Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thomas had completely, utterly, stupidly, grandiosely fucked up.

And he wished it was an exaggeration.

It all started on a Tuesday morning. He’d just gotten out of bed, his mind only half-awake as usual -- well, you could hardly call it a bed; it was the ragged, hard and uncomfortable couch in the middle of Teresa’s apartment that he liked to pretend was a bed to convince himself sleeping on the thing wasn’t as bad (it never worked).

He got up at eight, yawning and desperately trying to tidy his hair. His bed hair was ridiculous, even if he wasn’t technically sleeping in a bed.

And there she was.

Teresa stood in the kitchen, dressed in a silk, light blue bathrobe, making pancakes, and Thomas fucked up. Because in that very moment, as he stood there, craving coffee and a plate full of food, looking like an idiot, he realized just how attractive she was. Her raven black hair was down for once, cascading over her shoulders, and her eyes matched her bathrobe perfectly. She was smiling to herself, probably thinking about her job at the florist or her A+ on her recent essay, and Thomas felt his heart stop.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know she was pretty before. He could see it, of course, it was impossible not to -- some might even call her beautiful. It was just that it had never struck him like that before, and suddenly he found himself wondering how he hadn’t noticed it sooner. He knew, deep down, that it was bad when his mind went blank and something jumped in his chest, but still couldn’t stop staring.

Teresa. His Teresa. His best friend for many years. The girl that had called him a freckled idiot when they first met.

The door opened and Thomas snapped out of it, groaning internally when he saw who it was.

Aris. Also known as Teresa’s boyfriend.

***

“So what exactly are you saying?” Minho asked, sweeping the counter Thomas sat at. He moved around the small space energetically, his voice rising with every word he said.

“I don’t know,” Thomas said, sighing and leaning onto the counter with his chin resting on his hand. “I really don’t know.”

“Wait, wait, wait…” Minho said, rubbing his hands on his coffee-stained apron to get rid of the dirt and then leaning over the counter, his left hand raised. “Let me get this straight. You woke up Tuesday morning and was suddenly attracted to your best friend?”

“I don’t know!” Thomas hissed and he glared at his best friend. “But maybe say it a little louder, I think the old deaf woman across the street didn’t quite get that.”

“Sorry,” Minho said, grinning. “I just can’t believe it.”

“Me neither,” Thomas sighed. “I’m not even sure it’s true, to be honest.”

“You’re not sure?” Minho asked, his voice desperate. “You’ve had four days to think about it, what do you mean, you’re not sure?”

“Dunno,” Thomas shrugged, absentmindedly playing with the straws standing in a glass jar on the countertop. It was difficult to explain, even to himself -- the attraction was there, of course, but the thought of being with Teresa like that was so bizarre he wasn’t sure it was what he wanted. “I’m just hoping it’s nothing and it passes soon.”

“Leave those alone,” Minho said, slapping the top of his hand with his cleaning rag. “Either way, you’re gonna have to do something.”

Thomas huffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Right. I’m just gonna march into their home, confess my love for her and then we’ll ride off into the sunset together.”

“If that’s what you want,” Minho shrugged. He looked so casual and calm about it all, Thomas kind of envied him for it.

“It’s not,” he said sharply. “To be honest, I just want this all to be over so I won’t ever have to think about it again.”

Minho smirked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You’re gonna wait for it to pass?”

“Yes.”

“Good luck with that, dude,” Minho snorted. “I’ll bet you ten bucks you’ll give up within a day and overthink it instead, as usual.”

“I’m not that bad,” Thomas countered, but he knew it was a lie. Besides getting himself into trouble, overthinking was probably his only talent. He was the complete opposite of Minho, in that way. Maybe that was why they worked so well.

“You’re terrible.” Minho shook his head. “Hey -- maybe it’s just loneliness. You’ve been single for, like, thirty years now.”

“Only one, and don’t you have some counters to clean?” Thomas teased him and Minho rolled his eyes.

“Don’t go changing the subject now,” he said, holding up his finger as if warning him. “You’re the one who brought it up in the first place.”

“Well, I’m done talking about it,” Thomas said, standing up. “And thinking about it.”

“If you say so,” Minho smiled.

“It’s the truth,” Thomas said, walking backwards towards the exit while putting his coat back on. “I promise.”

“If you say so!”

Thomas left the Homestead quickly, shaking his head.

He came back five minutes later, handing Minho a ten-dollar bill, his face red.

Minho’s laughter was hearable all the way to the end of the street.

***

Thomas wasn’t exactly sure where he was going until he found himself standing in front of a quiet diner, cold wind blowing through his hair, messing it up. It looked quite cosy, with pretty golden chandeliers and small red booths.

He’d planned on going home that night. He really had. But as soon as he’d opened the door, he found Teresa and Aris making out on the couch, his couch, and he’d left the apartment in a hurry.

It had been a long day full of exhausting lectures and Minho spamming his phone with stupid texts and all he wanted was to eat and fall asleep. Deciding that returning home wasn’t an option, he’d wandered through the city until he found this place, hidden on the side of the road beside a wide river.

It was a pretty place, and it looked safe enough, so he shrugged and walked inside.

The insides of the place were even prettier than the outside. The whole room was filled with small candles and red carpet and he immediately considered walking straight back out, because oh my god, this is a romantic diner.

Even though it was relatively quiet inside the diner, everyone inside seemed to be on a date and he had just turned around to leave when a hand touched his shoulder and he jumped.

“Thomas?”

The voice was strange, but not unfamiliar, and Thomas turned around to face the person standing behind him.

It was a tall guy, his face young but handsome. His hair was blond and messy and fell into his eyes and Thomas could immediately tell something was wrong. His dark eyes were worried, maybe a little sad, and Thomas wondered if he’d done something to upset the guy.

But he didn’t just sound familiar -- he also looked familiar. Even though he couldn’t immediately tell who it was, he knew this guy from somewhere. He’d seen it all before; the hair, the eyes, the long, skinny legs…

Slowly but surely, the pieces fell into place, and he could link a name to the face. Newt. After another moment of confusion, the final piece fell, and he felt himself smile.

Newt Ross. The yearbook guy from high school. Also known as Thomas’ bisexual awakening -- not that he’d ever tell him. They hadn’t been very close; Newt was a little older and had other friends, but they did hang out every once in a while, with Minho being a mutual friend of theirs.

“Newt?”

Newt smiled a little, but the worried look didn’t leave his face. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah,” Thomas said, studying Newt’s face for a second. He looked like he hadn’t aged a bit since high school, but there was a certain maturity to his face that showed him he was no longer the carefree kid that’d show up in the middle of class, take a candid picture of you, then disappear.

“Waiting for a date?” Newt asked, his voice a little teasing but still kind. Because Newt was just like that -- always gentle, always making sure you were okay. Thomas kind of admired him for it.

“No,” Thomas chuckled. “I didn’t realize this was a romantic diner till I walked in. You?”

He wasn’t sure why he asked, but regretted it when Newt’s face fell a little before he sent Thomas another small smile.

“Nope. Was, but seems like he’s not gonna show up.”

The silence that fell was painful and awkward, and Thomas scraped his throat before carefully speaking up.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Newt shrugged. “Didn’t know him yet anyway. My friend set us up.”

Despite his reassurance, Newt seemed a little tense, and Thomas’ mind raced to find a way to comfort him. He wasn’t good with words, so he knew he couldn’t do a little speech to cheer him up. Newt was always the talker between the two of them. Actions were more Thomas’ thing -- thinking came much later. Slowly, an idea started to form in his head. Newt didn’t say anything and just looked at him, his face blank.

“Um…” Thomas said, because he was an idiot and didn’t know how to properly start a sentence, “Are you hungry?”

After a moment of silence, Newt’s face lit up, and Thomas decided that he liked the blond’s small smile.

***

Thomas learned that Newt gave workshops at an art gallery, where he taught young students the basics of art, but one day, he wanted to see his own paintings on the wall. If he wasn’t busy with teaching, he was cleaning or giving tours. He showed Thomas pictures of his art on his phone, which then led into a conversation about how Thomas once signed up for an art competition in middle school but lost to a kid who simply put down a blank canvas and made up a crazy story about what it all meant. Newt laughed at him in a way that made Thomas’ heart jump in his chest.

Newt was talented, he really was. Thomas was quite impressed by his art, even though Newt seemed to think of it as average. His paintings and drawings were not abstract or hard to understand, which Thomas was thankful for. He was never good at understanding complicated pieces, not seeing further than the most obvious details. To him, a black square was just a black square.

Newt’s paintings were nothing like that, but incredibly beautiful anyway. They were harsh, raw and realistic. One of them, a dark piece with all sorts of colours flying across the canvas, showing a whirlwind of emotions in someone’s head, left Thomas speechless for several minutes.

Thomas also found out Newt was two years older than him, which surprised him, to say the least. He knew Newt had been a year or two higher than him in high school, but his face was so young Thomas wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been eighteen years old. Newt, upon hearing Thomas was twenty-one, teased him about his age the whole night, calling him ‘baby’, ‘tiny Tommy’, and even ‘toddler Tommy’ once. Thomas had playfully hit him on the head.

Thomas also talked about himself, telling him about his little brother Chuck, his friends and his mom, who, for some reason, wanted to name him after a scientist (he’d grown fond of his name, after years of hating it, but he still liked to playfully complain about it to his mother every once in a while). Newt had smirked at that and told him his full first name was actually Newton, after Isaac Newton, to which Thomas had called him a nerd and Newt had hit him on the head.

They didn’t speak about Teresa once.

***

“Why didn’t you become a scientist? ‘Cause of your name? You were pretty good at science back in high school, as far as I remember.”

Thomas looked up from his fries. Newt was looking at him, his food untouched.

Thomas shook his head. “No. I guess I just wasn’t interested in it. I study architecture now.”

“And do you like it? Architecture?” Newt asked, frowning.

Thomas shrugged. “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Do you like your major?” Thomas shot back and Newt smiled softly, taking a sip from his glass of water.

“I guess,” he said in a horrible imitation of Thomas’ voice. Thomas rolled his eyes, but couldn’t bite back a grin.

“I don’t actually go to college,” Newt then said. “Was never my thing, and I didn’t need it for the gallery anyways.”

“Must be nice,” Thomas said. His college life was rather hectic and exhausting, and he really couldn’t wait for it to be over. Not that he didn’t like it -- he just didn’t particularly enjoy studying all the time.

“It’s alright,” Newt shrugged. “I’ve still got work to worry about, so there’s that.”

They were quiet for a while. While eating, Thomas noticed, for some reason, that Newt had very pale, slender hands.

He had the strange urge to reach out and touch them.

“What about that Teresa girl?”

“Hm?” Thomas looked up again. Newt wasn’t looking at him this time, very focused on his plate.

“You used to hang out with her all the time. She’s your girlfriend?”

“No, god,” Thomas said. “We’re just friends.”

“Because of that Aris guy. With the mousy brown hair.”

It wasn’t a question, but Thomas nodded nevertheless.

“What about you?” Thomas cut him off before he could continue. Newt looked at him at that, a puzzled look on his face. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Newt laughed at that, almost choking on his water. “Jesus, Tommy, I’m gay. Figured you knew already.”

Thomas felt himself blush but shrugged it off. “A boyfriend, then.”

“Nope. Never found anyone who loved me back, sadly.” He said it very casually, and for some reason, it made Thomas even more interested in the blond. Why was this guy so damn cool?

“I don’t believe that.”

Newt shot him a small smile. “It’s the truth. Most people just wanna fuck and go.”

Thomas frowned. “That’s just sad.”

Newt shrugged, seemingly not sad at all. “I get it. I’m very good in bed.”

This time it was Thomas who almost choked on his drink, coughing loudly as Newt laughed at him. Some people at the diner looked at them, frowning, but Thomas tried to ignore them as he fought off a blush creeping up on his cheeks.

“God, Tommy, I had no idea you were so easily startled,” Newt said, smirking. Thomas coughed one more time before glaring at him.

“I was just not expecting that,” Thomas said, too embarrassed to look up from his plate.

“Sure.”

They spent the rest of their dinner in comfortable silence, only speaking again when Newt offered to pay for their food.

“Absolutely not,” Thomas said, already taking out his wallet.

“I insist.”

“Stop being such a gentleman.”

“Alright, alright. But I’m warning you, this place is bloody expensive.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

They ended up each paying for their own food, Newt commenting on how much more expensive Thomas’ was and how he should’ve paid for them both, while Thomas rolled his eyes at him. He was goddamn unbelievable.

“So, where are you taking me now?” Thomas asked as they stepped out of the diner together, his breath forming puffs of smoke in the cold air. He was genuinely enjoying their time together, and didn’t want to leave just yet.

Newt didn’t look at him, eyes focused on the starry night above them. In the darkness of the night, Thomas couldn’t see his pupils anymore. His eyes were just black, glistening due to the stars reflecting in them.

Newt looked at him, breaking his stare. “Depends, do you want peace and quiet or some wild shit in your life?”

Thomas looked at him, biting his lip. Peace and quiet sounded great, maybe they’d have time to talk some more, but god damn it, was he bored. Not of Newt, just of the peace and quiet in general. He wished more than ever for just one night of no thoughts, loud music and too much alcohol. Even if it was just to forget about Teresa. God, he really needed to talk to her.

“Wild shit, please.”

Newt’s smirk couldn’t mean anything good.

***

The place Newt brought him to was exactly what Thomas needed. It was an old building, graffiti all over the walls and loud, booming music coming from inside, accompanied by flashing blue lights.

The Scorch, read the sign above the door. Thomas took a second to think about the strange name, but then Newt dragged him inside by his arm.

All around him were people in tiny clothes, holding drinks and cigarettes, talking loudly so they’d be heard over the music. There was a bar on the far right, bathrooms straight across from him and pretty much the entire place seemed to be a dance floor. There were so many people inside Thomas was almost sure it was illegal.

They weren’t all American, either. Walking across the room, Newt still holding onto him tightly, he heard conversations in all sorts of languages, including a couple French and Spanish ones. A loud song he didn’t know was playing and he could almost feel the alcohol burn in his throat.

“This is my favourite place to come,” Newt said, his voice only just loud enough for Thomas to hear. “Great place to find hookups.”

He winked and turned back around, dragging Thomas towards the bar, where a tall girl was serving drinks, moving around elegantly. It was only when he was up close that Thomas realized how pretty she was; she had dark, curly hair and black tattoos of flowers and butterflies curled around her dark skin.

“Harriet!”

The girl looked up and smiled at Newt, reaching over the bar to pull him in a short hug. “Newt.”

She looked at Thomas as she pulled away. “Who’s this?”

“I’m Thomas,” Thomas said, extending his hand for her to shake. She took it, her grip firmer than he’d expected.

“Nice to meet you, Thomas.”

“Tommy’s never been here before,” Newt said, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “And the girl he fancies has a boyfriend. What’s the strongest drink you’ve got?”

“I don’t-” Thomas started, but Newt shushed him as Harriet ducked beneath the counter and started rummaging through the cabinets.

“She cute?” She asked as she reappeared, a glass in one hand and a bottle of something in the other. Thomas swallowed, hesitated, then nodded.

“Yeah. We’ve been friends my entire life.”

Harriet whistled as she poured the drink into the glass. “Sorry about that, dude. At least you’ve got Newt, hm?”

There was a certain glint in her dark eyes that couldn’t mean anything good as she slid the drink over to Thomas. “Cheers.”

Thomas picked up the glass, hesitating, looking at Newt. “You sure this won’t kill me?”

Newt nodded, leaning on the bar. “Trust me. She’s fed it to me countless times.”

Thomas held himself back from asking why and nodded, downing the drink in one shot. It burned his throat and he almost teared up from how strong it was.

“Jesus.” He winced.

Harriet held up the bottle. “Another one?”

Thomas looked at her, then at Newt, who looked at him with a gleeful expression on his handsome face.

Sighing, he placed his glass down on the bar. “Please.”

***

Thomas was a lightweight. He was terrible with alcohol, often ending up in places he didn’t know with people he didn’t know, wearing clothes that weren’t his own. When he started living with Teresa, he quit drinking completely, knowing she hated it.

Which was probably the reason why this hit him extra hard.

His brain started to get fuzzy after his third drink and he was officially drunk after his fourth. Newt had joined him on his second, dealing with the alcohol a lot better than Thomas. He laughed lovingly when Thomas almost choked on his fifth and guided him towards the dancefloor before he could take a sixth, telling him he needed to slow down.

Bodies were pressed against him on every inch of his body, moving up and down to the beat of the music, moving him from left to right without his feet ever moving. Newt was pressed tightly against his side, his hand on Thomas’ back. The touch sent strange, hot tingles down his spine and Thomas found himself leaning into it.

They found a spot in the middle of the crowd and started dancing together, people interrupting them every once in a while to walk to the bar or bathroom or to take one of them for a dance.

Thomas ended up dancing with at least six, seven people he didn’t know, most of them girls. They pressed themselves against him, touched his arms, tried to kiss him, and every time, a soft hand on his arm pulled him back, long fingers almost completely wrapped around his bicep. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that it was Newt, but then again, he didn’t care. His thoughts didn’t make sense anymore and he let the music and alcohol take complete control over him, desperate to forget all his worries.

His phone buzzed.

He wasn’t sure how he registered it -- there were people all around him, pressing up against every inch of his body, but somehow, he did, and he pushed himself through the crowd before picking up. As soon as the cold breeze hit his face, he felt himself get pulled back to reality the tiniest bit, and he took out his phone to answer it.

“Hi, this is Thomas. Leave a message after the annoying beeping noise,” he giggled.

“Tom?” A voice spoke, and a wave of nerves and recognition hit him.

“Teresa! How’ve you been?”

“Tom -- are you drunk?”

“No,” Thomas said, his voice defensive. “Are you?”

“Tom, listen.”

“No,” Thomas said, suddenly mad. “No, you listen, I didn’t do anything wrong, I’m not…”

He followed a bird with his eyes, trying to figure out what his next words were supposed to be. He was not… What? Evil? A bad person?

He was, though, wasn’t he?

“Tom, please come home. We’re worried sick, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Teresa,” he said, sitting down. “I’m out. With Newt.”

“Newt?”

“From high school. Minho’s friend.”

“Oh, him. Listen, Tom, Aris -”

“Aris?” Thomas asked, picking at the grass below his feet. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s fine, Thomas. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Thomas giggled.

“Tom, are you laughing?”

“You just sound funny,” Thomas said, looking at the people walking past him. He was vaguely aware that he was being watched by someone, but he didn’t really care.

“Right. Tom, please promise me you’re okay. Do you know where you are? Do you need me to pick you up? You sound really drunk.”

Thomas stood up, trying very hard to remember the name he saw earlier. It was strange, he remembered that much. Newt was holding his wrist when he read it.

“The... Scorch. I think.”

“Okay. Do you need me to pick you up or -”

“I’m fine, Teresa,” he slurred. “I’m having a great time. I’m an adult. Adulting. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Sure,” he said, giggling. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Or... not.”

“Tomorrow? Tom -”

Thomas hung up the phone, dropping his arm to his side.

He stared into nothingness for a few moments, jumping when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Newt staring down at him, concern visible on his face, his mouth slightly opened as if he was about to speak. He had really nice lips, Thomas noticed. They were pink and soft-looking and Thomas kind of wanted to reach out and touch them.

So, in his drunken state, Thomas did the only logical next thing.

He kissed Newt.

Chapter Text

The first thing Thomas registered when he woke up was his terrible headache. He had the strong urge to press his palms against his eyes to try and push it out of his head, but somewhere in his half-asleep brain, he recalled the knowledge that that wouldn’t work at all.

The second thing he registered was that he was definitely not lying on his own pillow. He turned his head a little, not opening his eyes. The movement caused a sharp pain to shoot through his skull, but despite the pain he was feeling, he decided that the pillow was nice and comfortable.

An arm sneaked around his waist, and he instinctively leaned into the touch. With a strange hand softly playing with his hair, he fell into a deep sleep once more.

The second time Thomas woke up, bright sunlight shone directly into his eyes. He sat up slowly, his head pounding. He blinked, felt his eyes watering, blinked again, then pulled up the sheets to cover his face from the sun.

He was naked.

With a groan, he fell back into the bed, the events of the previous night slowly coming back to him.

He could hear someone move around on the other side of the door and once his mind had woken up, the scent of pancakes forced him out of bed.

After spending way too much time gathering all his clothes, he slowly opened the door, scared to see what he would find.

The door led him to the kitchen, living room directly to his right. Newt stood with his back towards him, dressed in an oversized shirt and grey sweatpants. Thomas felt incredibly overdressed in last night’s clothes -- although they weren’t exactly clean anymore after spending an entire night on the bedroom floor.

He gulped -- his throat was suddenly dry.

Newt turned around with a plate in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, glancing up at him.

“Morning, Tommy.”

“Morning,” Thomas croaked out. Newt nodded towards a second plate he hadn’t noticed before, sitting on the small dining table.

“That one’s yours.”

Thomas almost refused the offer, but his hunger won from his polite side and he sat down quickly, Newt calmly taking a seat opposite from him. The pancakes smelled amazing and he was starving. Thomas thought for two seconds, then started eating.

“I’d offer you a painkiller, but I’m afraid I’ve run out,” Newt sent him an apologetic smile. “If you want, I can go out and buy some for you?”

“It’s fine,” Thomas said, although his head was killing him. “I’ll buy some later.”

Newt nodded, taking a sip from his tea. “Are you a coffee or a tea person?”

“Both,” Thomas said. “But coffee sounds more appealing right now.”

“I figured,” Newt said, getting up. “You didn’t sleep until around four, after all.”

“What time is it now?” He asked while trying his best to eat calmly. Teresa always scolded him whenever he ate too quickly. “God, these are amazing.”

Newt chuckled, coming back with a cup of coffee for Thomas. “Thanks, it’s my mother's recipe. It’s ten.”

Thomas froze. “Please tell me it’s Saturday.”

“Sunday,” Newt said, sitting back down. “Why?”

“Oh, thank god,” Thomas sighed, relief flooding his body. “I thought I’d missed my lecture for a second.”

“I would have woken you up if it’d been a weekday,” Newt shrugged.

“How thoughtful,” Thomas said sarcastically, but he couldn’t bite back a smile.

