Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The oldest is born with a bare wrist and, parents being parents, they agonise over it until the marks begin to form. Over the course of time - four months to a year is the average, according to all the child-rearing literature - the marks darken into proper letters.

The youngest is either born with those smudgy marks or gains them over the next day or so, and they form into proper letters as the baby ages. It's rare, but sometimes letters form from the squiggles sooner than the average, and this is taken as a sign that the bond between the two is incredibly strong.

Newt's wrist remains creamy pale and blank for nearly two years - agony for his parents - until one night he wakes his parents with a scream, crying about a sudden and almost burning itch in his left wrist. When they manage to pry his fingers off to see what has hurt their beloved baby boy they are shocked to see the stark black letters where mere hours before had been empty, pale skin.

Needless to say the shock soon melts into unadulterated glee, and Newt is raised hearing the story at parties, dinner dates, family gatherings. His mother might one day burst from pride at the thought that her son has a soul bond so strong that the letters formed in a matter of hours instead of the months or years they expected. Despite all the cooing and attention this gathers for Newt, his older sister Sonya has never resented it. She's two years older and although she saw the name on his wrist when they were little and he was in the bath, she's never been anything but proud and supportive.

Of course, his parents don't reveal what his wrist actually says. Because that's a secret to be kept at all costs until you're absolutely sure the person you're telling is the Soulmate branded on your skin.

There are lots of different ways to keep your wrist covered that don't mean wearing the ugly black cuffs that doctors hand out like sweets, and you don't always have to wear long sleeves. Parents buy cartoon-printed fabric for their little kids, girls buy them in fabric or shiny plastic from Claire's with whatever's in fashion emblazoned on them, things like Twilight, Teen Wolf and One Direction. Older girls cover them with make-up, teenagers hide them under layers of knotted fabric Concert wristbands. Shops sell the premium ranges of delicate, skin-tight lycra cuffs in a range of skin-tones, to make it look like it's not there. Those are similar to the ones that parents buy for their children when their letters form before the stage where the child is able to understand that they should be hidden.

Newt's mum talks about her teen years and her love for beaded bracelets and ribbons, which she would wear with her watch to cover her wrist up. His dad spent his years before he met Newt's mum in a bit of a Goth phase, so he had an endless number of fabric and leather cuffs and a penchant for long sleeves. Newt's mum still sometimes wears a collection of bangles even though once you've found your Soulmate you don't really have anything to hide any more.

But, like all things children are told to do or not do, there are always those who break the rules secretly. Siblings confess in whispered conversations after light out. Giggling pre-teen girls tell their friends at sleepovers when exchanging secrets, revelling in the romance of it all and the knowledge that one of the boys they know matches the name, and might even have their name on his wrist to match. There's always that one kid who blurts it out at nursery school, only to be hushed by an anxious and stressed out teacher. Boys try to find out the names on others' wrists in an attempt to find teasing material, or concoct plans to find out if the girl they think is bonded to them actually is. Of course this carries a heavy penalty at school if they get caught, and worse if their parents find out.

But that's the whole point of rebellion.

Newt has never in his life been the rebellious type, not even when he got old enough to understand that the boys at school would certainly bully him if they found out what was written on his wrist. Because the name of Newt's Soulmate definitely isn't someone from school, and it definitely isn't any of the girls he knows.

The name on Newt's wrist belongs to a boy.

Chapter Text

"I don't understand why it has to be now! I have one buggin' year left at school! Couldn't it wait?"

Newt's mum looked at him with a sympathetic expression, and her eyes were sad. She felt awful, knowing he was upset with the move.

"I know, sweetheart. But your dad's company can't just hold off on somethin' like this, and it really is a rather large honour for him to be chosen. They're putting a lot of faith in him to get this right."

Newt groaned, frustrated. They'd had this conversation a dozen times, probably more. Sonya tried to reason with him when he told her what their parents were planning. She moved out when she went to Uni so she's already done the move, settled elsewhere. She tells Newt he'll love it all; new start, new school, new friends, new scenery. But he still hates it. One year. One year left of school. One year left until he could fulfil his plans to study at Stirling, the beautiful Scottish University that had the nature-filled campus he craved. He didn't want to move now, away from their home in London, away from his few friends and his familiar street of neighbours. He didn't want to leave behind all his favourite places to visit, hide out when life was just too much. Further away from his sister, the only person in the world he could truly open up to. And he certainly didn't want to do it in the arse-end of nowhere, America.

But it wasn't his decision, and what Newt wanted didn't seem to matter at all.

So Newt soon found himself standing in front of The Glade; an American high school named as such because it was in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by fields.

His accent meant he was teased by his classmates, his teachers struggled to adapt their teaching because his old school had an entirely different curriculum, and the place was so huge he kept getting lost. All in all, it was looking like a pretty sucky last year of school was lying in store for him.

Until two weeks in, when he stumbled across the Band rehearsal that changed his life. Well, it played a part in changing his life. Newt had played the Clarinet since he was four and had been in love with the dynamics of a WindBand ever since. The group of musicians before him looked like the bare bones of a full Orchestra, and before he knew what he was doing Newt was stepping through the double doors into the Auditorium, enchanted by the familiar sight of stands and Timpani and sheet music.

"Uhm, sorry, this is a private rehearsal."

A slim boy maybe a year or so younger than Newt had caught sight of him, adjusting his glasses as he smiled in a friendly manner. Newt smiled back.

"Sorry, i'm new. I got lost and i can't help but notice ya look like you've got pretty much everybody ya need save for a Clarinet."

If the boy was surprised by Newt's very different accent he didn't show it, his green eyes brightening as he realised Newt spoke his language. A dark-haired girl sitting a row behind him looked over, curious blue eyes flashing. Newt was almost sure she looked like a Flautist. The boy beside her was a sure-fire for a Violin, and the larger boy in the back, talking quietly into his phone was definitely a Tuba. The green-eyed boy looked like a Windie, and Newt grinned when the boy's movements revealed an Oboe.

"We lost her a few months ago, haven't picked a suitable replacement. That's actually what our meeting's about today. We have the concert coming up and we've left it a bit late."

The boy's pale skin reddened as he smiled bashfully, and it was a look Newt knew well. It was the look his fellow Band Geeks often wore, the almost-embarrassment at their own love for music, the doubt that the person they were speaking to might tease them. Newt merely grinned again.

"I'm a Clarinetist. Well, i play Sax and Piano too, but the Clarinet holds my heart."

The green-eyed boy beamed, and Newt almost missed the way the girl behind him rolled her eyes before pulling a Flute case from her rucksack. Bingo.

"You have her with you?" his words were eager, almost child-like in their excitement.

Newt shook his head, disappointed with himself for missing the opportunity to play.

" 'Fraid not." he murmured, shrugging.

The boy looked thoughtful, before he sat his Oboe on the little triangular stand by his chair legs and got up.

"Wait right here." he said, his hands facing Newt as though to physically stop him from moving before the boy hared it out of the hall at a surprising pace, surprising a chuckle from Newt. The dark-haired girl turned her eyes on him cooly, taking him in as she finished slotting her instrument together. Newt smiled back at her politely. Flautists could be such odd, aloof creatures. Eventually she gave him a small smile in welcome.

"I'm Teresa, First Flute and Concert Chair. The over-excitable Oboe is Aris." Her smile softened a little. "He's a total nerd, but you can't help but love him."

She jerked her head, nodding to the silent boy beside her. Newt saw he had earphones in and he looked like he was concentrating very hard on what he was hearing, staring at the ceiling. He had dark hair and pale brown eyes.

"Winston." Teresa informed him.

She dropped her head over her chair-back to look upside-down at the dark-skinned boy sitting all by himself. Her hair fanned out around her head, reaching for the bottom of her seat and brushing the chair legs.

"And that's Siggy. It's short for Sigmeund." She sounded amused, and Newt thought he could grow to like her peculiar fierceness. When she righted she gave Newt a half-smile, fiddling with the sheet music in front of her.

"Guess his parents wanted to make sure his Soulmate doesn't have many to sift through."

Her chuckle was surprisingly warm, and Newt didn't have to try very hard to join in. She seemed pleased he had laughed at her joke, like he had passed some test. Her grin warmed, bright and lovely on her face. Newt smiled, nodding his thanks. He was about to say a proper hello when Aris burst back into the room, red-faced and a little out-of-breath, but carrying a small black brief-case lookalike with a small silver emblem that Newt recognised instantly.

"Oh wow, a Boosey & Hawkes! Mate that's brilliant!"

Aris was grinning proudly, and as he neared he held the case out to Newt, his eyes warm and hopeful.

"Give her a blow? We really need that Clarinetist."

Newt looked at him, stunned. "Are you serious?"

Aris smiled sweetly at him. "Deadly. Come on, she's clean, i keep her nice. And there's a new reed in the front pocket."

Newt grinned at him and attacked the zips with gusto, had the pieces assembled in mere seconds. Aris smiled at him as though he had confirmed something for him, and he patted the chair next to him. Newt felt better than he had in weeks, the best he'd felt since his last night in his old home.

Well, the rehearsal turned into an hour-long medley of all the small group's favourite pieces, such a diverse collection that Newt grinned around the mouthpiece the entire time. He had to adapt his embouchure to allow for the expression but it was so bloody worth it.

Needless to say, they took him.

Four weeks later Newt had settled in okay, most of his boxes unpacked and his own mark made in his bedroom, turning it from the detached and cold space it had been into a warm and inviting cave he could escape to. The band were brilliant. He'd attended rehearsals every other day since he'd been given a position, and even the tension from his new Seconds - who both felt they should be the one in his First Seat - had begun to fade. It was the night before the show and they were finally doing a full run-through, the whole band in the pit below the stage as the drama department ran their Dress Rehearsal.

Newt was finally playing again after counting a thirty six-bar rest, relishing the accomplished feeling when the theme travelled from the Flutes to himself. The melody was complex and had a delicious swing to it, and his Clarinet was calling out warmly like drizzled honey on a lazy summer day when the Drama teacher shouted for cut and stood up on top of her chair in the otherwise empty audience area.

"Wait, wait, wait! Stop, cut!" she yelled, her hands on her hips and her red hair spilling from it's clasp and into her eyes. Newt didn't know who she was, but he knew a perfectionist when he saw one, and Drama Perfectionists could be the worst. He toyed with one of his silver keys, shaking his instrument and watching the spit fall from the bell without a hint of revulsion. He ducked his head and tried not to look too disappointed that he'd been interrupted mid-solo. When she spoke again however, Newt nearly cracked his neck with the speed he looked up at.

"Thomas! What on earth are you playing at today? You're so distracted! Where's your head at, hm?"

Newt could tell it was a rhetorical question, but he was too busy craning in his seat to get a better look at the boy she was shouting at. When the boy in question finally stepped out from the wings, Newt's stomach did a somersault. He was gorgeous.

The boy had dark brown hair that stuck out at adorable angles and brown eyes that warmed to the colour of golden honey where the lights hit them. He was lean and his skin had an olive-y tan to it that was warm and summery but not overstated. He had rounded cheeks dusted with moles and a full, bow-lipped mouth that was currently twisted in a sheepish smile. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes gleamed and Newt was absolutely positive he had never seen anything like him.

Newt felt dazed, like someone had shone a very bright light in his eyes without warning. His heart missed a beat when the boy's nervous eyes swept the band and an apology left his lips. Newt forgot how to breathe as attraction rocketed through him more forcefully than it ever had before. It was almost painful how much Newt suddenly longed to speak to him. It was probably his imagination, because nobody had ever told him such a thing would happen, but the skin over his left wrist tingled just a little.

His name was Thomas.

Chapter Text

It had been absolute torture for Newt to focus from that moment on. He loved to play, the feeling of being part of a WindBand or Orchestra heady and intoxicating. The experience is indescribable and Newt had never before found himself longing for a session to be over, had never in his life wanted to reach that last coda like he did right then.

When it was finally over, Newt was filled with an anxiety unlike anything he'd ever felt before. His stomach was filled with the flutter of nerves and his heart was racing. Aris was chattering in his ear and Newt felt awful for not being able to concentrate. He looked up sheepishly from zipping his Clarinet away in its case.

"Sorry, i was daydreamin'. Say again?"

Aris rolled his eyes but smiled and repeated himself anyway. In the four weeks he'd been part of the band Newt and Aris had grown incredibly close. Teresa and Newt shared several classes and she had surprised him by becoming his guide to the school from day one, dragging him from class to class and questioning him on everything about England that she could think of. Aris had often whispered his surprise to Newt at rehearsals and after school when they were in the coffee shop. It seemed Teresa was usually exactly what Newt had initially thought; a little aloof and odd. He had wondered about it for days before realising he didn't really care because he was making friends much easier than he ever had in England and it was a good thing. Most of the time.

"Come with me to dump my stuff and then we'll head out? Shouldn't have coffee so late the night before a Show Day, but we'll just have tea instead."

Newt laughed at Aris's eager grin. He'd convinced Aris to try tea on one of their visits to the coffee shop they favoured, and Aris had pulled faces through the whole experience before Newt had pointed out he'd left the tea bag in and his tea was getting stronger the more he drank. It had been pretty funny. Since then Aris had shied away from any mention of tea and stuck to his mocha. Aris sniggered with him, gathering up his Oboe-stand and case, balancing all his sheet music on top. Newt watched him with an amused expression.

"Heyy, shank. Did i hear coffee?"

Newt turned back to find Teresa in the seat in front of him, doing her usual head-tip. Her hair danced above his knees as the odd tail brushed his thigh. He rolled his eyes.

"You'll break your neck doin' that one of these days, Tee."

She simply grinned upside down at him, looking so much like the cheshire cat that Newt felt the need to tell her so. She shrugged, dragging her head back up.

"Eh. Keeps people on their toes, that cat. I'll take your compliment as is."

He rolled his eyes as he gathered up his things, stepping out of his row to wait on her. They walked down to the Music Department together, Aris disappearing into the Wind Room as they turned the corner into the long, usually noisy corridor. Several of the actors were changing in the classrooms that had been assigned to them tonight, reserved by hastily printed A4 sheets of paper with MALE and FEMALE in black Times New Roman. The same thing happened on Concert Nights, he'd been informed, to keep the musicians in some form of order when several bands were playing. Aris had informed him that people rarely stuck to it anyway, much to the disappointment of the teachers who bore the responsibility for Concerts. Newt stepped aside to let a group of girls in sequenced boleros and top hats through, smiling at them politely. The place was awash with the ordered chaos of back stage, and Newt drank it in, loving it all.

"Hey Tom! You better get your act together for tomorrow. Daydreaming on stage? Rookie move!"

Teresa's sudden shout made Newt jump, and he realised the boy from the stage was walking up the corridor towards them. The mussed up brown hair, the caramel eyes… Newt felt the tug of attraction hot in his stomach. The boy met his eye with a smile before he looked at Teresa. His grin was easy and warm and Newt felt a rush of affirmation.

His Soulmate would have a warm soul, a friendly warmth. His Soulmate would be funny and protective, filled with wonder and love.

"Hey, Teresa. Not my fault, man. That new Clarinetist you picked out? Totally distracting. Man can they play!"

He'd drawn level with them as she finished, chuckling easily. Newt drank him in. He was relaxed and seemed easy-going, his eyes sparkled and his grin looked like it was comfortable on his face. It was difficult not to smile back, not that Newt tried very hard. And the guy clearly liked Newt's playing, that was a good sign, right?

Teresa laughed, slipping an arm around Newt's waist and pulling him in for a sideways hug.

"That'd be this guy. He's new, fell into our rehearsal a few weeks back. He's good."

Newt felt his face burning as he grinned sheepishly at Thomas. The boy had turned the full wattage of his grin on him, his brown eyes gleefully bright. He chuckled, his expression morphing into something surprisingly vulnerable and a little shy.

"Hi, I'm Thomas. You were fabulous. You were totally nailing that solo, i'm really sorry i ruined it."

He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully and Newt fell a little in love with him right then and there. He stuck out his hand, feeling his skin tingle as the brunette shook it politely, a little eager.

"Ehm, thanks. I'm Newt, i just moved here."

Thomas's grin widened.

"Nice, a Brit. Newt's an unusual name. But then again who am i to judge, huh? I probably know people with worse. So how long have you been in the States or have you just moved into the country?"

Newt heart fell considerably. His attraction only grew as the boy babbled on without a hint of awkward, as if they'd know each other for ages, but he didn't seem to react at all to his name beyond what was a common comment. He chatted with the boy, and he quickly learned that yes, he had indeed been right about him. Thomas was bright and sort of bold, playful and funny and there seemed no limit to the number of words he could say in a conversation. Newt felt a bubble of affection rooting itself firmly in his heart even though he was coming to realise that this wasn't the boy he was destined for.

The thought was more than a little heartbreaking.

Eventually, Aris appeared and they were ready to set off. Thomas couldn't accept Teresa's offer to join them because he'd promised a friend he'd run with him before it got too dark.

"Well it was great meeting you, Newt. I guess i'll see you around the department?"

Newt knew he wasn't imagining the eagerness in the other boy's voice, he could hear it plain as day. He grinned back, loving how the brunette's eyes lit up when he laughed.

"Sure thing, Tommy. See ya around."

Thomas looked surprised, and then delighted.

"Tommy?"

Newt was red in the face, trying to backtrack as he realised what he'd said. Thomas cut him off, looking pleased and thoughtful.

"I like it, cool. See you Newt!"

He jogged down the corridor, leaving Newt with his two friends and a warm face. When Newt called after him he turned to wave over his shoulder.

"See ya Tommy!"

Teresa nudged his ribs.

"Look at you, making friends. So, Aris. The Glade or The Maze?"

Newt couldn't remember which of the little coffee shops was which, only that Aris and Teresa constantly bickered over which was better. Aris scrunched his nose up.

"You know which one. I'm not in the mood to deal with those freaky grunge kids who hang out in The Maze. They give me the creeps, sitting there like weird creepy voodoo lovers. I keep expecting them to whip out a switchblade and hold the place hostage."

Teresa pretended to be offended as they started making there way towards the Main Exit of the school.

"Well, if they ever did, it'd be because the place sells the best cakes for like, a hundred miles."

Newt's mind wandered as he listened to their familiar bickering.

Chapter Text

Newt and Thomas became incredibly close ridiculously fast. When that first Drama Concert was over Thomas spent the majority of the student-arranged after-party badgering Newt the same way Teresa had for weeks; asking every question about Britain that he could and commenting frequently on how much he loved Newt's clipped english accent.

It was difficult for Newt to comprehend how it was possible that this boy couldn't be the Tommy on his wrist. He felt guilty using the nickname for him, wondering if he would have if the letters on his wrist spelled something else. And yet every time he let it slip it felt right, every time he said it Thomas would flash him a familiar, affectionate smile and Newt would feel bad about how much he liked Thomas smiling that way. By the time the party was finished and Newt's mum was there to pick him up, he and Thomas had swapped phone numbers, both house and mobile.

Aris and Teresa both teased him mercilessly in school and through text for days. Aris claimed he'd never seen such instant chemistry and Newt couldn't work out whether he was truly teasing.

Newt found himself looking forward to rehearsals more than ever, especially when a whole Departmental Trip was announced for the last week of the summer semester. Six teachers and nearly fifty students from the various bands and the choir would be going. His dad's promotion meant his parents agreed readily and Newt had the excitement of paying off a little every month, beyond delighted when Thomas, Teresa and Aris each revealed they were going too.

Newt loved sitting in his First Seat, Teresa and Aris in the row in front of him and new and complex pieces in his Sheet Folder. When the choir joined rehearsals and the band played alongside Newt was in heaven. The combination of music and Thomas was incredible, and the first time Newt heard Thomas sing he thought for sure his heartbeat would never slow again. Focusing on the music in front of him became a battle of wills when he could see Thomas in his peripheral vision.

But it was still heaven just the same.

The weight of knowing Thomas wasn't his Soulmate grew daily, and Newt found he had no way of protecting himself against the effects the younger boy had on his emotions, his heart rate and his affections. Newt was rapidly falling for a boy he knew he couldn't have and that was the sweetest and yet most painful torture he had the capacity to understand.

Thomas became a constant presence at after school rehearsals, even when the choir weren't needed. He sat in random spots in the untidy sea of chairs or sat on the edge of the stage and swung his legs as he listened. He'd bring popcorn and munch on it as he watched, cheering enthusiastically in all the right places and throwing popcorn kernels on the Timpani from the stage edge when he was feeling particularly badly behaved.

What had once been closed rehearsals now became less so, especially when Thomas brought his fellow choir mates. Various members from the Department became occasional audience members, none quite so much as Thomas. Eventually there came a time he brought his little brother because he was supposed to be home babysitting but Newt had gushed for days about a new solo he was practicing and Thomas was desperate to hear it. Newt had been secretive with it, refusing to play it when Thomas came over, and constantly skipping it during lunchtime practices.

Thomas had become obsessively curious about the piece they were playing and Teresa and Aris had clammed up too. Aris because Newt had told him he wanted to get a handle on it first, asked him not to tell, and Teresa because she thought it was hilarious to tease Thomas with anything she could because he was so easy-going it was hard to really get under his skin.

So two weeks before Halloween Thomas had brought his little brother Chuck, who was going to be starting at the Glade the next autumn. Chuck had watched them with large hazel eyes, awed and unafraid to say so. He had whooped and applauded enthusiastically after every piece. He was still such a little kid, even though he was turning twelve that Newt's bandmates hadn't minded a bit. Teresa became surprisingly squeaky when she saw him, stating she thought he was the cutest thing she'd ever seen. Aris had shot Newt a skeptical and surprised look that made the blonde almost swallow his reed as he laughed.

Afterwards, as Newt was loosening the bell from the body of his instrument and laughing at Teresa's playful digs at the cornet players, he felt something land on the back of his head. He raised a hand in confusion, feeling the spot. There was nothing there and he wondered whether he'd been imagining it when he felt it again, this time right on the crown of his head. When he found the spot something light brushed his fingers before disappearing. When Newt tipped his head in an effort to see, the small piece of popcorn fell onto his chair.

He tossed a glare over his shoulder in the direction of a quiet snigger.

"Tommy, you better not have just chucked popcorn at me."

His suspicions were confirmed when Thomas's bright laughter filtered into the air. The brunette gave him one of his sunniest grins, his mouth full of popcorn.

"It was Chuck!"

"Heyyyy!" came the surprised squeal, "That's not true! It wasn't, i swear! Thomas! You're going to get me in trouble with him before he's even met me!"

Newt found himself smiling at the mournful wail, turning round to look properly at the two boys who were sitting in the first two rows of the audience. Or at least the younger boy was sitting. Thomas was lounging cockily in the second row, his trainers resting on the back of the chair in front, ankles crossed. He was tossing popcorn into his mouth with a gleeful grin and Newt just rolled his eyes at his behaviour.

