. The holiday season had been a well-desired break from the prying eyes of the public. Unfortunately it also meant an unwavering devotion to every friend and family gathering that could be stuffed into his schedule.
So here he was, risking a shoot out (or more likely, stabbing) on New Years Eve. Just as he had resolved to turn around and leave, there was a knock on his car window. A young man with long curly dark hair waved at him to get out and Timothée sighed, quickly complying. The man’s hair obscured his face, but Timothée felt a chill run down his spine once he spoke.
“You’re Timothée, right?” Timmy nodded slowly. “Is that French, ‘cause that’d be hella tight.”
Timothée froze, finally taking in the thick American accent. “Did you just say ‘hella tight’?” he whispered. The man ignored the question, instead turning towards him and offering a hand. Timothée shook it hesitantly as he tried to find the the gall to look up.
“‘Name’s Kyle. Nice to meet you, Tim-o-tay.” Timmy looked up so fast he was almost surprised not to feel any whiplash. When he saw his own face he screamed.
“What the fuck! What the fuck is happening? Is this some sick joke?” Timothée screeched. Kyle sighed apathetically, pulling a hand-rolled cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. Timothée continued to stare at him bug-eyed, half expecting him to glitch or evaporate from his vision when he woke up from this nightmare.
“Dude, chill. It’s not that weird,” Kyle mumbled, taking another hit. Timothée remained frozen and Kyle sighed again. “It’s too fucking cold for this shit. C’mon, we’re going inside and you better have your gift on you.”
Kyle took a step towards Timmy and Timmy flinched. Aggravated, Kyle grabbed Timmy’s forearm and pulled him inside one of the storage buildings.
The inside of the building was surprisingly cozy with the halls decorated vibrantly for Christmas. Soon they arrived in a room occupied by a Christmas tree, cookies, and an ominous circle of chairs.
“I have him, so we can get this over with and leave!”
“Apathy has and never will be a good look on you, Kyle,” a new voice said. Timothée turned to meet Elio (or him playing Elio) dressed in his winter time outfit. He tried to set aside the creepiness of Elio’s distressed half-smile that he remembered doing during his takes for the end credits. Elio pulled him into an embrace and Timothée suppressed the urge to wriggle.
“It’s a joy to meet you,” he said warmly before pulling back. “You’re more handsome than I anticipated.”
“How do you manage to be so narcissistic and so self-deprecating in the same sentence?” Kyle growled. Elio rolled his eyes before taking off his headphones and handing Kyle his walkman. Kyle bitterly put it on before continuing to listen to whatever was playing.
“What’s going on?” Timmy finally mustered, his throat burning from the screaming.
“We’re calling it the TC Gift Exchange,” Elio stated simply. “Every year, all of the characters you play come together at an undisclosed location and give each other gifts before departing back into our separate universes.”
Timothée stared at Elio in bewilderment before bursting into laughter. Elio watched him in confusion.
“Of course! It’s just that my dopplegangers have teamed up to make me feel insane. Excellent work, but I think this can stop now.”
“It’s true,” two voices say. Tim and Elio turn to face a Billy from Miss Stevens and Zac from One and Two. They both have a cookie in hand with same amount of bites taken. Tim gulps.
“Each year, the universe of the most successful part that year is where we host,” Billy explains. “Last year we partied in Crema…”
“The year before that we had to do it in the ass crack of no where,” Zac mutters.
“Hey! That spot was next to the road that I sang with Miss Stevens in the car on the way to that theatre conference. And you’re being out of character!”
“Well I’m sorry if I’ve been cranky considering my house was burned to bits!” Zac sneers.
“Boys! You’re literally the same persona set in two different storylines. Find your zen,” Elio says, immediately cringing. “I’m starting to sound like Kyle.”
Timothée shakes his head and moves to take a seat in the circle. The others soon follow suit taking their respective seats that are conveniently in chronological order. Timothée takes the opportunity to take in the others (he’s still deciding whether or not to refer to them as individuals) profiles. Elio sat two spaces to the right of him next Kyle and another doppelgänger that Timothée could only assume to be Daniel from Hot Summer Nights based solely off the fact that he wouldn’t stop rocking back and forth.
Billy and Zac buddy up next to one another beside Daniel, followed by an awkward looking Charlie Cooper and roughed up Jace. Timothée cringed at the familiar backwards cap sitting on Jace’s head next to him. He turned to Elio who had busked himself switching the tape out of his Walkman for Kyle. “This isn’t everyone is it?”
Elio raised a brow but didn’t break his focus. “What do you mean? Timothée bit his lip. He didn’t want to come off arrogant, ironically.
“There’s do roles missing from the circle.”
“Not everyone comes every year. Some are on probation,” Kyle said matter-of-factly. Timothée rolled his eyes. He forgot how much of a douche Kyle was meant to be.
“Some aren’t old enough to come, so we mail them their gifts,” Elio finished.
“But how do you send mail to a completely different universe?”