They fell into a comfortable silence and Thomas was about to get up and thank him for breakfast when Newt spoke up again.

“You should probably tell your friends where you are.”

Everything came back to him, from Minho’s teasing to Teresa and Aris, and he sighed, dropping his head to the table.

“That bad?”

He could hear Newt chuckle and nodded.

“I figured,” Newt said. “Your phone kept going off this morning, I had to take it into the kitchen with me so it wouldn’t wake you up.”

“My roommates are probably worried,” Thomas said, slowly sitting up straight. Teresa always worried about him whenever he was out, and he figured today was no different. He hoped so, at least.

“Do you live on campus?” Newt asked, getting up with his plate and cup. Thomas hurried to pick up his as well, following Newt into the kitchen.

“No, with my friends. Well, Teresa and Aris. It’s complicated.” He shrugged.

“I thought you and Teresa were a thing?” Newt asked, opening a cabinet to reveal a dishwasher.

“No,” Thomas said, blushing softly, helping him place the dishes into the dishwasher. “She’s with Aris.”

“But you like her.”

It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t know.”

Newt stood up straight and closed the dishwasher, frowning. “You don’t know?”

He sounded so much like Minho it almost made Thomas smile. Instead, he shrugged awkwardly, picking at a loose thread in his sleeve. “She’s pretty. And I think I like her. But I don’t know. It’s all relatively new to me.”

“So you went and found a cute Brit to hook up with,” Newt smirked, folding his arms.

Thomas blushed, but raised his eyebrows to try and convince Newt he wasn’t flustered. “You call yourself cute?”

“That’s what I’ve been told,” Newt grinned, his eyes twinkling. “How would you describe me?”

“Hmm…” Thomas pretended to think, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Tall.”

“Tall?” Newt asked, one eyebrow raised. “That’s all?”

“And British,” Thomas smiled.

“Tall and British,” Newt snorted. “Alright. I’ll describe you as ‘short and American’ to my friends.”

“One,” Thomas started, “I’m, like, three inches shorter than you and two, gossiping about someone is frowned upon.”

“One,” Newt said, grinning widely, “Four inches at least, two, not when that certain someone happens to be a cute guy.”

“So I’m cute now?” Thomas teased him.

“Shut up,” Newt laughed, but there was no actual heat behind it. “Here.”

He half-turned and grabbed something before handing it to Thomas. Once he was finally able to tear his gaze away from those damn hands, he realized it was his phone.

“Thank you,” Thomas said, turning it on. “Shit.”

He had at least twenty unread messages and missed calls. He clicked on the notifications, slowly scrolling through them. Most of them were Teresa asking him if he was there and if he was safe. His heart did a small backflip in his chest and he mentally scolded himself for it.

“I’ve got like a thousand messages from Teresa,” he mumbled.

Thomas quickly typed out a reply saying he was fine and was about to turn his phone off when he saw a new notification, from around five minutes ago, and his heart stopped.

His shock must’ve been visible on his face, because he saw Newt step closer and felt a hand on his arm. “You alright?”

When Thomas didn’t reply, a glass of water was handed to him, and he took it eagerly, downing it all in one go. The strange aftertaste of coffee was washed out of his mouth, and he placed the glass down on the counter, hiding his face in his hands.

His hands were hot and he squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his face a few times before opening them again. Deep breaths, he reminded himself. In, out. In, out. He was fine. It was just a message. It wasn’t like she could actually reach him. He’d have to block her number later on.

“You alright?” Newt asked again, and Thomas took another deep breath before forcing himself to nod.

“You don’t look okay, mate,” Newt said. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that Newt was softly rubbing his arm. “You’re pale as a ghost.”

“Sorry,” Thomas mumbled. “It’s fine. I just got a little light-headed.”

Newt sent him a look that told Thomas he didn’t believe him one bit, but Thomas ignored it.

“Here,” Newt bent down and picked up his phone. “You’re lucky the screen didn’t break.”

Then, he frowned at the screen. “Brenda says hi.”

Thomas felt his heart race in his chest at the mention of her name. “I saw.”

“Brenda from my year?” Newt asked, handing him the phone. Thomas, knowing lying wasn’t an option, nodded.

“I didn’t know you guys were friends.”

“We’re not,” Thomas said quickly. Too quick. There was a knowing look in Newt’s eyes that would’ve been attractive in any other situation, but was mostly scary in this one.

“We dated,” he admitted sheepishly. “We broke up about a year ago. That's why I moved in with Teresa and Aris.”

“She kicked you out?” Newt asked, his face full of shock. Thomas nodded, refusing to look up from his, now black, screen.

“Rude,” Newt said. “I wondered why you’d live with Teresa and her boyfriend if you liked her.”

“I didn’t like her back then,” Thomas explained. “It’s quite new.”

“Must suck,” Newt said. “To live with your best friend. Who you like. Who has a boyfriend.”

“It’s not the best,” Thomas sighed. “But it’s the only choice I’ve got.”

“You do have other friends, right?” Newt asked, his eyebrows almost completely disappearing into his hair. Thomas couldn't help but laugh.

"I do. But most of them still live with their parents. Minho, Teresa and Aris are the only ones with their own place, and Minho already has a roommate.”

“So Teresa and Aris offered you a place to stay,” Newt stated. “I hope they’re giving you your own bed, at least?”

“A couch.”

“A couch?!”

Newt stared at him, a mixture of shock and horror in his eyes, before shaking his head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Give me your phone.”

His straight-forwardness took Thomas off guard, which was probably why he obliged. Newt took it and started typing away before handing it back to him. “There. My number. I’ve got a spare room.”

Thomas stared at him, completely speechless, and Newt chuckled.

“In case you need a place to stay, Tommy. A place where you don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

***

Thomas wasn’t sure why he declined. Maybe because he thought Teresa would be disappointed? Or because he wasn’t ready to move again? It wasn’t because he was worried Newt was already in love with him or something -- Newt had assured him that many times. And it wasn’t like Thomas would mind, anyway. He didn’t have any feelings for his old friend, but he was a cute guy. It’d be quite flattering.

According to Newt, it was a gesture of both kindness and desperation coming from himself. The rent was pretty expensive, after all. Come to think of it, Thomas did remember seeing an announcement on social media that he was looking for a roommate. Apparently, Newt thought Thomas was cut out for it.

Either way, he had declined, and was now on his way back to Teresa and Aris’ apartment. To his couch. To get some sleep, some painkillers, and deny his feelings for his friend once again.

He decided that the universe was against him when it started raining only a few minutes away from the apartment. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the wind was so strong it could sweep him off his feet if he wasn’t careful.

The next few minutes were pure hell and he’d never been more relieved to be at the apartment building. Maybe, when he got inside, he could get a blanket and watch an old movie… He could cook dinner with Teresa tonight, if she wanted to. He could even try to figure out his strange crush, if he was feeling brave.

He opened the door, his hands still frozen, and looked up, only to see Teresa and Aris making out on his couch -- once again.

It was such a strange, yet such a familiar scene, and Thomas simply stared as they moved, apparently not even having noticed him.

He scraped his throat.

Aris’ hand travelled up Teresa’s leg.

“Guys?”

Teresa’s hands disappeared under Aris’ clothes.

“I’m back!”

Teresa jumped up, pulling her skirt down and trying but failing to tidy her hair as Aris sat up, his face a deep red colour.

Thomas stared, stared, and stared, then turned around and closed the door.

“Tom,” Teresa said, completely out of breath. A strange, nauseous feeling filled his insides, and he nodded. He didn’t quite trust himself; attempting to speak would probably end up in him either throwing up or yelling at them at this point.

“Hey, man,” Aris said, smoothing out his hoodie -- wait.

Thomas’ hoodie.

His insides turned cold at the sight of it and he shook off his jacket, took out his phone and spoke up with a strangely high voice.

“I’ll make dinner tonight.”

Then, Thomas walked into the small bathroom to his right and called Newt. He leaned against the sink, his eyes closed and his headache even stronger than before. A small part of him was hoping he wouldn’t answer the call. But then again, the universe hadn’t really been on his side, lately.

Newt picked up after the third ring.

“Tommy?”

His voice sounded different through a phone, Thomas noticed. Higher, almost childlike. It was deeper the day -- and night -- before. More masculine, more attractive. Thomas never knew he had a thing for it until then.

He could hear Teresa walk around through the living room, and somehow, that pushed him to speak, words spilling out before he could overthink and regret it.

“Does your offer still stand?”

Chapter Text

To say Teresa was disappointed when he told her he was moving out was an understatement. In fact, she cried for about five minutes, asking him why and how and when until Aris had pulled her into a hug and she hid her face in his chest, Thomas standing next to them awkwardly. Aris had shot him a half-angry, half-apologetic look, and Thomas' heart hurt.

Despite her previous breakdown, Teresa was determined to help him pack -- something he was grateful for. His ‘room’ was nothing more than their couch and the small space underneath it where he kept two bags full of clothes, school supplies and books, but they spent at least four hours in the apartment, searching every cabinet for anything that might belong to Thomas.

“If you ever find something that’s not yours, you can just give it to me later on,” Thomas said at some point, but she glared at him and continued her search through her bedroom closet (surprise of all surprises, she didn’t find anything, and Thomas wanted to say something witty, but upon remembering her vulnerable state, chose against it).

When Aris got back from work, he joined them in packing up, finding many small things they’d overlooked before, like his small fake plant in the living room or an extra pair of multicoloured socks Minho gave him for Christmas.

“I can’t believe you’re really leaving,” Teresa sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day, as she handed him his shaving cream in the small bathroom.

“Me neither,” Thomas said, because there was nothing else to say.

He was still a little confused as to why Newt had so easily offered him a place to stay, but was grateful for it either way. The past week had been full of him either comforting Teresa or walking in on her and Aris and at this point, he was ready to leave the country and never come back. He wondered why it hadn’t bothered him before, but tried his best not to think about it. Or about anything related to Teresa, for that matter.

Newt, after hearing him out, told him to move in whenever. He told Thomas he had no other people waiting to live with him, and somehow, that made Thomas feel better. Newt told him he’d be gone for work a lot, but it shouldn’t be a problem considering Thomas was busy himself as well. Thomas agreed, and that had been it. Newt had texted him his address, Thomas had texted him the day on which he’d move, and that was all. A small part of him couldn’t help but feel like Newt was messing around with him, but he tried to ignore those thoughts as much as he could. Besides, he knew Newt -- maybe not as well as he would’ve liked, but he knew him either way -- and he could tell Newt was a genuinely nice guy who just did stuff like this. And so he didn’t question it.

“Tom...” Teresa slowly said, staring very hard at a shampoo bottle he wasn’t sure was his or Aris’.

“Yeah?” He asked. She bit her lip, looking conflicted. He hesitantly reached out and placed his hand over hers, feeling relieved when she didn’t pull it away.

“I’m worried,” she admitted. “I don’t like you moving in with some random guy.”

“He’s not some random guy,” Thomas reminded her. “He’s an old friend.”

Teresa’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you said you barely knew him.”

“Yeah, well,” Thomas shrugged, “Newt was mostly Minho’s friend, but we hung out every once in a while. And if Minho trusts him, so do I.”

“Still,” she continued, “people change. He might be a creepy drug dealer now.”

“He’s an artist,” Thomas said, then wondered how he remembered that detail. She raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.

“Just be careful,” she said, reaching out for the shampoo bottle, apparently having decided it was Thomas’. “You have a habit of getting too attached to people that end up screwing you over.”

That hurt, and Thomas couldn’t help but feel annoyed at her. Who was she to judge his relationship choices?

Your best friend, his mind supplied helpfully, and he wished he could turn his thoughts off.

“Newt’s not Brenda,” he said darkly, knowing what she’d really wanted to say. Teresa’s gaze hardened.

“I know, Tom.” She sounded more tired than angry. “Just make sure to look after yourself.”

Thomas let go of her hand, and it felt like an unspoken goodbye.

His phone buzzed when they were emptying the bathroom cabinets, and he put down the small box in his hand to see what it said.

Newt: how’s the packing going

Teresa was looking at him, her eyebrows raised. “Who’s that?”

“Newt,” Thomas said, smiling at her. "I’m gonna answer this, give me a sec.”

“Alright,” she mumbled, turning around to grab some towels.

Thomas: fine. i think we’re almost done

Newt’s reply came almost immediately, which meant that he’d probably been waiting for an answer.

Newt: good. what time will you be here?

Thomas: around six or seven? depends on the speed of aris’ car

Newt: i’ll be waiting

Newt went offline after that and Thomas’ heart jumped a little at the text. That was flirty, right? Or was he just being friendly?

“You done?”

Teresa’s voice snapped him out of his daze and he quickly pocketed his phone, turning around to leave the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m all yours.”

She followed him out to the living room, where they’d placed all of Thomas’ belongings down. Even though they’d spent an entire afternoon packing, it still wasn’t much. A bag of clothes. Another one with school supplies. Two boxes of other things, like books, towels, shoes and the small plant Aris had found.

Aris came out of his and Teresa’s bedroom with a photo in his hand, placing it on top of the last Hunger Games book. “There.”

“I think this is all,” Thomas said, staring at the small pile of stuff. The moment was oddly sad.

He could feel Teresa move to stand next to him. “Yeah.”

The three of them stood in silence for a moment before Aris bent down to pick up the first box. “Let’s go, shall we?”

Thomas instinctively turned his head to look at Teresa. Her eyes were big and full of sadness, her lip trembling.

He immediately reached forward and pulled her into a hug, closing his eyes to prevent himself from crying as well. God, why was he feeling so upset? It wasn’t like he was moving to a whole other country.

Still, he held onto her tightly. She wrapped her arms around him as well. Standing up straight like this, she barely reached his chin, and he allowed himself to press a small kiss into her hair, ignoring how his breath hitched.

“Let’s go,” he said softly, and she nodded against his chest before letting go. Her expression had changed completely -- all the sadness had disappeared, replaced by a fierce look of determination, and Thomas couldn’t help but smile. It was an expression he knew all too well, so typically her that he felt his heart swell.

She quietly picked up the next box, leaving Thomas to deal with the bags. Not that he minded; they were probably the heaviest, allowing him to take more time to get downstairs and say goodbye to the building in his head.

He followed her in a silence which was only disturbed by the sound of their footsteps echoing through the building. Aris was already a little further ahead.

Before going down the stairs, he turned around to look at the door one more time. The action felt strangely final, even though he knew he’d come back to this place many times in the future.

Aris was waiting for them outside, leaning against his car. Thomas couldn’t help but feel guilty as he helped them load his stuff into the trunk. Sure, he spent most of his time on an old couch and sure, he walked in on the two of them more often than not, but they were the most helpful people he’d ever met, and leaving them felt almost cruel.

“Thank you,” he said softly, as Aris was about to close the trunk. “For everything. Letting me stay, helping me move out…”

His voice trailed off as he saw Aris smile sadly at him. “No problem, man. You know we love you.”

It was said in a joking way, but Thomas still stepped forward to give him a short hug. Aris laughed, but returned the hug anyway.

When he turned to Teresa, he was met with the same fierce look as before and he softly smiled. “I’ll still come over as much as possible.”

“Of course,” she said, her voice rather neutral despite the sadness in her eyes, “you kind of have to. Unless you want me to sue you.”

She threw him a stern look that was broken by her laughing loudly and pulling him into another hug.

They spent the car ride in silence. When Aris finally parked the car in front of Newt’s building, the blond was already outside, waiting for him.

Thomas got out of the car with a smile on his face, waving at him. Newt waved back, then approached them.

Teresa and Aris got out of the car before he could say anything, and Newt turned to them. His smile didn’t fade the slightest bit.

“Hello, Teresa.”

“Newt, right?” Was her response, and he nodded. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“That’s not true,” Thomas said, but Newt only chuckled.

“I’m Aris,” Aris said, extending his hand towards Newt. Newt shook it shortly, before turning to Thomas.

“You have your stuff?"

“In the trunk,” Thomas said, and the four of them walked to the back of the car.

Newt, upon seeing the small pile of his belongings, raised one eyebrow but didn’t speak. They all took the same stuff as before, except Newt now took one bag filled with Thomas’ clothes.

Newt happily chatted with Teresa and Aris as they walked into the building, Thomas only listening. He felt strangely numb, as if he was only watching himself from the sideline, not actually involved in the moving process.

“I live on the fifth floor,” Newt explained to Aris as they stepped into the elevator. The boy nodded, pressed the small ‘five’ button and the elevator shot up, Teresa gasping and asking a million questions about his apartment that, Thomas now noticed, was on the top floor.

Newt remained patient and kind as he explained that no, he didn't have access to the roof and yes, it was quiet up there but no, he didn’t really like his neighbours. He was in the middle of a story about how one of them had run upstairs, chased by a chicken, when the elevator came to a halt.

“This is me,” Newt said as he stepped forward and towards the door on the left.

They followed him, once again, as he opened the door and stepped into the small hallway.

“Would you like a cup of tea? Or coffee?” Newt asked over his shoulder as he walked into the living room on the left, dropping the bag on the couch. A door directly to Thomas’ right was closed, and he figured it was probably a bathroom or storage closet. Although he hadn’t seen any other bedrooms connected to the living room and kitchen other than Newt’s, so it might have been his room as well.

“I’m good,” Aris said, placing the box on the floor. “Teresa?”

“We should get back,” she said, smiling at Newt. “But it was nice meeting you.”

“You too,” Newt said, shaking their hands once again. “Come over any time.”

“We will,” Teresa promised him, then turned to Thomas. “You. Take care, alright?”

“Of course,” Thomas said -- it was then that he realized he’d barely spoken at all since they got there. “You too.”

She stood on her toes to press a small kiss to his cheek. “Bye.”

The place where her lips had touched him burned and tingled, and he tried his best not to blush. “I’ll see you around.”

Aris smiled at him, took Teresa’s hand, waved at Newt, then left the room. When Thomas heard the door fall shut, he relaxed immediately, dropping the bag onto the couch.

“She’s lovely,” Newt commented, walking towards the kitchen. "And he’s a true gentleman.”

“Tell me about it,” Thomas groaned, letting himself fall into an armchair.

“I can see why you like them,” came Newt’s voice from the kitchen. Thomas only hummed in reply, too tired and overwhelmed to speak.

Newt brought him a glass of water, which he accepted gratefully.

“Thanks.”

Newt softly smiled at him. “You okay? You’re quiet.”

“Just overwhelmed,” Thomas admitted truthfully. “It’s a lot.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Newt shrugged. “You need any help unpacking?”

“I haven’t got much,” Thomas said rather sheepishly. “So, unless you enjoy helping, I think I’m good.”

“Alright,” Newt said, getting up from the couch. “Dinner’s ready in thirty.”

Newt smiled another one of his signature small smiles and softly squeezed his shoulder as he walked past him, leaving Thomas alone in the living room, wondering -- once again -- how the hell he got himself into this situation.

Chapter Text

Thomas’ new room was not at all what he’d anticipated. He’d expected a tiny room, much like Harry Potter’s cupboard under the stairs, hidden away in a corner of the apartment and full of spiders. He’d already prepared himself for many sleepless nights.

When Newt opened the door to his bedroom (after an amazing dinner; Newt was a much better cook than Thomas would ever be -- not that he’d ever tell him), he realized his expectations were way too low for a normal human being.

The room was not much smaller than Newt’s one, with a large bed with clean, white sheets, placed against a wall on the left with many windows through which he could see the sunset, causing the room to bathe in a soft, orange glow. Directly to his left stood a tall, brown bookcase, almost completely full of messily placed books. The wall to his right wasn’t much of a wall -- more like a very long closet. A small, empty desk was placed in the right corner.

When he stepped into the room, he felt the same, soft carpet under his feet as the one in the living room. The walls were a light grey colour, and he decided that this was probably the best room he’d ever had. The one he grew up in was rather small and dark, the one he had with Brenda was mostly filled with her stuff, and he hadn’t had much of a room with Teresa and Aris.

“This is all for me?” Thomas asked, shocked, but also a little in awe of Newt and his apartment.

“Yeah,” Newt said, walking towards the bed and opening a window above it. “My friends usually crash in this when they stay over, so I apologize in advance for their stuff that you’ll, no doubt, discover soon. They’ve hidden it everywhere in the room. The books are mine, though.”

“It’s beautiful,” Thomas said, running his hand over the dark wood the bookcase was made up of.

“It will be,” Newt said, placing the bags with Thomas’ clothes on the bed. “Once you’ve furnished it.”

Thomas, deciding that unpacking now would be best, unzipped the bag and grabbed a stack of t-shirts. Newt followed. Thomas almost declined his help, then decided that it was only nice of him. Besides, Newt was good company. They still didn’t know each other that well, but Thomas knew him well enough to enjoy spending time with him.

They spent a good ten minutes placing Thomas’ clothes in the closet, and even after unpacking it all, there was still space left.

“You can place all your school stuff here,” Newt said after looking at the empty space on the left of the closet. “I guess…”

“I should probably go and buy some new clothes,” Thomas half-joked. Newt smiled at him, then turned around and grabbed the small plant from the box.

So he really was gonna help him unpack. This guy was unbelievable.

They didn’t speak much as they slowly filled up the shelves and desk, Newt taking the box with random stuff and Thomas the books. He would’ve been embarrassed by Newt going through his stuff if he didn’t already know Newt was the nicest guy ever and wouldn’t judge him for anything -- like owning many Star Wars DVDs.

As if he’d read his mind, Newt held up the DVDs. “You’re kidding.”

Thomas glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. “Nope.”

“I’ve been wanting to get them on DVD for years!” Newt exclaimed. “I’ve got them downloaded onto my laptop, but it’s just not the same, you know?”

Thomas, appalled that Newt seemed to be as much of a dork as he was, stared in stunned silence for a moment before smiling.

“I guess you’re lucky to have me as your roommate, then,” he said as Newt turned around and carefully placed the DVDs on the desk.

“Oh, I’m lucky, alright,” Newt mumbled as he studied the DVDs closer. Thomas chuckled and turned around, placing his copy of The Fault in Our Stars on the bookshelf before dropping the, now empty, bag onto the floor.

“I’m done.”

“You’ve got Harry Potter on DVD too?!”

***

Thomas found out that living with a guy he barely knew was easier than expected. It took him about three days to get used to waking up in a strange bed and hearing someone make breakfast while singing along to songs on the radio.