"Trust me Chuck, you can't be any worse than your loony brother."

The younger boy's face cleared instantly and he laughed with Newt, his curls bouncing on his head as he twisted to grin at his brother. Thomas pouted, setting mournful brown eyes on Newt.

"Hey, i thought we were friends."

Newt shrugged. His eyes flickered briefly over to Thomas and he pulled an unfazed expression.

"Ehh. I could take you or leave you."

Teresa sniggered behind him before Thomas had a chance to reply.

"Yeah, right. Two days apart and it'd be Tommy this, and Tommy that and When's Tommy coming back? I bloody miss him."

Her attempt at an English accent was so close to his own that Newt's mouth goldfished for a moment before his brain could think of a retort. Thomas was howling with laughter, and Aris's quiet chuckling earned him a glare. The Oboist held his hands up, his grin only half apologetic.

"Buggin' shanks, all of ya." Newt huffed, zipping the last of his Clarinet in its case.

The rest of the band were filtering away, conversations and farewells warm and friendly in the air. Newt savoured it, loving the feeling of belonging, the warm embrace of a group of musicians. He caught Teresa's eye, and she gave him a small warm smile as though she knew exactly where his head was at.

"Are we going for coffee tonight before you go off to play house?" she teased, her smile curling into a smirk when he blushed.

"Slim it." he retorted. "Or i'll back Aris for The Glade."

Teresa rolled her eyes before leaning to the side to see Thomas and his brother.

"Hey Chuck, you like cake?"

The younger boy turned faintly pink when he was addressed, looking back at Teresa shyly.

"Who doesn't?" he remarked cheekily. And then, emboldened by his brother's laugh, "Duh."

"Yeah, Teresa. Duuh." Thomas joined.

Newt rolled his eyes skyward at their antics, but he couldn't bite back all of his smile. The warm feeling filling his chest feeling an awful lot like friendship.

"The Maze it is." Teresa said with finality, throwing her rucksack over her shoulder as she stuck her tongue out at Aris's grumbling.

Chapter Text

The visit to the Maze had gone brilliantly, of course. Chuck and Teresa bonded over Red Velvet and Lemon Sorbet cupcakes and Aris went off on a sugar-fuelled rant about how Cas and Dean were so clearly meant to be and yet nobody was doing anything about it and that even Sammy shipped them and Newt's amusement coloured his face. Aris and he had had this discussion before, many, many times.

Thomas spilled his coffee and Teresa's new boots received a splash-tan that she didn't really love. So she flicked cake at him, and a war began. The weird gang of gothesque teens shot them disgusted and contemptuous looks, muttering about them between themselves. They made Newt and Aris uneasy, and Chuck hid his face whenever they looked over, but Teresa rolled her eyes at them and Thomas simply sniggered every time one of them spoke to another, his smirk taunting and bright. The creepy gang were labelled Grievers that night, much to Teresa's disappointment. She thought Grievers was such a depressing, goth-band name. Newt had pointed out that creepy-looking people deserved a creepy name, and that they'd probably love it themselves.

After that first visit to Thomas's home, Newt became as familiar a face there as Thomas was at his. Each boy's parents adored his new friend, and before too long the boys were crashing at each other's houses on school nights. They spent their weekends practically joined at the hip and they grew so close that their respective friends often referred to them as Thomas-and-Newt. Outside of their classrooms it was unusual to see either boy without the other.

Halloween passed and Bonfire night rolled around, bringing with it the colder nights and crisper mornings that Newt embraced gleefully. Thomas rolled his eyes at the blonde's sunny disposition in the mornings when they walked to the busstop, wrapped in gloves and scarves, hat pulled down over their ears.

Two weeks before the semester was due to finish up for Christmas found them walking to Thomas's house in the frost, Thomas bemoaning the disappearance of the sun for the millionth time that day alone. Newt was smiling absently at his friend's antics as he looked up at the grey sky.

"You british are weird. How can this weather make you happy? It's freezing!"

To emphasise his point Thomas rubbed his hands over his arms and shivered dramatically, drawing a chuckle from Newt. He threw him an amused look.

"It reminds me of back home. And besides, Winter is the best."

Thomas was drawing him a skeptical look, but when Newt turned back up to the sky and continued to talk Thomas was only half-listening because he was too busy letting his gaze trace the wind-chapped redness of Newt's cheeks, the line of his jaw as it disappeared into his scarf. The blonde's hat was pulled down so that only the lobes of his ears were visible, stray curls of sunshine escaping from the knitted rim and flicking under his ear, around his nape.

"Cold nights so that ya have to sear socks in bed and seein' your breath in the morning and hot chocolate by the fire…"

Thomas smiled at his friend, releasing a soft chuckle.

"You sound like such a girl, Newt."

Four months ago the comment would have hurt his feelings, made him feel nervous and uncomfortable. But Thomas wasn't mocking him, he was teasing him just like always and Newt only rolled his eyes in response, his cheeks reddening further. But that was from the cold, right?

"Don't be a bloody wanker." he quipped back, and Thomas's laugh was explosive and loud.

"Fuck, Newt. I dunno what is it but the way you use words is fantastic."

Newt grinned. Thomas wasn't the only one who seemed fascinated by how he spoke, but he actively encouraged what he thought was Newt's "Weird Brit Vocab". His personal favourites were "wanker" and "piss off", though he did love how often the blonde said "bloody".

"You're so easy pleased." he replied, and Thomas's smile softened as he looked at him. Newt was looking up at the clouds again.

"Yeah, i guess."

Chuck was at a Parent's Evening with his mum and Thomas's Dad was away on business that weekend so the boys had the run of the house, not that it really mattered. They ended up in the back lounge as always after school, sprawled on the either end of the couch and kicking each other as they settled in to watch a movie. Thomas's seemingly ever-present source of popcorn nestled between their knees and the back of the couch.

By the time Thomas's mum and Chuck got home they'd relocated to Thomas's room and were playing a game of hypotheticals under the guise of doing homework. They'd been at it for over an hour and had run out of the usual supply of standard questions. When it was Thomas's turn he took his time, and when Newt looked over from the english essay he was writing Thomas was frowning at his math assignment, looking for all the world like he was really concentrating. Newt had a funny feeling he wasn't but he didn't say anything. He went back to the time-consuming task of copying a quote down word for word in Shakespeare's ridiculous language when the brunette finally picked a question.

"Would you ever… date someone who didn't match your wrist-name? Like, properly date. You know, fall in love and stuff."

To say Newt was surprised was an understatement. He looked at Thomas in shock, his eyes wide and the skin on his face feeling tight and hot. Thomas was still scribbling in his jotter, looking for all the world like he was concentrating on the homework and his question had been a throwaway, whimsical one. For some reason Newt's heart was racing and his hands felt clammy. His breath trembled.

"Why- Why would ya?"

It might have been his imagination, but Thomas looked disappointed, his frown deeper. Maybe. Newt wasn't sure, feeling vastly uncomfortable when moments before he had been unable to think of a single aspect of his life that rivalled the way lying on Thomas's bedroom floor and doing homework with the best friend he'd ever had made him feel. The initial attraction had been instant and electric, and although it hadn't really faded as Newt was hoping, his friendship with Thomas grew every day. He felt closer to Thomas than anybody else except his sister, and it was both frightening and amazing. He blinked at Thomas when the brunette looked back at him.

"Well, if they make you happy why wouldn't you?"

He didn't know whether it was because it was Thomas talking or because it was Friday and school was finally over for the week and he was feeling reckless and free. Whatever the reason Newt found himself actually thinking that Thomas had made a fair point. It questioned everything he had ever been told in his life but there you had it. When he recovered from the shock of it all, Newt put his pencil down and sat up properly, Thomas closing his jotter without being asked.

"What's this about, Tommy?"

The golden-brown eyes met his and Thomas shrugged, looking only slightly uncomfortable despite the casual way in which he had questioned the entire point of life. Basically.

"Well, my parents aren't Soulmates. But they're the happiest couple i've ever seen in my life. I mean, does having a Soulmate really have to mean that you spend your whole life devoted to finding one person, when there might be someone there already who makes you the happiest you've ever been?"

Newt took a breath, settling himself against the bed with a sigh. Thomas was looking at him nervously and pretending he wasn't. So. Philosophical life discussion it was.

"Come on, Tommy. Let's get some hot chocolate in, Yeah? Feels like this is gonna be a while."

The relieved smile that hid behind Thomas's sunny grin made Newt fall a little further in love with him.

Chapter Text

The boys stayed up all night, sipping forgotten hot chocolates and discussing the nature of Soulmates. Despite the uneasy feeling that the topic planted in his stomach Newt listened to what his friend had to say, questioning everything and trying to squish the rising want in his heart.

Thomas's parents had grown up together. They'd grown up with three front door between their own, gone to the same childminder, the same school. In their teen years his mother had become popular, his father rebellious and trouble-making despite his good grades. His mother's parents had urged her away from him, for the protection of her school record and for the sake of trying to negate the way they spent all their time together.

They'd disowned his mother when she'd revealed that she was in love with his father despite their attempts. Thomas's parents had fallen in love when they were children, nurturing it without knowing. Despite how they had been raised and despite the way of the world they had discovered that they couldn't go looking for their designated Soulmates. The thought of being with anyone else had driven her to confess, only to find out theta he'd been aware of his love for her since he was ten years old.

Newt found his eyes prickling as Thomas told him the whole tale, feeling sorry for the troubles they had gone through, the way their parents had reacted. Despite the fact that they were not the only non-Bond couple in the world, such a thing wasn't always looked upon in a positive light. As with everything else in life, some people were more accepting than others.

Their story was incredible, enchanting and romantic, and as Thomas got to the wedding Newt found himself filling with relief, grinning embarrassingly widely as the story reached its happy end. Newt knew Thomas's family were prefect; his parents loved and encouraged him, accepting of his sexuality and adoring both he and his little brother. Newt had been welcomed into their home warmly.

It had opened Newt's eyes to the fact that he had been fed one side of what he had never realised was a very controversial and yet important part of life. Soulmates were made for you, perfect matches, literally born to make you happy. And yet Thomas's parents had found that happiness in each other, despite the black letters branded on their wrists. They were proud of their love, their marriage and their children, Newt knew that.

Really when it came down to it, whose business was it what was written on your wrist but your own?

"You know, i know we tease you about it..."

Teresa started absently, waking him from his thoughts as she cleaned the mouthpiece of her instrument, twisting the off-white cloth expertly. They were sitting side by side in the littlest band room before rehearsal, having gotten together to practice sections when they shared and passed the melody. Newt looked up from the new reed he was fiddling with before popping it in his mouth. The sweet and familiar woody taste coated his tongue as he sucked on it gently, dampening it to make it ready to play. At his raised brow Teresa smirked before wrinkling her nose.

"On a side note, you look ridiculous with that poking out of your mouth. You Reedies are disgusting."

Newt simply chuckled around the reed, flipping it over with his tongue just to spite her. She rolled her blue eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh. She switched to the second part of her Flute and set to work carefully running the rod of her cleaning cloth into the silvery cylinder. When she looked back up Newt raised his eyebrow again, indicating he wanted her to continue. He stuck his tongue out, pressure keeping the reed flat against it. She gave him an amused, slightly disgusted smile.

"You were so quiet until he came along. He's the one making you all mischievous and weird."

Newt rolled his eyes and took the reed out of his mouth.

"Tommy doesn't make me weird. I'm not weird."

Teresa smirked at him, her twinkly sapphire eyes sly.

"Who mentioned Thomas?"

Newt opened his mouth to respond but the sly smirk curling his friend's mouth made his face heat up. When she noticed, Teresa's smirk widened into a broad and teasing grin.

"Ah haha, see? Just admit it, Newt. You'll feel better."

Newt scowled at her, but it only made her giggle. He huffed and turned back to his Clarinet, slotting the reed against the mouthpiece and tightening the little silver screws.

"All i'm saying is that he's had an effect on you."

"Who says it was him? Maybe i'm just settlin' in. I did just move to a new country ya know."

Teresa rolled her eyes, disregarding his argument with a wave of her hand. Newt ducked away from the damp cloth as it swung. Teresa flicked him another sly look.

"And then there's the nickname…"

Newt rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and groaned.

"Again with that. I'm not alone in nicknamin' him."

"Well, no. But you are the only one calling him Tommy…"

The suggestive tone in her voice made him squirm, an uncomfortable flush racing through his abdomen. Hearing his name in her voice was odd. He was reminded with a jolt that he was the only one calling Thomas by the nickname he'd graced him with. And was he only doing that because it was burned into his skin? Teresa seemed to sense the shift in his mood because her smile softened, her eyes quietened.

"What's up with you? You've been distracted all week. Even more than usual."

Her smile was gentle as she tried to make him laugh, and he flashed her a quick smile as a thank you. He went back to his Clarinet, wondering whether he should tell her what he and Thomas had talked about. He wondered whether she believed that Soulmates were the one and only in a person's life.

Most people did, it was the way of the world, the first lesson children remembered receiving. There were of course many people who dated outwith their wrist-name, much of those built on the understanding that when a Soulmate came along… Well, they were their Soulmate.

Newt had always believed he would spend a portion of his life trying to find the boy called Tommy who had his name inscribed on his own wrist, and that they'd fall in love and be happy. Or that he would bump into him one day in the library, the grocery store, at the park. There was always the risk that non-Bond relationships would end badly, one person feeling more than the other. It was human nature, and Newt had always believed he'd never want any part in it.

It wasn't that he'd never felt attraction for anyone, never thought how nice it would be to be with them. But he'd never deemed it a genuine possibility in his life. He would find his Soulmate, that's what you were supposed to do, what life was about.

He'd never dealt with attraction in anything close to the realm of what he felt for Thomas. And yet it hadn't faded. If anything the feeling had grown, fondness and affection blossoming in his heart every day, fuelled by every look, every smile or laugh, every time Thomas touched his arm or knocked their shoulder together when they walked.

"Thomas was talkin' the other day about non-Bond relationships, and it's sorta stuck with me. I guess it's because i've never really given it much thought before."

He half expected her to giggle, roll her eyes and tease him, but she just looked at him curiously with those quiet eyes. Her face was calm and thoughtful.

"Can i tell you a secret, Newt?"

When he looked at her again she was smiling, her head tipped to one side as she looked down at the pieces of her Flute.

"Of course." he replied.

She surprised Newt then by biting her lip and looking unsure.

Before he could question out loud the unusual disappearance of her boldness she set the silvery pieces on the empty seat beside her, and glanced up at him with big blue eyes.

Before he knew it she was unlacing the red ribbon on her baby blue wristband, loosening it enough to push it up her forearm enough to reveal the dark black letters scribbled there.

Newt snapped his eyes closed and turned his face but it was too late, and he'd seen.

"Teresa!" he hissed, reaching out blindly with his hand until he covered her wrist. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"Showing you something." she murmured back, all traces of her usual fierce and fiery self gone.

Newt opened his eyes and met her gaze anxiously. She smiled gently at him, slipping her wrist from his grip to display the word between them. Newt couldn't help it, he didn't want to but without his permission his eyes followed hers to alight upon the five letters.

Minho

"I want you to know you can trust me, and i trust you. I may not know Thomas all that well as a friend, but i have been at school with him for years and from what i've seen you two have… I don't know, a natural chemistry. You've changed him, i've seen it. He's much more settled in himself these days, like you've calmed him down and made him fit himself better. And you're out of your shell now, cheeky and a little brazen, like him. I might be wrong, but i've seen the way your eyes fix on him at rehearsals, the way you laugh when when we all go out and he says… well pretty much anything. Now, i'm not showing you this to make you feel like you have to share in return. And i'm not asking you to either." She paused, and then her blue eyes met his again. "But i want you to know that if his name is on your wrist then i wouldn't be surprised."

Newt was stunned. His brain was backlogged, trying to process the monumental revelation, the precious secret Teresa had given him. His heart was thudding in his chest, adrenaline racing through him because of her wrist and because of her words. She knew. Had he been so blazingly obvious that everyone had figured it out?

"How… How did you-" His voice croaked, and he was blinking at her as his brain continued to try and catch up.

Teresa just smiled that gentle smile again.

"I had a hunch."

Newt looked down at his own left wrist, where his favourite blue and white wristband lay against his skin. He traced his fingers over it thoughtfully, as though playing the piano keys patterned on it's surface. He looked up at Teresa, watching her re-lace the red ribbon in a practiced manner. He curled his fingertips over the back edge of the wristband, his stomach churning and fear clutching at him as though he were about to commit a crime. He felt sick and uneasy and yet he wanted to. He wanted to prove to her that he could trust her just as much as she was trusting him. He swallowed, steeling himself.

"We shouldn't be doin' this." he whispered, before tugging the wristband up his arm to show her his own five letters.

Chapter Text

"Fancy doing coffee after rehearsal?" Teresa twisted to ask him the second he sat down behind her. "Might be the last chance i get to escape my family before they drag me off to visit my crazy aunt and coop me up for two weeks with my awful cousins."

They were amongst the first to arrive, the only ones really save for Siggy the Tuba player and two girls who played the Trombone. Newt smirked as he unzipped his Clarinet case.

"You're just not ready to spend Christmas Break without my stellar conversation skills."

"A whole three weeks without having to watch you and Thomas dance around each other bickering like a married couple, or listening to you sigh over the fact that you're ignoring how much you want him just because he's not your bond? Gee, what on earth will i do?"

Newt swatted at her but he was only half annoyed. He was going to miss her constant sarcasm and wittiness - and having someone to moan about Thomas to - and he was going to miss rehearsals just as much.

"You know, you should really keep your voices down when you talk about things you're not supposed to." mused a voice to Newt's left. When he turned Aris was unpacking his Oboe. "That's sort of the point of deadly secrets."

Newt felt instantly chastised by his quiet words but beside him Teresa merely snorted, doing her usual twist to sit side-ways in her chair so they were all facing each other.

"Please, Aris. What are they going to do? Send me home to my parents to be grounded? Come on."

Newt knew she was right, really, but the thought of how his own parents would react filled him with dread. He looked anxiously at Teresa. He kept his voice hushed.

"He has a point, Tee. Society would outcast us if-"

"Society? Are you kidding, Newt? I don't even know why it has to be a huge conspiracy secret. I mean, if we didn't hide them, we'd find them so much faster don't you think? Plus then everybody would have friends like i do," she added, batting her lashes attractively at him. "extra eyes on the look out."

Newt groaned, feeling uncomfortable with the conversation and hoping the others in the room couldn't hear from where they sat across the band pit. Just like Thomas's view on Soulmates, it went against everything his parents had ever told him, everything teachers had ever drummed into him. And the worst part was that he couldn't really dispute what Teresa said. Not in a way she'd accept.

"It's tradition, Tee. You have to look for them yourself. You know, appreciate them more, live the journey and all that."

Newt nodded at Aris's words, even though he knew Aris's wrist-name just as Aris knew his and Teresa's. What a group of little rebels they were.

"You're only saying that because you have like the most common girl's name ever tattooed on you." Teresa sniped back, and even though it was a familiar and playful jibe, Newt could hear the unusual heat behind it today.

Aris rolled his eyes and took no offence, like always. His voice was bland and even when he replied.

"Believe it or not Teresa, the search is just as hard if it's a common name than if it's a weird and unusual one. Instead of knowing nobody it's like you have to know everybody."

She blew her fringe out of her eyes but didn't comment. Newt watched her, taking in the almost-scowl between her eyes. Even as tiny a line as it was, Newt had quickly learned it could mean an abundance of fierceness from her. He poked her shoulder playfully.

"Anyway. You were sayin' a fortnight without my whinin' might be relaxing for ya?"

Teresa scrunched her nose as she sniggered.

"I love that word. Fortnight. Why do we not have that here? It's hilarious."

Newt rolled his eyes but he was smiling as his friends laughed. The majority of the band were seated and chatting by the time their conductor came into the Hall.

"Okay. As you know, this is our last meeting before Christmas. So we're going to spend a little bit of time going over some of our pieces for the School Visit in January, and then we'll have some fun with the Christmas pieces we picked out last week. We'll be finished by six o'clock sharp, so make sure parents and such know we're finishing early. Folders open to Music For A Darkened Theatre. Let's begin!"

Newt grinned as he flicked to the right page, exchanging a pleased look with Aris. One of their favourite pieces, the Medley was fun and quirky, showing off every section of the band through a collection of familiar and catchy themes. Not to mention the fact that the Clarinet part was so much fun to play. It was simply brilliant.

Chapter Text

"Newt! Phone for you!"

He looked up at his sister in the doorway, taking in the sight of her in his new home. He was already dreading her departure, and she'd only arrived the day before.

"Who is it?" he asked, setting down his latest word on the Scrabble board he and Harriet were bonding over and snagging himself a nice forty-two points, much to Harriet's dismay if her good-natured grumble was anything to go by. He was scribbling on his points card as he listened to his sister repeat the question into the handheld landline against her ear.

"Says his name is Thomas."

Newt looked up with a surprised smile, reddening when Sonya raised her eyebrows with an eager and questioning look in her eye. He quickly shook his head, indicating that no, it wasn't his Tommy. She drooped a little, jutting her lip out in disappointment as he reached for the phone. He didn't want to think about the genuine disappointment in her eyes though. She was as eager for him to find his soulmate as he was.

"Heyy, Tommy." he greeted, cheered immeasurably by the excitable hello on the other end of the line. "Missin' me that much already, eh?"

He chuckled as Thomas quipped back, squirming as Sonya nudged him deliberately as she settled next to him on the couch. He threw her a scowl as she waggled her eyebrows.

"Forever? It's been two bloody days. You're a lost cause."

He could feel the grin splitting his face as he listened to Thomas chatter but he didn't care. He didn't even care that his sister would no doubt divide the rest of the evening between taunting him mercilessly and needling him about Thomas. He'd missed the younger boy's voice, missed hearing the warm laugh as though he hadn't, as Thomas had said, heard it in forever.

"Yeah, well. Can't please everybody… Yeah, just a family night… You bet, we've got the board games out and i'm in the middle of owning Sonya's girlfriend at Scrabble."

He was only half paying attention to the game as he placed his next tiles, Thomas's voice in his ear much more interesting.

"Haha, yeah that was her. She's overly excited that a boy phoned for me."

He stuck his tongue out at Sonya when she elbowed him.

"No way! Aaww, i'd love to meet him sometime, sounds like a sweetheart… You're mental, you are… Sure! Of course, i'd love to… Hey, you should come here too Tommy, i know they'd love to meet ya. Yeah, and bring Chuck with ya! … Brilliant! … Yeah, and we could do popcorn, and- … Nice one. Oh. Okay, call me tomorrow, yeah? Or i'll call you? … Well yeah, whichever Tommy. … Okay… Bye! … Oh, no way! That's fantastic! … Yeah. … Okay, bye Tommy!"

He pressed the button with a smile on his face, placing it on the table as he leaned over to study his tiles, putting out his next word.