“You’re asking too many questions. Why is he asking so many questions?” Daniel grumbled, crazed eyes now trained on Timothée. Timothée felt his hands clam up more than they already had.
“Danny, be civil,” Elio warned, giving him a cautious pat on the back. Kyle rolled his eyes.
“We mail them the same way we’re all able to gather with you tonight. Dumbass.” Timmy nodded slowly, surveying the room of doppelgängers. The more he looked at them the less anxious he became about seeing them, which only made him more anxious about how quickly he was acclimating to his Stockholm of a situation.
“What about the ones on—“
“Probation? We try to keep the celebration to main characters only, since we’re not exactly rolling in it, y’know?” Billy quipped, jumping in before Elio had a chance. “Then some people…”
“Nic can’t come because technically he’s a fictionalized real person,” Elio cut in once again, shooting Billy a cool look.
“And he’s a drug addict,” Kyle muttered.
“What’s the difference? There’s only one guy missing but I don’t really care if he’s here or not. I’m not a big fan of monarchy or oligarchy or government institutions—“
“—or the government?” Timothée cut in knowingly. Kyle smiled.
A crash of metal silences the room’s chatter. After a moment of silence another doppelgänger, this time with a stylish bowl cut appears. Timothée shivers at the memory of his lost locs. Kyle scowls while Elio beams. The others arrange their reactions neatly between the two margins.
“Hello everyone. I hope you can pardon my lateness. I struggled to drag this sorry lot to the TC Exchange,” Hal declared, ceremoniously dragging in Gatsby Welles from the he-who-shall-not-be-named movie about rain. It was Elio’s turn to grimace while Kyle smirked.
“No foul, your highness. Be seated here. As for him…”
“We can’t keep blacklisting him, Elio.”
“His film didn’t even hit theaters! Mine has an Oscar, Kyle. An Oscar!”
“You mean the award you campaign for?”
“I don’t mind.” The room turned to Timothée who had chosen to slump comfortably in his seat. He decided to sit up for the sake of his point. “I chose to play him. He still means a lot to me.”
“He’s just Kyle wearing a blazer!”
“He’s more complex than that, Elio.”
“No one if knows what he’s supposed to be like because it’s impossible to watch the movie!” Elio whined. Timothée moved to respond when a familiar click is heard from across the room. They froze to face Jace holding his signature hand gun.
“You better shut your ass, Elliot! Just because you like dick doesn’t mean you get to make all the rules. The man of the hour said he wants Gatsby to stay, so Gatsby’s staying!”
“While I try not to condone violence, unless my advisors misadvise me, I have to agree with as the kids might say Soulja Boy over there,” Hal added causing Elio to crumple further into his seat. Timothée frowned.
“I understand why you’re upset, Elio. He somehow managed to write a poetry collection during this whole exchange. But I still wanna keep him if we’re gonna be here.”
“I’m gonna name this last one after you, Elio,” Gatsby said softly. Elio gives a small smile.
“Thank god,” Kyle sighed, “Can we get our gifts now? I don’t want to ring in the new decade with you lot.”
After an hour of mingling with his counterparts, the goodbyes tugged a bit on Timothée’s heart strings. He learned so much about everyone as far as the group dynamic went. He learned Kyle and Elio were actually quite close considering how much they seemed to rag on each other.
“You should have seen him the first year. An antisocial mess,” Elio reminisced fondly.
“That’s before a realized you have taste. I wouldn’t have shown up again if you hadn’t,” Kyle admitted begrudgingly.
Timothée also learned that while most of his characters felt similar, after two minutes of conversation the differences became glaring. Except for Billy and Zac. They were essentially the same person.
“I hope one day I’ll get a box of serotonin for Christmas,” Billy joked. Zac gasped.
“I asked for a bottle of Serotonin for my birthday!”
As Timothée walked back to his Aunt’s Camry with Hal, he couldn’t fight off the smile that kept creeping onto his face. Hal side-eyed him in solent satisfaction.
“Will we be seeing you again next year? I’m sure Elio wouldn’t mind providing free transit to space.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” Timothée chuckled. “This was…nice. Like really nice. It makes me kinda glad to be an actor. In an unnerving way.”
“I couldn’t have asked for better casting. Next year should be nice since Laurie will be able to come. I think him and Elio will get on nicely, then maybe…”
“Then maybe he’ll stop flirting with you? Still not sure how I feel about that,” Timothée mumbled with a shudder. The man really needs his Oliver.
“Don’t worry yourself about it. I only have one thing to request of you good sir.” Timothée raised a brow, trying not to fidget under Hal’s intense gaze. “Please, consider doing a comedic role in the future. We could use someone to shake things up around here.” The two of them smiled before bursting into fits of laughter.
“No, you’re the king today. Drive safe and we’ll see you next time.” Hal walked back into the abandoned hall while Timothée sat down in his car and prepared to drive back. Maybe in the morning he’d wake up from a highly elaborate dream, but for now he could hang on to the feeling of gratitude and appreciation.
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