It wasn’t like this with Brenda, he realized. She’d had no job and didn’t go to college, spending most of her time indoors or with her friends, skating and smoking. Every morning, when his alarm clock awoke him at six, she'd complain about him having to get up already before falling into a deep sleep. He’d eat alone, get dressed in silence, leave for college or work, and wouldn’t see her or speak to her until he got home in the late afternoon. Even then, she could be out, and he sometimes wouldn’t speak to her at all until she came home in the middle of the night, usually drunk.

With Teresa and Aris, he’d wake up to pain in his back and the two of them being all over each other, even in the early morning. They spoke to him, but he always felt left out. Teresa would join him on his way out when he left for college, but they didn’t spend much time together once at the apartment. He was always busy with homework and she was always busy with Aris. It was nice, but still lonely.

Now, every day, he’d wake up to find Newt in the kitchen, making them breakfast. It was strangely domestic, in a way. Newt would greet him, still in his pyjamas and with a terrible case of bed hair, and Thomas would walk to the coffee machine to make them both coffee. He found out Newt liked his coffee with two sugars after one day, and hadn’t given him anything else since. They’d make breakfast in silence and eat together and once the coffee woke them up, Newt would ask him about his day and talk to him until either of them had to leave. It was one of the rare moments they got to spend together, as they were both incredibly busy, and Thomas found himself genuinely enjoying it.

The week passed in the blink of an eye and before he knew it, it was Saturday again. He woke up rather early, despite the lack of an alarm, and his first thought was it had now been exactly two weeks since he ran into Newt. It felt like yesterday, but also like two years ago. It was unbelievable how much had changed.

Nothing else had happened between the two of them -- nothing romantic, at least. Newt was kind and caring and affectionate, but besides the casual touch on the arm or shoulder, they hadn’t gotten close. They hadn’t even hugged, now that he thought about it.

Not that Thomas would’ve expected anything else. Newt had already explained that him offering Thomas a place to stay had nothing to do with any hidden feelings whatsoever. In fact, just the day before, Thomas had heard Newt come home late, accompanied by some guy he’d probably met at the Scorch.

Feeling that trying to go back to sleep would be useless, Thomas got up and walked to the living room. As expected, Newt stood in the kitchen, already busy with toast and eggs.

“Morning,” Thomas said. He couldn’t help but take a peek into Newt’s room, which was strangely empty. The guy seemed to have left already.

“He’s gone,” Newt said, catching on to Thomas’ train of thought. “Left in the middle of the night. And good morning.”

He slid a plate with toast and scrambled eggs over to Thomas. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Thomas said, accepting the food. “Coffee?”

“Tea, please,” Newt said. “Don’t feel like I need any more caffeine today.”

“Tea has caffeine in it,” Thomas smirked, unable to help himself, and Newt playfully rolled his eyes.

“Shut up.”

Newt ate his toast in silence as Thomas made him a cup of tea, and coffee for himself. As he watched the water heat up, he felt a prickle of curiosity in his gut. He tried to ignore it, but after a few minutes, it got so strong he couldn’t help but ask.

“Who was that guy?”

“Hm?” Newt looked up from his phone, frowning. “Oh. Dunno. Some guy from the Scorch.”

He went back to looking at his phone and Thomas hated the uneasy feeling in his gut.

“So, a stranger?” He asked. Newt nodded.

“Yeah.”

He didn’t give any more information, and Thomas decided he wouldn’t ask. If Newt wanted to share, he would.

“Alright,” he said, hoping he sounded as casual as he wanted to. “As long as you were safe.”

Newt rolled his eyes. “Yes, mom.”

***

They hadn’t had time for it during the week, but that night, Newt finally forced him to sit down and got the Harry Potter DVDs from his room.

“I’m so excited, I don’t even know what to do with myself,” the blond mumbled, pressing buttons Thomas had never even seen before.

“You do realize you’re being a stereotypical Brit right now, right?” Thomas asked, grinning when Newt playfully glared at him.

“Shut up,” he said, pointing at Thomas with the remote, “and watch the Philosopher’s Stone with me.”

“Sorcerer’s Stone,” Thomas corrected him, and Newt hit him with a pillow.

They’d barely started the film when Newt spoke up. “What’s your Hogwarts house?”

“What?”

Thomas found Newt staring at him intensely from the other side of the couch. They’d turned off the lights for the occasion, and the light coming from the TV reflected onto his pale face.

“What’s your Hogwarts house,” Newt repeated, not breaking their eye contact. “I have to know, to complete the experience.”

“The… experience?”

“Shut up and tell me.”

“Gryffindor,” Thomas smiled. “I think. It's been a while since I took the test.”

“I’m Hufflepuff,” Newt said, and then he turned to the TV, seemingly satisfied with the conversation.

Thomas’ gaze lingered on him for a few seconds before he averted his head, choosing to focus on the movie that was playing. It had been a few years since he watched it, after all.

They were barely halfway through the movie when Thomas felt his eyes droop. Newt eyed him from the side, chuckling softly.

“You’re tired.”

“A little,” Thomas admitted, choosing not to lie. “It’s been a rough week.”

It was true; between him moving in, dealing with Teresa’s breakdowns about missing him and him not being safe and exam week breathing down his neck, he was exhausted. He spent most of his free time asleep, nowadays.

“Here,” Newt said, getting up. He shook his right leg a little, probably to get the blood in it flowing again, then disappeared into his bedroom. Thomas waited on the couch, awkwardly fiddling with his hands.

Newt came back out with a thin blanket in his hands, handing it to Thomas. “In case you fall asleep.”

Thomas’ heart warmed up with appreciation for the blond and he smiled widely. “Thank you.”

Newt softly smiled back at him and then sat down, a lot closer to Thomas than before. He didn’t say anything, though -- it very well could’ve been a subconscious move, and he didn’t want to make it awkward. Besides, it was nice, in a way. Newt’s body heat radiated off of him and, combined with the blanket, warmed Thomas up pretty quickly.

They watched the movie in comfortable silence, and Thomas felt his vision get blurry after only a few minutes. He had just closed his eyes when Newt spoke up again.

“Daniel Radcliffe was my gay awakening.”

Thomas burst out a laugh and opened his eyes to find Newt smiling at him. “I’m serious!”

“I believe you,” Thomas said, still smiling like an idiot. He wrapped the blanket around himself and pulled his knees up to his chest, hiding his feet under the blanket as well. “He’s pretty cute.”

“Pretty cute?”

“Not my type,” Thomas shrugged. “Teresa loves him, though.”

Newt smirked and shuffled closer to him on the couch, mimicking Thomas’ position.

“Who was yours, then?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. Thomas blushed deeply, hiding his face in his blanket.

“No one. Just a guy you don’t know,” he lied, hoping Newt wouldn’t see right through him. If he did, he didn’t say anything.

“Was he cuter than Daniel Radcliffe?” Newt asked.

Thomas looked at him, giving him a short one-over he hoped Newt wouldn’t catch.

“Definitely.”

“Wow,” Newt sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I’m gonna need to meet that guy.”

“I’ll try to arrange a meet-up,” Thomas said dryly, looking back at the TV.

Newt was silent once again as they continued watching the movie. The combination of the darkness, the comfortable blanket and the familiar movie made Thomas drowsy once again and he knew it wouldn’t take long for him to fall asleep. His blinking slowed down and he felt the familiar pull of sleep tug him stronger and stronger as the minutes ticked by.

Harry was talking to Hagrid… was he? In the strange in-between state of being asleep and being awake, Thomas wasn’t sure anymore. His thoughts were weird, messy, confused. Words were incomprehensible, sentences mingled together, faces stretched out and shrunk to inhuman sizes and he fell, fell, fell… He reached out, felt someone pull him closer, rose, and then fell again...

He fell asleep to the sound of McGonagall’s voice and the feeling of Newt pressed against his side.

Chapter Text

In the strange land of dreams, Thomas found Teresa. She looked prettier than usual, with her black hair curled and shiny and her smile brighter than ever before. Her eyes were wide and a strange, piercing blue colour that shook him to his core.

He reached out to her. Her face changed; it was still beautiful, but something about it was off and deeply unsettling. Thomas stepped back in a mixture of fear and disgust and her smile faded. Something inhuman seemed to overtake her, making her features appear blurry and grotesque and she seemed to actually grow, towering over him.

Her mouth stretched open in a gaping black hole and a loud ringing noise filled his head. He pressed his hands to his ears, trying to drown out the noise, but then it was getting even louder, and something was moving under him, shaking him…

His eyes flew open and he scrambled backwards. It took him only a moment to realize the surface on which he had slept stopped, and, as his hand flew through the air, unable to grasp anything to hold onto, his heart sunk.

He landed on the carpet with a loud oomph and felt the air being knocked out of him as he stared up at the ceiling. No Teresa. No loud ringing -- wait.

Something was ringing, but it wasn’t her scream. It seemed to come out of the small hallway that led to the front door and his room, and he cursed at himself for not turning off his alarm.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and he turned his head to find Newt’s eyes peeking out over the edge of the couch, staring at him lying on the floor.

“You alright?”

“What is that ringing noise?” He asked as an answer, and Newt’s head disappeared before his entire body suddenly came into sight, standing up and towering over him. The sight of it reminded Thomas of his dream and he felt slightly sick.

“The doorbell, I think,” Newt said, extending a hand for Thomas to take. He did, and Newt pulled him to his feet, dusting off his clothes once he was standing up straight.

“I thought it was my alarm clock,” Thomas mumbled, watching Newt’s hands move.

“Considering it’s eleven, your alarm clock would be a little late,” Newt commented. Then, he took a step back. “I’ll get it.”

Thomas stared after him as he disappeared into the hallway.

Eleven? He’d slept that long?

He turned to the couch, seeing the blanket he’d been cuddled up in all ruffled up. A clear indentation in the cushions showed where Newt had been asleep -- no, where they had been asleep.

They hadn’t been cuddling, had they? God, that would be so goddamn cliché, Thomas wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Still, all the signs pointed to them having slept together (not in the sexual way, at least -- Thomas was sure he’d have run out of there if that had happened. He wasn’t going to let his life play out as some cheesy roommates fanfiction, after all -- imagine that! Minho would never let him hear the end of it). The movement underneath him, someone shaking him, and hadn’t he felt Newt pull him closer just before he fell asleep? Although his mind was already pretty messed up at that point. It might as well have been his imagination playing tricks on him.

Not that he had been imagining sleeping with Newt. In any way. Even a little.

His inner monologue was disturbed, however, as two pairs of footsteps walked into the apartment -- wait, two?

A tall, bulky guy with a scowl permanently etched onto his face appeared in the doorway and Thomas’ heart dropped to twenty feet below the ground and then even a little lower as he remembered sticky notes on backs, whispers behind hands, and once even a physical fight underneath the hot, Californian sun.

“Hello, Thomas,” Gally sneered, and Thomas was ready to die.

***

I’m not saying I hate him, per se,” Thomas mumbled as they carried the spare blankets from Thomas’ closet to the living room. “I just… strongly despise him?”

“Mate, I saw you two in high school,” Newt said, rolling his eyes. “You hate him.”

“Well, can you blame me?” Thomas exclaimed, almost tripping over a rug in his desperation. “He was hostile towards me from the start.”

“You did trip over your feet and cover him in blue paint on your first day,” Newt reminded him helpfully -- well, not really helpfully. Thomas glared at him.

“It was an accident.”

“I know,” Newt calmly said.

“Then why doesn’t he?” Thomas grumbled as they placed the blankets down on the couch, creating a makeshift bed.

“I think he does,” Newt said, fluffing up the pillows. “He just wants to hate you, I s’pose.”

“Well, he should get over himself,” Thomas said, glaring at the bathroom door after which Gally was hidden as if that would do anything. Maybe, just maybe, with the power of his mind, he could make a shampoo bottle fall on his head in the shower, and he’d complain about ghosts and leave…

“Give him a chance,” Newt shrugged. “After all, he hasn’t done anything bad yet, has he?”

Thomas couldn’t deny that, but still wished the shampoo bottle would just fall.

***

“So, why do you live here, Thomas?” Gally asked, not looking up from his spaghetti.

Thomas looked at him, debating on whether or not throwing ketchup at his head was worth it. It’d surely stain his clothes as much as the paint. If he wanted to be more subtle, he could simply put salt in his coffee, or something. Or refuse to answer. He considered getting up and leaving, but then, he caught Newt’s eye, and sighed in defeat.

“I needed a place to stay,” he answered, looking straight at Gally, willing him to look up. If the guy was going to talk to him, he might as well have the decency to look him in the eye.

“Why?” Gally asked, still not looking up, and Thomas kind of wanted to stab himself in the face with his fork.

“Because.” He said through gritted teeth. Gally finally looked up, scowling as usual.

“I thought you lived with Brenda. That Hispanic chick with the short brown hair.”

There it was.

The familiar pain shot through him at the sound of her name and he had to force himself to look into Gally’s eyes without reacting. “I did.”

“Why did you move out?” Gally asked, because apparently, he still didn’t know when to stop talking. Thomas’ fists clenched around his cutlery involuntarily.

“We broke up,” he said, his voice as monotone as it could be. Newt was looking at him now, but Thomas refused to look away from Gally.

“Damn,” Gally said, smiling in a way that made Thomas’ stomach clench. “Makes sense, I guess. I always thought she was too good for you.”

“Gally,” Newt said, his voice soft but threatening. Gally glanced at him, then back at Thomas, and laughed.

“What? I’m not wrong. She was always this cool, funny girl -”

“She cheated on me,” Thomas interrupted him, white-hot anger flashing through his body. He had to physically restrain himself from throwing something at Gally. “So no, I don’t think she was too good for me.”

He heard the nasty tone in his voice before he registered how choked up it was, and slowly let go of the cutlery, dropping it on his plate. The metal had left red stripes in his palms.

“I’m done,” he said, although he wasn’t even halfway through finishing his meal.

Gally and Newt watched him in stunned silence as he stood up and disappeared into the hallway, locking himself into his room.

It wasn’t that he wanted to make a scene. If there was one thing Thomas disliked even more than Gally, it was being overly dramatic about small things. But Gally’s questions and lack of filter had bothered him for many years, and, especially tonight, pissed him off.

Seriously, who asked things like that? Who met up with someone they hated in high school and started asking them about their love life? Was he actually insane?

Thomas fell back onto his bed with a sigh and the regretful realization that he was still hungry -- but the thought of going back was unbearable. Facing Newt after a scene like that would be downright embarrassing, and seeing Gally again, who would definitely smile at him in that annoying, evil way, would probably make him do something stupid. He clenched his jaw and told himself to deal with it before curling up into a small ball, trying to control his emotions.

He fell asleep after less than ten minutes.

***

A soft knock on the door awoke him from his light sleep, and he lazily blinked before sitting up. One glance at the clock told him he’d been asleep for roughly twenty minutes.

He hesitantly stared at the door. Surely it wouldn’t be Gally? If it was, he’d definitely start throwing things.

The person on the other side seemed to catch onto his hesitation, because they knocked again before speaking up.

“Tommy? It’s Newt.”

Relief flooded his system and he quickly stood up, walking over to the door to unlock it for him.

Newt was standing behind the door, a small smile on his lips. “Hey.”

“Come in,” Thomas said, opening the door a little more to let him in. He could see Gally sitting in the living room with his back towards them and quickly closed the door, locking it just in case.

Newt stood in the middle of the room a little awkwardly before Thomas gestured for him to sit down on the bed. It was strange, in a way -- this was still Newt’s apartment, yet it already felt like Thomas’ room and Thomas’ room only, as if Newt was the guest here.

“I’m sorry about Gally,” Newt said, looking up at him. Thomas pulled a chair towards himself and sat down backwards, leaning with his arms and head on the backrest. “And Brenda, too.”

“It’s not your fault,” Thomas said softly. “Although I’d like it if you just… got rid of him, or something.”

“As in, murder?” Newt asked, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Pretty sure that’s illegal.”

“You’re the smartest one here, you should know,” Thomas smiled, latching onto the attempt at humour. Newt smiled back, his shoulders less tense than before.

“I can’t get rid of him, you know that,” he said, almost apologetically. “Gally’s… well, not exactly a friend, but we’re on good terms.”

He frowned a little. “We take care of each other when the other needs help. It’s an unspoken agreement between the two of us. So I can’t tell him to leave, not when he needs a place to stay.”

“Kind of like with me?” Thomas asked and Newt’s frown disappeared, replaced with yet another small smile. Thomas wondered what it would take for him to grin widely.

“Yeah. Kind of like with you.”

“So did you sleep with Gally as well?” Thomas teased him, although he couldn’t deny he was a little curious about their relationship. Newt was incredibly kind and caring and didn’t seem like the type to hang out with people like Gally for fun.

Newt rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Nah, you’re special.”

Thomas knew Newt meant it jokingly, but his heart still did a little backflip in his chest at the words. Then, he quickly pushed it to the back of his mind, refusing to acknowledge it had ever happened.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he croaked out. Newt stared at him for a moment before standing up.

“I heated up your spaghetti, in case you’re hungry,” he said. “You can eat it wherever. Doesn’t have to be around Gally.”

“Thank you,” Thomas said, his voice softer than he intended. Newt gave him another small smile before walking to the door, unlocking it and stepping into the hallway. He half-turned, gaze pointed towards the floor, as if contemplating whether or not he should say something.

“If you don’t want to be around Gally,” he slowly said, just loud enough for Thomas to hear, but soft enough as to not disturb Gally, “I’ve got the Harry Potter films downloaded on my laptop.”

He looked up at Thomas, his face half-hidden by the shadow cast by the door. “We can watch them in my room if you’d like.”

“Sounds nice,” Thomas softly said, trying not to blush at the memory of him waking up half on top of Newt that morning. Surely the cuddling would’ve scared him off?

Or maybe not, because Newt now smirked, speaking up in a voice that somehow slightly reminded Thomas of the night they’d met.

“And just to be clear, I didn’t mind you falling asleep on top of me last night. It was rather cute, if I’m honest.”

And with that, he closed the door, leaving Thomas wondering how, and if, he’d survive another movie night -- cuddling included.

Chapter Text

When the alarm clock woke them at six in the morning, Thomas mentally cursed every god he knew for it. He wasn’t a morning person -- never had been, for that matter. That was probably the main reason he enjoyed Newt making coffee for him, besides it being a sweet gesture of affection; coffee was really the only thing keeping him going on early mornings like these.

That wasn’t the only reason he was upset, though. After another long night of watching Harry Potter, Thomas had again, fallen asleep next to Newt. And it wasn’t the first time it had happened, either -- they’d had two special Harry Potter nights since Gally had appeared, over a week ago now. Except, now that Gally had claimed the couch, it wasn’t just on a space they already shared; no, it was Newt’s bed, for fuck’s sake, and Thomas would have hated himself for it if the bed wasn’t so comfortable.

Yeah, that was it. Just the bed. Not at all the blond pressed against his side, his arm wrapped around Thomas’ back. He refused to let himself think about Newt like that. Still, it wasn’t exactly cuddling, but it wasn’t regular bed-sharing either. Thomas figured Newt was probably just an affectionate person, like that. Even that first night, when they’d hooked up, he vaguely recalled Newt pulling him closer, even though they’d barely known each other at that point -- not counting the years they’d known each other in high school.

“Ugh, mate,” Newt groaned beside him. “Why’s it so damn early?”

“Because we both need to work?” Thomas offered and Newt closed his eyes, pouting.

“I don’t wanna.”

“You’ll have to,” Thomas said, slowly sitting up. He could tell Newt wasn’t good at waking up quickly, and wondered how he’d done it before.

Newt mumbled something along the lines of ‘blegh’ and Thomas snorted.

“Come on, get up,” he said, standing up and stretching. “Or Gally will get ideas about the two of us.”

“Pretty sure he already has those,” Newt mumbled, words slurred together due to his sleepiness. Thomas’ first thought was adorable. His second thought was a string of curse words aimed at himself.

“Let’s not give him more,” he said, ignoring the way his heart jumped in his chest. “Come on. I’ll make you coffee.”

Newt sat up slowly. Now that he was in full sight, Thomas could tell that his bed hair was just as bad as always, if not worse. He kind of wanted to reach out and touch it.

“Two -”

“Sugars?” Thomas interrupted him, smiling. “I know.”

Newt stared at him in disbelief for a moment before shaking his head and smiling to himself.

“You’ll be the death of me, Tommy.”

Thomas found Gally still asleep in the living room, and took a moment to be baffled that the alarm and their conversation didn’t wake him up, before remembering he needed to make them coffee. He slowly padded towards the kitchen, still in last night’s clothes, and got started on the coffee.

Newt followed him only minutes after, yawning widely. Thomas handed him his cup, which he took with a smile before setting the table for two.

“Gally usually doesn’t wake up till after noon,” he explained. Thomas only nodded; he wasn’t exactly interested in Gally’s sleeping habits.

He could feel the energy seeping back into him as he finished his coffee, and when Newt handed him a toast with ham and cheese, he was pretty much one hundred percent awake -- contrary to Gally, who had now started snoring loudly.

“Any lectures today?” Newt asked him when Thomas was doing his dishes. He nodded, then remembered Newt probably wasn’t looking at him.

“Just two. Then lunch with Chuck. Then I’m done.”

“Tell him I said hi,” Newt said. Thomas left the plate and cup in the sink to dry and turned around, drying his hands with a towel.

“Will do.”

“Right,” Newt said, turning his arm and checking his watch. Unlike Thomas, he’d already gotten dressed for work. “I’ve gotta go. I should be home around six.”

“I’ll do the groceries today,” Thomas said. Newt stood up, placing the dishes on the counter.

“Gally will do these,” he mumbled. “His way of paying rent.”

Thomas made a mental note to always leave his dirty dishes on the counter for Gally when Newt suddenly grabbed his hand, squeezing it softly. An electric jolt shot through him at the contact, but he tried not to let it show.

Newt suddenly leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. It was only a light touch, very featherlike, but it happened, and Thomas froze.

“Bye, love. See you tonight.”

Then, he turned around and left, leaving Thomas in the kitchen, his entire body hot as if he was on fire.

Love.

***

“You’re freaking out.”

“Fuck yeah, I am!”