"Well? Aren't ya gonna tell us who that was?" Sonya wheedled impatiently.

Newt tried to hide his grin, knowing exactly what she was thinking and yet unable to stop because hearing Thomas's voice on the other end of the line had made him ridiculously happy.

"Told ya already, didn't he? It was Thomas. From school."

Sonya snorted, poking him in the ribs.

"Uh-huh. Not what i heard. You called him Tommy."

Newt shrugged, keeping his gaze on the Scrabble board because he knew if he met her eye there was a very strong possibility of her working it all out.

"It's a nickname. Like you callin' Harriet Harry."

"Well, she's my Soulmate."

Newt hummed, sliding an X onto the board, knowing he was going to win this game.

"Ya know what i mean. Friends give each other nicknames sometimes. Like my friend Teresa, we call her Tee for short."

"Uh-huh."

His sister didn't sound convinced, and by the expression on Harriet's face she wasn't either, but they didn't say any more about it.

Newt was one word away from winning the game when dinner was ready and they bickered over that fact at the table.

Chapter Text

He'd arrived at Thomas's house to find his friend sitting on the porch swing, waiting on him. Beside Thomas sat a boy Newt had never seen before, a broad-shouldered asian boy who was a little bigger than Thomas. He had a sweep of dark black hair that curved into a sort of choppy spike at the front. He was laughing at something Thomas had said and had his muscled arms crossed over his chest. The guy looked like an athlete and Newt felt the smallest twinge of jealousy coil in his gut as he watched them.

Thomas was grinning at the boy, his eyes flashing the way Newt loved. It was incredibly obvious that they had a history together, and not just because Thomas had told him they were life-long friends. He had gone to Summer Camp with Thomas every year since they were five years old, and even though he lived across the state he visited for a week at Christmas and in the Summer. He'd been Thomas's best friend his whole life. Newt tried not to think about the meagre five months or so that he'd known Thomas.

He knew Thomas and himself were close, even by longer friendship standards, and people often commented on it. Teresa and Aris were forever teasing him about it, about the way he looked at Thomas, about the way the boys sat beside each other, about every little touch they exchanged; shoulders, arms, knees. Try as he might he couldn't seem to convince them that it wasn't all fuelled by his attraction to Thomas. There was something about Thomas that made Newt let his guard down, that made him feel comfortable. They were just a little more affectionate than most friends, that was all.

Thomas caught sight of him and stood, grinning excitedly and looking pleased to see him. It made Newt feel a little better as he climbed the steps. Thomas threw casual arms around him and hugged him tightly. Newt was a little surprised but flushed with affection as he hugged him back.

"This is the friend i was telling you about," Thomas said as he drew back, and Newt thought he was talking to him until the boy he didn't know smirked and answered him.

"I'd never have guessed. Just assumed you molested everybody who walked up your drive."

Newt was startled into laughing, and Thomas threw him a wounded look before setting accusing eyes on the newcomer.

"I didn't molest him. It was a hug, jeez."

"Uh-huh." the dark-haired boy replied, his lips curled in a wicked smirk that made Newt's cheeks flood with heat.

Thomas groaned and slid his arm around Newt's lower back, nudging him towards the other boy as he got to his feet.

"Minho, this is Newt from school. Newt, this is Minho from the Summer Camp i was telling you about."

Newt shook the offered hand with an odd sort of excitement flashing through him. Had he really just heard that correctly?

"Minho, you said?"

The boy looked at him quizzically, amusement in his dark blue eyes. Thomas shot him a weird, unreadable look. Almost confused.

"That's what i said."

Newt nodded as he let go of the asian boy's hand, his brain working and his mouth asking his next question automatically.

"You wouldn't happen to spell it M-I-N-H-O, by any chance?"

Now the boy's eyes were narrowed, his half-smile bemused. Thomas was looking at him funny too, almost like he'd asked an offensive question, but not exactly. His eyes had darkened and there was something off about the way he was standing.

"Uhh, yeah. Why?"

Newt shook his head and laughed, forcing the thoughtful expression from his face. The last thing he needed was anyone working out that Teresa had shown him her wrist, or that he had done the same. He didn't dare think about the trouble that would cause. For both of them.

"No reason, mate. So you and Tommy been friends for years, eh? Any stories you can share with me? I haven't known him anywhere near as long, so some dirt would be very much appreciated."

The boy's eyes lit up mischievously and his answering grin was wicked.

"You bet your shuck ass i do. One year…"

Newt felt anticipation as they made their way inside the house, the idea of finding out anything about younger Thomas incredibly appealing. Thomas groaned ad he closed the door, trailing behind them with a scowl.

"…and then he fell flat on his face, losing us the race, the trophy and our dignity. And to girls, no less!"

Newt howled with laughter. They'd been sitting in the living room for hours, playing Monopoly and arguing pleasantly over hotels and Minho's cheating ways. Minho had revealed to them that his parents were planning on moving to the area, looking at a house in the next little town over. If they took it he'd be attending The Glade with them. He was older than Thomas and would be in Newt's year. He was pretty sure it was a done deal, his parents had all but signed the paperwork.

Newt had quickly decided he liked this cheeky, wicked boy and his sarcasm and his sassy comments. He was desperately curious about the name on his wrist, and even when they were teasing Thomas and ganging up against him Newt's brain was trying to come up with a scheme to find out if he had Teresa's name scribbled on his wrist. Pity it was a social crime to ask. Maybe they could take Minho to meet Teresa for coffee, see if he reacted when she introduced herself.

"You know Thomas has always been the type to make friends easy, but you i like better than most. You don't look like much of a Jock so i'm guessing you're not one of us Runners. Must have been Choir, right?"

Newt nodded as he took the Community Chest card from the top of the pile, whooping when he revealed it as a Get Out Of Jail card. Thomas rolled his eyes and swatted at him when Newt flashed it in his face with a cheeky grin.

"Very funny Newt. I get it, ha ha."

Newt smirked at him and Thomas rolled his eyes again. Thomas had so far been sent to Jail no less than twelve times, and they'd only been playing this game for an hour or so.

"Yeah," Newt answered Minho. "I'm in the band. We played a concert for the Drama Department. Tommy was on the stage."

Minho nodded, rolling the dice and punching the air when he landed on Free Parking and gathered up the money - mostly Thomas's - from the centre of the board. Thomas huffed as he took the dice.

"He's a Clarinet player. Shucking good at it too. You two are cheating me, and i don't know how."

Minho and Newt sniggered as Thomas rolled, their laughter doubling when he landed on Park Lane and shot Newt a dirty look. The blonde fluttered his eyelashes at him with a deadly grin.

"Four houses, £1,300 mate. Pay up."

Thomas ignored Newt's expectant palm and flicked each note at him with a scowl, making Minho laugh. Newt smirked at him.

"Seeing as ya were such a lovely quiet tenant i'll give you a discount." he retorted, tossing a £5 note at him and causing Minho to throw his head back with a bellowing laugh.

Thomas flicked Newt's piece - the top hat because the other had decided his english accent meant he was posh - across the board at him. Newt raised his eyebrows teasingly.

"What's the matter Tommy? Sore loser?"

Thomas shot him an exasperated look.

"Better that than a scrawny blonde who blows for a hobby…" his voice trailed off suggestively and Newt's face morphed into an appalled expression. Had someone made that joke mere months ago he would have cringed, feeling hurt and uncomfortable but Thomas had done such strange wonders for his confidence that he merely put his hand on his head, pulling at a few of the blonde strands.

"What's wrong with my hair?"

Minho laughed, thumping him on the shoulder. Newt threw him a pleased grin.

"I like this one," Minho said to Thomas with a smirk. "He can stay."

The boys played for a while after that, Thomas dropping out when Newt finally bankrupted him and the other two calling for a draw not long after. Soon they were watching a horror movie in the back lounge and eating popcorn. Despite the slight envy Newt had felt when Minho had suggested it - it was after all something Thomas and Newt did together all the time - he was enjoying himself. He loved horror movies even though practically everything scared him.

He and Minho sat at either end of the couch, Minho's legs taking up most of the space and Newt's tucked underneath his body. Despite there being an armchair Thomas had chosen the floor, leaning against the couch in front of Newt. As always, Thomas was eating most of the popcorn, tossing the odd piece over his shoulder to hit Newt. Newt's arm rested on the arm of the couch, his long fingers brushing the top of Thomas's hair every now and then. Newt thought it was the nicest thing, to be sitting in the dark with Thomas and his ever-present popcorn, a scary film on the big tv. During a relative lull in the movie Minho had nicked the popcorn bowl from Thomas.

"You two are the cutest thing." he commented demurely, obviously seeking a reaction.

Newt felt his face heat up but Thomas merely snorted as he dragged the bowl back.

"So we're told."

Minho raised his eyebrows, looking between them. Newt couldn't meet the boy's eyes, fixing his gaze on his lap, on the back of Thomas's hair. Thomas answered the unspoken question sounding like he wasn't embarrassed in the slightest.

"No, to what you're asking." he replied, his eyes on the screen. "And sadly no to the next one." He paused, and when he spoke again Newt wondered if he imagined the soft tremble in his friend's voice. "And then yes to the third."

Newt looked at him quizzically then, curious as to what on earth they were talking about. The first he could guess, it was written all over Minho face and his teasing smile.

Are you two…

As for two and three he had no idea. Thomas changed the subject expertly, and turned the tables on Minho.

"Have you found her yet, the girl on your wrist?"

Minho shifted, and it was the first time Newt had seen him looking anything close to uncomfortable. Thomas chuckled.

"Uh-huh. Clever girl, avoiding you."

Newt gasped in surprise, finding Thomas's comment incredibly mean, but Minho only laughed.

"Yeah well, maybe yours is clever too."

Thomas hummed, tossing a handful of popcorn at him and making him cry out in annoyance. They didn't see much of the rest of the movie, too busy throwing popcorn at each other and shouting like madmen.

Chapter Text

Newt rolled over to blink blearily at the figure who had thrown open his bedroom door.

"Wakey-Wakey brother dear."

"Oh piss off Sonya." he groaned, flopping back with a groan.

She flicked his bedroom light on and he whined, throwing his arm over his eyes.

"Now now. Upsie-daisies."

He threw a cushion at her. And then a pillow. And the water bottle from his bedside table. Her answering laughter was just insulting, and Newt whined again as he peered out at her.

"Why is your loopy arse in my room?"

Sonya just tipped her head to the side and smiled her annoying big-sister smile at him. He shot her a glare and covered his eyes again.

"Please vacate the premises."

He moaned, turning his face into his pillow to escape the onset of wakefulness. He'd planned to sleep in. She was ruining that plan rather thoroughly. And completely deliberately, he might add. Sonya gave a dramatic sigh, something she was very good at, and made a little sad noise in the back of her throat.

"I suppose i could just tell Thomas you're too busy…"

Newt lifted his face from the pillow to look at her fully, annoyed that that was probably exactly what she wanted. She grinned at his scowl, her eyes betraying her enthusiasm for teasing him about his friend. He rolled his eyes and glared.

"Spit it out, harlet."

Sonya rolled her eyes and feigned hurt. But then she giggled and leaned back out of his doorway, holding onto the doorframe on both sides like she always used to in their old house, when she was little.

"He's awaaaaake!" she called, and Newt woke up properly with a start.

Sonya simply smirked at his shocked expression.

"Oh yeah, did i forget to mention that lover boy is downstairs?"

Newt threw his duvet off and slipped from his bed in a single movement, already moving towards his wardrobe as he shot her another glare. Sonya simply giggled again as she turned to leave, tossing a wink over her shoulder.

"Better dress to impress, lovebird, he brought his friend."

Newt threw a shoe at her retreating back and it thudded against the door as she closed it with a bright laugh. Despite how he loved his sister she was infuriating, and she hadn't become any less so as she got older, not even under Harriet's influence. He refused to accept that she was right as he surveyed the contents of the wardrobe.

He always took this long getting ready on the holidays, okay? He liked to look… Nice.
It was just a pleasant coincidence that Thomas would be subject to his style choices today.

When he reached the living room Newt could already feel the embarrassment leeching into his face. Thomas was sitting awkwardly on the couch between a giggling Harriet and his sister, leaving Minho to lounge across the love-seat by the window. Newt could hear his mum bumping the frying pan on the hob in the kitchen.

He frowned at Sonya's coy and knowing smirk, and he was about to tell her to stop frightening off his friends too, before Thomas's reaction distracted him.

"Newt!" the brunette cried brightly, his face split in a sunny grin and his cheeks faintly pink. Newt felt his heart lurch in what was now a very familiar manner, his answering grin on his face before he'd given it permission. "There you are."

"Hey, Tommy. Hi Minho."

He tossed a wave to the asian boy and received a grin in response. The boy looked like he'd been enjoying the ribbing Newt just knew his sister was giving Thomas and he turned his attention back to Sonya with a suspicious look. She smiled sweetly back but he wasn't in the least bit fooled by her innocent act.

"You didn't tell me your Tommy was so handsome." Sonya taunted, her voice sing-song and her eyes glittering.

Newt could feel his face turning red, and there was a flare of irritation under his skin at her tone. He corrected her before he'd even thought about it, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

"It's Thomas."

He could feel his eyes widen, feel the horror splash itself across his face. Sonya was smirking. It was that really annoying, turn-your-face-hot-and-your-insides-squirming big-sister smirk of hers, the one that made him want to hit her and stamp his foot and shout on his mum.

It was ridiculous that even now, after she'd moved out and he'd grown up the feeling was still there. He couldn't look at Thomas, feeling incredibly uncomfortable in his own skin. Minho was sniggering, inspecting his nails closely with a grin on his face like the cheshire cat. Sonya laughed.

"Hear that Harriet? It's Thomas to us. I take it only Newt gets to call him Tommy, huh?"

Harriet laughed and Newt closed his eyes, wishing the carpet would swallow him up.

"Oh bugger off, Sonya. That's not what i meant."

"Oh? And what did you mean, brother dear?"

Well fuck.

She had him, and she knew it.

He looked uneasily at Thomas, noting how uncomfortable the brunette was looking, the tops of his cheeks a red Newt had never seen on him before. He threw his sister a glare, and she simply grinned widely.

The cat that got the cream.

"Piss off." was his reply.

He was saved further prodding by his sister when Thomas spluttered a laugh, catching it too late with his hand. When Sonya and Harriet looked at him in surprise the younger boy shrugged, looking amused at himself.

"Sorry. He makes me laugh."

Newt rolled his eyes, crossing his arms huffily. When Thomas looked at him Newt raised an eyebrow, pretending that he wasn't burning up from his bizarrely possessive little outburst.

"Really?"

Thomas shrugged again, grinning his cheeky, sunny grin at Newt and making his heart swell again with that familiar affection.

"What? Piss off. It's funny."

His mimicry of Newt's accent was exaggerated and drawn out and made everyone laugh. Newt stuck his tongue out at him, continuing his huff. He overstepped the line a bit when he stuck his bottom lip out in a pout to complete the look, but the way Thomas snickered and cocked his head made Newt want to kiss him. The urge was so sudden and unexpected that he flushed shyly all over, desperate to change the subject.

"I thought we were goin' for coffee?"

Minho rolled his shoulders and got to his feet with a lazy stretch. His smile was amiable, with the odd edge that Newt had come to recognise after their day together at Thomas's. It was a sort of cocky, sassy taint and it somehow suited him.

"Yes, to meet secret friends. We're dying of excitement, shank. Let's go, yeah?"

Anybody else commanding like that in another's home might come across as rude but Minho somehow didn't, his nature only just within the realm of polite. Thomas seemed as eager to escape as Newt felt though he didn't say so.

Sonya followed them to the door and sent them on their way with one last taunt.
As soon as they left the street Newt gave an exaggerated sigh and relaxed.

"Thank bloody god for that. My sister's buggin' crazy."

The others laughed as they walked along in the empty afternoon, the winter bite chilling them pleasantly. At least, Newt found it pleasant.

"So what the shuck is with you two and the secrecy then? Your friends aliens or something?"

Newt felt the bubble of excitement reappear as he flashed Minho a teasing glance. He'd filled Thomas in on keeping a secret as best he could without giving up Teresa's secret and for once Thomas hadn't questioned him incessantly but had simply nodded and agreed easily.

Newt agonised for hours over why it had been so easy.

Could it possibly be that Thomas knew?
Or did he just trust Newt so completely that he didn't question it?

Part of him truly hoped it was the latter.

"Somethin' like that."

He smirked as Minho chuckled so easily, so busy loving the secret and hoping he was right that he missed the way Thomas shot him an unreadably suspicious look.

Chapter Text

Of course Teresa wasn't there when they arrived. When he texted to check she was still coming she didn't seem bothered by the fact that she'd promised she'd be there ages before them. She estimated she'd be fifteen minutes tops, only apologising when Newt pointed out he'd picked The Maze purely for her.

While Thomas was being served Newt led Minho down to a table near the window so that he'd be able to see her coming. He sipped on his Latte - Gingerbread, Thomas had suggested to him weeks before and despite his trepidation at putting anything in his coffee he'd totally fallen in love with it - as he slid into the seat next to the asian boy he was quickly deciding would be his friend.

He chatted with him with a barely contained grin, so sure and so hopeful that Teresa was going to waltz in and make Minho fall for her and reveal himself to be her soulmate and then they'd be so utterly adorable and-

He was struck full in the face implications of such a thing.

Teresa.

And Minho.

Together.

Could the world handle that amount of sass in one place? And more to the point, could he?
He had completely forgotten to think this through.

Oh dear Lord.

The ribbing he and Thomas would receive under the combined wickedness gave him pause. Minho may seem to prefer teasing Thomas over him, but Teresa…

Bloody Hell.

He looked out of the window when he saw the slight form, the flash of dark hair disappearing into the doorway. Aris had arrived bang on time, of course. Always the punctual Oboist.
Typical for the Flautist to be late to her own bloody blind coffee date. Not that she knew it was a date.

Whoops.

She was totally going to kill him if she didn't turn up looking perfect and ready to impress.
He had mentioned a new face though. Perhaps she'd be fussing over her appearance anyway.

Girls were so bloody complicated. Thank the gods he was gay.

Aris arrived at their table with glittering green eyes and his usual friendly grin just as Thomas was making his way over, and he nipped in and beat Thomas to the open seat on Newt's other side. He shot the brunette a playful look and Thomas rolled his eyes in return. Thomas dropped beside him, leaving the one empty seat between himself and Minho.

Minho looked vaguely suspicious but didn't comment, thankfully. Aris glanced around before shooting Newt a familiar smirk. He very deliberately avoided using her name.

"Take it she's late?"

Newt grinned, swallowing a mouthful of coffee before he replied.

"Ain't she always? Hey, how d'ya know when there's a Flautist at your door?"

Aris looked at him curiously, his eyes bright as he guessed where Newt was going with that line.

"Dunno. How do i?"

Newt sipped his coffee, feeling the taunt clear in his smile as he shot him a hooded glance.

"You don't. They never have the right Key, and never know when to make an entrance."

Aris laughed, commenting through his giggles that it was so Teresa. But Newt barely heard him, far, far too occupied watching Thomas spill coffee all over their table as he spluttered. His laugh was startled and warm, and as always it sent pleased shivers up Newt's spine to know that he'd caused it.

Thomas's laughter was heaven.

It was never the same twice, so many different breeds for every situation. This one was his favourite, by far. Aided by the coffee he'd been trying to drink despite it's temperature Thomas's laughter tangled and tumbled from him as though being dragged out, his face red as his eyes glittered. It was undignified, perhaps immature and utterly ridiculous and embarrassing, drawing the attention of other customers and it was glorious.

The others laughed at him, teasing him as he flushed scarlet and proceeded to grab at napkins to clean up the mess he'd made. Newt simply stared, committing the sight of him to memory.

He was utterly enthralled because the sight of Thomas looking caught out, flustered and ruffled was possibly the best thing he had ever seen in his life.

The familiar fondness was creeping around again as he offered his own napkins, giving Thomas an apologetic smile as he did so. Thomas's eyes met his shining with humour and Newt thanked any and every deity that had made it possible for him to know the boy who was sitting across the table from him, covered in splashes of hot coffee and trying to chase away the remainder of his own laughter by keeping a straight face.

"Now that's the Thomas i know." Minho commented.

He didn't seem put out in the slightest by the wounded look Thomas shot him, or the bottom lip that the boy stuck out as a back-up plan. He just laughed and drank his coffee, his twinkling blue eyes teasing Thomas even without words. Newt watched, the envy from the day before creeping into him again. It was clear to anyone that the two had a history and it made him wish he'd been part of it.

"Oh? I have noticed Tommy has a penchant for droppin' his coffee everywhere." he replied playfully, brightening at Minho's chuckle.

"Oh, not just coffee. This shank used to drop everything."

Minho spoke gleefully, sitting up straight at the chance to embarrass his life-long friend. Newt was eager to hear it, anything this boy could tell him would be precious to him, he was sure. There was a part of his brain that reminded him what a truly terrible idea it was to encourage his attachment to Thomas, his obsession to know the boy inside and out.

Because he was Thomas, Newt's friend.

Not Tommy, his Soulmate.

Minho seemed to slot himself right into their little group, completely unabashed and sure of himself. Aris warmed to him quickly. Minho seemed pleased every time he made Newt laugh, clapping his shoulder and thinking of everything he could to tell him about who Thomas had been before Newt had met him. Thomas was a little uncomfortable under the attention but shrugged in his usual good-natured manner.

Minho had grinned wickedly, and launched into a half hour of entertaining examples, reminding Thomas of birthday parties and dropped cakes, of sandcastle disasters and broken trophies, and the time he'd been convinced there was a wolf outside their campsite which turned out to be the pet of their Camp Leader. And not even her dog. No no, it had been a cat. Apparently Thomas had devised a plan to sneak out one night and prove it, taking with him a pillowcase of meat he'd borrowed from the camp kitchens.

"On the bright side, he made a new friend that night, huh Tommo?"

Newt laughed, the thought of an eight-year old Thomas sneaking through the dark with his pillowcase full of steak and sausages being ambushed by a tabby cat completely precious. Thomas was picking at a damp patch on the tablecloth, his cheeks coated in what might be a permanent red blush as he hummed in response. Newt looked at him properly, wondering how long his friend had looked so despondent without him noticing.

Normally he kept a close eye on Thomas when the brunette was anywhere near him. Not because the younger boy's presence sent tingles up his spine. Of course not. But he had grown pretty good at scouting Thomas's mood, nipping in to brighten the slightest hint of despondency. But Thomas looked a little down now, and Newt felt bad. He felt guilty that he'd encouraged Minho to spill everything, remembering that Thomas wasn't truly as confident as he sometimes came across.

There was shy side he kept so well hidden people who didn't know him didn't see it and those who knew often forgot it was there.

