The A03 shutdown has led fans to take matters into their own hands. To tide you over, here is a special fan fiction piece about some people associated with Columbia.

Tags: Angst, M/M, hurt/comfort, A03 dupe, this is fiction, please I’m not a fanfic writer I’m sorry, Timothée Chalamet, Barack Obama, Blair Waldorf, Greta Gerwig, Hobama, Chalabama, BWOG, I can’t believe this exists now, College AU, Columbia, Barnard, Oneshot, A03 shutdown has us taking matters into our own hands, Butler Library, crossover, dead dove do not eat, slow burn, unrequited love 

Chapter 1: The Columbia Confession

Timothée Chalamet walked out of Butler Library with a defeated sigh. He let the raindrops hit and glide across his skin, the crisp air piercing through his flesh, reflecting on what he had just witnessed. 

Why was he with him? 

The thoughts of an unrequited love raced through Timmy’s mind. Of course Obama would never notice Timothée. The poli-sci major was already bound to another. 

“Damn you, Harry Styles,” Timothée muttered under his breath. 

Flashback 

Timmy followed Obama into the depths of the stacks, building up the courage to confess. Little did he know, the stacks would soon transform from a magical maze into a graveyard for his love.  

“I miss you Harry” Timothée overheard. Obama continued, 

“No, I know, New York and London are so far from each other, but I have faith in us”  

Before Obama could even end his face-time Timmy ran out of the stacks. He felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach and shatter into a million pieces he knew he could never pick back up.  

His glassy orbs glistened with the ghost of tears he refused to let fall. In a fit of utter despair, Timothée turned to the one constant in his life – Columbia confessions.  

Present 

Timothée wished Obama would look at him the same way he looked at his secret lover. The curly-haired boy barely took two steps out of the library before he heard someone calling him by his name. 

It was him. It was Obama’s voice. Saying his name. Was he imagining things? But wait, this was not like in his dreams – the voice sounded angry. 

As Timothée whipped around, he was confronted with the tall frame he knew all too well (Taylor’s version).  

“B-barack?” He stuttered 

“Chalamet. What kind of attack is this? Are you trying to affect my public image?” Obama said in a firm yet diplomatic tone. 

“W-what? No I–” 

“Let me be clear Chalamet” Obama interjected “I know you submitted this. ‘Spotted: Obama spotted in the stacks with a mysterious digital lover. Talk about international relations. – XOXO, Columbia confessions’ and then I get an anonymous tip saying you were behind this?” 

“I swear I never thought it would really get posted –” 

“Don’t play dumb with me. You knew what would happen. What was the goal here, to humiliate me? Expose personal elements of my private life? For what, your entertainment? I don’t need this criticism right now. What is this, FOX News?”  

“IT’S BECAUSE I LOVE YOU” 

Silence. The words had poured out of Timothée’s mouth before he could process them. The unfiltered honesty hung in the moist air for a beat too long. 

“And I’m sorry. But every day, you go from PoliSci to Butler, and I always sit a few tables away. It feels like we always run into each other at John Jay, our dorms are on the same floor. And what, all this for nothing? Please, you can’t end this like this.” Timmy pleaded. 

“Yes we can” 

The tears Timothée didn’t know he was holding back finally broke through, gliding down his face with the raindrops. He watched Obama turn from him, reaching out as his back disappeared back into Butler. But his feet were glued to the ground. Unable to move, helpless, Timothée saw his life at Columbia come crashing down. 

Little did Obama know that Timothée lashed out for a reason. Trauma from when his mafia boss parents tried to sell him to One Direction when he was just a petit garçon. The only person who knew was Timothée’s best friend and mentor Greta Gerwig over at Barnard. 

Chapter 2: An unspecified number of years later in the Oval Office… 

Ping. 

Obama turned from the stack of laws and presidential matters he was working on and turned to his phone. He opened the Instagram notification; those laws could wait.  

Breaking news: The mastermind behind Columbia confessions… was Blair Waldorf this whole time. 

He remembered her, that girl who had transferred from NYU the year of the scandal. 

Another ping lit up his phone 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Obama let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

That moment. That instance in the rain he spent years wishing he could reverse. It was Blair behind this whole time. She had just confessed everything to him. She had tagged Timmy in the post. She made sure to exaggerate his words. And she already knew about Harry…  

But it was too late to go back. His and Timothée’s paths had crossed at one point, but Obama could never go back to thinking about Timothée. Now the actor was across the state in Hollywood, starring in Greta’s latest film, and Obama was sitting in the Oval Office.  

Harry was a secret he thought he could leave in the past, so why can’t he get Timothée out of his head now? 

Image via Bwarchives