Thomas hurried to open the door to the apartment, his hands full of groceries and his phone pressed between his shoulder and head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Do you want a good answer or a bad one?” Minho asked on the other side of the line, and Thomas rolled his eyes as he stepped through the door. Thankfully, Gally seemed to be out.

“Depends on what you mean by good,” he said, hurrying towards the kitchen and placing the grocery bags down. His hands were red with the streams the handles had left.

Minho laughed shortly. “Good, as in, he likes you. Bad, as in, ‘love’ is just British slang. Or something like that. Kind of like a cute nickname for your loved ones. His mom used to call him ‘love’ as well, when he was young.”

Thomas paused on his way to the fridge. “So it was nothing?”

“Who knows.” He could mentally picture Minho shrugging at him on the other side of the line. “It could mean something, but you won’t know until you ask.”

“Okay, well, I’m definitely not doing that,” Thomas said. “I don’t want things to be weird between us.”

“Didn’t you already sleep together?”

“That’s beside the point, I -” He froze in place, frowning. “Who told you that?”

“A little birdie,” Minho said, and Thomas kind of wanted to punch him through the phone. “Doesn’t matter. If he likes you, it’ll only be awkward for you. Unless, of course, you like him back…”

His tone was suggestive and Thomas didn’t like it at all. “Shut up.”

“Thomas and Newt, sitting in a tree,” Minho sang, “K-I-S-”

Thomas cut him off, his face an embarrassing red colour. Even though he’d hung up, he could tell Minho was laughing at him, and seriously considered coming over to his house to throw food at him, or something. Maybe Gally still had some of that paint left.

Minho was right -- of course he was. ‘Love’ was just a British word, nothing romantic. Right? If Newt’s mom really had called him that before, it was probably fine.

But then again, the cheek kissing wasn’t a British thing, was it? Thomas had been to England before, and he was sure he would’ve noticed it if it had been a cultural thing. He purposely hadn’t mentioned the kiss to Minho, but couldn’t explain his reasoning why. He just didn’t feel like it.

A knock on the door awoke him from his thoughts and his heart dropped. Was Newt home already? But no, a glance at the clock told him he had at least thirty minutes until the blond was supposed to be home. Surely Gally wouldn’t be back so soon? Thomas hadn’t faced him since last week’s fiasco, and didn’t feel like it now, or ever.

He grudgingly walked to the hallway, mentally preparing himself to face Gally -- but, when he opened the door, he was greeted by a petite, blonde girl with a slim face instead.

She looked just as surprised to see him as the other way around; her big, brown eyes widened and her mouth formed a small ‘o’ before recognition slid across her face and she smiled.

“Hello, there.”

“Hi?” Thomas said -- it came out as a question. He had never seen this girl before in his life. Was she there for Gally? It’d be quite weird; Gally didn’t seem like the type to hang out with short, pretty girls, but then again, what did he know. That left Newt, of course, and the puzzle pieces fell in place just before the girl spoke up to introduce herself.

The blonde hair, carefully braided. Brown eyes. And, now that he thought about it, the accent, hidden quite well, but still slipping through the slightest bit. A sister, maybe? Or a cousin?

“I’m Sonya,” the girl said, extending her hand for him to shake. “Newt’s sister.”

“Thomas,” he said, shaking her hand. Her grip was firmer than he’d expected.

“Is Newt home?” She asked, looking over his shoulder. Well, trying to, at least; even on her toes, she barely reached past his upper arm, and Thomas involuntarily smiled. It seemed like Newt had taken all the height for himself -- he was easily five inches taller than Thomas, whereas Sonya was one of the shortest girls he’d ever met. It was cute, in a way.

“Uh, no,” he said, “still at work.”

“Damn it,” she said, brushing the loose strands of hair out of her face. “Can I come in, anyway?”

“Sure,” he said, stepping backwards. It wasn’t like it was his apartment, anyway.

“Thank you,” she said, shrugging off her thin coat and carelessly throwing it over the coat rack. “Shall I make us tea, then?”

She didn’t wait for an answer and walked into the kitchen as if she owned the place.

“Newt is away a lot, you know,” she explained, taking out two mugs. “I used to come here all the time, before you moved in. Told me he didn’t want me to disturb you. He’s told me quite a lot about you, actually. I figured he was exaggerating when he said you were quite a gentleman, but turns out he was right.”

That was so much information in just a couple sentences that Thomas’ brain struggled to process it all. He wanted to say a thousand things, but instead he asked: “A gentleman?”

Sonya nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. Figured he was saying it to show off, or something. He’s like that sometimes. All brothers are.”

“I guess,” Thomas said a little sheepishly. She hopped onto the counter and flung her braid over her shoulders. He approached her, leaning against the counter opposite from her, and folded his arms.

“Do you have any siblings?” She asked, watching him intensely. Her gaze made him feel a little uncomfortable, as if she could see right through him, and he chose to watch the boiling water instead.

“One,” he said. “Chuck. My little brother.”

“Nice,” Sonya said, her gaze travelling all over his body, as if inspecting him. “How old is he?”

“Only seventeen,” he said, smiling a little.

“And you?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m twenty-one,” he said and she nodded as if approving.

“Me too. So, you go to college around here?”

The whole conversation was so strange that Thomas’ brain froze and he stared at her for a moment. Was she always this curious? She was acting as if she’d known him for years.

Fortunately, just then, the door opened. Thomas jumped a little and Sonya perked up, smiling widely.

“I’m home!”

Newt’s voice.

Thomas was so busy thinking about how Newt had called the place home that he didn’t notice Sonya knowingly smiling at him.

“Go on, then,” she said. “I’m sure he missed you.”

The strange comment caused Thomas to freeze for a moment, but he then shook it off. Sonya was just like that, he supposed.

Newt stepped into the living room, shaking his head. Small drops of water flew everywhere, and he ran a hand through his hair, attempting but failing to calm the mess.

“Mate, the weather sucks balls,” he sighed, shrugging off his wet coat and hanging it over the back of the couch. Now that he was closer, Thomas could see he was completely soaked, and he kind of wanted to make him a hot bath. Such a shame they only had a shower.

“How was your day?” Newt asked with a small, lazy smile, and before Thomas could say anything, he approached him, squeezed his hand and gave him another small kiss on the cheek.

So that was going to be a thing.

Newt walked past him, seemingly unaffected, and Thomas tried to gather his courage to speak up.

“Fine.” Before he could say anything else, though, Sonya appeared from the kitchen with two steaming mugs in her hands. Newt stopped in his tracks, his hair still dripping, making the carpet wet.

“Sonya?”

“Newt,” she smiled, handing him a mug. “Give this to Thomas, will you?”

Newt was frozen in place for a moment before he seemed to compose himself, lightly tugging at her braid. “And you didn’t make me one, because…?”

“Yours is in the kitchen,” she shrugged. “And I know I’m a great sister, thank you very much.”

Newt turned around with a small smile on his lips and handed Thomas the mug. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” Thomas said, returning the smile.

Newt ran another hand through his hair. “I’m gonna go take a shower and get changed, I’ll be right back. Don’t kill each other.”

“Yes, mom,” Sonya spoke up, and Newt ruffled her hair before disappearing into his bedroom.

Thomas stood in the middle of the room a little awkwardly before sitting down on the couch, gesturing for Sonya to do the same.

He sipped from the tea; it was hot, a little minty. Perfect.

Sonya kicked off her shoes and then sat down on the floor, leaning against the couch opposite from Thomas. She leaned forward and stole a grape from the fruit bowl on the low table.

“You like him.”

Thomas froze. “What?”

“Newt,” she said, even though Thomas knew that was who she was talking about, because really, who else was there? There was Teresa, of course, but she wasn’t a him. And Sonya didn’t even know her. “You like him.”

“Sure,” Thomas shrugged. “He’s nice.”

“No,” she rolled her eyes, popping the grape into her mouth, “you like him.”

“And how do you know that?” Thomas shot out a little defensively. She grinned.

“It’s, like, written all over your face, my friend. What’s with the cheek kiss, anyway?”

So she had seen it. “Dunno. He just did it.”

“Interesting,” she said, seemingly deep in thought. “I get it, though. You seem like his type. What with the brown hair and all.”

“The… brown hair?” Thomas asked, a little confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You have some flattering features, I suppose,” she said very casually, taking another grape. Her eyes travelled all over his body without shame, inspecting every single detail. “Big brown eyes, freckles, this shimmery, bronze skin. And your nose is cute.”

“My nose is cute,” Thomas repeated dryly. Sonya hummed, which Thomas took as a yes.

“So that means he likes me?” He asked. “That’s hard to believe.”

“I never said that,” she smiled. “I said you’re his type. And you like him.”

“I never said that.”

“Well, alright,” she shrugged. “Then you don’t. I must’ve misinterpreted the blushing and heart eyes.”

“Oh, shut up,” Thomas said, rolling his eyes. Was he that obvious? He wasn’t even sure whether he liked Newt, himself. It felt wrong, somehow, and his mind involuntarily went to Teresa, comparing the two, but then he shook her out of his mind, because for some reason, they didn’t go well together in his head.

“Just be careful,” Sonya said, taking one more grape. “Newt’s not that big on physical affection, you know. Or being cared for. He has this whole independence thing going on.”

She shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable for some reason. “He’s not easy to love.”

Thomas had to bite back a laugh -- Newt, not big on physical affection? The guy that had basically invited Thomas to cuddle with him?

His stomach dropped suddenly. What if Newt hadn’t meant that, at all? What if he was just telling Thomas it was alright, but he didn’t want Thomas to do it again? Had he overstepped his boundaries? And, worst of all -- had he forced Newt to return the gestures? Because, now that he thought about it, the hand squeezing and cheek kissing only started today, didn’t they? Did Thomas make him feel like he had to do it?

He felt sick at the thought of it and suddenly wanted to leave. The room seemed to press down on him from all sides, making it hard to breathe. Sonya simply continued eating, not at all noticing his internal freak-out.

A door opening snapped him out of it, and Newt walked into the living room, now dressed in comfortable, dry clothes. He smiled at Sonya and sat down next to Thomas on the couch.

Newt locked eyes with him. There was something relieving, something reassuring in that look, but still, Thomas couldn’t help but notice that Newt had sat down further away from him than before.

Chapter Text

Embarrassingly enough, Thomas found himself going to Minho for advice. Which was both a good and a bad thing; Minho was a great listener and decent at advice, but also incredibly mischievous, and Thomas would definitely never hear the end of it. As good of a friend as Minho was, he was never good at holding himself back from making fun of Thomas in one way or another.

He doubted his decision for that exact reason. He wasn’t sure whether he could take the teasing and not lose his sanity at the same time. He almost chickened out of it several times, but there was always a small voice at the back of his mind, telling him you have to, you need to do it now, or you’ll ruin your friendship with Newt.

Because, despite everything, that was still what they were -- friends. Roommates. Old acquaintances. And if Thomas wasn’t careful, he could ruin that friendship within the blink of an eye.

So, after a week of doubting himself and trying not to get too close to Newt, he found himself in the coffee shop Minho worked at, staring into his cappuccino depressively. Minho was busy with a customer and his kids, so he had been told to wait until they’d left. He was grateful for the small family, in a way, as they were buying him more time, but also hated them, because he just wanted to get it over with.

Newt seemed to have noticed something was wrong -- or different, at least. The touching and cheek kissing didn’t stop (not that he wanted it to. At all.) and neither did the friendly conversations they had every morning and night, but he acted almost shy, now. Gally was still with them, and although Newt had proven himself to be a confident guy, he became rather quiet whenever Gally was around the two of them. He kept his distance with Thomas, didn’t use any nicknames (not even ‘Tommy’, and he’d stuck with that one from the start) and looked away more often than not. It was strange, really -- how someone could be so close to you yet so far away.

“Alright,” Minho said, interrupting his thoughts. The family seemed to have left. “What’s the problem? Teresa troubles?”

“No,” Thomas admitted rather sheepishly. If he was honest, the girl hadn’t been on his mind for a while, now. At least not in the romantic way. He figured he was too worried about Newt to think about his feelings. “Newt issues.”

“Oh, damn,” Minho said, leaning onto the countertop. “Did you talk to him about the ‘love’ thing?”

Oh, that -- yeah, that had become a regular thing, too. Although he’d called Sonya ‘love’ too, so Thomas figured it was probably just a British nickname.

“No,” he said again. “But you’re getting closer.”

“Did you have sex again?” Minho asked in a low voice. Thomas rolled his eyes.

“No, and I really don’t know how you even found out about that.”

“I have my sources,” Minho shrugged. “So what’s wrong?”

“His sister visited last week,” Thomas sighed. “Sonya. And she told me that Newt wasn’t too keen on physical affection, which made me freak out, because…”

His voice trailed off as he realized he hadn’t even told Minho about them falling asleep together -- three times.

“Yeah?” Minho raised his eyebrows.

“I... may have… fallen asleep… on top of him?” Thomas grimaced awkwardly. “Three times.”

The corners of Minho’s mouth twitched and he held up a hand to silence him.

“No. Don’t. Not yet.”

“Alright,” Minho said, but he smiled anyway. “So what’s the problem, then?”

“Well, that,” Thomas said, feeling stupid. “I feel like I forced him, maybe, because he never said he was okay with me doing that, and after the third time, he suddenly started kissing me-”

“What?!” Minho exclaimed, loud enough for a few customers to look up. Thomas threw him a burning glare, and he smiled apologetically.

“What?” He repeated, in a much softer voice.

“Just on the cheek,” Thomas shrugged, a blush threatening to creep up on his face. “Teresa’s done it as well, it’s fine.”

“Cheek kisses are dating territory,” Minho said. “Even if he doesn’t like physical affection. Especially if he doesn’t like physical affection.”

“They’re not,” Thomas said sternly. “For you, maybe. Point is, I don’t know what to do. How am I supposed to know if he’s okay with all of this?”

“I get that, man,” Minho clapped him on the shoulder. “Lucky for you, I know just the answer.”

“Really?” Thomas perked up, feeling hopeful again. Minho was much better at this than he was, so maybe he really had a solution?

“Really,” Minho said, gesturing for him to come closer. “Listen closely, it’s my secret tactic.”

Thomas leaned forward, and Minho did too. Then, in a hushed voice, he spoke up.

“You ask him.”

Thomas pulled his head back and swatted at his head. “Minho!”

“What?” Minho asked, grinning widely. “It’s not that difficult, Thomas. Just talk to him.”

“I’m not good with words,” Thomas mumbled.

“Well, not talking isn’t gonna help much either.” Minho shrugged. “I promise you’ll be fine. If all else fails, move out of the country and change your name.”

Thomas groaned and dropped his head onto the counter.

***

Despite his conversation with Minho, he didn’t quite know how to approach the topic, and Newt didn’t mention it either, which led to them circling around each other for two weeks until their peace and quiet was disturbed by a loud, intense thunderstorm that caused all the power to fall out. It happened during the night; it went almost unnoticed.

When Thomas woke up, it was suspiciously bright in his room. For some reason, he heard loud cursing coming from the living room and he got up a little confused.

He found Gally on the couch, yelling at the TV. Newt stood in the kitchen, a mug of coffee in his hands, looking as if he’d only just woken up.

“Power’s out,” he said as Thomas walked past him to grab a mug for himself. “I checked, all your classes are cancelled because of the storm. So’s my work.”

“And Gally?” Thomas asked, looking at the bulky boy, who stared intensely at the TV as if that’d turn it on.

“He’s dealing with withdrawal symptoms,” Newt softly smiled. “Pretty sure all he’s done the past week is watch TV.”

The storm continued on as the day went by. Thomas spent most of it in his room, studying for an upcoming exam. He came out for lunch, which was spent with a grumpy Gally and a stressed-looking Newt, then disappeared into his room to watch a movie on his laptop.

The wifi had gone out, as well, and around ten, Thomas was bored out of his mind. He considered reading a book, but, knowing himself, decided against it -- he probably wouldn’t stop until he’d finished the entire book. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but he did need a good night’s sleep.

When he walked into the living room, he found Newt eating noodles on the couch, huddled up in the same blanket Thomas had fallen asleep in only three weeks before. He was seemingly deep in thought, as he didn’t even notice Thomas until he was standing directly in front of him.

Newt sent him a small smile. “You hungry?”

“A little,” Thomas admitted. “Where’s Gally?”

“Out,” Newt shrugged. “I couldn’t stop him. It’s like he’s trying to get himself killed. There’s extra noodles in the kitchen.”

“Thanks,” Thomas said, as he walked to the kitchen and started preparing the food for himself. It was strangely quiet between the two of them, the only sounds being the rain drumming on the window and the thunder rolling through the sky every once in a while.

He came back to sit down in the living room, next to Newt, but making sure not to sit too close to him.

Newt noticed.

“I don’t bite, you know,” he said, sending Thomas a small smile.

“That’s not true,” Thomas smirked, unable to help himself as a memory from weeks ago resurfaced in his mind. “I vaguely recall -”

“I don’t bite in a non-sexual way,” Newt interrupted him, rolling his eyes. “And it wasn’t like I bloody ate you, for fuck’s sake.”

Thomas grinned at him. “Did I look like I was complaining?”

“No,” Newt chuckled. “I just felt like clarifying.”

They were silent again. Too silent for Thomas’ liking. Newt seemed to think the same thing, as he sighed and curled his legs under himself.

“What did I do wrong?”

Now that, he wasn’t expecting. Thomas’ head snapped to the side so quickly he was sure he gave himself whiplash.

“What? Nothing!” He said, shuffling closer in an attempt to show he meant it. “Why would you think...?”

His voice trailed off, knowing how stupid the question was.

“You’ve been distant,” Newt said. His gloomy voice was making Thomas’ heart ache. “Feels like I did something.”

“You didn’t,” Thomas promised him. He hesitantly reached out, placing his hand on Newt’s knee. When he didn’t react, Thomas relaxed, leaving it there.

Here goes nothing. “I was just afraid I did something.”

Newt looked up at him, a little confused. “Like what?”

Fuck you, Minho. “Like… get too close? Physically?”

Newt’s expression was unreadable, and Thomas panicked. “It’s just that I fell asleep with you, y’know? Three times. And then you started kissing me on the cheek. Not that that’s a bad thing! I enjoy them -- I mean -- it’s nice, they’re sweet.”

He could tell he was rambling, but couldn’t find it in himself to stop. He was so desperate for Newt to understand, to know that he hadn’t meant any harm, that he kept talking and talking, not thinking twice about what he was saying.

“And then Sonya came over, y’know? And she told me you don’t like physical affection, or being cared for, and that you’re hard to love because of this whole ‘independence thing’ you’ve got going on -- not that that’s a bad thing, either, I quite admire it, it’s just that she said it that way, and I felt kind of guilty? Because I wasn’t sure whether you were okay with me being so close to you, and I thought that you might’ve felt obligated to return the touching, which is not the case, at all, unless you want to? Because in that case, it’s fine, I don’t mind, at all, I just… yeah.”

Newt’s lips curled into a smile and Thomas could tell it was time to stop talking, before he said something he would regret -- if he hadn’t already.

Slowly, Newt reached out, placing his hand over Thomas’ one. “You’re sweet, Tommy.”

Relief flooded his system and he let out a happy sigh. Newt squeezed his hand.

“She’s right. I’m not good with physical affection, or any of the things she said, but only with strangers. And, well, you’re not exactly a stranger, are you?”

“No,” Thomas said, a little dumbfounded. How the hell was he so calm? Thomas felt like he was about to explode. “I guess not.”

“So,” Newt slowly said, “are we good?”

Thomas looked at him, then down at their hands. He smiled.

“Yeah. We’re good.”

***

Thomas found out after a month and a half of living with Newt that not only was Newt smart and great at painting, he was also musically gifted. It came as quite a surprise; he knew that Newt was talented, of course, but he never expected to wake up one day to hear Newt belting out a song he didn’t know, his voice a little high but also rough and raspy.

He’d heard him sing before, of course. He heard him sing every morning. But never like this -- never loud enough for Thomas to hear it clearly, and he always stopped as soon as Thomas walked out of his room.

This time, though, it seemed as if Newt had abandoned all care. He didn’t even stop when Thomas was already in the kitchen, making them coffee.

“Good morning,” Thomas grinned. Newt stopped his solo to smile and greet him back before continuing to sing. The sight of him caused a warm wave to swoop through Thomas’ insides, but he refused to acknowledge it.

Gally was on the living room couch, grumpy as usual.

“Morning,” he said, to Thomas’ surprise. They hadn’t spoken at all since their fight that first day. The silence was incredibly tense, but Thomas much preferred it to forced conversations every day.

“Morning,” Thomas said. He nodded his head towards Newt in an unspoken question.

“It’s his favourite song,” Gally grumbled. His voice was cold as usual, but he actually answered, and Thomas thought that maybe, their relationship was salvageable after all.

Newt joined them with pancakes and a small smile on his face. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Thomas smiled at him. “You sound great.”

“Thanks, love,” Newt said, sitting down, and Thomas froze. It was the first time Newt had called him that nickname -- or any nickname, for that matter -- around Gally.

Gally looked in between them, his face full of shock. Thomas blushed deeply, staring very hard at his pancakes.

“You two are dating?!”

There it was.

“No,” Thomas quickly said, trying to laugh it off. “Why would you think that?”

“Dude!” Gally exclaimed, their rivalry seemingly forgotten in light of this news. “He just called you ‘love’!”

“It’s just a British thing,” Thomas shrugged. “Right, Newt?”

It was then that he’d realized how quiet Newt was. The blond was looking at him, his expression unreadable.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice monotone. Then, he smiled a little sadly, and Thomas’ heart fell. “Just a British thing.”

He returned his attention to his pancakes then, still with that sad smile on his face, and Thomas realized it was definitely not just a British thing.

Chapter Text

Anything Thomas could’ve, should’ve said, would have to wait until after exam week -- it had been coming for months, now, and he had to focus intensely, spending all his time studying and revising.

Even though he liked his major, the idea of spending the next few weeks in his room, bent over various books, was not appealing at all. The only positive factor was getting to avoid Newt (he was quite good at running away from his problems, after all). He wanted more than anything to apologize for upsetting him, he wanted to ask him why he was upset in the first place, he wanted to ask what it all meant (he had a hunch -- but his instincts were never the best), but any time he got close to actually doing it, he felt like he’d swallowed his tongue. Truth was, he didn’t know how to ask. Any courage he had left was spent in asking him about the physical affection, and had now left, making him feel drained and tired, but most of all, like a coward.