"Sounds just like Tommy." he offered softly, his eyes watching Thomas's fingers move. "Even cats can't escape his friendship."

Minho chuckled, snorting in agreement, but Thomas flicked a brief glance his way, a look in his brown eyes that Newt recognised from the day before. In fact he recognised it from several moments during their afternoon of Monopoly and stories. Thomas had given him that look when he'd introduced Minho, and when Minho had wrestled the Water Works card from Newt's grasp after he'd refused to hand it over before he saw the money.

It was a strange and confusing look and didn't sit well in his usually warm eyes.

"Yo, shanks. Miss me?"

They turned to see Teresa, standing with her hand on her hip and her eyebrow raised as though expecting an answer. Newt and Aris shared a grin, relishing what was about to happen. Newt chuckled, resting his elbow on Minho's shoulder as he leaned against the broad-shouldered boy.

"Fifteen minutes my arse." he retorted, before shooting her a sly look. "Hey Teresa. Meet Minho."

Chapter Text

Watching her face morph was maybe the best moment of his life. Well, excluding any and all moments with Thomas, but that didn't count. Her eyebrows shot up as her mouth popped into a little round "O". Her eyes, which had been sparkling at her own joke were wide and startled, so many different emotions flickering across her face and flitting through their blue depths that Newt had to try really hard not to laugh.

He didn't need to look to see that Minho had tensed, his shoulder jerking under Newt's arm. He turned his face to see that Minho looked pretty startled himself. Perhaps not as dramatically obvious as Teresa, but Minho didn't seem the open-book type of guy. They were staring at each other, their matching eyes locked in surprise.

He met Aris's gleaming green eyes, knew the grin curling the boy's lips most likely matched his own. They were so taking the piss out of her when she was composed. Or maybe before, if the look on Aris's face was anything to go by.

"What's wrong, Teresa?" the Oboist asked pleasantly in his usual neutral tone, emphasising her name. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

He looked at Newt slyly, and they both turned to look between the two silent blue-eyed potential Soulmates as innocently as they possibly could.

"Uhm." said Thomas, his bemused gaze flicking between them all. "Do you two know each other?"

"Mmhff… number." replied Minho, still staring at Teresa with wide eyes.

She swallowed before doing a much better job of answering.

"Gahh, what- uhm."

Newt broke before Aris. He snickered. And then he and Aris were giggling like little kids, trying to pretend they weren't as they watched the two become human again, and Thomas was only making it funnier because he looked so utterly lost.

"I- ahh. Hm. I'm Teresa."

She held out her hand, a stiff and fierce gesture that Newt found both sudden and hilarious. She looked so out of sorts that he couldn't catch his breath, his grin wide and happy as he watched her slowly turn a gorgeous shade of pink.

"You know, i don't think i've ever seen her blush." Aris mused gleefully, reading Newt's mind.

He shook his head in agreement, grinning from ear-to-ear as he watched Minho shake Teresa's hand awkwardly, mumbling his own name in a quiet voice that contrasted starkly with the confident sass that he'd experienced from the boy so far. It was like something out of a bloody tv drama, or a romantic comedy. They were staring, and they'd stopped shaking hands but he was still holding her hand across the top of the table and she was still leaning over Thomas's shoulder and it was brilliant.

"I wish i'd filmed it." he muttered, and Aris sniggered.

"Me too, this is priceless."

Teresa and Minho both still looked completely dazed, like they'd awoken in a place they'd never been before and didn't even know their own names.

"Uhm." said Thomas again.

Newt sent him a smile, jerking his head towards the cashier.

"Hey, Tommy. Let's get you a new coffee yeah?" he declared brightly, not trying to be the least bit subtle.

"Yeah," joined Aris, beginning to stand up. "I could use a coffee."

Thomas shot Newt a worried, bemused look and Newt just winked at him and tipped his head to indicate he should follow. Teresa finally looked away from Minho, her eyes tracking Newt as he stepped out from beside Minho, and he shot her his sweetest smile.

"Sit down, Teresa. Say hello. You're bein' rude."

She frowned, and then she seemed to notice she was still holding Minho's hand because she let go like he'd burned her, turning from pink to scarlet and causing Aris to cackle as he made his way to order. Teresa met Newt's eye and shot him a scowl as she seemed to finally realise what was happening.

"You ass-hole." she hissed as he dodged her swatting hand and stuck his tongue out at her.

"Uhm." said Thomas, and Newt snickered.

"Cummon Tommy."

Thomas followed him up to the line, looking back as they watched Teresa slip into the seat that Newt had vacated, right beside Minho. She was talking and Minho was listening, a hand scrubbing through his hair in a very obvious attempt to look unfazed, a small smile creeping across his face as he looked at her. Despite how truly terrible they were going to be as a team Newt couldn't help but swell with pride and excitement as he watched them. His heart was fluttering, and he was watching a Soulmate Meet in action! How bloody brilliant was that?

"What was that?" Thomas hissed to him as they stepped in behind Aris.

The green-eyed boy chuckled, shooting a look over at their table and grabbing onto Newt's wrist.

"Look! Looooook! She's already touching his hair! Look!"

Indeed she was, touching the odd little spiky bits at the front in reply to something he was telling her, a clearly interested smile on her face. Newt grinned back at his band-mate.

"It's happenin'! I bloody knew it would."

"Oh!" squeaked Aris as he stared at them unabashedly. "I ship them already!"

As Newt snorted, finding that completely hilarious and so very Aris that it left him legless, Thomas was beginning to catch on.

"You set them up!" he murmured in wonder, looking over at the pair who were so very clearly attracted to each other already and laughing about something together. "Why didn't i think of that? They're so perfect for each other!"

"Ohmygod," Aris replied, his face alight with the romance of it all. "They're going to have the most gorgeous little black-haired, blue-eyed babies. Have you seen Minho's eyes? They're perfect for Teresa ohmygod i think i'm going to burst!"

"Steady on." Newt laughed, a calming hand on the boy's shoulder. "It's not like they're soul… oh wait, yes they are!"

Aris squealed again, drawing the attention of just about everyone in hearing distance, not that he seemed to care. Neither Teresa nor Minho looked up, already sitting with their heads close together and whispering furiously, quite possibly about their wrist-names. Or how to revenge their friends.

"You know they're going to be a nightmare together though, right?"

Newt looked at Thomas as the brunette spoke, and he nodded.

"Oh yes. They're goin' to be buggin' unbearable." he agreed, looking back over at them. "But they already look brilliant together."

Thomas laughed, a breathy, warm chuckle and he blushed. When Newt grinned back and raised an eyebrow, Thomas simply rubbed the back of his head with his hand and looked down at his feet.

"You were setting them up."

He repeated his earlier words, and before Newt could answer he chuckled again, self-deprecatingly as he shot Newt a shy glance, effectively taking away his ability to speak coherently. This was getting ridiculous. Newt swallowed, his voice pitching as he answered.

"Yeah."

Thomas smiled, looking over at the pair. They were a definite soon-to-be couple if ever he'd seen one.

"I thought you liked Minho more than me." he muttered absently.

But Newt could see his eyes and although he'd known the boy such a short handful of months he knew him. He could see it in his face and it clicked. The look he'd given Newt when he'd introduced Minho, and when they were playing, and when they were teasing Thomas together. When Newt was sitting with Minho and bonding.

He'd totally mis-read it. Thomas had been embarrassed, exposed, sure. But he'd also been… Nervous. Could he call it Jealous? His heart skipped and fumbled at the thought. How he hated this attraction, how the boy made him feel when he knew they weren't meant to be. He bumped his shoulder to Thomas's and he laughed, trying to disguise the fact that he was suddenly nervous and his gut was full of the ticklish flapping of wings.

"You thought- when i asked how he spelled his name ya thought he was- god Tommy, you're too precious."

Thomas was shifting his feet nervously and looking shyer than Newt might have ever seen him.

"He's not my Soulmate." he said, just to be sure Thomas understood. "He's hers."

Was it his imagination or did Thomas look relieved when he shot Newt a roll of his eyes?

"You don't know that." he said instead, and they both pretended not to hear the way he stumbled over the first word.

Newt chuckled, clapping Thomas on the back as he stepped up to order. Aris was standing off to the side as he waited for his own coffee, stars in his eyes as he squeaked to himself over Teresa and Minho. He was such a fanboy.

"I know it as well as i can without actually seein' his wrist." he replied.

He shot a look over at the table again, feeling giddy as he watched Minho lean in to whisper something and watched in excitement as Teresa's cheeks darkened in response.

"Besides." he added as he popped his card in the card-reader, looking back at his friend as he spoke words he hadn't really thought through. "You're the only best friend i need Tommy."

Newt was typing in his pin and didn't see the way Thomas jerked, his eyes wide and- was that hopeful? as he looked at the blonde. He didn't see the way Thomas smiled, or the way his confidence seemed to return. He didn't see the way those brown eyes looked him over, or the way Thomas bit his lip.

If he had, he might have realised right then and there that they were doomed, because it was incredibly obvious to anyone who might have been looking that Thomas liked Newt.

Just as much as Newt liked him.

Chapter Text

"Do you think they ever fall in love for real?"

Newt looked over at him from his usual corner of the couch in Thomas's back lounge. Originally the plan had been to crash at Newt's, but Minho and Teresa were out at the cinema together and wanted to see them when they came back, and Newt hadn't really fancied his sister cooing and making jokes about double-dating. As much as he loved her, one night away during her visit couldn't hurt.

So they were crashing at Thomas's. All of them. Chuck was out with his mum, Thomas's dad holed up in his study upstairs after he'd checked they were okay for food and that. He was away a lot but he when he was home he liked to be truly there, so he'd grumbled about having to work on the project his manager had set him, apologising sincerely.

Thomas had assured him it'd be fine and his dad had promised home-made pizza for a late dinner when the others arrived by way of apology. Newt thought Thomas's dad was probably where Thomas got his insecure streak from. They were both so eager to make other people happy. It was kind of wonderful.

Aris was swinging by once he'd finished up at his little sister's birthday party. Poor thing had her birthday three days before Christmas.

"What d'ya mean?" he asked, reaching over for the popcorn bowl.

He didn't really want popcorn, but every time he took any Thomas would flash him a look of feigned horror and chuck a handful at him for it. And Newt wasn't prepared to admit how much he'd come to like it when Thomas tossed popcorn at him.

People who were right in the head didn't like being pelted with popcorn, right? And yet he didn't mind when Thomas did it, because he'd done it so often right from the very start of their friendship that it had become a symbol of it. A sign of affection. Like his sister teasing the patience out of him or Aris quoting Harry Potter in bad british accents to make him smile.

He picked popcorn out of his hair as Thomas chuckled.

"You know, the actors. I mean, they're working with each other so closely all the time, sharing hotel floors and spending all their free time messing around with each other. Do you think they ever fall in love?"

He was watching the movie just like always, his mouth full of popcorn and his head cocked to one side as he listened to lines they knew off by heart. Newt hummed, popping the popcorn in his mouth.

"I suppose it must happen every now and then. I bet Soulmates meet on set all the time."

Thomas nodded, flicking another bit of popcorn at him. The air was peaceful, cosy. The way Newt liked it when they were together. He knew he wasn't doing himself any favours. He knew that continuing to do this would only cause him more pain further down the line. Like when Thomas's Soulmate turned up. Or his own Tommy dropped into his life. And yet right then he wouldn't swap what they had for his Soulmate free and clear. Not if he could meet him right there and then and fall hopelessly in love with him.

Because Thomas was… Well. Thomas was Thomas, and even though he knew it went against everything he couldn't help the way he felt. He couldn't imagine ever falling for someone as swiftly and completely as he'd fallen for the quirky brunette whose feet were resting on his knee.

"What about non-Bond? Do you think they ever… You know. Have to kiss on set or be like, best friends in the film and discover that they've… Well. Fallen for real?"

Newt thought about it, watching the lead actress bolting across the screen as the camera panned out. He felt uncomfortable again, the way he always did when the subject came up. He didn't blame Thomas for his interest in it, didn't judge him for it either. He'd been raised in a loving household by a set of non-Bond parents and he was just as loved and well-adjusted as anybody else Newt had met. The scaremongering done by Hate groups who claimed non-Bonds couldn't raise well-rounded and healthy kids was exactly that. Scaremongering by the hateful.

People were still people, and a person's ability to raise a child wasn't at all related to whether they were with a Soulmate or not, just like it wasn't determined by their sexuality or the colour of their skin. It was ridiculous to think otherwise. But Newt had been raised believing that Soulmates were the point of life. His family had never said anything negative about non-Bond relationships, just like they'd never said anything negative about gay people or black people or people with green eyes or blue hair. His parents were loving and he knew they wanted him to be the happiest life could make him. But.

"I guess it's possible alright. But i dunno, Tommy. I think most people are too busy lookin' for their Soulmates that they don't really have time to fall for anyone else."

Thomas nodded again, his eyes focused on the screen. If it wasn't for the close attention he paid, or the closeness they had built so quickly, Newt might not have noticed the way the air around Thomas seemed to… sadden, just a tad.

"I guess."

Newt felt bad. He felt like he'd slighted his friend in some way and couldn't work out how. Thomas was questioning his knowledge more and more just like Newt was. Every time the topic was broached Thomas would adapt a thoughtful, quiet air that was quite unlike his usual bubbly and sunny disposition. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the door. Thomas bounded out of his seat with a grin on his face. And just like that, everything was better. Newt tried not to love him but he fell a little further just the same.

"Wonder if it's Aris or the Mates?" Thomas shot over his shoulder as he left the room, lighting up with a pleased expression when Newt laughed.

It had been a brief few days but Teresa and Minho were joined at the hip. They hadn't come out and said they were Soulmates, but neither wore their wristbands anymore so it was pretty much the same thing. Newt had been over the moon to see Teresa's name flowing over the skin at Minho's wrist. Aris had nearly exploded, squeaking and getting so excited that Teresa and Newt had agreed to watch his sugar intake to ensure he made it through Christmas. Minho was as brilliant as Newt had first thought, fitting right into their group so well that everybody was desperate for him to tell them that his parents had signed the paperwork and made their move official.

"Yo, shank!" They chorused as they appeared in the doorway to the lounge with matching smirks on their faces, and Newt grinned back.

Oh, and they were just as wicked together as he had feared. It was like they competed to see who could be the sassiest, the most sarcastic, the most… devilish. Which would be kind of adorable, except he was quite often the subject of such competitions. As was Thomas. Teresa dumped her bag on Chuck's beanbag in the corner before making her way over to the couch. Thomas was quick to claim his favourite end, and stuck his tongue out when Teresa feigned a scowl. She looked at Newt expectantly and he just raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

She rolled her eyes.

"You know fine. Scoot." she wheedled, flapping her arms for emphasis.

Newt sighed like it was a huge imposition, but his heart was suddenly thumping at the thought of sitting right next to Thomas in the darkened room. Not that sitting next to Thomas was something he didn't do every day. But… It felt so much more intimate in the dark, watching a movie. Oh, and joined by a set of Soulmates.

Teresa dropped into his seat the second he moved over, and he grumbled as he and Thomas re-arranged their legs, tangling and tucking them under themselves. There was a little room between the three, so it wasn't as bad it could have-

Spoke too soon.

Minho appeared and Teresa scooted to make space, shoving Newt much more forcefully than was really necessary and sending him tumbling against Thomas in an incredibly undignified manner. Popcorn went everywhere of course, as it always did. And Thomas let out the most adorable squeak.

Fuck.

He could feel his face reddening as he kicked her half-heartedly, knocking her elbow into Minho's face as he scrabbled away from her shriek. He wormed his way over Thomas, trying not to flush at the thought of clambering over the brunette. He'd done it a hundred times before. They were close, and person space was a distant memory, really. But as his attraction grew Newt had been trying to grasp some back. He used Thomas as a shield, squirming in-between Thomas and the couch's arm and sticking his tongue out at Teresa's indignant expression.

Thomas was laughing and flicking popcorn at her every time she tried to dodge him and get at Newt.

"What on earth is wrong with you lot?" Minho sniggered, his gaze flickering between them. "You are the shuckiest shuck group of shanks i ever met."

Newt flashed him a cheeky grin.

"You fit right in then, don't ya?"

Minho chuckled and Thomas pushed a handful of popcorn into Teresa's hair. She squealed, trying to pretend she wasn't laughing as she squirmed so vigorously that she almost knocked Thomas from the couch.

"Whyyyyyyyyy- My hairrrrrrr!"

Newt couldn't breathe, his hold on Thomas's shoulders the only thing keeping him upright as he gasped and giggled so hard it hurt. Thomas was looking incredibly pleased with himself, and Teresa had stopped swatting at him as she attempted to retrieve all the little pieces from her hair. Minho was trying to help but mostly just getting in the way.

"It's Minho's fault." spluttered Thomas, trying to look innocent and failing miserably. "There's a chair right there."

"But Tommo, i just wanted to sit next to my Soulmate."

Minho flashed his smirk at him, tucking an arm around Teresa's waist and pulling her close to kiss her neck a little more overtly than necessary. Make that a lot more. With a squeak, Newt looked away in embarrassment and Minho laughed. Thomas just rolled his eyes.

"That's your excuse for everything now. Don't be an ass."

Teresa merely shot him a pleased and taunting smirk and arched her neck so that Minho could get better access to the skin there. He replied by kissing her again, beginning the process of giving her a love-bite.

"Aw, come on!"

"What's wrong, Tom? Jealous?" she teased, fluttering her eyes closed in an exaggerated manner and deliberately moaning.

Newt wanted to die. He hated when they did that. They were taking the absolute piss and deliberately taunted their friends at every turn with their blatant confidence. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Of what?" Thomas shot back lightly, looking less ruffled by their performance than Newt knew he felt.

But Thomas was their best weapon against the new pair of Soulmates because he was so bloody good at waiting them out, pretending that no matter what they did they couldn't ruffle him. He was shyer than everyone thought he was, but he was so much braver and sure of himself than Newt could ever hope to be. And it was kind of sweet, the away he took up the defence of Newt and Aris.

"Oh, you know. Lovebites, making out, cementing your Bond and all that?"

She fluttered her eyelashes suggestively as Minho threw his head back to howl with laughter. The round dark mark on her neck made Newt feel flushed and intruding. As they had been aiming for, of course. Thomas, however, was as smooth as always.

"With Minho? Sounds dreadful."

Newt sniggered before he caught himself, meeting Thomas's gleeful brown eyes. The brunette grinned, clearly pleased. He loved making Newt laugh. Teresa made an offended sound in the back of her throat and Minho chuckled.

"Ouch man."

Thomas shrugged, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth and chewing nonchalantly, the way Newt had seen him do thousands of times. Thomas shrugged.

"Sorry not sorry."

Newt knocked him with his elbow and laughed again. Thomas's hand squeezed Newt's knee. He knew Newt was feeling uncomfortable. Newt felt his fondness for Thomas swell in his chest and hated himself for it. Teresa huffed, feigning hurt.

"You insulted my Soulmate! That's like, a criminal offence!"

Minho kissed her cheek, his eyes twinkling wickedly as he eyed his friends.

"I think it was retaliation for shoving his shank of a boyfriend. Thomas is the protective type."

His voice was low and suggestive and made Newt's stomach lurch.

"Slim it."

Apparently, all his response did was confirm what they were implying. Not that that made any logical sense whatsoever. Teresa smirked and Minho chuckled, his eyes glinting in the way that preceded a sly remark.

"Oh no wait, that's supposed to be a secret."

Newt huffed, suddenly feeling way too close to Thomas. He was still pressed up against the other boy, the heat between them pleasant and terrifying in equal measure. Newt had the sudden urge to be anywhere but right there as he glared at his giggling Band Mate. Teresa and Minho high-fived, and Thomas simply snorted.

How was he so calm?

Newt wanted to die, or burst into flames - which looked likely the way his blush was going. But Thomas simply sighed and shook his head like a disappointed parent.

"You need new material."

Minho rolled his eyes and picked a piece of popcorn from the few remaining in Teresa's hair. He threw it in his mouth and reached for the remote that had been knocked to the floor in the struggle.

"Whatever you say, Tommy."

Teresa's smirk was wicked and Newt simply groaned, dropping back against the couch as he accepted the fact that his face was going to burn forever. Thomas simply squeezed his knee again and said nothing as Minho turned the volume up and settled back, his arm easy and casual around Teresa's shoulder. With a smile that was soft and uncharacteristically vulnerable, his Soulmate tucked herself against his side, leaving a little more room for Thomas to shift over.

Except he didn't, not really. He shifted his position to let Newt get comfortable, but there was a gap he could be using that Newt was very much aware of being empty. Thomas didn't seem to notice, simply settling in that oblivious way of his.

Everyone went back to watching the movie but Newt couldn't concentrate. His legs were tangled with Thomas's, their thighs and arms pressed together in a way that was so much more comfortable that it had any right to be. Newt tried to slow his heart rate. He truly did. Ten minutes after they settled Thomas tipped his head to one side and shot Newt a subtle look. He flashed a small smile the others were too focused on the film to see.

And Newt found himself finally relaxing, the tension leaving his body so suddenly that he slumped a little more against Thomas. Thomas brushed his fingers over Newt's elbow in a small gesture they'd picked up months before. Soothing, calming. A little display of affection that people who weren't paying attention wouldn't notice.

Funnily enough, Newt didn't feel quite as awkward after that.

Chapter Text

Thomas had littered the lounge floor with blankets and pillows and cushions and the two sleeping bags he could find in the house. Despite the presence of the couch everybody was on the floor, splayed out like they were camping under the stars and not the ceiling.

The horror movies were long gone, deemed too much for Chuck and probably the rest of them at this time of night. The moon was high in the sky and they had laptops out, flicking between watching music videos and alternate compilations of several of the pieces the band were working on.

And Christmas songs, of course.

Newt's favourite was currently playing under the low chatter of his friends and he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling as he let the familiar lyrics seep into his skin, bringing that familiar and comforting tug of childhood and Christmases long past that only an old song could.

It's gonna take some time, but i'll get there.

Top to toe and tailback.

Oh i got red lights all around.

But soon there'll be a freeway, yeah.

Get my feet on Holy ground.

So i sing for you, though you can't hear me…

Teresa and Aris were whispering, and Chuck and Minho and Thomas were playing Snap as quietly as anyone could play Snap, which was not very quietly at all. He liked the way he felt, lying there and listening to them all, feeling the friendship in the room like a warm blanket. He'd never had friends like these back home, and in fact despite his seventeen years there his few months here had felt more like home.

He listened, their voices noise he didn't need to define, the laughter making him smile. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling and wishing he could just stay there, like that, forever. The song finished and another began to play. Newt quite liked this one too.

It was Christmas eve, babe.

In the drunk tank.

When an old man said to me:

Won't see another one

And then he sang a song.

The rare old mountain tune,

I turned my face away and dreamed about you

"Is he asleep?"