Gally was no help, either. He’d probably figured out their situation after their uncomfortable conversation, and now spent most of his time sending knowing looks at the two of them. Thomas hated it -- and him in general. The sarcastic, evil smiles on his face never meant anything good, and he kept making double-sided comments towards the two of them. Thomas wondered how Newt was able to deal with him and not be driven totally insane.

And Newt was acting as if it was all fine. He still hung out with Thomas, made him breakfast, called him nicknames and left lingering touches on his back, shoulders and arms. He still sang every morning -- just not as loudly, anymore. He joked around, made several paintings that Thomas all marked as excellent and they ended up spending another night watching Harry Potter. Thomas, just to be sure, sat several feet away from him. When he woke up, the next morning, Newt was already gone, but he found him on the couch, talking to Gally. Thomas had the disturbing thought that Newt had gotten up in the middle of the night to sleep somewhere else, but shook it off as quickly as it came.

He stopped with the cheek kisses, though.

By Sunday, he was sure he was going to go clinically insane. Thankfully, Minho seemed to have pitied him, and before Thomas could do something stupid -- like talk to Newt -- Minho burst through the door, two plastic bags in his hands.

“You. Me. Video games. Now,” he said as a way of greeting Thomas.

Thomas dropped his books, carefully placing them on the coffee table. “I’m good, thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, yeah, move over,” Minho said, sitting down on the couch. “You get to choose, because you’re the sad one here. Mario Kart or Smash Bros?”

“Mario Kart,” Thomas immediately said. Minho patted him on the back.

“Good choice, man, good choice.”

The plastic bags Minho had brought contained more than just video games, as Thomas found out during the afternoon. While playing, Minho pulled out all sorts of things, including beer, chips, puzzle books, running clothes, popcorn, and even a small hairbrush. They devoured the chips and popcorn within minutes and Thomas had to physically restrain himself from doing the same with the beer. After the week he just had, all he wanted was to drown himself in alcohol and forget about his worries -- but he knew that wasn’t a good idea, as the last time he did that indirectly resulted in him being in this position in the first place.

By seven, Thomas was ready to fall asleep right there, on the spot. He was about to get up and call it an early night when the front door opened, and footsteps radiated through the hallway until Newt stood in the living room. He looked at Thomas in silence, then at Minho, and he smiled.

“Minho! Lovely to see you.”

Minho got up and pulled him into a short hug, grinning widely. “Good to see you too, man. How’ve you been?”

“Fine, fine,” Newt said, glancing at Thomas. “I’ve been fine. You hungry?”

Thomas wasn’t sure who he was asking, so he was grateful when Minho spoke up first.

“Not really, we’ve been eating chips and stuff.” He turned around and looked at the mess they'd made. “I’ll clean it up later.”

“That’s alright,” Newt said, the smile having disappeared. “As long as you lock up after yourselves.”

He looked at Thomas a little hesitantly, his mouth opened as if he wanted to say something else. But, whatever it was, he seemed to think better off it as he shook his head and left for his room.

Minho whistled. “That was awkward. What did you do, insult his hair, or something?”

“No,” Thomas grumbled. The sight of Newt had made all of his worries come back. “It’s fine. Let’s just keep playing.”

Minho casted him a doubtful look, but then sat back down, probably deciding it was best not to ask. Thomas was grateful for it.

Newt only came out once more, to eat toast, and then he disappeared again, wishing them goodnight. Thomas took that as his cue to send Minho off as well, and they cleared out the clutter in silence.

“Here.”

Thomas looked up; Minho was showing him the few bottles of beer they didn’t drink. He winked.

“You’ll need it.”

Even though he wasn’t the biggest drinker, he couldn’t deny that Minho was right. Monday seemed to prove that point, as it turned out that they had no groceries left. This resulted in Newt and Thomas going grocery shopping together while keeping an uncomfortable, stiff conversation going, and if that wasn’t bad enough, they ran into Brenda at the vegetable section.

Thomas froze in place, Newt nearly running into him from behind.

“What the bloody -?” Then Newt seemed to notice, as he left out a soft ‘oh’.

Thomas hadn’t seen her in months. To be honest, he was purposely avoiding her, completely rearranging his schedule so they wouldn’t have to see each other. Or, so that he wouldn’t have to see her. The last thing he wanted was to meet up with his ex -- especially not now.

The universe was against him once again, as Brenda looked up. Her expression remained blank, maybe even a little bored, and she played with an ear piercing. It seemed to be new; she only had two or three when Thomas had last seen her, but she had at least seven now. And what was up with the long, winged eyeliner?

“Oh. Hi, Thomas.”

Her voice was bored, and a little drawling. She looked over his shoulder. “Hi, Newt.”

“Brenda,” Newt said, coming up beside Thomas and nodding his head. “Fancy seeing you here.”

She didn’t seem to listen to him, though, as her gaze had fallen back on Thomas. “You look good.”

“Thank you,” Thomas croaked out -- his heart was beating out his chest. He considered returning the compliment, but chose against it. She did look good, he just didn’t want her to know.

“Well, this was fun,” she said, flashing him a white-toothed grin, brushing her messy bangs out of her face. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

And then she disappeared in the cookie aisle, still playing with the piercing.

Thomas let out a shaky breath and felt himself deflate. Newt was eyeing him from the side.

“I’m fine,” he assured the blond before he could say anything. “Don’t.”

“Alright,” Newt shrugged, but the worried look didn’t leave his face. “We need cucumbers and lettuce.”

“That’s it?” Thomas eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not going to ask?”

Newt shrugged again, offering a small smile. “If you wanted to tell me, you would. Now -- three cucumbers.”

Thomas sent him an appreciative grin that Newt, much to his dismay, didn’t return. Once again, Thomas was reminded of the conversation they really needed to have, but he’d rather not do it in the vegetable section of the supermarket, cold steam blowing into their faces. Truth was, he’d much rather not do it at all, considering he preferred ignoring all of his problems until they eventually went away, but something about Newt made him want to talk and talk until everything was right again, because he cared about him in a strange, new way that made hurting him feel like hurting himself. He supposed it was the close proximity that had done it; it was hard to live with someone and not feel strongly about them, after all.

So he turned his head and pushed the cart forward and pushed all thoughts about Newt to the back of his mind, because frankly, he didn’t want to deal with them right now.

***

On Thursday night, Thomas was sitting in the living room, surrounded by books and notes once again. His final exam was that Friday, and he’d directed all his thoughts from Brenda and Teresa and most of all, Newt, to studying and making sure he passed this exam with flying colours. Being a senior in college meant doing that most of the time anyway, but now that he was so close to graduating, his drive to study and succeed was stronger than ever. The hard work was welcome, too, in a way, as it kept his mind from wandering to very dangerous places, like Newt and his nicknames, Gally (who hadn’t come to bother him yet, thank god) or Teresa and Aris.

He hadn’t seen the two of them in weeks -- they spoke on the phone once or twice a week, as they’d promised to do, but that was it. With Teresa and Thomas both being in college and doing their exams, he figured it made sense for the two of them to not meet up in person. Aris had a busy job that Thomas didn’t quite understand (something with computers and decrypting and whatnot -- it made him dizzy to think about) so they rarely had time for each other anyway. Still, he made a mental note to meet up with them at some point this week.

His peaceful silence was disturbed by the sound of footsteps and he sensed someone coming closer. The uneven footsteps were familiar to him, and he recognized it was Newt without turning around.

“You’re still at it?” Newt asked, resting his hands on Thomas’ shoulders and squeezing softly.

“My final exam’s tomorrow,” Thomas mumbled, trying to focus on reading a paragraph about mixing art and colour schemes and architecture, but not getting past the third sentence. “Gotta make sure I know it all.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Newt asked, and Thomas could feel him lean over the back of the couch a little, probably see what he was reading (or trying to read, at least). His suspicions were confirmed by Newt speaking up again.

“That looks interesting.”

“It probably is, but I keep getting stuck on the third sentence,” Thomas pointed it out. “And no, not really.”

Newt rounded the couch and gently took the book, leaning forward to grab an apple from the fruit bowl and handing it to him. “Here.”

He focused on the textbook, then, and Thomas could see him reading the page he’d been stuck on. His eyebrows furrowed together in a small, concentrated frown as he was reading.

“D’you mean the sentence about choosing a colour scheme for your interior and exterior?” He asked and Thomas nodded.

“It’s like my brain just won’t process the sentence,” he explained. “I can see the words, but they just don’t make sense. Happens often when I’m tired.”

To his surprise, Newt shuffled closer to him, pointing at the page. “What they’re trying to say in this paragraph is that people often choose their interior themselves, but they end up picking colours and structures that don’t match. For example, when a house is more modern rather than traditional, it’d be quite weird to choose mid-century furniture, right?”

Thomas nodded, his throat suddenly dry.

“So,” Newt slowly continued, “I suppose what they mean, first of all, is that when designing a house and floorplan, you have to take into account what exactly your client wants and has, style-wise. Modern or traditional, suburban or cool and technical, that sort of thing. Most houses and buildings nowadays have a certain style of art in them as well, although maybe not visible at first glance.”

He smiled a small smile, clearly invested in this. Thomas figured it made sense, since Newt was quite artsy himself.

“What with the colour schemes and all,” his features lit up as he got more enthusiastic, “I reckon they tried to explain that when designing a house, you need to be considerate of the colour scheme and theme or style of art both inside and outside, and having it match up with what the client wants and the type of furniture they already have, it’s just worded a little weirdly.”

He’d dropped the book on his lap by then, not even bothering to glance into it again. “Do they like red, green, blue? Look at the colour wheel and try to pick colours that match well together, or choose soft colours, like light grey or beige. Black is very intense, perfect for someone with a strong and dark personality.”

Thomas smiled and nodded at him, encouraging him to go on, but Newt seemed to barely notice, as he rambled on.

“You see, most people consider black a colour, except it’s not much of a colour, more like the absence of light -” Newt abruptly stopped talking, a small smile on his lips. “I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

“No, not at all!” Thomas exclaimed, although he couldn’t deny colour theory wasn’t exactly his forte. But Newt had a charming way of making even the most boring subject interesting, and Thomas was sure he could listen to him ramble on about just about anything without getting bored once. “You explained it very well. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Newt said, picking the book up again and handing it to Thomas. “Try not to stay up too late, though. You need a good night’s sleep.”

“I’ll try,” Thomas said. “Just this one chapter, I promise.”

“Alright,” Newt softly smiled at him, and for a second, Thomas almost felt as if they were okay again. “I’m off to bed. Goodnight.”

“Night,” Thomas said, and Newt stood up and left.

Thomas spent about thirty minutes trying to study before deciding that there really wasn’t much more he could learn; this was as good as it was going to get. As determined he was to get a good grade, his brain was exhausted, and he couldn’t take in any more information.

Just as he was about to pick up all his stuff, Gally came stumbling through the door, clearly drunk off his ass. He seemed to have lost all balance and slowly walked into the living room, flopping face down onto the couch and grunting when his face hit one of Thomas’ books.

“Get off, will you?” Thomas asked, trying to push him off his book. He needed to return that in one piece. Gally slowly sat up and glared at him.

“No.” He folded his arms like a small child, and Thomas let out a tired sigh.

“I just need to get my books, will you get off? I’ll let you go to sleep afterwards,” he said, not bothering to hide his annoyance. Gally’s lips curled up into a mean smirk.

“You mean...” He reached out and picked up a book from the coffee table, “...these books?”

“Yes, those,” Thomas said, and he held out a hand so Gally could give him the book. Gally ignored it, and started flipping through the pages instead.

“Architecture,” he mumbled. “Boring. Like you.”

That hurt, although Thomas was used to Gally insulting him. But him insulting Thomas’ interests was twice as painful. “Give that back.”

“Most of the things you do are boring,” Gally said, and Thomas considered smacking him with his notebook. Thankfully, Gally handed him back the book, but not before sneering another insult: “Makes me wonder why Newt likes you. If he even does.”

Thomas felt the anger build up inside of him, but bit his tongue, deciding it was no use to yell at a drunk person. Still -- drunk words are sober thoughts, and he really wanted to.

“Goodnight, Gally,” he said, intending for their conversation to end, but Gally’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

“Listen, Murphy,” he slurred, using Thomas’ last name just like he’d done in high school, “Newt is my friend. Sort of. And you… I don’t like you. You’re not good enough for him. So can you leave him alone?”

Thomas forcefully pulled his arm away, freeing himself from his grip. All his thoughts about not insulting a drunk person were forgotten -- all he could hear were his heartbeat in his ears and Gally’s words, repeated in his mind like a mantra; you’re not good enough for him.

“You don’t know me,” he said through gritted teeth, his hands balled into fists, “and you don’t know anything about me and Newt.”

That wasn’t true; Thomas was sure Gally had some suspicions that were definitely right, but he didn’t feel like admitting that right now.

“So please,” he continued, “Leave me alone. Goodnight.”

Thankfully, Gally only silently stared at him, and Thomas took that as his cue to leave. He gathered his books, turned off the light and left the room.

Just before he entered his bedroom, Gally spoke up again.

“As long as you don’t drive him to attempt suicide again.”

Thomas’ heart sunk in his chest.

Chapter Text

As much as Thomas didn’t want to believe it, he still did. Because Gally was drunk, after all, and you didn’t make that kind of stuff up when sober, let alone wasted. Gally was a smart guy, even Thomas had to admit that, so he knew he would’ve found any other way to hurt Thomas if he wanted to.

Except it seemed like he didn’t want to hurt Thomas, per se. The statement was softly spoken, Thomas had already left the room, and Gally was definitely not smart enough to sense him standing in the hallway. It was more of an absent-minded comment, not meant for Thomas’ ears. Which, ultimately, was the exact reason he believed it.

Still, it hurt to think about. Newt was a kind, funny, amazing guy, and the thought of him doing that to himself, being in such a dark place, hurt so much it almost made him sick. It was the last thing the blond deserved.

He didn’t know how to ask, and if he should ask at all. It wasn’t exactly a cheerful topic, after all, and he didn’t know if Newt wanted him to know. Wouldn’t he have said something if he did?

The worrying and overthinking led to him only getting a few hours of sleep, and when the alarm clock finally rang, he groaned into his pillow. Friday. Final exam. He’d almost forgotten about it.

Newt greeted him with blueberry pancakes (Thomas’ favourite -- how did he know?) and a small smile. He’d already made coffee as well, and when Thomas asked him why, he said it was because he knew Thomas probably wanted extra time to get some last-minute studying done. Thomas’ heart swelled to an almost inappropriate size.

Gally was still asleep, and Thomas was grateful for it. He wasn’t sure whether he could face him after their disastrous conversation last night.

When it was time for Thomas to leave, Newt walked him to the door, handed him his coat and a small bag of chocolate chip cookies, and Thomas decided that he really hoped Gally’s comment wasn’t true.

***

Thomas came home at one that day, and fell backwards onto the couch, sighing contently. He absentmindedly wondered when he’d started calling the place home when the smell of French toast caused him to sit right back up again.

He heard a familiar chuckle, and turned around to find Newt in the kitchen, looking at him.

Well. That explained the French toast.

“How was your exam?” Newt asked, and Thomas frowned.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Newt shrugged, focused on something on the counter that Thomas couldn’t see. “Took the day off. Didn’t feel all too well, this morning.”

Thomas’ mind immediately went to the suicide attempt Gally mentioned, and he mentally cursed at himself for it. Instead, he gulped, and asked: “Are you okay now?”

“I guess I was just nervous for you,” Newt smiled and rounded the counter, a plate with French toasts in his hand. “Nerves make me nauseous.”

He’d said it so matter-of-factly, as if him being nervous for Thomas wasn’t the sweetest thing ever, that it rendered Thomas speechless for several seconds. Newt sat down next to him, handing him the plate.

“For me?” Thomas managed to get out, and Newt nodded at him.

“Thank you,” Thomas said, and he tried not to melt on the spot.

Newt leaned backwards, completely relaxed. “So, how was your exam? Was it alright?”

“I guess,” Thomas shrugged, taking small bites of the food. “I think I did well.”

“That’s great, Thomas, really,” Newt said, and he even smiled a little. Thomas’ heart hurt; they still had to have the talk, and exams were now no longer in the way of it. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he was still curious, and maybe a little scared, to find out if what Gally said had been true.

His worry must’ve been visible on his face, because Newt’s smile dropped. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Thomas quickly said. Too quickly -- he didn’t sound convincing, even to his own ears. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve got your lying face on,” Newt pointed out, and Thomas raised his eyebrows. Since when could Newt read him so well?

“I’m fine,” he repeated, but Newt threw him a sceptical look. Thomas sighed, but before he could say anything, Newt spoke up.

“Did Sonya say something?”

The girl hadn’t been over again, but apparently, Newt seemed to think she’d said something else during that one conversation.

“No,” Thomas said, looking down at his plate. The food suddenly didn’t look as appealing anymore, and he pushed it off him, onto the table.

Newt watched him for a moment. “Gally, then.”

Bullseye.

Thomas shrugged. Newt sighed, then stretched out his legs in front of him, softly rubbing his right knee. Thomas wondered if he knew he was doing it.

“What did he say?” Newt asked, and he sounded more tired than ever before. Thomas wondered for a moment if it was worth mentioning, but then decided to just go for it.

“Just, a small thing, yesterday…” he vaguely said, refusing to meet Newt’s eye.

“Thomas,” Newt said, his voice a strange mixture of stern and soft, and he looked up. “It’s okay, just tell me.”

“He was drunk,” Thomas started, then wondered why he was even trying to defend Gally. “And he was saying all these things, about how architecture is boring, like me, and how I wasn’t good enough for you, because he doesn’t trust me, and I defended myself by saying he didn’t know me, know us, and then -”

He stopped, unable to look in Newt’s eyes. It was too much.

“He said ‘as long as you don’t drive him to attempt suicide again’,” Thomas mumbled.

Silence.

Thomas looked up. Newt was staring at him, his expression blank. Somehow, that hurt more than if he’d been angry, or sad, and he already regretted ever telling him.

The silence stretched on for what felt like minutes, but was probably only seconds, before Newt moved, sighing deeply.

“Gally always says things he shouldn’t.”

Thomas stared at him, a little in shock at how calm Newt seemed to be despite it all. Was it not true, then? But no -- Newt’s face was grave, and Thomas could tell he was thinking hard.

“There’s really no point in denying it,” he started, offering him a sad smile, and Thomas’ heart sunk in his chest.

“Aw, you look like I’ve kicked your puppy, or something,” Newt half-laughed, but his eyes were still big and sad.

“I just… I was hoping it wasn’t true,” Thomas whispered.

“No,” Newt said, dropping his gaze to the floor. “Gally’s a bit strange, but he doesn’t just say stuff like that.”

That was exactly what Thomas had been thinking, but that didn’t make him feel any better. Newt looked at him again.

“There’s not much to tell,” he said. “I had depression, I was going through a hard patch what with me coming out and all, and one day I decided living just wasn’t worth it anymore. So I jumped off a building, broke my leg, and woke up in a hospital with Sonya crying next to me.”

He was rubbing his leg again, and the action suddenly made sense to Thomas -- just like the uneven footsteps he had, and Sonya telling him he’s not big on being taken care of. He wondered how he hadn’t noticed earlier.

“It’s where I befriended Gally,” Newt then said, effectively snapping Thomas out of his own thoughts.

“I thought you met in high school,” he said a little dumbfounded, and Newt softly smiled.

“We did. But we were in the same therapy group, in the hospital. The kids section, even though I was almost eighteen.” He shook his head. “Gally was almost worse than me, in a way. He didn’t attempt or anything like that, but he had several diseases he’d carefully hidden at school and even lost a lung, and it was really hard for him. Since we already were acquaintances, and the same age, we sort of gravitated towards each other.”

So that was why they were so civil towards each other. A memory from weeks ago popped up in Thomas’ head, and it suddenly made much more sense.

“You’re the smartest one here, you should know,” Thomas smiled, latching onto the attempt at humour. Newt smiled back, his shoulders less tense than before.

“I can’t get rid of him, you know that,” he said, almost apologetically. “Gally’s… well, not exactly a friend, but we’re on good terms.”

He frowned a little. “We take care of each other when the other needs help. It’s an unspoken agreement between the two of us. So I can’t tell him to leave, not when he needs a place to stay.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Thomas softly said. “And I’m sorry for finding out without you knowing.”

“Not your fault.” Newt waved it off. “Gally’s a bit of a blabbermouth when he’s drunk. I would’ve told you sooner or later, anyway.”

“Still,” Thomas urged on, “it must’ve been really difficult for you.”

“It was,” Newt said -- he seemed more relaxed now that the conversation about the attempt itself was over. “But everything deals with difficult things, in life. Things that cause them pain. The difference is that I just couldn’t deal with it, because I was sick -- am sick. Therapy and medication helped, but there’s no cure for it. It’ll always be there.”

Thomas didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. Newt chuckled softly.

“You look so sad.”

“You didn’t -- don’t -- deserve that,” Thomas said, and Newt reached out, placing his hand on Thomas’ leg.

“It’s part of my life, Thomas. Part of my past. But that chapter is closed now.” He was quiet for a moment, his gaze calculating. “A little like you and Brenda, I guess.”

“What do you mean?” Thomas asked, confused. Newt shrugged.

“Just -- think of it this way. You and Brenda were in a relationship, and then you broke up. It hurt, at the time, maybe you thought you could never get over it, but then you moved on. And it’s painful and awkward when you think about it now, or see her now, but that chapter of your life is over. Right?”

Thomas nodded and Newt smiled again, squeezing his leg softly. “It’s like that. My depression was bad, and I thought I’d never get better, but then I did. And thinking about it now is uncomfortable and it hurts, sometimes, but it’s a part of my life that’s behind me.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Thomas said -- and it did.

They were quiet for a moment, Thomas deep in thought, and Newt staring at him, his expression soft and a little vulnerable. Thomas could tell he was expecting to hear something hurtful or ignorant; it was obvious in the way he seemed guarded, and Thomas wondered why, and who could possibly hurt Newt after he told them something this personal.