"Nah, he can't be. He's a night owl."

"Shank, you awake?"

He considered playing asleep. He didn't know why, but he felt like it anyway.

They got cars big as bars they got rivers of gold

And the wind goes right through you it's no place for the old

When you first took my hand on the cold Winter's eve

You promised me Broadway was waiting for me.

"Newt?"

Not any more. He opened his eyes to find Thomas's face peering over at him, upside down. Thomas grinned when he blinked up at him, and Newt felt the familiar tug in his heart. God how he wished he didn't feel the way he did.

"Hey, Tommy."

"He's awake."

"Course he is, Thomas is here. He can't miss a second with Tommy."

Newt groaned and Thomas drew back to - predictably - throw something at Teresa. Of course the closest thing to hand was popcorn.

"Hey, jeez boy, what is with you and that shucking popcorn?"

Thomas simply hummed in response and Newt rolled over to join them.

The boys of the NYPD Choir were singin'

Galway Bay

And the bells were ringin' out, for Christmas Day.

They played Snap and shouted down Teresa when she suggested Truth or Dare. Chuck was there, and they didn't dare play when they knew it would get out of hand. In the end they settled on Scrabble, playing in teams.

Despite the reluctance at the beginning the game swiftly became heated, and Thomas eventually had to send Chuck for the dictionary to prove or disprove accusations of cheating. Most of them were very predictably aimed at Minho - because he was cheating - and less predictably Newt, because he knew lots of weird words.

Thomas and Newt beat everyone hands down, and no amount of teasing from Minho and Teresa dampened his mood. Because Thomas rewarded him with a dazzling grin and a high-five that left his skin tingling.

To top it off Thomas settled on the floor beside Newt when they finally called lights out. And when he was sure everyone was asleep he pulled out his phone. Newt's buzzed in his pocket and Thomas sent him a small smile as he watched Newt read his text.

Tommy: I'm glad we did this. It's been fantastic.

With a smile in Thomas's direction, Newt settled into a more comfortable position and they began a conversation. Thomas settled on his back, his phone above his face as he watched the screen instead of Newt, waiting for the blonde to text back. There was a sweet sort of ache in Newt's chest that made him wonder whether that was how Thomas always lay when they texted late at night.

And then of course the thought of Thomas lying in bed and waiting on texts from him made his heartbeat stumble, and he had to look away. He settled on his back too.

Newt: Me too. I've had so much bloody fun i can't believe i've never done it before!

Thomas sent him a frown but quickly typed back.

Tommy: You've never done this before? Like had a sleepover?

Newt: Well, that too. But i've never done a night in either, really. Not before i came here.

What he wanted to say was Not before you, but he didn't dare. Especially not with Thomas right there next to him.

Tommy: No way. You never had everybody over to just muck about and watch movies? Like we do?

Newt: … No. Tbh there wasn't really an "everybody" to have over.

Honesty was so easy when you were texting. In the dark. Without eye contact.

Tommy: Hard to believe you weren't friends with everybody you ever met.

Newt: I thought that was your thing?

Tommy: Well yeah, but it's so hard to believe you didn't have lots of friends.

Newt paused, touched by his friend's words. He hesitated before asking what he suddenly really wanted to know. He bit his lip and risked a glance at Thomas, but the brunette was frowning intensely at his phone as he awaited Newt's reply.

Newt: Why?

He heard Thomas shifted, a slightly harsher breath. Was he mad at him for asking? A glance at his face told him no. Thomas looked… Well, Thomas looked confused. And sort of sad.

Tommy: Because you're… awesome.

Newt: You're joking, right? I mean bloody hell, have you met me?

Tommy: Many times, yes. And awesome is as good a word as any for what you are.

Newt: How poetic, Tommy. What…. What exactly is it that makes you think i'm awesome?

He typed fast, before he could lose his nerve. His heart was skipping in his chest and anticipation was welling up under his skin. Thomas thought he was awesome. Thomas thought he was awesome. He barely breathed as he waited, listening to Thomas type and too afraid to look over at him. It took a long time, and Newt was expecting a long text, a paragraph at least with the amount of tapping he had listened to.

Tommy: You do.

Newt's heart melted. Trust Thomas to say something like that. Affection was so easy with Thomas, the boy wasn't afraid to show he was fond of his friends. Not like Newt was, terrified someone would misinterpret his actions or words and use it against him. Like the throwaway touches he and Thomas had become so used to.

Newt: In a parallel universe maybe.

Tommy: I don't think there's any parallel universe out there where i wouldn't find you as awesome as you are in this one.

Newt: You are the dorkiest person i might have ever met. And i'm mates with Aris.

Tommy: You're one to talk, you nerd.

Newt: Ouch.

Tommy: It's a good thing, believe me.

Newt: Believe you? You just called me nerdy.

Tommy: Yeah, but nerdy is a good thing. I like nerdy.

Newt: You're just saying that so i won't be able to be mad at you.

Tommy: Newt, you're never able to be mad at me.

Newt: Yeah, well you've yet to do something that makes me properly mad. Then you'll see.

Tommy: I still doubt you'd pull it off. You like me too much.

Newt: You don't believe i could be mad at you?

Tommy: I don't believe you could stay mad at me. Even if you wanted to.

Newt: You insult me.

Tommy: I wouldn't worry. It's a two-way street.

Newt: When would i ever do anything to make you mad? I'm a nice person, i'll have you know.

Tommy: Oh, i know.

Newt: Good.

Tommy: Yeah.

Newt: Dork.

Tommy: Nerd.

Newt: Wanker.

Tommy: Shank.

Newt: You're my best mate, you know that?

He hadn't meant to say that. He had typed it, but he shouldn't have sent it. It was far too soppy, it was going to ruin the moment completely. He shouldn't have-

Tommy: You're mine too.

Newt: What about Minho?

Tommy: Well i love him too, obv. But you're… different.

Newt: Different how?

Tommy: In lots of ways. It'd take too long to type them all.

Newt: That sounds like a cop out.

Tommy: It's really not.

Newt: Whatever you say, Tommy.

Tommy: Trust me. There's nobody like you.

Newt: It's because i'm British, isn't it?

Tommy: Maybe.

Newt: Prick.

Tommy: It's that and everything else. It's hard to explain.

Newt: I think i know what you mean. My sister said it sounds like the kind of friendship that lasts a lifetime, but she's a bit of a romantic.

Tommy: Oh? Maybe she's right. Having you stick around forever would be entertaining. As long as you don't lose the accent.

Newt ignored the flutter of butterflies. And the thought that Thomas wanted him to stick around forever. It was difficult.

Newt: Ha bloody ha. I wouldn't put too much stock in anything Sonya says. She also said it sounds like Soulmates, so she's not exactly reliable.

Bloody hell. The dark was making him brave. He shouldn't have said that. He was lying right next to Thomas and he really should have known better. Talk about cringe. He was going to guess at this rate, Newt was going to give himself away and then what? Thomas's reply was long in coming. So long Newt almost had time to gather the courage to look at him.

Tommy: Well. If only she was.

Newt froze.

No way did Thomas send him what he thought he'd sent him. His brain stalled, his breathing difficult as his heart beat erratically in his chest. He couldn't think of a reply. He couldn't understand Thomas's words. What was he saying? Was he- Newt didn't want to analyse, knew what it'd do to his heart. He knew it wouldn't do any good.

After a long moment like that he heard Thomas shifting. When he was still again and Newt was brave enough he looked over. Thomas had rolled onto his side, presumably to sleep. His back faced Newt and there was barely a foot or so between them. He felt it rising, that familiar and dreadfully strong affection. He knew it was love. He didn't want to acknowledge that, but it didn't change the truth.

Tommy: If we were in a parallel universe i'd want to be in one where we could choose the name on our wrists.

Oh God Tommy, if only.

Tommy: I'd choose yours.

Chapter Text

To say Newt had trouble falling asleep after that would be an understatement. He lay there, staring at the ceiling for a very very long time as his heart raced inelegantly in his chest. The room was filled with the sounds of his sleeping friends; A quiet rumbling snore he thought might be Minho, soft snuffling to his left that he knew to be Aris.

He could hear Thomas breathing beside him, a steady and gentle sound that had no right doing what it did to his heart. He couldn't believe it. He just… couldn't believe it. Thomas, in typical Thomas style, had tilted Newt's world yet again.

I'd choose yours.

Three little words that were in danger of destroying the already shaky defences Newt had been trying to build. Thomas… Couldn't be misinterpreted, could he? Was there any way to read those words other than the way he had?

Thomas had just told him that if he were in a parallel universe where he could choose a name to put on his wrist he'd choose Newt's.

How was a person supposed to respond to that?

Hell, he had no idea how he even felt about that, never mind how he was going to face Thomas ever again. He felt sick, closing his eyes as the urge rose, battling with the sudden want to cry. Why couldn't life give him a break? It was awful enough falling so hard for Thomas, all the while knowing that his name wasn't on Thomas's wrist. It was hard enough being near him all the time and knowing he couldn't be with him because of the names on their wrists, the people out there who were looking for them.

What had he ever done to deserve knowing Thomas felt the same, and he still couldn't have him?

Never before had Newt truly questioned the foundation of life. With Thomas it seemed to be becoming a regular thing for him to wonder if Soulmates were the only way to be happy. But he'd never felt like this, the cold and heavy rebellion in his heart. He'd known his whole life that Soulmates were the point of life, and yet Newt found himself angry.

Why did they even need the stupid black letters on their skin? Would life be different if they didn't? In one of their parallel universes, were they able to choose the person they wanted to be with? Would he and Thomas be able to be together in a world where Soulmates didn't exist?

And then Newt was filled with a fearful anxiousness. How could he think like that? What was wrong with him? His thoughts weren't even verging on insane. They were firmly in the area of down-right madness.

People had been locked up for saying things like that, for acting on… on the same rebellious urge that was prowling in Newt. People who inhabited the darkest level of the world's underbelly, people who he had always firmly believed just lived in scary stories. The Boogiemen in the stories that scared children into keeping quiet about their wrist-names.

But now, lying in the dark with his heart breaking, desperately mad at the world and with a longing like nothing he'd ever felt welling up inside, Newt could understand. The people who were the darkest of the dark, people dubbed worse than murderers and cannibals. People religion placed in the same level of Hell as those who preyed on children. People who bared their wrists to the world, empty skin and proud of it. People who ran the BlackMarket in Removals, the stuff of nightmares and horror movies.

People who took your wrist-name away. People who blanked your skin like those fated letters had never been there. Newt was thinking the same things as those people, people who lived in nightmares and ghost stories and were called the Soulless.

What would his parents think if they knew the thoughts in his head?

With all of that swimming round and round in his head and his body feeling sick and traitorous, Newt fell into a restless doze. What little sleep he did get was plagued by fear and nightmares of the world going up in smoke because their wrists were bare.

Chapter Text

Newt could hear voices as his brain shook off the grasp of sleep. He kept his eyes closed as he listened, hushed whispering forming into words as he woke.

"… okay?"

It sounded like Aris, tentative and concerned.

"Yeah, i'm fine. Just woke up."

Thomas. Sleepy, subdued. Newt was seized by the urge to turn over, to look for him. To… To what? How was he going to face him, after last night? How were they going to have that conversation? And they had to, didn't they?

It's not like they could just forget about it. For one, Newt's brain wouldn't let him. It was all he could concentrate on. He stayed where he was, eyes closed, breathing even. He knew it was cowardly but he couldn't help it. he didn't know what to do.

"I think i'm gonna go for a run."

Newt felt guilty. Was Thomas running because he hadn't answered his texts? Was he upset about it? Newt was no fool. He knew the courage it must have taken Thomas to send something like that. It was something Newt wasn't anywhere near brave enough to do.

"Oh. Okay."

Aris again. He was worried, Newt could hear it in his voice. Confused, but still sleepy. It didn't feel like late enough in the morning to be getting up, but that didn't mean it wasn't already 5 or 6am. Thomas ran in the mornings when he couldn't sleep. He'd woken Newt one morning when they'd fallen asleep studying on Thomas's floor.

He'd invited Newt along and Newt had considered turning him down because he wasn't much of a runner, but Thomas's eager brown eyes had convinced him. Thomas had laughed at him good-naturedly every time he'd had to stop, unable to keep up with Thomas's never-ending energy.

"You shanks are loud." Minho grumbled.

Newt heard Teresa make a protesting noise, probably at Minho moving or the sound of his voice. The two had fallen asleep tangled up together, close and intimate. Newt had been ashamed to find himself a little jealous, wishing he himself had a Soulmate to curl up next to at night. Thomas had chased the ugly feeling away, of course, with one of his sunny grins and a handful of popcorn.

And then of course the texts…

"Did i hear running?"

"Sshh, you'll wake Chuck. Yeah, you coming?"

"Give me a minute." Minho yawned.

Newt listened to the rustling sounds of Minho getting up and Aris tucking himself back down into his sleeping bag. Newt waited until long after Minho and Thomas had left before opening his eyes. The room was dark, the soft green glow of the clock on wall confirming it was early. Just barely 5am. Runners were utter loonies.

He turned onto his back and sighed, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling and wondering how on earth he and Thomas were going to get past this. They were going to get past it, right? How could they not? They were best friends, closer than Newt had ever been with anybody. Closer even than he possibly was with his sister. The thought of losing his friendship opened a devastatingly large hole in his emotional balance.

But how were they to do it? How was he supposed to go about addressing this whole mess? He couldn't even define his own feelings in his own head, never mind explain to Thomas how he felt, or why they couldn't...

God, he wished more than anything in the world that they were Soulmates.

"That you, Newt?"

He swivelled his head in the direction of Aris's voice. In the pre-dawn light he could make out the boy's face, the dark fringe falling into the green eyes that were always so friendly. He smiled tiredly, stifling a yawn.

"Yepp. They wake you too?"

Aris chuckled, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Did they ever. Like a pair of Tubas."

Newt sniggered, covering his mouth to try and keep the noise down. Aris grinned, clearly pleased at the surprised sound.

"Bloody Cymbals more like."

It was Aris's turn to stifle his giggles, and Newt's turn to smirk at him. When Aris's laughter died down Newt was staring at the ceiling again, and Aris settled back down too.

"Didn't you want to go with them?" Aris asked after a few moments of sleepy silence.

"What, running? Nahh mate. Bloody loopy goin' out there at this time in the morning."

"You got that right. I thought you would, though. Don't you run with Thomas?"

The question surprised Newt and he frowned even though Aris couldn't see his face.

"Where'd you get that idea?"

"Well you practically live in each other's pockets. What do you do when you're there and he wants to run?"

Newt snorted, twisting round to meet Aris's gaze.

"I say: cheerio, have fun, and then i go back to sleep."

Aris's giggled made Newt smile.

"You two are ridiculous, you know."

"How so?"

"You just… You're like this perfect little couple who isn't a couple. It's like watching Dean and Cas dance about on the same wavelength and drag each other out of danger and refuse to admit how they clearly feel."

Newt rolled his eyes. This was a regular conversation, and it wasn't the first time Aris had made the comparison.

"Again with that show? Mate, you're obsessed."

"I'm not obsessed." Aris whispered back defensively. "I just love all the different levels to it. Like, the three of them are this amazing team and they have all different sides of their dynamic and their friendships are like real, believable. And you two remind me of them so much."

Newt sighed, forcing more exasperation into the sound than he really felt.

"Uhh huh. Remind me, which one's the devil again?"

"Neither. Castiel is Dean's Guardian Angel. And Dean's a demon-hunter. He and Sam are brothers. They call it the family business, and they have this Psychic Paper that lets them-"

"I get it, i get it. So if we're Dean and Cas, which one am i?" Newt asked, wondering if Aris had thought his comparison through.

"Cas, definitely." Aris answered instantly, the sound of a smirk in his voice. "Thomas is so Dean. He's all like energy and kind of childish and upbeat. Cas is more level, you know? He's the sensible one. But he's adorable too. Dean gets them into all kinds of trouble and Cas sort of calms him down."

It sounded so much like the way people were always describing Thomas and himself. Thomas was the only person Newt knew who could talk him into doing mad things. Like Nerf gun fights in the darkened school corridors when they were supposed to be patiently waiting their turn at late-evening concert rehearsals. He brought out a side of Newt that was cheeky and a little daring.

And in return he was told he was the only one who could get Thomas to sit still, the best person to make him chill out when he was in one of his hyper moods. They were an odd pair, quiet reserved Newt and wild, popular Thomas, but somehow… Somehow they worked.

"Sounds familiar." he managed to croak, his throat suddenly feeling tighter than usual.

"Yeah. You two are… Well. You're like the best pair of besties i've ever seen."

Newt hummed and turned over onto his side to look at Thomas's empty sleeping bag. Even from where he lay he could smell the lingering, familiar smell of Thomas's usual deodorant. Aris fell quiet and Newt drifted for a few hours, lost in thoughts and wishes, wants and the rules of society. When Teresa nudged him awake with her foot everyone had already headed through for breakfast.

He thanked whatever fate was looking out for him that there were several of them there. It made it easier to be distracted, easier to avoid Thomas's golden brown eyes and easier to avoid talking to him without it being painfully obvious. Aris shot him several questioning glances but Newt shrugged them off, letting himself get swept away in the group atmosphere, the laughter over a shared meal.

It turned out Chuck was much more like his brother once he was comfortably out of his shell, telling terrible jokes and hoping to make them all laugh. He was eager to please and child-like in his naivety and Newt was reminded so much of Thomas that he had to keep reminding himself to eat and smile and look normal.

Sonya came for him early, and he left in a hurried flurry of goodbyes and Christmas wishes. He could blame his rush on feeling guilty he'd missed a day with his sister and truth be told he did feel guilty. But mostly he was just relieved to be out from under everybody's attention, away from the brief glances Thomas thought nobody could see him shooting Newt.

It had been agony to ignore him, to shy away from his grin and his laughter and the way he invaded Newt's personal space. But his head was in turmoil and he needed time to think. He needed time to process, and to work out what the bloody hell he was going to do about it all.

And the hardest part of all was trying to ignore the swelling in his heart every time he thought of the words Thomas had sent in the darkness. Because that swelling was love, pure and simple, and it was a feeling he wasn't supposed to have.

What kind of person did that make him, to be betraying a Soulmate he hadn't even met yet?

Chapter Text

Thomas of course, in that way of his, seemed to know Newt needed some space and he was giving him it. Newt was grateful, and even in giving him space and time to work everything out Thomas was unwittingly making Newt's turmoil worse. Because Newt loved him for knowing, loved him for backing off and letting Newt work it out.

Being in love sucked.

Christmas swept past in a whirlwind like it always did; colours and laughter and too much food. Newt had allowed himself to get swept up in it, in having Sonya there and spending time getting to know the sensible Harriet who had found her. They were a brilliant match, and Newt was pleased. Watching them made him happy, the way seeing Teresa and Minho together made him happy. The way that being with Thomas made him happy.

Sonya asked after Thomas a little more over the days, and Newt did his best to act as if nothing was wrong. He had a feeling Sonya could sense something had gone down, she had always know him so well, but she didn't mention it. Instead she stuck to teasing him and starting snowball fights every time Newt went outside to the bin, or to close the gate when the postman left it open.

In the end New Year came around and preparations had the house turned upside down, chaos and activity everywhere. His parents had invited a lot of their new workmates and neighbours over, the spare table had been bug out and bottles and glasses covered every surface along with nibbles and napkins and party streamers. Newt loved being part of it, loved the bustle, the noise, the colour.

He lost himself to it like every other year and was almost able to forget the sick and undecided feeling that he seemed to be living with permanently. That was until Thomas texted him and Newt answered and soon found himself sneaking out into the near-Midnight darkness, his boots crunching in the snow.

"Hi."

Newt didn't even jump. Thomas popped up beside him all the time, something Newt had grown used to ridiculously quickly, like everything else.

"Hey, Tommy."

"Happy New Year."

Newt smiled, meeting the friendly gaze sent his way. They could do this, they were Thomas-and-Newt for god's sake. They could get over awkward because they were best friends. They wandered down the garden, to the edge of the trees that stood in place of a bottom fence. They had spent time down there often, with Teresa and Aris or without, doing homework when the weather was good and chucking snowballs when the snow had come.

"Happy New Year."

Thomas grinned his sunshine grin and bumped his shoulder against Newt's. Newt bumped him back and Thomas tripped, landing in the snow on his knees and looking at Newt with an adorably surprised expression. Newt was laughing before he could help it, trying to help him up but unable to stop laughing enough to help him.

Of course it turned into a snowball fight and they chased each other around the garden like a pair of five-year olds, trying to keep the noise down in case they disturbed the party. Newt was feeling light and free, the way it seemed only Thomas could make him feel. Like there was nothing in the world that could bring him down. It was intoxicating.

They ended up on their favourite fallen log, gasping for air in the cold, breaths white clouds above their heads as they tried to reign in the giggles. Newt bumped their shoulder together again and Thomas grinned widely, his cheeks rosy and his eyes bright. He'd never looked more beautiful, and Newt's heart clenched unexpectedly.

As if he'd felt the change in Newt, Thomas ran a hand though his hair, messing up the brown mess more than it was already.

"Newt, I- I want to ask you out." he blurted.

Newt froze, his gaze snapping to meet Thomas's, but the younger boy looked away. There was a long moment of quiet between them, and Newt couldn't find the words. Thomas seemed to slump, even though he hadn't actually moved. Newt felt wretched, reaching out and faltering half-way there.

"I know what you're gonna say because you're waiting for your Soulmate." Thomas added quietly, looking away across the night. "But i had to ask anyway, just in case."

Newt's heart was breaking and he felt awful. There was a very large part of him that wanted to, that wanted to just throw everything he knew about Soulmates right out the window and be with Thomas.

Because Thomas made him feel brilliant, and he loved everything about the brunette.

But he couldn't. He just couldn't. He had a Soulmate out there looking for him, another Tommy who wanted him, who had been born for him. He couldn't leave him to be alone forever, searching for a Soulmate who wanted someone else.

And if he caved now, and allowed himself to fall ever more further in love with the boy who wasn't his Tommy, it would hurt all the more when Thomas's Soulmate came along. What if they popped up next week? Or next month? Or tomorrow? It'd be truly devastating. He couldn't even imagine how much it would hurt if they turned up after he'd had Thomas a year, two. What if-

No.

"I can't." he whispered back forlornly, a lump leaping into his throat.

Thomas chuckled sadly and looked down at his hands. He was smiling, and despite the relief Newt felt he still wanted to cry. Thomas's voice was soft and gentle in the air between them.

"I know."

Newt watched him, loathing himself for his ridiculous indecision. He was sure what he felt for the quirky, chatty brunette was love. He was absolutely sure it was something he had never felt before. His first love was to be unrequited, and even though logically he knew he couldn't possibly be the only person it had ever happened to it didn't make it hurt any less.

"I'm sorry, Tommy."