He didn’t know what to say about Newt’s depression, or his suicide attempt. Mental illness was well-discussed in his family, as they all believed everyone should allow themselves to be open, honest and vulnerable, but that didn’t mean he knew much about it. This was more Teresa’s territory -- she’d probably know exactly what to say.

Somehow, the thought of her brought his mind to Brenda, and he gulped. He started talking before he knew what he was going to say.

“Me and Brenda dated for three years. I thought she was the most perfect girl in existence, and she seemed crazy about me as well. I didn’t really understand why a girl that cool, that punk-rock, liked me, who was a little slow and dorky, especially at seventeen.”

Newt nodded at him encouragingly, and he scraped his throat before continuing. “I felt so lucky to be with her that I was on cloud nine all the time. I let her stay out late and spend most of her time with her friends, because she’d come home late at night, and we’d have sex, and she’d promise me she loved me, and that was enough for me. I worked, I went to college and paid all the rent, and she lived this beautiful, carefree life that I admired, and I kept thinking that if I just made it through college, I would be able to live like that too, with her.”

He smiled sadly. “I was young and stupid. So young and stupid that I didn’t realize she’d been cheating on me until I found her, in our bed, tumbling around the sheets with some guy. She didn’t even care, told me that love was free. They’d been sleeping together for nearly a year.”

Newt’s eyes were so sad he had to look away. “I think we would’ve broken up sooner or later, anyway, but that was ultimately what ended our relationship. And she moved on and kicked me out and found some shitty job to pay the rent, and I agreed to it, because somehow, I blamed myself. So I moved in with Aris and Teresa, who showed me it really wasn’t me, it was her, and slowly, I started to wake up and realize that was true.”

He sighed. “So I guess you’re right. It hurt, and it hurt for a long time, and I don’t like to think about it, but I’ve moved on. And I understand. You, I mean. As much as I can.”

“Thank you,” Newt whispered, and Thomas finally looked up. Strangely enough, the first thing he realized was that Newt was still touching him.

He hesitantly reached out and placed his hand over Newt’s, smiling when he didn’t move away. “Thank you. For telling me. And listening.”

Newt turned his palm up, holding his hand for just a second. He squeezed it softly, then let go.

“Mate, this was not how I expected today to go,” he let out a shaky half-breath, half-laugh, then smiled at Thomas.

“How about another Harry Potter movie to lighten the mood a little?”

“Sounds great,” Thomas said, and when they got everything started, he didn’t even find it surprising that Newt curled up to him a little closer than usual, falling asleep only minutes before the end.

Chapter Text

Thomas woke up on Saturday morning to find Newt practically on top of him, long arms and legs trapping Thomas in his embrace. For the first time, he was grateful that the weather was bad; it allowed him to snuggle closer to his friend, welcoming the warmth he radiated.

Friend. It was such a familiar word, yet so unwelcome. Thomas had long since figured out that he and Newt were friends, but at the same time, they were not. There was something strange, a little scary, between the two of them. He figured it had to do with them starting out as old acquaintances, then as one-night stands. But even now, with nothing romantic having happened between the two of them, he couldn’t deny he felt a certain attraction towards him. He always had, of course -- when he went swimming with Minho and Newt in high school and he saw the blond shirtless for the first time, he’d gotten so flustered he couldn’t form a full, coherent sentence for five minutes. He came out as bisexual only weeks later.

It was different, now that they lived together. Constantly being around someone usually led to him either hating them or being in love with them, and he definitely didn’t hate Newt. Not that he loved him, either. He was mostly just confused, all the time.

Newt stirred on top of him and he involuntarily held his breath. But whatever had caused Newt to move must have been a dream, because he didn’t wake up or move any more.

He closed his eyes, pulled Newt closer, and fell asleep once again.

***

The second time Thomas woke up, he was surprisingly cold, and he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when he noticed Newt was gone.

That disappointment was quickly washed away, though, as he saw Newt come out of the bathroom, his hair wet and his sweatpants low on his lips. The sight of him made Thomas’ heart jump in an unexplainable way (not really unexplainable, of course, but he ignored that thought as well as he could).

“Good morning,” Newt smiled at him, drying off his hair with a small, turquoise towel.

“What time is it?” Thomas asked as Newt walked over. He sat down and grabbed his phone from the coffee table.

“Twelve,” Newt said. “Figured I’d let you sleep in after the week you just had.”

“Thank you,” Thomas yawned. “Should I make breakfast?”

“Sure,” Newt shrugged. “I’ve gotta go check up on Gally, anyway. He’s still out.”

The absence of Thomas’ old rival had gone unnoticed till then, but he decided not to give it much thought. The last thing he wanted to do was waste time thinking about him, when he could be spending time with Newt.

He made them both a fruit salad and a cup of tea and then joined Newt on the couch, who was still scrolling through his phone.

“Gally says he’s alright,” he said as he accepted the small bowl and mug. “Says he spent the night somewhere else.”

Thomas didn’t really care, but didn’t say anything about it. If Newt cared that much about him, the least he could do was pretend to be interested.

“Sonya’s birthday is coming up -- that reminds me,” he mumbled, sitting up straight and turning towards Thomas. “Do you know the date of your graduation ceremony?”

Thomas snorted. “My last exam was yesterday, and you’re thinking about graduation?”

“What can I say, I’ve got to be prepared. That is, if you want me to attend it?” He added a little hesitantly.

Newt seemed almost shy, now, and his gaze was very focused on the strawberries in the bowl. “I don’t know if it’s just for family, and it’s always quite a long ceremony and exhausting for everyone present, but- maybe?”

He offered Thomas a small smile that he immediately reciprocated, his insides a little warm at the thought of Newt wanting to attend something that important to Thomas.

“June first,” he said, smiling wider than he probably should’ve, “it begins at four o’clock sharp.”

When Newt’s smile made his heart skip a beat, Thomas realized he was probably a little more into his roommate than he should be.

***

Gally didn’t show up until four in the afternoon, with a strangely satisfied smile on his face. Thomas and Newt were seated on the couch, together, both reading. Thomas had taken out his Hunger Games book to read it again (what could he say -- he loved strong female characters) and Newt was invested in a book Thomas didn’t know, about a trans girl’s journey through life. They were both completely quiet, the silence only disturbed by either of them laughing at their book.

“I’m back,” Gally called out from the hallway, and Thomas had to suppress a groan. He was away more often than not, and Thomas was hoping he’d stay out a little longer. After spending over twenty-four hours with Newt, he was once again reminded of how much he liked spending time with him -- alone.

Gally stepped into the living room and out of the corner of his eye, Thomas saw Newt look up.

“You okay?” Newt asked.

“Better than ever,” Gally said. Thomas tried very hard to stay focused on his book, deciding that Katniss’ first day in the arena was much more interesting than what Gally had been up to. But then Gally said something that made him drop his book.

“I found a place to stay.”

A mixture of shock and relief flooded through Thomas as he stared at Gally. He was grinning widely, obviously expecting the two of them to be as excited about this as he was. And, well, Thomas was -- this meant Gally was finally leaving, and he wouldn’t have to see him anymore (not as much, at least; he figured he’d see him every once in a while now that he lived with Newt).

“That’s great, Gally!” Newt said, and he sounded just as happy as Thomas felt. “Where is it?”

“Just a couple blocks away,” Gally shrugged. “It’s quite a small place, and it only has one bedroom, but Brenda says she doesn’t mind sharing.”

“Brenda?!” Thomas blurted out, staring at him in a mixture of disgust and shock. Gally smiled almost apologetically.

“Yes, Brenda. I ran into her a couple weeks ago.”

“Were you with her last night?” Newt asked, and strangely enough, he seemed to be looking at Thomas.

“Yeah.” Was Gally blushing? “She said she needed a roommate, anyway, because the rent’s so expensive.”

“It was,” Thomas mumbled -- he was fairly sure she still lived in their old apartment, and the place, although small, was overpriced like most apartments.

Somehow, the thought of Brenda and Gally moving in together didn’t bother him all that much. They seemed perfect for each other, anyway. Equally as evil. He figured they probably bonded over their hatred for him.

“Congratulations, mate,” said Newt, and he stood up to give Gally a short hug. Then, he turned to Thomas. “Celebratory dinner?”

***

As it turned out, Newt’s idea of a celebratory dinner was really just pizza and milkshakes and the three of them playing video games. Thomas was glad to see that he beat Gally in most of them, and if he didn’t, Newt did. Gally didn’t seem to mind, though; he was so happy it was almost unsettling. Thomas had never seen him smile so much before.

Newt was the first to go to bed, which left Gally and Thomas to clean up. Newt had offered to help, but Thomas had shushed him away.

Thomas wasn’t sure whether he should say something, and he didn’t know what to say if he should. He couldn’t lie and say he’d miss Gally, or that he was sad to see him go, because really, this was all he’d been wishing for since the day Gally showed up at the apartment, and Gally probably knew that. But simply saying he was happy to see him go was downright rude, and even though Thomas and Gally weren’t the best of friends, he wasn’t trying to pick a fight. Especially not now Gally was so close to moving out -- he might choose to stay here longer just to taunt Thomas if he did.

Thankfully, Gally spoke up first.

“The other night, when I was drunk…”

A strange, ice-cold fear gripped Thomas’ insides and he quickly turned around. He really didn’t want to talk about it with Gally. He’d hoped that Gally had forgotten about the whole ordeal, but now it seemed as if he hadn’t.

“Yes?” He said, trying his best not to sound too upset. Gally shuffled around a bit behind him before continuing.

“Did I say something… weird?”

Thomas froze, his brain short-circuiting the way it did many times nowadays.

“I don’t remember much,” Gally then added, sounding almost panicked. “I just wanted to know if I’d said some stuff I shouldn’t have. I tend to get a little chatty when I’m drunk.”

Whereas his brain had short-circuited before, it was now rushing to find the right words to say. Should he tell Gally about their conversation? Of course, that would probably make him feel guilty about sharing such personal information about Newt -- as he should, Thomas thought bitterly -- but it also meant they’d have another painful and awkward conversation right now, and he didn’t really feel like spending any more time with Gally than strictly necessary. It was bad enough that they were cleaning up together.

“You don’t remember anything?” He said, buying himself some time to think. Behind him, Gally sighed.

“Not really. Just that I got here at some point and fell on the couch,” he said slowly. “And I know you were there. Everything else is pretty much gone.”

It was the perfect opportunity. He could simply pretend Gally hadn’t said anything, not hold him accountable, and never have the uncomfortable conversation about Gally’s drunken state. He had to take it. He had to tell him nothing happened.

What came out instead was, “You insulted me a couple times. Nothing new there.”

He already hated himself for saying anything and turned around again. Gally was busy sweeping the floor, thank god. Thomas figured it’d be a lot less awkward if they didn’t have to look at each other.

“You, uh…” he slowly said, folding his arms. “You did say some stuff. About Newt.”

Gally froze, the small broom hovering in the air, shaking slightly. “What?”

“Yeah,” Thomas said, trying his best to sound as calm as possible. “Not much. Just that he… you know.”

“Does Newt know?” Gally asked, sounding almost sad, and it was obvious he’d understood what Thomas was talking about. “That I told you, I mean.”

“He does,” Thomas said. “He says it’s fine, though, so…”

“I’ll apologize to him later,” Gally mumbled. It sounded more like a reminder to himself than a continuation of the conversation, so Thomas took it as his cue to continue cleaning up and bent down to pick up the mess on the coffee table.

Well. It could’ve been worse. At least he didn’t have to go into detail about anything.

“You don’t mind me living with Brenda?”

Thomas looked up from the pizza box he was holding. Gally looked strange, almost insecure, but that might’ve just been his mind playing tricks on him.

“Not at all,” he answered truthfully, because he really didn’t. Like Newt had said so perfectly the day before -- Brenda was a chapter in his life that was over.

“She’s your ex,” Gally reminded him and Thomas shrugged.

“So?”

“Nothing,” Gally said, fiddling with the empty milkshake cup in his hands. “I just thought there was some kind of rule against that.”

“That rule only applies to friends,” Thomas mumbled. Gally looked up, a small smile on his lips. It seemed so genuine that Thomas had the strange urge to take a step back and hide.

“I guess I won’t try to be your friend, then.”

Thomas looked at him. His eyes were big, a little insecure, as if he was trying to tell Thomas something without saying it out loud. He had a feeling he knew what it was, but didn’t want to say it out loud in case he was wrong. He smiled back, and saw Gally visibly relax.

“I guess,” Thomas said, and even though they were long from being friends, it was something. A fresh start, maybe. A new, strange future, where they were civil towards each other.

Somehow, he didn’t mind the thought of it.

***

Gally moved out on Thursday, nearly a week later. To Thomas’ surprise, Gally had even less stuff to pack than Thomas did when he moved. They spent about an hour gathering everything and placing it in Newt’s car, and then, Newt drove him to his new place, leaving Thomas behind at home.

Knowing that they wouldn’t be back for a while, Thomas decided to make himself useful for once. He cleaned up all the clutter he could find in the living room, kitchen, hallway, bathroom and his own bedroom (he didn’t dare enter Newt’s -- he wasn’t sure how he felt about privacy and all that), vacuum cleaned and dusted off the entire apartment. After he was done, he was hot and sweaty, and he took off his shirt to cool down a little (Newt wouldn’t be back, soon, anyway, and it wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other shirtless before).

He walked into the kitchen and decided he was going to bake. He’d never been very good at it, but now that he had all the time in the world, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to try. Chocolate chip cookies sounded easy enough, anyway.

He’d just gotten started on the dough when his phone rang, and his heart sunk in his chest when he saw it was Teresa. He hadn’t called her at all this past week. Now that he saw her name, he was suddenly reminded of how much he’d missed his best friend.

He placed his phone on the counter before answering.

“Tom!” Teresa greeted him.

“Hey, Teresa,” he smiled, even though she couldn’t see him. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been great,” she said, “Guess what?”

“What?” He asked a little absentmindedly. How much chocolate would Newt like? And which type? He seemed like a milk chocolate kind of guy.

“Aris got me a promise ring!”

He stopped dead in his tracks, nearly dropping a gigantic bar of milk chocolate. “What?”

“I know we’re still young, and we’ve only been together for three years, but oh my god, Tom, isn’t it sweet?” She rambled on. “We both agreed we’re too young to get engaged, but I’m so happy, you have no idea! It’s all symbolic, of course, but still!”

He stared into nothingness for a moment before allowing a wide grin to overcome his face. “That’s great, Teresa, really. I’m happy for you.”

And he was -- if there was anyone who deserved this kind of happy ending, it was Teresa. Thomas knew she’d been wanting a fairytale-like relationship ever since they were little kids, and Aris seemed to be the perfect guy for her. He vaguely remembered her dressing up as a bride when she was only five years old, loudly yelling that she needed her knight in shining armour right now.

“Oh, Tom, I’m so happy -- do you think he’ll want to marry me, eventually?” Her voice sounded almost insecure, now, and Thomas’ heart hurt a little.

“Of course, Teresa,” he assured her. “Aris loves you more than anything. It’s obvious.”

“I know -- God, I’m happy. I’ve got to go, Tom, I need to call Minho, too. Lunch tomorrow?”

“Sounds great,” he said, and with another ‘I’m so happy!’, she hung up the phone.

He waited long for the familiar feeling of jealousy to prickle in his gut, but it didn’t come.

Chapter Text

Newt came home an hour and a half later, looking tired and sweaty. He took one glance at Thomas, who was watching over the cookies in the kitchen, told him ‘be right back’ and then disappeared into the bathroom, probably to take a shower.

Thomas mostly tried his best not to be distracted by the way Newt’s (wet, and white, because the universe really was against him) shirt clung to his body.

He shook his head and busied himself with the cookies, pushing all thoughts of Teresa and Newt’s see-through shirt to the back of his mind for now. Gally moving out seemed to have flipped a switch inside Thomas, and all he could think about were the many possible scenarios now that the two of them were alone in the apartment. He knew there was something there, something he’d have to acknowledge soon, but for now, he didn’t want to think about it just yet.

He suddenly realized he’d never put his own shirt back on and hurried to grab it, pulling it over his head. In the back of his mind, he registered that the action had probably messed up his hair, but he couldn’t bring himself to care in that moment.

Newt emerged from the shower ten minutes later, and, upon seeing he only had a towel around his hips (he hadn’t gone into his room to grab a new pair of clothes before showering, after all -- Thomas should’ve known), he quickly turned around so he wouldn’t stare. He heard Newt chuckle softly behind him and didn’t turn back around until he heard his bedroom door slam shut.

Of course, he’d seen Newt shirtless before. In fact, he’d seen him completely naked before. But that didn’t mean he’d just allow himself to stare at him like a creep.

“Do I smell cookies?” Newt asked, as he walked into the living room -- now completely dressed, thank god.

“You do,” Thomas said, taking out a couple and placing them on a plate. “I hadn’t baked in a while, so I figured I’d give it a shot.”

He walked into the living room and placed the plate on the coffee table. Newt immediately reached out and grabbed one, letting himself fall on the couch. Thomas chuckled and followed his example.

Newt took a bite, closed his eyes, and moaned. “Oh my god, this is amazing.”

Thomas’ throat suddenly went very dry.

Newt opened one eye to look at him and he smiled. “I thought you said you hadn’t baked in a while?”

“I hadn’t,” Thomas choked out -- he crossed his legs, just to be sure.

“Well, you’re either very talented, or I just happened to get the best cookie,” Newt said, closing his eyes again and taking another bite.

“Probably the latter,” Thomas mumbled, taking a bite of his own. He was wrong, though -- he wasn’t the best baker, but the cookies were pretty good. He figured it was just because they were easy to make.

They were silent for a moment before Newt spoke up again. “Gally told me you talked to him about the other night. About what he said.”

“I did,” Thomas said, staring at his cookie. Newt frowned, his eyes still closed.

“Why?”

Thomas shrugged. “He asked. I figured he should know. To make him feel guilty, I guess. He shouldn’t have told me about you without your consent.”

“How sweet,” Newt joked, smiling softly. “He also said you don’t mind him moving in with Brenda.”

Thomas’ heart did a little backflip at the thought of Newt talking about him to other people, but he tried his best to ignore it. “I don’t.”

“Really?” Newt asked, sounding surprised. Thomas nodded at him.

“Hm,” Newt hummed. “I figured you’d be more thrown off by it. She’s your ex, after all.”

“So?” Thomas asked, a little confused at the strange comment. Yeah, she was his ex, so what? It wasn’t like he still cared about her.

“No lingering feelings?” Newt asked then, and Thomas laughed -- he couldn’t help it. Newt opened his eyes again, looking up at him.

“None at all,” Thomas chuckled. “Should there be?”

“No!” was Newt’s quick reply, and he sat up straight. “I was just wondering.”

“We broke up over a year ago,” Thomas shrugged.

“I know, but still,” Newt said, staring at the cookie in his hand. “You could.”

“I’d be quite stupid if I did,” Thomas said. “I had feelings for her for a long time, but they’re long gone by now.”

“Because of Teresa,” Newt said, still not looking at him. Thomas frowned.

“I guess, yeah, she helped me get over it.” A sudden thought struck him and he snorted. “But my small crush on her wasn’t the reason I got over it. That was just weird. I think I was lonely, if I’m honest.”

“And now?” Newt asked, glancing at him. “Are you lonely now?”

He could tell there was more behind the question, but chose not to think about it too much. Thomas eyed him for a moment. Newt looked small and insecure all of a sudden, and Thomas kind of wanted to reach out and hold him.

“No. Not lonely at all.”

***

With exams and Gally out of the way, Thomas felt the pressure to talk to Newt more than ever. They still hadn’t talked about the ‘love’ thing, and he could tell it was causing a small rift between them. Even though they hung out as normal, Newt kept his distance, and had stopped with the cheek kissing and calling him ‘love’ completely.

It bothered Thomas, in a way, and he could tell there was a reason for it, but he refused to acknowledge it yet. He’d always preferred ignoring his problems to dealing with them, and this situation was no different. Much like he’d ignored his small crush on Teresa until it eventually faded away.

It was Sunday night when he finally decided to just go for it. Maybe. Eventually.

They’d spent a comfortable, but quiet weekend together; with Gally gone, they had the apartment to themselves, and they took that opportunity to bingewatch the first few Star Wars movies. They’d spent most of their time on the couch, ordering food every night, not even bothering to dress up. Thomas had long stopped feeling underdressed in sweatpants, and since Newt was pretty much the same, there really wasn’t much to feel embarrassed about.

They hadn’t fallen asleep together, again, though, which left Thomas a little disappointed, but he figured it was for the best. He wasn’t sure whether he had the mental strength to contain himself around a sleepy Newt with a rough morning voice two days in a row.

So they watched movies and talked quietly but the subject of the nicknames never came up, and Thomas was going a little insane over it. Of course, he didn’t have to talk about it, but it would be nice to know exactly what was going on in Newt’s head. Besides, Thomas really didn’t enjoy the invisible distance Newt kept from him by not saying the nickname. Even if it wasn’t just a British thing, as he’d initially thought it was, it was probably an affectionate nickname, and Newt not saying it made Thomas feel a little unwanted. As if he wasn’t close enough to the blond to deserve the nickname. Which was ridiculous, really -- they’d become good friends in the time they’d lived together. Not to mention that Newt wanted to come to his graduation ceremony. Which, once again, made Thomas think there was more to it, but the thought of that scared yet excited him so much he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Hey, Newt?” He asked, quasi-casually, at eleven on Sunday night. They were both reading, again, and Thomas had now moved on from the first Hunger Games book to the second one. Since he didn’t have school or a job (he should probably start worrying about that, soon) he spent most of his time reading, nowadays.

“Yeah?” Newt swiftly glanced up from his book, but returned his gaze to the white pages almost immediately.

Thomas uncomfortably picked at a loose thread in his sleeve. “Are we okay?”

Newt looked up again, and this time, he didn’t avert his gaze. Frowning, he asked: “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know,” Thomas said airily, his anxiety level rising rapidly, “I’m a little worried you might be upset with me.”

He let out a shaky breath and Newt put down his book, folding the corner of his page before closing it.

“Why would you think that?” He asked, sounding genuinely confused, and Thomas worried for a moment that he was making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe Newt decided he didn’t like the physical affection, after all. And maybe he just forgot to call Thomas ‘love’, or he did and Thomas just didn’t notice.