Thomas rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and shrugged halfheartedly. He looked up at Newt finally with calm brown eyes and he smiled again, a mournful little smile that made Newt want to kiss it from his face just to see him happy again.

"Me too."

Newt watched Thomas try to smile, and his chest hurt more than he thought he could bear.

What a way to start the new year, eh?

They sat beside each other in silence for a while, awkward and yet neither feeling the need to run. Newt looked over at the boy beside him, noting the way Thomas was staring at the sky. That usually boisterous personality of his was missing, the subdued air that Newt was starting to recognise settling on his shoulders.

He was turning his fingers over in the palm of the other hand, and he didn't look as if he was really seeing the stars he was looking at. Newt looked at him, knowing it was only going to bring more pain and yet unable to help himself as he watched the way the moonlight filtered into Thomas's dark hair, the way the stars were reflected in the caramel pools of his eyes. It caressed his cheek, silvery cold light that danced over his freckles and made Newt want to reach out and trace his skin.

"We'll still be friends, won't we?" he whispered softly, somehow voicing the new fear that was wrapping its fingers around Newt's heart.

"'Course we will, Tommy."

Thomas looked down at his hands then, and Newt could see the smallest curl of a smile in the corner of his mouth.

"You're the best friend i think i've ever had."

It became too much and Newt looked away, mimicking Thomas's posture without thinking. He felt the sweetness from Thomas's comment warming him as he concentrated on his own hands.

"Right back at ya."

Thomas gave a quiet, breathy chuckle. It wasn't really a laugh but it was almost there. It made Newt feel a bit better. A little more normal.

Maybe they'd be okay after all.

Chapter Text

It was all too soon that Newt found himself wrapped in Sonya's hug, his sister blinking away tears and both of them pretending she just had something in her eye. Sonya didn't do tears. Sonya did laughter. When she pulled back she sniffled and laughed, wiping her eyes casually.

"Hayfever, eh?"

Newt gave her a grin. Gods how he loved his sister. Despite her constantly poking her nose into his life he missed the days when they lived under the same roof, fighting over the dinner table and squabbling over the bathroom in the morning. He winked at her.

"Early for it."

She shoved his shoulder and laughed, before tugging him forward and planting an exaggerated kiss on the top of his head. She scrubbed his hair and pulled a disgusted face, but he was grinning.

"You behave, brother dear. And when you make an honest man out of your Thomas, i better be the first to hear about it."

He shot her a scowl and she simply laughed her tinkly laugh before tugging Harriet in between them. She kissed her cheek and stuck her tongue out at Newt. He couldn't swat at her with Harriet right in the middle. He rolled his eyes and offered Harriet his hand, but she smiled and gave him a hug instead.

"Goodbye, Newt. It was lovely to meet you."

"Likewise. Keep my sister out of trouble, yeah?"

Harriet chuckled at Sonya's protestation, silencing her with a kiss.

"I will!" she called, as she hauled the offended blonde down to the waiting taxi.

Newt chuckled as he waved her away, his mum giving him a cuddle as she stood beside him.

"I actually buggin' miss her when she's away, ya know." he said, and his mum kissed his cheek.

"I know."

She followed his dad inside but Newt stayed, long after the taxi was gone and the cold started getting to him. He felt a familiar sort of sadness at Sonya's departure, and when he went back into the house it felt emptier than it had in months. As Newt closed the door behind him the building felt almost as empty as it had when they moved in. Perhaps even more so.

He already missed his sister's laughter, and Harriet's answering voice. He made his way to the kitchen and had the kettle on before someone knocked on the front door. When he opened the door his heart skipped a beat.

Thomas stood on the doorstep, Teresa on one side and Aris on the other. When Newt shot them a questioning look Teresa rolled her eyes and pushed past him.

"Is that the kettle i hear? Because hot chocolate sounds good, shanks!"

Newt smiled after her, before turning to look between Aris and Thomas. Aris smiled and drew Newt into a hug.

"We thought you might want some company." Thomas greeted, giving Newt the sunny grin that made the world okay. Aris laughed as he drew out of the hug and followed after Teresa.

"Thomas thought you could use some company." he called back with a grin. "He said you'd think it was too quiet now that your sister's away."

Newt met Thomas's eye in surprise, and the brunette gave him a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I thought… You know."

Newt felt a swell of affection, and he stepped aside to let Thomas into the house. As he closed the door Thomas shrugged his shoulders.

"I…"

Newt cut him off.

"I bloody love ya, Tommy."

It was out before he could think, but before he even had the chance to take it back Thomas was laughing. He swung an arm around Newt's shoulder and dragged him down the hall.

"It's mutual, blondie."

They made hot chocolate and commandeered the living room, sprawled across the couches and the floor. Thomas had, of course, brought several sleeves of popcorn and the kitchen smelled pleasantly of sugar and salt. The tv was on but nobody was watching, too busy wrestling and laughing and whooping over boardgames. They binged on marshmallows and of course made a big enough mess that Newt cringed to see it.

The melancholy over his sister and Harriet's departure faded, and Newt basked in the warmth of having friends. They comforted Teresa over Minho leaving.

On the bright side she was able to tell them - in an excitable squeak she would later deny - that his parents had phoned the day before to tell him they were signing the paperwork when they came to collect him. He'd start the new semester at The Glade a week late, but he'd be there. He'd be in Newt's year, and the blonde was almost certain it would brighten up his classes.

Newt was the oldest of their group, and as such was pretty much on his own in class so having Minho around would be pretty brilliant. It also meant Thomas had someone to run with in the mornings so Newt wouldn't have to feel so guilty about burrowing back under the duvet after waving him off.

All in all it was a good night, and despite the threat of school the next day Thomas elected to stay. Aris couldn't, because he had to drop his sister off in the morning before school and Teresa had promised she'd be home.

Newt was beginning to get nervous when their time to leave approached, worried that once he and Thomas were alone they'd have to dance around the fact that they were both clearly attracted to each other and yet were never going to get together because Newt was… Well. Newt was being the good, life-rule following guy he'd always been, that he was expected to be by… Everyone. By his parents, by his teachers, by society.

They waved them off from the doorway, listening to Teresa's cackle and Aris's quiet giggle as they floated up the street. Newt didn't need to hear their words to know it was likely him and Thomas they were laughing about. He was almost reluctant to close the door, and he stared at it for a moment while he prepared himself to turn and look at Thomas.

"So." he said.

"So." Thomas repeated in a bad mimicry of him, raising his eyebrows and grinning when Newt looked at him.

"You're a buggin' shank, ya know that?"

"Oh, i know." Thomas shrugged. "And somehow it doesn't bother me."

And just like that, Newt felt better. They put a movie on. They threw popcorn at each other and fought over legroom as they settled on either end of the couch. They bickered over the blankets and squabbled over the marshmallows.

They didn't make it to Newt's room that night, and his parents left them to it. By the time Midnight rolled around the TV was flickering with static, lighting up the room in that eery night-time glow. Newt and Thomas were asleep, legs tangled and the blanket half on the floor. There was popcorn everywhere, an upturned bowl caught between their legs and the back of the couch.

Both boys were smiling.

Chapter Text

Things went back to normal, or as normal as things usually were, with addition of Minho. Newt shared almost every class with the guy, and he had never before considered his classes dull or himself lonely in them - with the exception of his fervent wishing to be in class with Thomas - but from the moment Minho walked into them Newt's classes took on a whole other spin.

He was cocky, charming, and sassy. He made friends just as quickly as he rubbed people the wrong way and best of all he seemed to have decided that his place to be was beside Newt in every lesson. He passed notes and told the blonde bad jokes and generally behaved so much like Thomas and yet so very differently from him.

Lunchtime came around on the Wednesday of their second week back and Newt was on a high. There was a boy in his classes named Galileo, could you believe that? Hah. His mates called him Gally for short and he was a total crank. He'd taken an instant disliking to Newt, and once he'd found out Newt spent his time not only with younger Gladers but with Thomas - who apparently he hated for no good reason other than the fact that Thomas wouldn't bow down to him - he'd had it in for Newt ever since.

And that day Minho - in what Newt was quickly recognising to be typical Minho style - had torn him to shreds with only words, leaving the boy red in the face and unable to come up with a retort. Minho's third day. The icing on the cake had been the whole group of classmates around him in the corridor who had cheered Minho on and shot taunts at Gally's retreating back.

Stepping into a lunchtime rehearsal had Newt grinning, and as usual Thomas's head snapped up the second he stepped into the hall. He made his way over, rolling his eyes when Thomas lifted up the Clarinet case from under his chair. He was sitting with his friends but fixed his attention on Newt and Newt tried hard not to feel special because of it.

Even now after all these months that was still a challenge because Thomas had a way of making him feel special just with the way he tipped his head or the depth of his grin.

"Your Mother Hen is showin' Tommy."

The brunette simply beamed and handed the case over. Newt took it, trying to scowl but it really didn't work. He headed across the distance between band and audience and Thomas turned smoothly in his chair to continue their conversation. They bantered for a while and Newt asked after the test Thomas had sat, and answered noncommittally about the english assignment of his own.

It was predominantly a Choir rehearsal on the books, with the small number of band members who were going to be accompanying them. As the solitary representatives of their respective sections, Aris Newt and Teresa were seated together, something Newt found hilarious and Teresa claimed she found off-putting.

They all knew she secretly loved it, regardless of her complaints about being overpowered by nasal sounds.

Thomas had a solo. Correction. Thomas had basically a whole song to himself, and then would be duet-ing for a second. Newt was eager to hear him with the band behind him. Thomas, despite his shyness and his boisterous, restless attitude, had a fantastic voice and the teacher was forever giving him the sweetest lines. He had a perfect stage-persona; sweet and well-behaved and… Well… almost naive. It was adorable.

They played through Thomas's song and Newt found it as hard as ever to concentrate on his part. Especially considering Thomas had chosen the song himself - with the choir teacher's approval, of course - and sang it gorgeously. Not to mention the way it made Newt's heart pound because his traitorous imagination wouldn't leave alone the idea that maybe…

Maybe it was about him.

It wasn't until the duet that Newt's good mood faded. And it wasn't watching Thomas and the girl sing and look at each other that did it. It wasn't even the fact that they were being choreographed as a couple. Most duets do, don't they?

No, it wasn't any of that.

It was the way that, when the teacher introduced the new-found vocal star - Brenda, was her name - Thomas's face lit up at the mention of her name.

Brenda.

Newt had never wanted to leave a rehearsal so badly in all his life.

Chapter Text

He avoided everybody after rehearsal, packing up his instrument and slipping out before the others could ask him if he wanted to go for coffee after school. He made his way to class early, and almost sprinted from that one to the last one, lest one of his friends appear to walk him. Thomas and he had developed a habit of doing just that, and they practically had a routine worked out of who walked who from what class on what day.

And right now Thomas was the last person Newt really wanted to see. He focused on getting to home time, on getting onto the first bus he could and with any luck avoiding all his favourite people in the process. He felt guilty, especially when text alerts started pinging from his phone, but he needed time alone right now. He knew the very second Teresa made one of her usual comments or Aris looked at him with those concerned green eyes he'd cave, and he didn't want to do that.

He didn't relax until he was in his room, throwing himself onto his bed and reluctantly allowing himself to address the horrid cold feeling in his heart. He'd known it was coming. He'd known it was only a matter of time until Thomas's Soulmate was dropped into their lives, but that didn't mean he was any more prepared for the pain he felt at the thought.

And he had no right to feel like that either, which only made him feel like a worse human being. Thomas wasn't his, and he had no claim on him, no right to the instant disliking he'd taken to the loud and boisterous Brenda. Everything about her had instantly annoyed him and he knew he was being horribly unfair and petty.

Didn't stop him disliking her anyway, from her short pixie cut to her batting eyes to her confident singing voice and the way she bounced on her toes. Newt disliked her so much he didn't hesitate to call it hate, and that was frankly ridiculous. He hadn't even met her. He couldn't hate her already.

He buried his face in his pillow as he resigned himself to the tears that were ready to fall. He couldn't possibly hate her before he'd even properly met her. And yet he hated her anyway.

It was his phone that woke him from the uneasy doze he'd fallen into, and he winced as the salt from dried tears stretched his skin uncomfortably as he yawned. The alarm clock proclaimed that it was almost midnight, and he winced at the thought of all the homework he should have been doing instead of napping.

He didn't think about what he was doing as he lifted the phone up to his ear and pressed the green button automatically.

"Yeah?"

"Newt! What happened to you? We've been trying to get in touch with you for hours, buddy. I was starting to think you'd died or something."

Thomas's upbeat voice woke him like a slap to the face and he couldn't contain the disappointed groan. Why hadn't he checked the bloody caller ID before he'd answered? That was the whole point in the damn thing, wasn't it?

"Hey, Tommy."

He winced. He'd have to get out of that habit. Thomas. His name was Thomas.

"Are you okay?"

Newt closed his eyes as he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Thomas's tone had changed instantly, level and slightly concerned. Newt had always been too bloody easy to read. He'd have to work on that too.

"Yeah, i'm fine."

Thomas was quiet, and Newt began to hope that that would be the end of the conversation. He was half-tempted to hang up, and then scolded himself for the thought. Not only was that the coward's way out, but it was downright rude. And it wasn't fair to his friend. It wasn't Thomas's fault that he'd found his Soulmate. Newt should be happy for him, not lying in bed moping and feeling wronged.

He was better than that. He was a good friend. Thomas deserved a good friend. Not least because he was the best friend anyone could ask for.

"You don't sound fine." Thomas said carefully.

His voice was quiet and calm, as though he was worried he might spook Newt. It only made it harder to stop loving him when he was sweet and concerned like that, and Newt needed to get off the phone now before he said anything he'd regret, the wounded feeling in his chest turning very quickly to irritation at himself. Which wouldn't stop it being aimed at innocent bystanders like Thomas.

"Well, i hate to disappoint ya, but i am. And i'm also shattered."

Thomas was quiet again and Newt felt a little guilty. Thomas wasn't to know why he was being given the cold shoulder. He badly wanted to explain himself, to apologise for being such a moody shuck-face. But that would mean confessing how he was feeling about Thomas's good news, and Newt didn't want Thomas knowing how bad a friend he really was.

Any half-decent friend would have congratulated him by now. Andy half-decent friend would have stayed after practice to say hello to their friend's Soulmate.

Right then Newt wasn't feeling like he was anything close to a half-decent friend.

"Okay." Thomas said eventually, and Newt felt horrible for making him sound so despondent. "I guess i'll see you tomorrow."

Not if Newt could help it. Not until he'd gotten himself under bloody control.

"Bye, Newt."

"See ya, Tom- Thomas."

He hung up the phone and shoved it back under his pillow. The name tasted bad on his tongue and prodded at the sides of his mouth. It didn't feel right. He supposed that sort of fitted his state of mind.

With a sigh, Newt abandoned the thought of homework in favour of curling under his duvet and gripping his iPod. He didn't even bother changing, feeling too depressed and lethargic to get off the bed. The little earphones closed him off from the world and Newt let his favourite songs lull him into an almost comfortable place. Tomorrow was a new day and it would be the first step in the journey of getting over Thomas for good, he told himself firmly.

He wasn't feeling too optimistic about it, but he'd get through it. For the sake of his own sanity and more importantly their friendship, Newt would sort his bloody emotions out and put a stop to all of his ridiculous pining. He'd wake up tomorrow refreshed and energised and ready to act like a shucking adult about it all.

In one of Thomas's parallel universes, maybe.

Chapter Text

"Oh, so you're not dead then."

Newt lifted his eyes to see Teresa fall into step beside him as he speed-walked across the almost empty car park towards the school building.

"Seems not." he replied, fixing his eyes once more on his feet and watching the crumbly concrete pass under him.

"Try not to sound too enthusiastic. You'll pull something."

Newt didn't reply. He hoped if he ignored her long enough she might bugger off and leave him alone to prepare himself for the day ahead. Avoiding Thomas was going to a bloody hard job, and he'd need his wits about him if he didn't want to get cornered between classes, badgered in the corridors.

He was going to be skipping rehearsal too, and dealing with his self-loathing at that wasn't pleasant either. He lived for rehearsals. When one got cancelled at the last minute it always left him feeling despondent and mournful. It was a little over-dramatic maybe, but it was a feeling left over from a childhood of being bullied and finding solace in his Clarinet and his books. Music was safety. Band was home.

"You're going to have to talk eventually. You can ignore us all you want, but somebody's going to make you talk. Even if it has to be a teacher."

He kept his eyes resolutely on the ground, counting the steps till they reached the school doors and he could scarper to the boys' toilets to get rid of her.

"Or Minho. A whole day with him is bound to break you."

They were only a few feet from the doors. He swallowed and thought about the Maths homework he hadn't done for first period. His teacher wasn't going to be best pleased. He'd been the perfect student so far though, with his attendance and handing in homework. Maybe she'd be a little more lenient with him if he pretended he was feeling under the weather. Or gave her a sob story about a stressful evening.

It's not like either would be a lie.

He tugged the heavy wooden door open, and in a rude move that he'd probably never performed before, he let go as soon as he was over the threshold instead of holding it open for the girl beside him. He heard her curse as he started across the blue school-floor linoleum tiles, his shoes squeaking and the smell of chemical lemon in the air. The place was deserted, a scattering of early risers - or kids of early risers - slumped in the crush hall benches, schoolbags chucked inelegantly in the usual spots where they seemed to gather.

She appeared beside him again, and Newt fully expected to be lashed with her snarky tongue. He did feel guilty about letting the heavy door fall back on her. It wasn't just rude or inconsiderate, he might have hurt her. He tried to convince himself that it was her own fault for not taking the hint and leaving him in the peace he was clearly looking for.

Teresa didn't say anything. She simply followed him through the common areas to the closest toilets, keeping pace with his longer legs through months of practice. He didn't need to look at her to feel the peeved air she was carrying. He had a feeling that when he finally did feel ready to talk to his friends he was going to deeply regret his stunt with the door. The toilet doors were unlocked when they rounded the corner and Newt breathed a sigh of relief as he upped his pace.

Teresa took hold of his wrist as he stepped over the threshold where she couldn't follow, and forced him to acknowledge her presence. He gave her a level look of disapproval. Not a glare, but not a particularly friendly look either. She met his gaze with a serious one of her own, the familiar steel gleaming in the sapphire.

"We're not going to go away. Eventually you're going to have no choice but to talk to us."

Newt looked away, into the room of cubicles and sinks and bit back a sigh. He shook his wrist from her grip, and faltered as he made to move away. Without looking at her he bit his lip and fought the guilty feeling as it rose again.

"Let me do it in my own time." he asked, his voice almost strangled.

He wanted to lock himself in one of those cubicles. He was desperate to hide out with his earphones and his book until the bell rang for Registration.

"Newt… At least tell us what's wrong? You've gone funny all of a sudden. Is everything okay?"

Newt gave her a pained look, finally meeting her eyes again. She was concerned. Under the fierce determination to get an answer out of him she was worried there was something wrong. He felt a lump creeping into his throat and he tried to swallow it back down.

"It's fine. I just need… I need some buggin' time, alright?"

She wanted to argue. Newt could see it in her face but she just jerked her chin in a small nod and watched him turn into the toilets. He didn't look back as he made his way over to the cubicle in the far corner but he could feel her watching him.

Newt had fully expected her to send one of the boys in when they arrived but it seemed she'd kept it to herself. He knew she definitely hadn't told Thomas, for the boy would have been in there in a flash, badgering his friend with that boisterous attitude until he caved and told him everything.

Registration was a relief, and although Minho sat with him in all their shared classes just like always, the dark-haired boy kept his opinions to himself. Whenever Newt looked up Minho gave him nothing but one of his level looks and a nod, his wry not-smile on his lips. Newt was grateful, and spent the day more focused on trying to work through everything he was feeling than paying attention.

Lunch was awkward, because although he hadn't spoken a word since that morning he had to leave Minho to join their friends while he himself set off to find somewhere to hide. By the time the bell for home-time rang Newt was exhausted and on edge, expecting his friends to pop up beside him any moment and harass him for details in their well-meaning way.

But he made it through the day without being accosted, was left alone on his bus home and really only saw Minho when he boarded. His newest friend gave him a dry look and a smirk, handing him several jotters. Before Newt had even gotten over his surprise to ask, Minho had turned away. He threw Newt a look over his shoulder as he walked towards the building again, towards the rehearsal Newt wished he was attending.

"I want them back tomorrow, shank."

He'd given Newt his class jotters, scribbled notes that Newt had been too anxious and distracted to take. For some reason the simple gesture made him want to cry as he sat in his seat and watched the now familiar journey go by outside his window.

The next day was Friday and Newt began the cycle anew, somehow holding out enough luck to avoid his friends again. He'd gotten very little sleep but with every passing hour he could breath a tiny bit easier. He could do this. Once he'd convinced his traitorous heart that he could get over Thomas he could go back to having friends again.

He was used to being on his own, but after just his few months at The Glade he'd grown used to having people around to call friends. Thomas hadn't just worked himself into Newt's heart so expertly. He'd opened Newt's world up and the blonde had somehow come to expect his company, along with that of Aris and Teresa and even Minho.

It was odd and unsettling to go back to being on his own again, but that wasn't to say he couldn't survive it. He'd done it before for years, he could manage a few days or weeks until he was ready to face Thomas and Brenda.

He still hated her, but he was pretty confident he could pretend he didn't for Thomas's sake whenever she was around, and if he did it long enough who knew? Maybe he'd start to believe it.

Newt's luck - and his friends' patience, it would seem - ran out on the second Wednesday. He'd no longer been able to avoid rehearsals, the validity of his excuse of a bad throat infection waning in the Band Master's eyes.

They eyed him the whole time, Teresa annoyed and concerned and Aris looking downright afraid Newt might drop dead right there next to him. Every moment that Thomas wasn't singing or absolutely required to be facing the front he spent looking back at the band, staring at Newt with those worried golden eyes.

The rehearsal had to end some time, and Newt held his breath as he packed away his Clarinet, wondering who it would be that broke first. In the end it was Aris who reached him first, his gentle hand on Newt's shoulder.

"Everything's not okay, is it? Is it… Are your family okay? Nobody's… Nobody's sick, right?"

Newt looked up and gave him a surprisingly successful smile.

"No. Everybody's okay. Nobody's sick."

"Oh Good." the Oboist replied, zipping up his own case.

"He was worried you were going to tell us you'd been diagnosed with the Plague or something and you were all going to die."

Teresa's words were their usual combination of humour and snark, and Newt looked up to catch her eye roll. Aris threw her a scandalised look and hissed her name in reprimand, not that she noticed.

"Are you going to tell us, or are we just going to pretend nothing happened and move on? Because option two isn't available." she added helpfully.

He glanced between them, chewing his lip as he started to feel edgy again. He hadn't realised how much he'd relaxed during practice until he started tensing up again.