He still wanted to know for sure, though, so he continued.

“The… nicknames?” He said, and he cringed at how it sounded -- almost as if it was a question. “You used to call me ‘love’, and then you stopped when I told Gally it was just a British thing, and you stopped with the cheek kisses, too.”

Silence. Thomas held his breath, anxiously waiting for Newt to say something.

Newt sighed deeply. “I was hoping we could have this conversation later,” he then said, moving the book from his lap to the table and shuffling closer.

“We don’t have to -” Thomas started, but he stopped when Newt held up his hand to silence him.

“I want to,” he said, “I was just scared.”

“Me too,” Thomas admitted, and Newt smiled softly at him.

“I guess we’re both cowards, then.”

“I guess,” Thomas softly said, and when Newt remained silent, he continued: “So are you mad at me?”

“Not at all,” Newt said, shaking his head, “I’m quite fond of you, if I’m honest.”

I’m quite fond of you.

The sentence made his heart jump and he felt himself blush a little.

“That’s good,” he whispered, “I wouldn’t be a very good friend if you weren’t.”

Newt reached out, placing his hand on Thomas’ knee. He was shaking, Thomas noticed.

Newt softly squeezed his knee. “Is that what we are?” And, when Thomas frowned a little, he added: “Friends?”

Thomas’ heart dropped. “Yes? What do you think we are?”

Newt shrugged. “I don’t know. Something.”

Somehow, the comment hurt, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out: “Are we not close enough to be friends? Is that why you stopped calling me ‘love’?”

Newt’s head shot up and he frowned. “What?”

Thomas blushed a little. “Because I thought we were good friends, you know, but then you stopped calling me that, and I figured I might’ve misinterpreted it all...”

Newt’s expression was unreadable, and Thomas’ heart dropped even lower. “I don’t know, it just kind of hurt when you stopped, because I really like you, and the name made me feel kind of warm inside, y’know? Like I was special, or something, I dunno…”

He shrugged, knowing he was ranting but not caring enough to stop. Or maybe caring too much. Newt was still watching him, an expression of utter confusion and shock on his face.

“You stopped the kisses too, which really sucked, because I liked them and you told me you didn’t mind getting close to me, but then it seemed like suddenly you did, and it kind of hurt, and -”

“Tommy,” Newt suddenly shushed him, holding a finger to Thomas’ lips, a small smile on his face. “Stop talking.”

Thomas was a little taken aback -- did he say something wrong? The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Newt. He cared too much about him to let that happen, and he already wanted to speak up and apologize when something stopped him.

He wasn’t sure what it was -- maybe the look in Newt’s eyes, or the smile on his lips, but something prevented him from speaking, from letting any more words spill out, and it was good, too, because that exact moment, Newt cupped his face with his hands.

Then, very slowly, he pressed a kiss to Thomas’ lips.

This was it, Thomas realized. This was the thing he’d been refusing to acknowledge for the past few weeks. This burning, tingling sensation, taking over every cell of his body as he melted into the kiss.

He’d kissed Newt before, of course -- on that night when they’d first gotten together. But that kiss was nothing like this one; that one was heated, hot and rushed, and this one was slow and sensual in a way that it made Thomas’ toes curl.

Newt was impossibly gentle, softly cradling Thomas’ face as if he was fragile and could fall apart any moment, and in a way, Thomas thought he would. An immense sense of calmth and relief washed over him, but his heartbeat picked up at the same time.

They broke apart for a moment, sharing breath. Newt smelled like mint, Thomas realized. Lemon, too, and he figured it had to do with the strange drink Newt had been sipping all night. He tasted like it, too. For a second, he was worried that maybe, his breath was bad, or he tasted bad, or something, but then Newt kissed him again, and Thomas decided he really didn’t care.

The kiss was deeper this time, and Thomas vaguely registered one of Newt’s hands sliding down his chest and slipping under his shirt. The action surprised him a little, but then, he realized his own hands were no better (one in Newt’s hair -- one on his upper leg) and he shrugged it off.

“This okay with you?” Newt lowly asked against his lips as he leaned more into Thomas, sliding his hand around his waist. All Thomas could do was nod -- with exploring Newt’s body being his main focus, his mind was a little occupied at the moment, and he couldn’t think about much else.

Newt was now practically on top of him, one hand beside Thomas’ head to hold himself up, one still under his shirt. Thomas felt him nudge the inside of his legs with his knee, and, without thinking, he moved them, so Newt could sit in between.

He wanted this, he decided in that moment. He wanted Newt, his kisses, his laughs, his small touches and his jokes. He wanted to wake up with him, he wanted to eat breakfast with him, he wanted to watch movies and read books together and he wanted to make him laugh and laugh in return. And so, he drew back, Newt looking a little confused but adorable either way.

“Just to be sure,” Thomas said (he was out of breath -- why was he out of breath already?), “I don’t plan on this being a one-night thing again.”

Newt smiled, reaching up with his hand to trace Thomas’ lips with his fingers. “Me neither.”

“I’m serious,” Thomas urged on -- he desperately wanted Newt to understand this. “If we’re going to do this, I don’t want to stop there. It’s all or nothing. I’m not interested in being a casual hookup.”

He could tell Newt understood by the way his eyes happily crinkled up by the sides before he pressed another small, soft kiss to Thomas’ lips. “I know, Tommy. I’m all in if you are.”

Thomas let out a shaky breath and grinned. “I’m all in.”

“Well, then, let’s not waste any more time circling around each other, shall we?” Newt playfully asked, and before Thomas could answer, he pressed him into the couch and kissed him once more, and all Thomas’ worries went out the window.

Chapter Text

Waking up naked on a small couch wasn’t exactly something Thomas was used to, but still, he wasn’t surprised when he opened his eyes. The only thing that really surprised him was that, according to the clock, it was already eleven, which meant that he’d slept for well over ten hours.

He took a second to get used to his surroundings; a thin blanket, covering him up until his shoulders, an arm around his neck, playing with his hair, and a chest he was laying on with both his head and left arm. He turned his head the slightest bit to find Newt looking at him, a small smile on his face.

“Morning,” he said in that damn morning voice, and Thomas couldn’t help but smile back.

It was strange, really; not once in the past weeks, months even, did he think that he was going to end up here, in Newt’s apartment, on Newt’s couch, in Newt’s arms, yet here he was, and he loved it. It felt right, somehow. As if he belonged there -- not that he’d ever tell Newt that out loud, considering it was one of the cheesiest things he could possibly say. But still, the thought was there, and he relished in it for a moment.

“You look cute when you’re asleep,” Newt then added, and Thomas was sure he would melt on the spot.

“You’re not so bad-looking yourself,” he countered. Newt huffed out a short laugh.

“Why, thank you.”

They were quiet again -- the silence was a little tense, and Thomas knew they still had many things to talk about. But, for now, he let himself be irresponsible and kissed Newt again, only pulling away when the blond complained about their morning breath.

Breakfast was a little strange, but not necessarily in a bad way. Just strange. It was like usual, with Newt preparing the food and Thomas making them coffee, but it was also completely new. Newt stood closer to him, left lingering touches, pressed kisses to his naked shoulder (they hadn’t bothered to get dressed -- completely -- and the sight of Newt in just his underwear was doing things to him), head and cheek, and all of it made Thomas a little lightheaded with happiness. Not to mention the touches on his hips and butt -- he wasn’t expecting to be groped first thing in the morning, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

At all. Even a little.

“Your coffee is heavenly, by the way,” Newt commented as they sat on the couch, eating their toast and drinking coffee from small, white mugs.

Thomas smiled at him. “Thank you. So’s your breakfast.”

“That’s all my mom,” Newt chuckled, “she taught me everything.”

The mention of Newt’s mom made Thomas’ mind go back to the ‘love’ thing (oh, who was he kidding -- his mind was on the ‘love’ thing pretty much all the time nowadays) and he put his plate down.

“Hey, Newt?”

“Yeah?” Newt looked up from his food. Thomas nervously played with the ear of his mug.

“Why did you stop calling me ‘love’?”

Newt smiled sadly at him. “It’s a little stupid. I was just worried about you. I thought I’d made you uncomfortable, but I guess I was wrong.”

Thomas blinked in surprise -- that was it? No long explanation, no hidden motives, just that? Newt was worried about him?

He was sure his heart was going to explode soon.

“Not stupid at all,” he choked out. “Really thoughtful, actually. Cute.”

“I’m glad you think my anxiety about upsetting you is cute,” Newt said, but it didn’t sound mean or sarcastic at all -- in fact, he was smiling softly.

“And the cheek kisses…?” He added a little hesitantly. Newt reached out and held his hand, squeezing softly.

“Well,” Newt said, drawing out the word, “I figured you might not appreciate those either, considering I never thought you could possibly reciprocate my feelings.”

There was so much information in that one, single sentence that Thomas blinked in surprise and had to take a few moments to compose himself.

“Wait -- what?”

Newt chuckled softly. “Well, you were still into Teresa, and you’re very out of my league anyway.”

Thomas’ first instinct was to tell Newt he was out of Thomas’ league, but somewhere in his stupid, dorky mind, the words got lost, and what came out instead was: “You’re insecure, don’t know what for…”

Newt’s eyes widened almost comically and he swatted at his head. “God, Tommy, no.”

Something in his amused and slightly shocked expression, however, urged Thomas to go on, and he continued, slightly off-key (read: incredibly off-key), “You’re turning heads when you walk through the do-oh-oor.”

“Tommy, one more sentence, I swear to God -”

“Don’t need make-up, to cover up -”

“Tommy!”

“Being the way that you are is enou-ou-ough -”

Newt laughed so hard he fell off the couch.

***

Teresa was waiting for him outside their favourite coffee shop, grinning widely with an expensive-looking envelope in her hands. The sight of it made Thomas’ heart stop -- with everything going on between him and Newt, he’d almost forgotten they still had school and work to worry about.

Teresa greeted him with a hug and a kiss on his cheek, and he was glad to notice that his heart didn’t jump this time. “Hey, Tom.”

They sat down in a small booth, Teresa fiddling with the envelope. She was clearly waiting for him to ask.

“What’s in the envelope?” He asked, deciding that it was best to get the much-dreaded conversation about work over with as soon as possible.

“A letter,” she said mysteriously, “I’m applying for a job.”

“That’s nice,” Thomas said dryly, playing with the straw of his drink. He knew she was waiting for him to tell her about his job opportunities, but to be honest, he hadn’t thought about applying for a job yet, too caught up in his own world.

Teresa eyed him for a moment. Then, she spoke up, and what she said nearly made Thomas choke on air.

“You had sex.”

He felt his entire face turn an embarrassing shade of red and avoided her piercing gaze. “What?”

“You have this…” she said thoughtfully, “...happy, post-coital glow radiating off of you.”

He stared at her in stunned silence as she smiled at him, her expression smug and maybe a little teasing.

“I - how -”

“Ha!” She exclaimed, pointing at him. “So I’m right?”

“Maybe,” Thomas answered vaguely, and she raised her arms up as if celebrating, even letting out a few victorious whoops. Then, she leaned forward, lowering her voice.

“Tell me everything! Who, when, where -”

Thomas raised an eyebrow at her. “You want me to tell you everything?”

“Yes!” She said, grinning widely. “Come on, Tom, don’t be shy.”

“Alright,” he mumbled, a little embarrassed. He desperately wished no one could hear their conversation. “Newt, last night, on our couch. That enough information for you?”

To his surprise, Teresa didn’t seem shocked at all, and all she said was: “On the couch?”

“It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing,” he explained, feeling himself get redder by the second.

“So,” she said, leaning backwards, “Newt, huh. That’s gonna make living with him awkward.”

Thomas mentally crossed her off the list of people who could’ve told Minho about him and Newt hooking up that one night, smiling to himself.

“Well…” he drawled, and her eyes widened.

“Are you two dating?!”

Somehow, the sentence reminded him of Gally, and he laughed before he could stop himself. “No. It’s just that we have hooked up before.”

Upon seeing her bewildered expression, he added: “That one night I didn’t come home? Like, a week before I moved in with him?”

He could almost see the puzzle pieces fall in her head, and her mouth formed a small ‘o’. Then, she shook her head. “I was wondering why you suddenly decided to live with him.”

Thomas, too embarrassed to explain, simply said: “Well, he offered me a place to stay, so…”

“So you’ve been hooking up ever since?” Teresa asked very casually (and also way too loud, he could practically feel the people around them staring).

“No,” he said, shrugging. “We were just friends. Until last night.”

It suddenly occurred to him how little he had told her about his and Newt’s relationship, and he made a mental note to call her more often. It was the least she deserved.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out to hold her hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you anything sooner.”

“That’s alright, Tom,” she said, and when she squeezed his hands, he could feel the ring Aris had bought her. “I get that you were busy.”

She let go, a small smile on her lips. “Just promise I’ll get to meet him properly, soon.”

“You will,” Thomas promised her, even though he wasn’t sure -- were they even like that? They hadn’t discussed the status of their relationship at all, and he didn’t even know if Newt wanted to meet his friends. Although Newt had told him he was ‘all in’ -- whatever that meant. He’d have to ask him, later, when he was back home.

Home. He involuntarily smiled.

Teresa shook her head. “God, you’re smitten.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “Says you. You’re basically engaged.”

She stretched out her fingers, glancing at the ring. “I am. All grown up, and so are you. Look at us.”

“Look at us,” Thomas agreed. He knew exactly what she meant -- it felt like only yesterday that they were still small kids, only nine years old, thinking that they owned the world and spending every afternoon together. And, here they were, twelve years later, and it felt like it had only been twelve seconds. Strange, how time worked that way.

They fell into a more comfortable, easy conversation about her and Aris’ plans for the future. Teresa even went into detail about their future wedding (“I need my bridesmaids to all wear the same colour, of course, but they should all have different dresses.” -- Thomas nodded along with it, just hoping she wouldn’t force him to wear a dress) and the job she was hoping to get (“I mean, they say Janson is strict and all, but with grades like mine, I’m pretty sure he’ll at least consider hiring me.” “Not everything is about grades, Teresa.”).

By five, she’d seemingly discussed everything she’d been planning to talk about, because she finally fell silent (not that Thomas had minded the talking. He enjoyed her presence, and it kept his mind from going to strange places like his and Newt’s unnamed relationship). Just then, his phone buzzed.

One glance at the screen told him it was Newt, and his heart jumped. Teresa raised an eyebrow.

“Is that your husband?”

“It’s my roommate, thank you very much,” he corrected her. She snorted.

“And casual hookup.”

He glared at her and answered the phone. Immediately, Newt spoke up.

“Am I interrupting something? I’ll hang up the phone if I am.”

“Not at all,” Thomas said. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” He heard a strange rustling noise, as if Newt was lying on his bed. “I just miss you.”

“Already? It’s been, like, three hours,” he joked, biting his lip to prevent himself from smiling.

“Three hours too many,” Newt whined, and Thomas felt himself smile stupidly. God, he was adorable.

“I’ll be home soon,” he promised him, ignoring the shit-eating grin Teresa had on her face.

“Good,” Newt said, and Thomas could hear the smile in his voice. “Tell Teresa I said hi.”

“He says hi,” Thomas said, looking at Teresa. She leaned forward, and before he could do anything, she grabbed the phone, pressing it to her ear.

“Hi back,” she said, leaning backwards so she was out of Thomas’ reach. He leaned forward to try and grab the phone, but missed.

“Hmm. Yes. Of course.”

She sent Thomas another grin. “I know, right?”

“Teresa!” Thomas exclaimed, making another grab for the phone. She narrowly avoided his hand.

“Yes, he is. I’ll let him know. Bye.”

She then handed the phone back to Thomas, and he sighed and pressed it against his ear, closing his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, Tommy,” Newt chuckled softly. “She’s lovely, really.”

“I wouldn’t say so,” he said, glaring at her. “But I’m glad you like my friends.”

“Well, I’m sticking around for a bit, might as well get to know them,” was Newt’s reply, and Thomas’ heart jumped.

I’m sticking around for a bit. A strange, warm feeling spread throughout his entire body, and his heartbeat picked up.

Then, Newt yawned, seemingly oblivious to the mini freakout Thomas was having. “Come home soon, I miss you.”

“I will,” Thomas promised him, and when they’d said goodbye, Teresa was still smiling at him.

“What?” He asked a little grumpily, pocketing his phone.

“Nothing,” she said, but the smile didn’t leave her face in the slightest. “He’s great.”

“I know,” Thomas said, and her smile faded a little.

“I hope he’s good for you, Tom,” she said quietly. “You deserve a good relationship.”

His insides warmed up at the care she showed for him. “He is.”

“Well, then,” she said, getting up. “I’ll leave. Wouldn’t want to keep the hubby waiting.”

“He’s not -!”

But then, she'd already left with a wink, and all Thomas could do was shake his head and laugh.

Chapter Text

Thomas came home to find Newt sleeping in his bedroom, the sheets only half covering him and his hair an incredible mess. The sight of it made Thomas’ heart jump, and without thinking, he crawled onto the bed next to Newt and cuddled him close.

This was nice, he decided. Newt’s room was cold in a comfortable way, the sheets had clearly just been washed as they still smelled fresh, and Newt’s body was warm and soft. Scratch that, Newt in general was warm and soft, and he’d happily stay like this all day.

“Did you at least take your shoes off before crawling into my bed?” Newt then mumbled and Thomas had to suppress a chuckle.

“Of course. And everything else.”

Newt slowly turned around, then, grinning at him. “Did you, now?”

He didn’t -- in fact, he was still completely dressed, but he wanted to make Newt turn around and face him, and since it worked, he smiled happily.

“Nope,” he said, snuggling closer. “You looked so cute asleep, I didn’t have time for it and just jumped in bed.”

“Please don’t start singing One Direction songs again, I’ll kick you out,” Newt mumbled, but since he pressed a kiss into Thomas’ hair at the same time, he didn’t sound very convincing.

“And here I was thinking you appreciated those,” Thomas smiled. “Since I made you laugh, and all.”

“You can make me laugh in other ways,” Newt said, and Thomas got a sudden idea. He slowly sneaked his hand up Newt’s waist, appreciating the warmth he radiated. When the blond hummed in appreciation, he playfully pricked his side.

“Oi!”

Thomas grinned widely as Newt slapped his hand away. “What? You’re not ticklish, are you?”

He pricked his side again, and Newt tried but failed to grab his hand. “Tommy, I swear to God -”

Thomas started tickling him for real, now, and Newt squirmed, trying to stop his laughter but failing miserably.

“Tommy -- stop -- Tommy!”

Thomas couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up in his throat as Newt gasped for air, trying to grab onto Thomas’ hands.

“You’re -- enjoying -- Tommy! -- enjoying this, aren’t you,” Newt managed to say in between hiccups, and Thomas decided to let him breathe for a second, stilling his hands and leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Maybe a little.”

“I hate you,” Newt mumbled, but once again, he wasn’t very convincing, as he kissed him the next second.

“If this is you hating me, I can’t wait to find out what it’s like when you love me,” Thomas mumbled and he felt Newt smile against his lips.

“Just wait and you’ll see.”

Thomas’ heart did another backflip in his chest at the thought of it and he pulled Newt closer.

They stayed like that, very quiet, simply enjoying the other’s presence, until Newt spoke up again in a soft voice.

“Tommy?”

“Hm?” Thomas hummed -- he felt so comfortable and lazy, he didn’t feel like spending much effort talking.

“We’re together, right?” Newt asked, and he sounded so vulnerable that Thomas pulled back a little to look at him.

His expression was blank, but his eyes betrayed what he really felt like -- worried, anxious even. Thomas softly kissed his nose.

“If that’s what you want,” he said, because as much as he liked Newt and wanted to be with him, he didn’t want to force him into anything. Newt remained silent for a moment, staring intensely at him. Thomas felt almost small under his scrutinizing gaze.

“It is what I want,” he then said, so quiet that Thomas had to strain his ears to hear. “Is it what you want?”

“Definitely,” Thomas quickly said. “Like I said, I’m one hundred percent, all in.”

“That’s good,” Newt mumbled, reaching up to trace Thomas’ lips with his fingers, just like he had the night before. “Wouldn’t want you to chicken out now. I’ve already met your friends.”

“But not the family,” Thomas playfully pointed out, and Newt smiled at him.

“Guess we’ll have to find time for that, someday.”

“I guess,” Thomas agreed, and when Newt turned up his palm in an offer, he immediately intertwined their fingers.

Strangely enough, the thought of Newt meeting his family didn’t scare him that much. He was a great guy, and Thomas really liked him. His family would love him, that’s for sure. Especially Chuck -- Thomas was sure they could bond over their love for Star Wars. His mom would be -- well, like a mom. She’d welcome him, ask him many questions about his hobbies and interests and family and friends and later on, she’d ask about the more serious stuff, like his income, his apartment and his plans with Thomas. Not that that was a bad thing. It was only good they’d be interested in his…

He looked at their intertwined hands and smiled.

Boyfriend.

It was a nice word.

***

Thomas and Newt were only halfway through watching the Halfblood Prince when a loud knock on the door startled them both. They’d been quiet for most of the time, huddled up together on the couch, simply enjoying the movie and each other’s presence.

Newt was a good cuddler, as Thomas had decided after five minutes. He was soft and warm but also strong and possessive, and he found himself loving it. Not that there was much that was not loveable about Newt -- Thomas was sure he should’ve won an award for Best Person on Earth or something by now.

He’d been close to falling asleep -- again -- when the knock shook him out of it, and he blinked a few times to compose himself. Newt was lovingly smiling down at him.

“Who’s that?” He asked, with a strange sense of deja vu coming over him. Newt slowly disentangled himself, then stood up and stretched. Thomas thoroughly enjoyed being allowed to stare, now.

“Dunno,” Newt shrugged. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

He disappeared into the hallway, Thomas staring after him for a moment before returning his attention to the movie. Then, two female voices spoke up, and he suddenly found it very hard to focus.

“Newt!”

“It’s lovely to see you!”

Hugging noises -- at least that was what he thought they were. Then, softly, Newt’s voice: “What are you doing here?”

“Figured we’d stop by. Is that Harry Potter?” Sonya -- Thomas recognized her, now. The other voice was unfamiliar, though, but the accent made it clear it was another one of Newt’s relatives. Another sister, maybe?