"Can we go somewhere else?"

His eyes flickered over to the Choir who were receiving a last minute pep talk and pointers from their teacher. Thomas's back was turned to them but Newt knew it wouldn't be for long.

"Somewhere without Thomas."

They both shot him surprised looks, and it took Newt a moment to realise why. It seemed he wasn't the only one who found it strange to be calling Thomas buy his given name. His band-mates looked equally uncomfortable with it, suspicion glowing in Teresa's eyes.

"Sure." Aris offered eventually. "We'll go for coffee."

"Now?" Teresa asked.

Aris shot her a harsher look than Newt thought him capable of.

"Yes now."

"Fine." she grumbled, sounding put out and throwing her rucksack over her shoulder and following as Aris led the way. "But can Minho come?"

Newt gave in and nodded, resigning himself to the fact that he was going to have to either come up with an excuse fast or spill his guts. He'd had a fortnight to prepare himself and yet he didn't think he'd ever really be ready for that.

"Sure." he said. "Just not Thomas."

That time he couldn't bear to see the way they shared a look. He felt bad enough at the way the name made his brain revolt in protest.

It looked like it would be a very long time before Newt would be used to calling the boy anything other than Tommy. And he still hadn't convinced himself that he wanted to.

Chapter Text

The argument was an accident, pure and simple. Continuing to avoid Thomas's presence was taking its toll on him and he was finding himself foul tempered and antsy, snapping at people who had no reason to be snapped at.

Thomas just ended up being one of those people, really.

Newt was rushing from P.E. to English. He'd deliberately taken as long as possible in the locker room, waiting out the chance that the brunette might get it into his head to walk him across the school to the English Department. It would be incredibly far out of Thomas's way, if Newt remembered the younger boy's schedule correctly - and he did, he'd memorised it months ago - but somehow he didn't believe that would stop him.

Thomas was stubborn. But Newt was stubborn too. He'd be late to class, but he'd avoid Thomas and really that was the aim of the game right now. He stood in the locker room, long after everyone else had left and thanking his stars that Minho was in the other P.E. class. He'd be waiting for him in English, but that was alright. Newt heard the bell ring and fought the anxious urge to dive from the room.

He was going to be late on purpose, remember? He counted to a hundred and adjusted his rucksack on his shoulder before pushing open the door. He was barely half-way down the corridor before his plan to be unaccosted failed.

"Seriously, we need to talk."

Newt swallowed his groan and closed his eyes, striding as quickly as he could towards the stairs. Thomas was supposed to be in Biology; far, far away from both the Gym halls and Newt. But Thomas was Thomas, and he wasn't where he was supposed to be. Naturally. Just like he wasn't on Newt's wrist.

And he really needed to stop having thoughts like that.

"You're in the wrong corridor." he replied.

Thomas's sigh reached his ears despite the chaos bustling around them. P.E. was always making people late. Late there, late changed, late back, late to the next class. There really needed to be extra time on either side of a lesson just to get about. It was ridiculous.

"Well this is the corridor you're in, so I think I got it right."

It was an innocent enough comment. One of the many accidentally adorable things Thomas said on a daily basis. One of the hundreds Newt had been privy too in their brief friendship. But for some unknown reason it just lit the fire that was kindling in Newt's head, and he whirled to look at the boy keeping pace with him.

"Just stop it, okay? You can't say things like that now!"

Thomas furrowed his brow, his eyes looking hurt as he flinched back from Newt's sudden proximity.

"Like what?"

Newt found himself angered by his confusion, a seething in his heart as he hissed back sharply.

"Just stay the buggin' hell away from me from now on. I'm not goin' to be the type of bloke who mucks around with other people's Soulmates, alright? Just back the bloody fuck off."

He stormed off without looking back, his blood boiling and his brain itching from the heat of his anger. He wasn't even all that angry at Thomas. He was angry at himself, for falling for Thomas and for not being able to dig himself back out from where he'd fallen into. He was angry because he had always felt so special to hear the little things like that that Thomas was so fond of saying around him, the things he knew he shouldn't read anything in to but still did anyway.

He was angry at the way of the world for preventing them from being together. He was angry at the entire concept of life, of being paired off to some Tommy he didn't even know. And he was angry at his own skin for being branded with those five letters that had ruined his life. Because he'd thought long and hard about them, about the name in black scrawl on his wrist and about what his life would have been like if he'd been given any other name.

He had almost no doubt that he and Thomas would still have been friends. They were too well-matched for him to consider a life at The Glade without the boisterous, chatty brunette. But he would have had a defence against him, wouldn't he? He'd never have spent those nights wondering if Thomas had his name on his wrist while simultaneously reasoning that he couldn't because he would have said.

He'd have been spared the ache of falling further and further for Thomas without any way to stop himself, because he'd have been able to cling to the absolute certainty that his wrist name was someone else entirely. A Jeff, or a Ben or an Albert or something. Something as far from Thomas as possible. Having Tommy on his skin was just far too cruel.

He made it to class and took his scolding with a pinch of salt, knowing he deserved it and wishing he hand't bothered because it hadn't worked anyway. He worked on trying to delete the sound of Thomas's voice from his ears, so familiar and wonderful after what felt like forever without it. Having thoughts about the possible depths and meaning of Thomas's throwaway comments wasn't the only thing Newt had to stop.

He also had to stop opening the front door without looking through the peephole first, because that was how a bloke ended up with unwanted and nosy friends perched on his kitchen counter and eating her way through his favourite and most comforting biscuits.

It was also how a bloke got tricked into re-opening the door two minutes after she ended her peculiarly brief visit, to find a second and decidedly more unwanted friend on the doorstep, determination blazing in his caramel eyes.

Chapter Text

Newt groaned, cursing Teresa for pulling such an underhanded stunt. She knew he didn't want to see Thomas. In the end he had managed not to tell them why but she knew. And he'd been stupid enough to believe she'd respect that. He should have known better than to trust her with that. He should have known better than to open the door without looking through the bloody peephole.

"Is there anybody you listen to when they tell ya to bugger off?"

Thomas met his eye, his face set in a serious expression and his lips a grim line. He shook his head shortly, barely a jerk to each side. Newt scowled at him. He wished his parents were home, that they were hovering in the kitchen, that his mum would shout through to ask who was at the door. That way he could hang about the kitchen and ensure their conversation wasn't too personal or detailed. He'd let slip to Aris and Teresa that he was looking forward to his parents heading out that night. That it would give him time to think, peace to get himself on track for feeling better.

There was no doubt in his mind that it was Teresa who had passed that on to his best friend. He stood firm and returned Thomas's gaze, despite the way that he wanted to shout. Or cry. Despite the way he wanted to shut the door on him. Thomas had his rucksack over one shoulder and he was clutching the strap so tightly his fingers were blanched. Newt hated himself for noticing, hating himself for feeling the concerned want to ask why Thomas's hand was clenched.

He crossed his arms, raising one eyebrow as they stared at each other in silence. Newt felt the cool of the night air as it breezed through the door. The sky was soft amethyst, speckled with faint stars and tinged with the pale orange glow of the streetlights.

Unbidden, the memory of sitting beside Thomas on the fallen log under the New Year's sky flitted into his mind. The air had been colder then, the ground coated by the snow that was already fading now despite it barely being weeks ago. The sky had been bluer that night, a dark canvas painted with those same stars.

Newt was not blind to the difference, nor the similarities. He felt much the same now as he had then; torn and unhappy and wishing he could have what wasn't his to ask for.

"I could stand here all night, Newt. And I will, if you make me."

Newt looked away from the feeling in those eyes. He tightened his arms around himself, not that it made him feel any better.

"I don't know what I've done wrong, but I want to fix it. I miss you. I miss us. I don't know what I've done but I'm sorry anyway."

Newt closed his eyes, all of the anger he had been harbouring suddenly seeping from him. All because of Thomas's tone, because of the way that voice made Newt feel. It simply wasn't fair.

Thomas was too brilliant, too wonderful for Newt to stand a chance getting over him. The boy had found his shucking Soulmate for God's sake and here he was on Newt's doorstep, late at night and apologising for something he didn't understand he'd done.

"You didn't do anythin', To-Thomas." he answered eventually, voice low and lifeless.

Thomas visibly flinched, his eyes seeking Newt's. Their golden depths were wounded and Thomas looked up at Newt with an expression so hurt that Newt had to look away. There was a hard lump in his throat and he didn't want to be there at the door with Thomas looking at him like that. Like he'd kicked his favourite puppy in front of him.

"What did I do?" Thomas whispered, sounding like a lost little kid.

Newt's heart squeezed uncomfortably in his chest and he had to fight not to look back at his friend. His best friend. The boy he shouldn't love but loved anyway. Thomas sounded wobbly, like he might cry, and Newt knew he wouldn't survive that unscathed.

"I just told ya." he replied shortly, "Nothin'."

"You never call me that."

His eyes met Thomas's without permission, watching the battle in the golden brown. Thomas looked almost desperate, trying to grasp an understanding of Newt's behaviour and it made the blonde feel guilty as all hell.

"You've never called me Thomas. Not ever."

It was Thomas's turn to look away, down at his trainers as he shuffled his feet. He sounded embarrassed and doubtful and Newt wanted to reach out like they always did. Despite the short time scale, denying the familiar instinct was unbearable.

"You always call me Tommy." he whispered uncertainly, and Newt's heart spasmed painfully.

"You're killin' me." Newt answered softly, hearing the dismay in his own voice and hating it. Hating that his mouth spoke without permission. Hating that for anybody else in the world he could erect a wall between them but not him.

"Newt, we have to talk. I- I miss you."

"Tom- Just please. Can't you just- just buggin' go and leave me be?"

"No!" Thomas snapped back fiercely, and Newt was distraught to find that his friend's eyes were indeed watering.

Oh bloody bugging shucking hell, he was done for.

"There's something seriously up with you and I want to know what! What did I do?"

Thomas's voice was nearing an angry whine, his face reddening under his natural tan and Newt could feel all the feelings he'd been working through un-file themselves, scattering and burning together once more.

"Nothing!"

Thomas gave a derisive snort and shot Newt a disgusted look. Newt knew it should be lighting the anger that had cooled but he just couldn't find it in him to be angry. Not when such a huge part of him wanted to cave, to just give in and tell Thomas… What?

Tell him he wanted to break all social law, all the expectations and rules that life had set upon him? Why did he have to feel this way?

In his indecision, Thomas sighed and pushed past Newt, clearly tired of waiting on the doorstep. Newt couldn't even argue. He just closed the door behind him and followed him through the house to the kitchen, trying to kid himself that he wasn't feeling all warm inside at the way Thomas made himself at home so quickly.

Out of habit, and simply for something safe and familiar to do with his hands, Newt filled the kettle and pressed the switch down. The little blue light lit up warmly and the soft and familiar quiet sound began to fill the air. He looked up at Thomas as the brunette placed his rucksack down on one of the breakfast bar stools, swallowing the lump in his throat.

They were quiet in the awkwardness of the moment for a while, listening to the kettle grow louder and avoiding each others eyes. Newt busied himself finding two mugs - not that Thomas had a specific favourite, or anything. The kettle whistled and cut off with a satisfying rumble, and Newt felt the anxious feeling grow with the inevitability of the coming conversation. He steeled himself as he reached for the kettle handle but didn't lift it, unsure whether he could so so without spilling it all over himself.

He needed to get a shucking grip. Because he was Thomas's friend, dammit. He could do this, and he'd bloody well act like it.

"Brenda seems nice," he tried, finally feeling like his hands were still enough to hold the kettle and pour water into his mug.

Thomas jerked a little as his head came up to look at him, clearly surprised that Newt had spoken and a little thrown by the direction of conversation. Newt tried not to find the odd hope in his eyes as adorable as he did. Thomas smiled at him, unsure at first and then bravely.

"Yeah." he agreed, turning to fetch the sugar dish for Newt like he so often did when they made tea. "Yeah, she's awesome."

It was such a domestic move that Newt forgot what he was going to reply with, simply taking the dish and swallowing hard when their fingers brushed accidentally and the familiar tingle raced up his arm. He forced his eyes onto the spoon, watching the white crystals turn golden and then melt into the drink.

Nope, he was wrong. He couldn't do this.

"We went to school together. She was in the year above Chuck and she sort of became like part of the family." Thomas gave a soft laugh and smiled at the memory. "She's like all sweet and adorable, but then someone would say something mean to Chuck and she would turn into this awesome monster and scare them off. She's like…"

He looked up at the ceiling for inspiration, completely unaware of the way the smile on his face was needling at Newt.

"Like a hurricane, or a tidal wave." He looked over at Newt, his eyes bright and breaking Newt's heart. "She's-"

"Never mind. I- I don't want to talk about her. Can we- Can we change the buggin' subject?"

Thomas hummed in annoyance, frowning at him. It seemed the brunette had finally had enough of his games, enough of the dancing on eggshells and second-guessing. While one part of Newt longed for the weight of secrets to be gone, he felt himself trembling at the thought that he was going to tell him everything.

Because let's face it, it's not like he was very good at keeping secrets from Thomas at all.

"What the hell- Did Brenda say something? Do you guys not get on? What's she done?"

Newt swallowed his trepidation and drew a long breath in, feeling his eyes burn with the fear of how Thomas might answer.

"Is she your Soulmate?" he whispered, looking anywhere but at Thomas.

Thomas was shooting him a bemused sort of look as though nothing made any sense. Newt found his mug was suddenly very interesting to look into and his heart was thundering, hard and painful. It was none of his business but he just had to know.

"What? Dude, no!" He made a frustrated sound, throwing his arms out to the side. "Seriously, Newt, what is with you!?"

For a second Newt couldn't reply, his eyes seeking Thomas's as he drowned in the relief of-

"She's not?"

Thomas scowled, clearly impatient with Newt and dying to know just what Newt meant by asking such a question.

"No, she isn't. What is this about? Did she say she was? Because she has a weird sense of humour sometimes and-"

"No." Newt breathed, still staring at those eyes.

Eyes that didn't belong to Brenda after all. Newt could shout, he felt so giddy. The honey-brown was so familiar that Newt was seized by the desperate urge to grab hold of Thomas and never let him go. He swallowed, clenching his hands together.

"No, she didn't say anything. I- Well, I never spoke to her."

He felt his face heating in shame as he realised just how stupid he had been, jumping to conclusions. It battled the relief that was building and he felt dizzy as his mind kicked into overdrive at the knowledge that Thomas was- He wasn't Brenda's. He wasn't Newt's, but he wasn't Brenda's either. And if Thomas liked her, she was probably a nice enough person. Thomas folded his arms across his chest and eyed him suspiciously.

"Then what, Newt?"

With a reluctant sigh Newt closed his eyes and finally explained himself, unable to meet Thomas's eye as the guilt crept further in. He wasn't sure whether the relief of doing so was stronger than the guilt.

When he finished Thomas was quiet for a very long moment. Newt waited, keeping his breathing as shallow and quiet as possible as though somehow it might make everything less awful. He was starting to feel light-headed by the time Thomas let out a frustrated sigh and shot him a look.

"So…. So what, you turn me down and tell me that even though we both want something we can't do anything about it because you want us to be with our Soulmates, but at the same time you also don't want me to see anybody else? Is that what you're telling me?"

He'd never heard Thomas so impatient and frustrated. He swallowed and clenched his eyes shut when he nodded so he didn't have see that dark fire in Thomas's eyes. He knew it was ridiculous. He had no right to Thomas and he had no right to dictate Thomas's actions, or to feel jealousy over any potential girlfriend or his Soulmate or any of it because Thomas wasn't his.

"Yeah." he admitted, lowering his head.

He was ashamed of himself and how he'd acted. He'd been appalling. The worst kind of friend. He had seen how happy Thomas was and had ducked out and given him the cold shoulder without explaining himself. Even knowing she wasn't the Soulmate he'd feared she was, it didn't make it any better. He'd left Thomas without a reason, even though he knew how much it would hurt him and how guilty his friend would feel. It was sickening. He didn't deserve a friend like Thomas. He wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to see him again, even as vicious pain at just the thought of it seared through Newt's heart.

"Okay."

His ears clearly weren't working. He opened his eyes warily.

"What?" he croaked.

Thomas was looking at his feet, his expression dark but much less aggressive, a thoughtful twist on his lips. He lifted his head and sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked off into the distance.

"I said okay."

Chapter Text

To begin with it was an uneasy truce, and they both knew it. Newt had always valued honesty, had always argued that lies, however small, would always bring trouble back around in the end. He had always been one to tell people things straight up, good and bad news alike.

But this? This level of honesty was startling and stark, scary beyond his initial realisation. He knew how Thomas felt, what Thomas wanted, and worse than that Thomas knew too. How Newt felt, how Newt wanted there to be a them that was so much more than the them they had now. And however often Newt reminded reminded himself that he should be happy - hell, that he should be down right thrilled - to have someone like Thomas in his life in any capacity, it didn't stop the pining.

It didn't even come close to tempering the never-swaying, aching want for Thomas to belong to him in that way he never could. It wasn't even just the intense attraction. It wasn't just the way that Thomas's eyes seemed to heat his skin more and more the closer they grew. It wasn't just the way that his touch sent Newt soaring and trembling at the same time. It wasn't his laughter or his off-side sense of humour or his surprisingly intense love for superheroes.

It was something else, something Newt was forever trying to ignore and attempting to deny with no success at all. It was the growing, shifting, building certainty in his heart that there was no-one, no-one anywhere who could see into him the way Thomas could. Thomas knew him inside out, learning all things Newt at a voracious rate and besting even Sonya on occasion.

There were moments in conversations as the year crept on, moments where some preference or other would be questioned by the others - if Newt had to choose, would he pick a Summer on the beaches in Spain or Christmas in the cities of Germany? - where Thomas would roll his eyes or snort, or mutter absently that duh, of course Newt would prefer the snow in Cologne to the sands of Port de Polenza because even the sun couldn't beat the magic of sparkling snow on the Cathedral.

Moments where any or all of the others would stop just to look at him and then to Newt for confirmation, moments when Newt himself could find nothing to say and even Thomas looked surprised.

As January crawled into February and tumbled into March it only grew, accidental glances at practice turning into three or four beat pauses, three bar rests of simply looking at each other. And it wasn't like staring, not for Newt. It was like looking at the one thing in the world that he had no right at all to ask for and yet knew would be his with only a word.

And rather than go to his head, the knowledge only made Newt more afraid. How long would he last before even his impulses were out of his control, out the window with his heart?

And it wasn't just their conversations that seemed to have evolved. It had lasted three weeks before something changed, and it was like the relief of heavy rain after a months of stifling heat.

Thomas had come over, their living-in-each-other's-homes arrangement re-instated without any real decision on their part. They had been finishing in the kitchen, bickering pleasantly about some movie or other and waiting impatiently for the microwave to complete it's bombardment of Thomas's popcorn. The well-worn routine had fallen back into place and their favourite scary movie lay in the DVD drawer of the cinema system in the lounge just waiting for them.

Newt was tapping his foot and pretending he was much more annoyed than he truly was, long arms crossed over his chest and his voice a deliberate whine.

"Come on, Tommy!" he wheedled as Thomas reached for what had become his favourite big blue bowl. "My tea's getting cold."

Thomas had laughed at him, turning his face halfway to flash that grin over his shoulder.

"Easy there, don't strain yourself with that falsetto you got going on."

Newt had rolled his eyes and huffed but he had been smiling, of course. Somehow, he wasn't sure how, he had ended up right beside the younger boy, peering over his shoulder as he was deliberately finicky and careful with the popcorn lest it overflow. His hand had found its way to Thomas's sleeve and he had been tugging the fabric gently, he remembered.

Thomas had turned, finished and ready to go, and somehow their arms had tangled, their fingers finding each other as Thomas made some final quip that Newt couldn't remember now. They'd been down the hall, into the living room and halfway across the floor to the couch before either of them had realised they were holding hands.

"You get quieter every week."

Newt opened his eyes and blinked against the spring sunshine as he let the pale blue of the sky wash over him. Teresa lay beside him on one side, Aris on the other. Cloud-watching. Somehow they'd talked him into it and here they lay, the sweet smell of newly-awoken grass seeds and poppies alight in the air. Newt hummed a response, gazing into the incredible height of the sky and feeling the vastness of the world upon him.

He was graduating in just over three months. And he didn't know how to feel about it.

He'd already had his first three meetings with his Guidance Councillor, familiarised himself with the computer programme that he would tell his future plans to in the hopes it would kick him out a place in a university of his choice. He'd been offered a place at every University he had applied to. He had three days until his decision was final, irreversible, and his future set.

Three days to decide whether filling one of those five precious drop-boxes with the name of the only university within a 200-mile radius had been a healthy decision. Three days to work out whether his heart was having a larger say in his choices than it should.

Three days to decide whether heading off to Stirling like he'd planned for years was still the plan.

"Three days." he sighed, reaching up to scrub one hand through his unruly curls. "Three bloody days."

"You nervous?" Aris asked, looking up from the neat little pile of grass blades he was assembling atop his stomach.

"Of course he's nervous." Teresa snorted, her tone much less respectful than Aris's and much more like herself. "He's finishing school."

Newt could almost hear the disapproving look Aris was shooting her, but he kept his own eyes on the sky. There was something oddly comfortable about lying there with his head pillowed on one arm, staring up from the middle of a field at the cloud-scattered sky with the sound of birdsong and mid-day warm in the air.

"You could be a little more sensitive." Aris replied quietly, "I mean, I have another two years left before I have to head off into the world, and I worry sometimes. Don't you?"

"Nope." Teresa popped, sounding like she was grinning. "Two years is forever. I've got one and even that's ages. Plenty of time to panic later. I'm more interested in the Summer. I mean come on, we've got the BandTrip coming up. Aren't you guys excited as all hell?"

Newt smiled.

"You bet your arse." he answered, as Aris rolled his eyes and gave her a simple Duhh sound.

"I can't wait." Teresa breathed, twirling a daisy between her fingers when Newt twisted to look over.

"Even though it's a whole ten days without Minho?" Aris teased, making Newt grin and Teresa swat half-heartedly at him.

"Yes." she answered sulkily. "I can manage on my own, you know. I mean, we're Soulmates but we're not sewn together."

"Coulda fooled me." Newt commented with a sly half-grin, making Aris giggle as Teresa simply snorted.

"Look who's talking. I bet I can guess who you're desperate to share with."

"That buggin' line got old-"

Newt's phone began to buzz and sing, cutting him off effectively. The song playing should not be his ringtone.

Falling Slowly, eyes that know me

and I can't react.

Take this sinking boat

and point it home

You still got time

Raise your hopeful voice

You got the choice

You've made it now

Newt groaned as he fished around half-heartedly for the phone. Teresa began to snigger as Newt muttered to himself.

"Tommy. I'll bloody kill him…"

"Changed your ringtone again?" Aris asked, over Teresa's laughter.