“It is, but Tommy -” Newt, however, was interrupted by a new, low voice speaking up.

“Tommy? The guy you’ve been talking about? He’s here?” A male voice, Thomas noted.

“Of course he’s here, dad, they live together,” Sonya said, sounding a little degrading.

“Well, I know that, Sonya, but he could be out -”

“Bloody hell.” A sigh. “Just come in, the three o’ you, and try not to embarrass me too much.”

Thomas took a second to think that Newt’s accent getting stronger around his family was adorable, then realized he was very much not dressed to meet the family yet -- he was wearing a worn-down AC/DC shirt and an old pair of grey sweatpants. He considered running to his bedroom to get changed, but to do that, he’d have to go through the hallway, which meant he’d see them either way.

Well. He’d just have to face them in his loungewear.

Sonya came inside first; she ran over to Thomas, gave him a tight hug, then looked at the TV, exclaimed “I love this one!” and sat down next to him without saying another word. Thomas tried his very best not to think about what they’d done on that very couch the night before (twice). He thanked all the gods he knew that they at least cleaned up before crashing to sleep.

Newt came next. He sent Thomas an apologetic smile and then leaned down to kiss him on the cheek.

“Sorry about that one,” he said, glaring at Sonya. “She doesn’t know how to behave.”

“That’s no way to introduce your little sister,” Sonya said without looking up from the tv and he leaned over to ruffle her hair.

“He’s already met you, hasn’t he?”

She stuck out her tongue at him before returning her attention to the TV.

Finally, Newt’s parents came inside. Newt’s mom smiled softly, looking like an older, female version of her son, apart from her brown hair. Thomas got up quickly, mentally swearing at himself for being barefoot, and shook her hand.

“I’m Thomas.”

“Nice to meet you, Thomas,” she said, and he turned to Newt’s father. He didn’t look like Newt at all, apart from his blond hair -- but his was thin and frayed, and Newt’s was full and soft.

He shook his hand as well. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“You, too,” Newt’s father said, and he softly smiled at him. “So you’re Newt’s friend, then?”

Behind him, Newt groaned dramatically, and Sonya snorted.

“Dad -” Newt started, walking up beside him, “haven’t you listened to me talking about him?”

“Well, ‘course I have,” Newt’s father mumbled, catching on, “but I figured you hadn’t actually made a move yet, considering how smitten you were.”

“Smitten, huh,” Thomas turned to smile at Newt.

“And what did I say about embarrassing me?” Newt shot out, turning an adorable shade of pink. Thomas only chuckled.

“Sorry, son,” was his father’s reply. “This is my first time meeting one of your boyfriends.”

He sounded so helpless that they all started laughing, but Thomas couldn’t help but notice that Newt’s mother’s laugh was rather forced.

***

Newt’s family stayed for two hours. Newt didn’t seem phased by their sudden visit at all and turned out to be a perfect son (not that he was surprised), offering them tea, biscuits and letting Sonya and Thomas finish the movie while softly chatting with his parents about London and Scotland and work and whatnot. His accent continued to grow stronger as the night went by, and Thomas found it adorable.

Newt’s father turned out to be a funny, loud guy with a charming smile that Newt seemed to have inherited. He worked as an English teacher (“It’s professor, Tommy.” “No it’s not!”) in New York, and as it turned out, his job was the reason they moved to the United States in the first place.

Sonya was energetic as ever, telling him all sorts of fun facts about the Harry Potter movies and books and interrogating him (once again) about his friends, while telling him about her girlfriend -- Harriet from the bar -- in return.

“You see, Newt introduced us,” she informed him happily while Dumbledore was dying on screen, “He used to come ‘round there all the time, and the one time he brought me, she was working. We clicked well immediately.”

Newt’s mother was not at all what Thomas had expected. It might’ve had to do with his own mother being as affectionate as she could possibly be, trying to make up for the absence of Thomas’ father (not that he missed the bastard), but Mrs. Ross seemed a bit distant and stiff. But then again, he figured it could just have to do with meeting him for the first time. Maybe she was just nervous.

When Thomas physically couldn’t refrain himself from yawning any longer, Newt’s eyes fell on him.

“Tired?”

“A little,” Thomas admitted.

“Right,” Newt said, getting up and turning to his parents. “That’s your cue to go.”

“But Newt,” Sonya whined, and he playfully glared at her.

“Sorry, Sonya. If you come ‘round any other time of the day you’re more than welcome, but we should really go to bed now.”

We.

Newt helped his parents get up, and they both kissed him on the cheek before approaching Thomas.

“It was lovely meeting you,” Newt’s father said, shaking his hand enthusiastically.

Newt’s mother shook his hand, too, but didn’t say anything.

Newt showed them the way out just as Sonya jumped up and gave him another hug. “I’ll see you around, Thomas.”

Then, she turned towards Newt, pointing a finger at him sternly. “If you hurt this one, I’ll kill you.”

“I thought you were supposed to say that to Tommy, not me,” Newt said, a playful smile on his lips. Sonya turned back to Thomas and eyed him curiously.

“Nah. I’ve grown fond of him.”

She kissed him on the cheek before turning around and following her parents and Thomas made up his mind. He liked Sonya.

Newt shook his head, but he was still smiling, and he followed them out the door. Thomas stood in the middle of the room for a moment, hearing them say their goodbyes. When it was quiet once again, he walked into the hallway, finding Newt looking out the door. For some reason, the thought of him watching his family go made Thomas feel warm inside.

He wrapped his arms around Newt from behind, just because he could. He heard him laugh before turning around and returning the hug, pressing a kiss into Thomas’ hair.

“I hope they were alright,’ Newt mumbled. Thomas nodded against his chest.

“They’re great.” He chose not to mention his mother’s behaviour -- maybe that was too private.

Newt sighed, then, and pulled away to close the door. When he turned back around, his face was graver than ever before.

“And my mom?”

So something was going on there. Thomas shrugged, deciding not to say too much. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt or offend Newt.

Newt bit his lip, looking a bit hesitant. Thomas slowly reached out, brushing their hands together. When Newt didn’t shy away from the touch, he grabbed his hands, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“She was the worst of them all,” Newt softly said. “She wasn’t exactly homophobic in a straightforward way, but she didn’t accept me, either.”

Thomas remained quiet -- he could feel that Newt had more to say. Still, he wished he could do something. Newt looked so sad it broke his heart.

“She…” Newt took a deep breath. “She kept pretending it was just a phase, and refused to talk about my sexuality, even though I needed her to be there for me. It was only after my attempt that she seemed to come to terms with it. Somehow. A little. She’s not one hundred percent okay with it, but she’s trying.”

His voice trailed off, and he stared at Thomas’ hands around his own as if he could find the words there. His next few words were spoken in a soft, strained whisper. “Sometimes I wonder if she ever would have accepted me if I hadn’t tried to kill myself.”

Thomas’ heart broke, seeing him look so sad and helpless and feeling so incredibly useless. He didn’t know what to say -- he couldn’t find the right words even if he tried. But the thought of his mom being like that, and Newt having to deal with that for so long, hurt him more than anything.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, not knowing what else to say. “You don’t deserve that. You deserve an accepting family who will treat you with kindness no matter who you are and who you love.”

“I know.” Newt let out another heavy sigh. “It’s just difficult sometimes. I guess I’m lucky that Sonya’s gay, too, or it might’ve been much worse.”

“How did that make it better?” Thomas asked -- he didn’t want to upset Newt, but he had a feeling that talking about Sonya wouldn’t do that. He seemed to be really fond of his sister, no matter how much he teased her.

Newt sadly smiled at him. “I s’pose she realized it really wasn’t a phase, or a choice, when both of her children turned out to be gay. It’s like the universe told her to grow up. And she didn’t compare me to Sonya anymore, which she did do before.”

“I’m sorry,” Thomas said again. Newt squeezed his hands, then let go. He straightened up, took a deep breath as if composing himself, then smiled at Thomas.

“It’s alright. Could’ve been worse. I’m mostly just trying to appreciate her for trying her best now.”

He brushed his hand against Thomas’ cheek, and he instinctively leaned into the touch. “Thank you for listening.”

“Of course,” Thomas said, because really, why wouldn’t he? Newt was an amazing, kind guy, and he’d listen to him for hours if he had to.

Newt pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Let’s go to bed, shall we?”

And when he intertwined their fingers, Thomas realized that no matter what had happened, he would’ve fallen for Newt either way. Seriously, there was nothing about this guy that wasn’t loveable. And with the two of them living together, it was pretty much inevitable. Honestly, he figured he was doomed from the start. Or, well, not doomed. ‘Incredibly lucky’ would be more accurate.

He fell asleep smiling.

Chapter Text

“Is the suit really necessary?”

“The suit is very necessary, now stop whining,” Teresa ordered him, forcing his arms through the sleeves of his button-up. “Come on, you’ve got to at least pretend you care about this.”

“I really don’t,” Thomas protested, and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, we all know, Tom. Here.” She handed him his cap. “Don’t you dare take it off. No matter how itchy it is.”

“Please - no -” But by then, she’d already forced it on his head.

He sighed, glancing at his reflection in the mirror in his old bedroom. He looked ridiculous; his hair was a mess, as usual, and he had a slight stubble. But that wasn’t the bad part -- the bad part was the suit he was forced to wear by Teresa and the gown she was now trying to force him in. Not to mention the cap. He’d already thought of a thousand different ways to get rid of it.

“Come on, Tom, it’s mandatory,” she said, pulling his arms through the sleeves. It wasn’t that the sleeves were tight -- in fact, they were gigantic, and Thomas figured about five pairs of arms could have fit in there, six if your arms were as skinny as Newt’s. He just really didn’t want to try the gown on.

Teresa won the fight, though, partially because she was right (it was mandatory, after all) and partially because he knew his mom would be disappointed to see him without a gown.

Newt was waiting for them outside of his old room, dressed in black pants and a white button-up, smirking at him.

“I look stupid,” Thomas pouted, and he chuckled.

“You look fine, Tommy.”

He turned towards Teresa, eyes wide. “See? He thinks I look fine! Just fine! I’m his boyfriend, calling me fine is almost insulting!”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Tom,” Teresa rolled her eyes, just as Newt walked over to him and playfully pinched his hip.

“You’re okay, Tommy,” he said, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “You look great.”

“Now that’s better,” he said, turning around to meet Newt’s lips. Before he could kiss him properly, though, Teresa sighed dramatically.

“Stop,” she sternly said, and Thomas closed his eyes to mentally curse at her.

“No more PDA while I’m around. And hands off!” She added, slapping Thomas’ hand where it had been trying to sneak up Newt’s waist.

“Ouch! Let me touch my boyfriend, will you?” He grumbled, but she only laughed at him.

***

Graduating, as it turned out, was one of the most boring things he’d ever experienced. Not necessarily the graduating process, but more the ceremony that came with it. His teachers had forced them all in small chairs and then held a long speech about the students that year, while Thomas was mostly trying to find his family in the crowd. It was almost impossible, though, as he sat in the back and at least twenty students blocked them from his sight.

But, after much craning of his neck, he found them, excitedly pointing them out to Teresa, who was seated next to him. She followed his finger, smiling brightly.

His mom sat right next to Chuck, wearing a very pretty red dress Thomas had given her for Christmas the year before. To his amusement, she looked just as bored with the speeches as he felt. Chuck was no different. He looked almost half-asleep, his head on his mother’s shoulder even though he was much taller than her. He hadn’t bothered to dress fancy -- not that Thomas had expected anything else from him.

To his surprise, Teresa’s family was seated to his mother’s right (he made a mental note to greet them later), with Aris right next to them, talking very happily to Teresa’s sister, Rachel. To Chuck’s left sat Sonya with Harriet (she’d insisted on coming, and Thomas was so amused by her he couldn’t bring it in himself to say no, and where Sonya went, Harriet followed), who was talking to Newt, who, by the looks of it, was trying to find Thomas as much as the other way around. Then came Minho, who was trying to talk to Sonya, but it was proven difficult by the two people seated in between them, who seemed to be blocking his sight. He kept leaning back-and-forward, with Sonya doing the same, and Thomas had to suppress a laugh.

But what surprised Thomas the most was that right next to Aris, Gally sat, huddled up with Brenda. He knew they hadn’t come for him -- of course -- and stared at them for a moment before remembering that they had a mutual friend, a guy everyone simply called Frypan, who was graduating as well and was seated a few chairs to Thomas’ left. He nudged Teresa’s side and pointed them out, and her smile faded a little.

“I hope they won’t be any trouble,” she mumbled. “I’ve seen them way too often already these past few months.”

“Gally’s fine,” Thomas mumbled -- they still weren’t friends, but they tried to be civil towards each other every time Gally visited, for Newt. “It’s Brenda I’m worried about.”

“You reckon she’ll try to talk to you?” Teresa asked, a hint of nervosity in her voice. Thomas shrugged.

“Maybe. Or to Newt.”

Thankfully, the ceremony started then, but the pang of worry didn’t leave his gut.

***

It was taking them too long. Way too long. He was hot, pretty much dying underneath his cap and gown (thank you, Teresa), and half-asleep. When Teresa pointed out they’d been there for an hour and a half, he seriously considered running out.

But then they called his name. And he stood up.

“Don’t trip,” Teresa whispered to him, and he gulped. God, tripping would be something he’d do. Hadn’t he tripped on his first day of high school, too?

But that was just in the hallway. The idea of doing it now, with everyone looking at him, in an auditorium filled with parents and grandparents and siblings and his boyfriend and the two people he disliked the most, was so mortifying he almost turned around and ran.

But he didn’t trip. He thanked all the gods he knew for it.

His teachers congratulated him. He shook their hands, although his was a little sweaty, smiled and thanked them, and he didn’t trip. He felt so relieved he was almost sure it was illegal.

The rest of the ceremony passed more quickly than he ever thought it could, now that he could sit down and relax, and before he knew it, it was over. Everyone clapped, their teachers told them to go, and so they did.

He took a moment to wonder whether he should throw his cap and if so, when, but then he found his family in the crowd, and he decided he really didn’t care about something as little as cap-throwing.

“Thomas, my boy!” His mom was the first to reach him, and she engulfed him in a warm hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Somewhere to his left, he could see Teresa greeting her family. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks, mom -” And there was Chuck, who allowed himself to be un-cool for once and gave him a short, shy hug (damn teenagers, Thomas thought, but he was grateful either way).

Then came Sonya, who shrieked and hugged him tightly, rambling on and on about which teachers looked cool and which ones she thought were annoying, and how boring it all was, but how happy she was for him (his mom looked a little confused, and he figured he should probably tell her who Sonya was soon).

Then Harriet, who gave him a short hug (Thomas thought he should probably take some time to get to know her better) and congratulated him before standing next to Sonya again.

Minho, then, who gave him a very tight hug (“That’s how you do it, Chuck, this is a real hug, none of that ‘manly’ crap they teach you in high school.”). Thomas could tell he was a little emotional but he had the decency to pretend he didn’t see.

And then, finally, patiently waiting until everyone had had their turn, Newt. He was standing behind them all, smiling softly, his hands in his pockets. Thomas grinned widely at him and ignored the cooing noises Minho and Harriet made.

Thomas approached him, cupped his face, and kissed him fiercely.

The cooing around him got worse, but he didn’t really care, as Newt pulled away and told him, very softly: “I’m proud of you, love.”

Thomas kissed him again, and again. Then, he kissed his nose, his forehead, both his cheeks, his lips again, and then, he turned around, grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers.

His mom was smiling at him, and Newt stepped forward to shake her hand. Thomas suddenly remembered this was the first time they’d met each other. He’d told her about Newt, of course -- he’d told everyone who wanted to listen about Newt -- but they hadn’t spoken to each other yet. He figured they also didn’t have time for it before the ceremony, as Newt introduced himself like a proper gentleman.

“I’m Newt,” he said, shaking her hand. “Tommy’s boyfriend.”

“So I’ve heard,” his mom said, smiling. “Please, call me Mary.”

A finger tapped on his shoulder and Thomas jumped. Minho’s face, for some reason, became very angry. He turned around, already dreading what he’d find.

“Hello, Thomas,” Gally said. He was holding Brenda’s hand, and she smirked at him. He involuntarily pulled Newt closer, who’d turned around with him.

“Hello,” Thomas said, not knowing what else to say.

Gally held out his hand. “Congratulations.”

He stared at the hand for a moment, confused. Gally was congratulating him. Gally, of all people? He hadn’t even had time to talk to Teresa and her family yet, or Aris for that matter, but Gally was already here, congratulating him?

He slowly let go of Newt’s hand to shake Gally’s. “Thanks.”

Gally awkwardly smiled at him -- a rare sight. It was strange and a little uncomfortable, but Thomas smiled back. Maybe, if they really tried, if he wanted to, they could be friends someday. Maybe.

Brenda ruined the moment, though. “Congratulations.” Then, she looked at Newt. “Are you his boyfriend?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Newt said, the smile not leaving his face. He intertwined their fingers again as if to prove it. He looked more confident than ever.

A beat passed.

Two.

Then, Brenda scrunched up her nose. “I like your hair.”

“Thank you,” Newt said. “I like your shirt.”

It was a rather inappropriate shirt for a college graduation ceremony -- white, with a pair of red lips, a pierced tongue sticking out and big, bold letters spelling ‘BORN TO BE NAUGHTY’. Brenda smiled at him. Then, she turned to Thomas.

“I like him.”

“Me too,” Thomas uttered dryly.

She eyed him for a moment. Then, she smiled and tugged at Gally’s hand. “Let’s go.”

They disappeared in the crowd, and Thomas felt himself deflate like a balloon. Newt squeezed his hand as if to show his support.

Behind him, Minho whistled. “That was weird.”

“It was,” Thomas agreed, then shook his head. “I don’t know. Let’s pretend they’re not here.”

Thankfully, Teresa and her family showed up at that very moment, and the sight of her promise ring was enough to keep them all entertained for a few more minutes.

***

Newt and Thomas were driving home together, Newt’s hand on his upper leg but his eyes focused on the road as he drove. Thomas was quiet; the song playing was rather soft and slow and Newt was singing along to it. He didn’t want to disturb him just yet.

He had a rather strange feeling in his gut. It was a little tense, a little warm and awkward yet familiar at the same time. He wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not.

“Alright?” Newt suddenly asked him, glancing to his side. Thomas swallowed, then nodded.

“You’re quiet,” Newt commented. Thomas suddenly noticed he was tracing circles on his leg.

“Just feel weird,” Thomas admitted. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”

“Guess that happens with graduating, hm?” Newt said, a small smile on his lips. “This thing that’s been at the center of your existence for ages is suddenly gone. Takes a while to adjust.”

“Yeah,” Thomas agreed, and he decided that was probably it. He just felt weird because he graduated, that was all. Nothing else.

Newt took him upstairs in silence, and helped him out of his coat and gown. He’d been planning to get rid of it way sooner, but hadn’t had the chance to do so with everyone congratulating him and surprising him with a celebratory dinner. The people at the restaurant had eyed him a little weirdly, but they did give him free dessert, so he figured it wasn’t that bad after all.

Newt pressed a small kiss to his lips. “What do you say, bed or another film?”

“Both sound great,” Thomas said. “How about… watching a movie in bed?”

“Oh, mate,” Newt chuckled, “I can’t promise I won’t fall asleep. That endless ceremony tired me out enough.”

“That’s fine,” Thomas shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “I don’t mind falling asleep during a movie. Which you know.”

“That I do,” Newt said, playfully nudging his nose. “Let’s go, then.”

Thomas followed him to their bedroom, taking off his socks and suit in the process and Newt, upon seeing him in nothing but underwear, followed his example.

“C’mere, lover,” he dramatically said after letting himself fall on the bed. He opened his arms and Thomas happily crawled into them, closing his eyes and humming contently.

“Might as well stay like this, it’s so comfortable,” he mumbled. Newt nodded in agreement.

“How about we get under the covers first, love?” He asked. “I thoroughly enjoy sleeping with you, but I don’t fancy freezing my ass off.”

Thomas, although he didn’t want to let go of Newt, agreed and they parted for a moment to slide under the covers. Newt opened his arms again and he quickly snuggled closer, enjoying the feeling of his rising chest and his heartbeat against his ears.

They were quiet again -- Newt probably half-asleep, Thomas deep in thought. The strange feeling inside him had stirred again, and he frowned a little, trying to figure out what it all meant. Had it really just been about him graduating? Somehow, he didn’t believe that.

For some reason, Newt’s words rang in his ears. How about we get under the covers first, love?

Love.

Huh.

He moved his head to look up at his boyfriend, who now had his eyes closed. Love.

He felt it, now; it warmed up every cell in his body as he looked at Newt’s half-asleep form. Suddenly, the strange feeling wasn’t so strange anymore.

He’d always known he liked Newt. He was a caring, kind and attractive guy, and Thomas had probably liked him from the start. But love? He hadn’t felt that until that very moment, looking up at his sleeping form.

He’d tell him, sometime, he decided. Not now. Now was not the time -- he wasn’t even sure whether Newt was still awake. But sometime, some day, he would. And he was sure Newt would say it back.

Thomas thought back to the day he’d just had. If any of the people there had told him he loved Newt, he definitely would’ve laughed at them. But now, he figured it was probably obvious. Even Brenda had noticed something was going on between them, and he was sure it wasn’t just because they were holding hands.

Seeing her was strange. He hadn’t felt hateful towards her. He hadn’t in a very long time. Not that he liked her, either. It almost felt like they were complete strangers. He liked the feeling, in a way. Welcomed it. Just like he welcomed his love for Newt, let it take over his body.

And Gally had been there, too. Even though Thomas knew he’d initially come for Frypan, he’d still come up to congratulate him.

Suddenly, he felt very happy, and he leaned up to softly kiss Newt’s cheek. He didn’t move -- he’d probably fallen asleep, just like Thomas had figured.

Funny, he thought. If anyone had told him, that night when they’d first gotten together, that he’d end up being in love with this guy, he probably would have laughed at them. No way he’d let himself do that -- no way he’d get over Teresa that fast. Yet here he was, incredibly happy, and determined to make Newt happy in return. It was almost too good to be true.

But he supposed life was just peculiar like that.