"You!" Newt answered the phone, greeted by the melodic sound of Thomas's cheerful laughter. "When the bloody hell did you manage it this time? It was fine this mornin'!"

"Remember you couldn't do the zip on your jacket up properly?" Thomas replied breezily, and Newt grumbled nonsensically into the little phone just to make him laugh again.

A half-smile was curling one side of his mouth and Teresa was sniggering in his ear.

"So what did ya want, anyway?" Newt reminded in a mock-annoyed tone, staring up at a bluebird that was swooping lazily overhead.

"Mine tonight? Mom's making that pasta thing that you like."

Newt smiled at Thomas's tone, the throwaway manner in which he mentioned one of his mother's latest "adventure" recipes.

"You mean she's makin' Chorizo Cheesezilla?" he teased in an exaggerated tone.

Thomas groaned as Newt laughed, and he could imagine the way that Thomas was rolling his eyes, scrunching his nose in pretend disgust. He heard Thomas mutter something that sounded like "dork."

"You're one to talk." he retorted, and it was true.

Thomas was a complete and utter dork, and Newt loved that about him. He'd rubbed off on Newt these past months, bringing out a bizarrely nerdy and abstract side of him. Newt was almost like a different person since meeting him. And yet, he wasn't. He was himself, just… different. It wasn't like he'd been changed exactly. More like he'd been developed. It hurt his head to think about it too much.

Long story short Thomas jumped into his life and most of the second-guessing and self-worth issues seemed to be bailing out of it.

"You still with Aris and Tee?" Thomas asked instead of replying.

Newt didn't even bother to ask how the younger boy knew. Thomas had swiftly developed some way of knowing where Newt was most of the time. Maybe sometimes it was through the others, but he was always able to find Newt if he'd wandered off at lunch time, or work out which teacher the blonde had disappeared to talk to. When Newt was sulking or dawdling it was Thomas who would find him and drag him back to the others. At first Newt had found the idea of Thomas's hyper-awareness daunting, but now it barely bothered him.

Thomas's mother had once laughed about it and told him that it was just a way Thomas had of showing he cared.

"Yeah. I can meet you for coffee in a half hour, if ya like. Teresa's got dinner plans and Aris is babysitting."

"That's okay," came Thomas's cheerful reply. "I'm here anyway."

Newt sat up to look for him, a familiar tremble surging through his abdomen at the thought of Thomas being so unexpectedly near. Sure enough, there he was on the far side of the field, raising one hand to wave as he noticed Newt's attention.

"You bugger." Newt told him, a smile taking firm root on his face.

"Shank." Thomas quipped sweetly, and Newt could hear the familiar grin.

"Prick."

"Bitch."

"Wanker."

Thomas's laughter spilled joyously through the small speaker as he ended the call, and Newt shook his head deliberately at the approaching figure. He could just about make out the grin on Thomas's face as he pocketed his phone.

"He just can't stay away." Teresa teased for what might be the million and tenth time that week alone, rising up to balance on her elbows.

Newt didn't look at her, but he shoved her shoulder with one hand, his smile becoming a grin as she gave a surprised shriek and fell over onto the grass again. Aris's laugh was accidental and surprised, and he gave Teresa his apologetic eyes even as he spluttered and giggled at her picking loose grass from her hair as she sat up properly.

He could hear her exaggerated muttering but he wasn't listening, Aris's mellow tenor answering her instead. Newt watched Thomas approach with an anticipation that was as familiar as it was infuriating. His face twinged from his grin and yet try as he might he knew it wouldn't go away. Thomas just had that sort of affect on people. He more than made you want to smile, he made you incapable of stopping.

"S'up, buddy?" Thomas greeted when he was close enough, his casual half-grin perfectly cheeky and warm.

"The sky, the clouds, I'm sure there was a butterfly a minute ago…" Newt demurred, flashing Thomas a look when the brunette knocked him with his foot half-heartedly.

"Ha ha, funny guy."

"Here we go," Newt heard Teresa stage-whisper to Aris. "The usual flirting, followed by the inevitable insult…" she commentated like a wildlife expert and Newt rolled his eye before reaching up for Thomas's wrist.

Thomas allowed himself to be tugged down beside him, looking as unfazed by Teresa's blatant taunt as always. Aris scolded her half-heartedly but Newt knew that if he looked round the pair would be sharing knowing glances. It still made him uncomfortable, that assumption. The belief that there was some secret hook-up happening that they weren't sharing.

For the most part, they were wrong of course. Newt couldn't deny that something had shifted between himself and Thomas, subtle but there. It had been around for a long time but ever since they had bared their true feelings something new had happened.

They weren't a couple. They absolutely and utterly weren't, Newt had begun having to remind himself. But Thomas had all but promised himself to Newt and although they had tiptoed around the argument they had yet to address it face on. Newt doubted they ever would, and he was surprisingly okay with that. So he couldn't have Thomas. That much he had known right from their very first meeting.

But what they did have was more than friendship. It might not be properly classified, and it may look far too intimate to the people who knew them, but it wasn't. Newt had always been the kind of person to enjoy clear, defined lines. Was his analysis of Macbeth accurate, or were his words jumbled? Teachers who did not give him answers in absolutes infuriated him. He was a yes or no kind of bloke, in the general sense.

But there was something that was neither yes nor completely no between them and he allowed it, enjoyed it. For once in his life Newt was feeling almost alright with maybe-ish.

Thomas settled cross-legged beside him and twisted the wrist held loosely in Newt's grip. He meshed their fingers together and pulled out his phone with his free hand as he began to talk to Aris about something their Chemistry teacher had been talking about. Teresa was as subtle as always, throwing Newt the expected arched eyebrow and curved lip before she lay back down and turned her face towards the sunshine.

Newt felt Thomas's thumb stroke over the edge of his knuckles and returned his smile before lying back down too and closing his eyes, leaving Aris and Thomas to bemoan their own vague homework challenge and listening to Teresa humming under her breath. Thomas's thumb stroked absently, gently, and Newt allowed himself to be lulled by the warm air and the gentle breeze, the soft curl of Thomas's hand in his and the sweet sound of Teresa humming the Flute part to Highland Cathedral.

Chapter Text

"I gotta go if I want time to change." Teresa sighed eventually before shooting Thomas a sly look. "As much as I'd rather stay and watch the lovebirds dance."

Newt, who had been distractedly watching the sky peek between the fingers of one raised arm, let it fall, landing purely by accident on her shoulder.

"Woops." he smiled. "Sorry, Tee."

She snorted as she sat up to rub grass from her hair and her top. When he smiled sweetly she punched his shoulder.

"Sure you are."

Aris chuckled softly before getting to his feet and offering her his hand.

"I should get going too. Lana gets anxious if I'm late. Even when mom doesn't tell her I'm late."

Newt shot him a grin and reached out to tickle the back of Teresa's knee as she stood beside him, laughing as she shrieked and danced out of reach.

"Shuck-face." she muttered when she'd dislodged the caught breath, rolling her eyes when he just stuck out his tongue.

Newt watched them go, lying back down and craning his neck around. Thomas had lain down beside him almost an hour ago, one earphone in the ear closest to Newt and the other pushed into the blonde's ear without even asking.

Some of Thomas's choir pieces were playing on a looped playlist and Thomas was switching between humming along and doodling distractedly on the english homework he'd brought with him, leaning the jotter lazily against his raised knees and using his rucksack as a pillow. Newt didn't say anything, even though words instantly sprung to his lips. Instead he returned his eyes to the blue expanse above them and allowed his mind to wander as he listened to Kate Winslet sing.

"I love that song." Thomas murmured eventually, sounding almost drowsy as he reached for the iPod between them and skipped back to hear it again.

The contentment in his low voice was such a pleasant sound that it took Newt a moment to remember that he was supposed to answer when people spoke to him.

"Hmm, yeah. It's sorta eerie too. Like she's singin' about it but doesn't know whether she's sad or not."

Thomas hummed in agreement, and when Newt turned a little to see him the brunette's eyes were closed, his face relaxed and an almost-smile on his mouth. Newt looked at him, a much too common habit, feeling that warm and familiar sweet pulse in his chest. The sunlight was gentle on Thomas's skin and Newt put the twinge of guilt on hold as he marvelled at the curve of his cheek, at the delicate dusting of freckles that nestled there.

"I can feel you looking." Thomas whispered, the words almost lost in the spring afternoon.

Newt felt himself blushing even as he grinned.

"Guilty." he murmured back, feeling a little silly to be caught.

A few months ago he'd have been unable to meet his friend's eye. Hell, a few months ago he'd never have admitted to it, let alone have felt even remotely okay that Thomas knew he… Well. He swallowed as he was again reminded of how much he'd changed since those first weeks at The Glade. His final year of school. It was almost funny to think about how adamantly he'd argued against their move. How vehemently he had promised his parents that he had the worst year ever ahead of him. How the injustice of it all had rained upon him.

It was almost funny, and he felt the silent chuckle perching, ready to fly. He closed the cage door on it lest it ruin the heady, lazy feeling that had settle comfortably over them both.

Those fears and that disgruntled, uprooted feeling felt a lot longer than just a few months ago. But as Thomas opened his eyes halfway to look at Newt from under dusky lashes, Newt didn't feel anything like he had then. His face felt warm, and his hands were a little trembly, but his heart felt warm.

"Subtle." Thomas replied quietly, and Newt rolled his eyes.

"Piss off."

Thomas chuckled and squeezed Newt's hand, his amber eyes flashing open properly to greet Newt's gaze. Newt looked back, feeling the tug-and pull between them and trying not to care. Their faces were so close, so much closer than was generally acceptable of friends. It was comfortable for them though, just as their sleepovers and the handful of times Thomas had gone to school in one of Newt's shirts. Newt loved him. He couldn't have Thomas, but damn it if he couldn't bloody enjoy looking at him and feeling that want.

"Remind me why we're not, you know, totally together?" Thomas teased, a humorous glint in his eyes.

"Because you're a maverick who's a danger to my blessed virtue." Newt replied sweetly with a smirk.

Thomas feigned insult.

"Hey, hold on a minute buddy. I'm a maverick? You're the one gazing at me while I sleep. Stalker."

Newt knocked his shoulder against the brunette's.

"You're the one lettin' people believe we're a couple." Newt laughed playfully, feeling the true weight of the accusation but choosing to ignore it.

Thomas shrugged and looked back up at the sky with a gentle grin.

"Well, it's not my fault if they make assumptions about us."

Newt rolled his eyes and snorted.

"I won't even validate ya with a response."

"Bitch.

"Tosspot."

"Totally not a word."

"Definitely a bloody word. Autocorrect even knows it. So there."

"Whatever. You still suck."

Newt made a derisive sound, turning back to the sky to hide his grin.

Chapter Text

"Thanks, Mary."

"You're welcome, love."

Newt ignored the face Thomas was pulling at him from across the table where his mother couldn't see as she returned to the kitchen. The brunette stuck out his tongue and waggled it around, seeking his attention when his first attempt didn't work. Newt continued to ignore him as he turned towards his plate, the smell of melted cheese and roasted chorizo downright alluring. The toes of Thomas's trainer grazed his shin, but still he pretended he couldn't see him.

The stifled smirk creeping across his lips gave him away, though.

"So," Mary asked as she seated herself at the table with them. Thomas's dad was picking Chuck up from his after school wood-working club. "what's the plan tonight boys?"

As if the answer was ever anything except popcorn and a movie.

The amount of the stuff Thomas alone ate should mean they had shares in one of the companies. Or a weight-problem, at least.

Newt swallowed his mouthful of pasta and opened his mouth to reply but Thomas beat him there.

"Out." he answered cheerfully before filling his mouth with food.

This time Newt did look his way, and raised an eyebrow at the triumphant gleam in his friend's eyes. Out where, exactly? Nobody had told him about heading out tonight. He felt a little disappointed, really. He'd been looking forward to their usual routine of horror movies and fighting over leg room. Particularly the part when they would finally settle and grow drowsy like that, Thomas's back pressing his legs into the couch in a way that should be less comfortable than he truly found it.

"Oh?" Mary asked curiously, spearing chorizo with her fork. "You got a party you didn't tell me about?"

Newt shook his head.

"Definitely not."

Thomas rolled his eyes and made an odd, mumbled noise around his chewing. Newt wrinkled his nose, teasing him with a disgusted eew expression. Mary hummed in disapproval and waited for him to finish before asking again.

"No." Thomas finally answered, taking a gulp of water from his glass.

It was something he did when he was stalling, Newt knew, before he halted himself. When on earth had he picked up that piece of information? Maybe he'd just swallowed his pasta too fast, that's all.

"There's a new sequel on downtown, we've got tickets to see it. Proper popcorn for a change, huh Newt?"

Gold eyes flicked his way and in them Newt could read Thomas as surely as he knew what colour his own socks were right then.

"Uh, sure. Might be safer for me, less chance of you kicking my kidneys out."

Thomas rolled his eyes and tossed a crust of garlic bread his way, giggling through the insincere scolding from his mother. Chuck and his dad arrived not long after and dinner was a pleasant affair as Chuck babbled on to Newt about the animal figures they were working on in woodwork for the Summer fete coming up.

Thomas divided his time between nudging Newt under the table and talking around half-mouthfuls of pasta and ultimately Newt fell in love with the family atmosphere like he did every time he ate dinner at Thomas's house. He held his tongue about the movie until they were clearing the table, having waved Mary off when she tried to help. It never hurt to endear himself to Thomas's parents, not that he had to any more. They loved him, his mother especially was fond of Newt helping out with things like dishes and breakfast and gathering up Thomas's popcorn massacres from the carpet.

"So we're headed out." he began, raising an eyebrow at Thomas when he flashed him a look. "And you didn't tell me because…"

"Surprise." Thomas shrugged, his expression relaxed but distracted.

Newt frowned.

"You okay, Tommy? You look pale."

Thomas grinned in return, rolling his eyes as he collected unused forks from the tablecloth. Newt stacked bowls from dessert into a tower, making sure he had them held securely before he moved from the table.

"Course I am. Just tired."

Newt wasn't convinced but he kept the suspicious feeling at bay, even when the brunette wouldn't quite meet his eye.

"I take it the others are coming? Minho should be feeling better now."

"Uhh, no. Just as well, because I think he's still contagious." Thomas answered, leaning back against the kitchen door for Newt to pass through too.

"Well, Teresa didn't catch it, so we're safe." he answered, and he'd tipped the melted cream from the first bowl down the sink before it registered what Thomas had said. He turned to look at him, taking in his whole demeanour and debating whether it was his own imagination that Thomas looked… off. Nervous, maybe, or uncomfortable.

"Wait, so who else is coming?"

Thomas had busied himself with putting away clean cutlery from the draining board, and his shoulder brushed against Newt's as he passed by. Still he didn't look at Newt, but he was smiling.

"Nobody, just us. Thought it would make a nice change, y'know? New movie, change of scenery and all that."

"What," Newt tried to lighten him up, teasing in his voice, "you bored of me already?"

That time Thomas briefly met his gaze, a flicker of a frown passing over his face.

"No, course not. I just thought it'd be…" he trailed off and shrugged, looking down a little.

Newt so rarely saw Thomas uncertain that it almost didn't click. Thomas was so bubbly, so confident and sure that nerves were a rarity. It tugged at Newt's gut when he did the lost-little-boy thing. Made him want to scoop him up and hug him hard.

"It'll be brilliant, Tommy." he said instead of what he wanted to ask, and Thomas rolled his eyes in response, flashing him that familiar cheeky half-smirk.

"Well duh. I picked the movie, so it's awesome."

It was awesome, Newt had to admit. Thomas had chosen the newest addition to Newt's favourite sic-fi saga, and he had put up with Newt's non-stop commentary while they waited in an armchair in the main hall. They had defined their fandom preferences early in their friendship and while Thomas favoured Star Wars in the Space category, Newt was a firm Trekkie.

They had both agreed that the Alien saga was a definite second for combined reasons of scariness and brilliant characters, though they often bickered over the movies themselves. (Thomas was loyal to the original but Newt had a soft spot for Resurrection, something Thomas thought him insane for.)

"I can't believe you've never seen one all the way though." Newt groaned, swatting at Thomas when the younger boy just laughed. "You absolute heathen."

"Hey, you still haven't seen The Force Awakens, so don't call me out."

Newt pretended to scowl.

"Yeah, but I've seen the others, obviously. You haven't even seen Into Darkness? How?"

Thomas shrugged, ruffling Newt's hair from his perch on the arm of the seat. His trainers dug into Newt's hip but he didn't bother complaining. It was bearable, anyway.

"Better things to watch?" he teased, sniggering when Newt's expression promptly morphed into disgusted disbelief.

"You're not serious."

"Well…" he trailed off, shrugging comically.

"Pfft." Newt huffed, folding his arms. "You're so uncultured."

Thomas continued to laugh but didn't argue, and Newt eventually softened, checking his phone.

"Five minutes, we better head though. Tommy, you're going to love Chekov. And Spock! Zachary Quinto is a helluva bloke, man can he act!"

Thomas slid to his feet and tugged Newt up beside him, linking their fingers as they headed though.

"I dunno. Personally I prefer Chris, I mean he's awesome, breaking all the rules and being a badass."

Newt turned an imperious brow on him, but his lips were twitching.

"You would idolise the maniac who never follows protocol."

Thomas knocked their elbows together.

"Like you're any better with the goody-two-shoes and the clumsy kid. Familiar, much?"

They bickered their way through to the line for their screening, not even noticing the woman until her stare became difficult to ignore.

They stood in the line behind her when she turned to look at them and stiffened. She was older, maybe an older mum or a young grandmother, and she was clutching the hand of a little girl who was maybe six or seven. Newt smiled pleasantly at them before noticing that her expression was tense and unpleasant. The little girl was looking up curiously, obviously sensing her guardian's demeanour. When he opened his mouth to say a polite hello the woman frowned, her gaze very deliberately flickering down to their joined hands.

For a heartbeat of time Newt wanted to rip his hand from Thomas's, but as though he'd felt that urge Thomas's grip tightened and his thumb did the little circling motion Newt had come to love. The woman's eyes flickered, and Newt realised she was checking their wrists, the ones they had covered with their cuffs. His stomach dropped as a cold foreboding trickled into it.

"Hi." said Thomas, his voice smooth and friendly.

The woman looked at him expectantly, and Newt wanted to go, knowing what was coming as surely as he knew anything. Thomas and his bloody hand-holding.

"Hello." she replied, devoid of any sort of friendliness at all, and Newt wondered what it was that was annoying her. The covered wrists or their gender?

"Heading in to see Beyond?" he asked, smiling down at the little girl, who stepped closer to her mum-or-gran, but smiled shyly back.

"Yeah." she whispered meekly, and Thomas grinned.

"Us too. Newt's favourite character is Chekov, mines is Captain Kirk. Who's yours?"

The little girl looked up as though to check with the woman that it was okay to speak, and she must not have seen that permission because she turned red and looked down at her feet.

"Scotty." she said quietly, shrinking in size as they watched.

"Cool." Thomas answered, as though nothing were wrong. "He's definitely the best engineer in the galaxy, that's for sure."

"Galaxies." Newt corrected before he could catch himself. "Multiple galaxies."

"Right." Thomas agreed, turning his face to grin at him.

Standing so close together, it made Newt's knees weak. Even in public like that. Thomas's eyes were reassuring and Newt found himself returning the smile.

"Come along, Lucy. Don't speak to strangers."

Newt ducked his head, but he should have known Thomas wouldn't.

"I'm Thomas, this is Newt. We're not strangers, just fans of the movies."

The woman eyed them coldly, her gaze drawn again to their hands.

"You never know," she answered sharply, as though she had been waiting on a chance to do so, "just what horrible things strangers do. You don't ever listen to them."

Lucy looked pale and worried, her blue eyes beginning to fill with tears. Newt felt bad and looked away, wishing they hadn't come out, that they'd just stayed at Thomas's like they'd planned and eaten popcorn and watched The Thing.

"What is it?" Thomas asked, his voice still pleasant and friendly even though the woman was so clearly trying to make them uncomfortable, "That we're gay or that we're not Soulmates?"

It had gone quiet around them, Newt suddenly realised. There were people looking over, wondering what was going on, and some of them looked more wary than curious. He could see an usher at the front of the line who was looking over too, probably wondering just what commotion two teenage boys were causing some woman and her kid.

Newt tugged at Thomas's hand, trying not to look at the woman. Her face was confused, as though it couldn't decide whether to be disgusted, afraid or angry. Lucy was crying now, the tears of a little girl who didn't really understand what was going on.

"Why, you awful little-"

"Tommy let's go." Newt interrupted her, pulling Thomas closer to him and further from her. "Come on, it's not-"

"What, it's not worth it?" Thomas guessed, looking back at him.

His voice was still pleasant and level but his eyes were annoyed, and Newt knew that soon Thomas would be full-out irked and that would be when his pleasant tone changed for the worst. If he could, Newt wanted to prevent that.

"No, it's not." Newt confirmed, looking at the crowd who were drifting over.

"Yes," Thomas disagreed, "it is. What gives her the right to sneer at us just because we're a little bit different from her?"

Newt winced, feeling himself shrinking and wishing the ground would just swallow them up and drop them off at home.

"Tommy-"

"A little bit different?" the woman asked, incredulous. "Is that how you see it? Because you're an abomination, the lot of you. It's down-right disgusting to see you people swanning around, rubbing your non-Bonds in the public's faces. You people corrupt the minds of young people everywhere, and it's sickening. You want to do something like that in your own home? Go ahead, it's your choice. But don't come into our world and shove it down our throats."

"You narrow-minded, bigoted-"

"Tommy, don't. Please, let's just go."

The woman sneered at him, taking her attention from Thomas for just a moment.

"Yeah, better do that. Listen to your fuck-toy and go home. We don't want people like you around, there are children here!"

Newt was struck dumb that she'd used that language in front of her already distressed charge, but Thomas bristled instead.

"Don't you talk about him like that!" he spat at her, and Newt knew right then there was no way to avoid the coming scene.

It didn't stop him cringing, tugging at his friend's hand in the futile hope that his sense would prevail.

"It's fine, let's just-"

"No, Newt. This horrible, judgemental woman just called you-"

"Please." he tried, forcing the word out around the fearful lump in his throat. "I just want to go."

Thomas looked pained, his brown eyes torn, and Newt loved him for it even though he wished Thomas would just leave it and come home.

"People like you end up in Hell." the woman added, smug as she saw Thomas was wavering.

"Oh yeah?" Thomas whirled on her, never once letting go of Newt's hand. "Well if God sends me to Hell just because of the way my heart works then he can shove it."

There were muttered comments from the onlookers as the usher began making his way over. Newt couldn't even feel any sort of triumph over the stricken look on the awful woman's face, because he just wanted to get out of there. People were looking at them like they were a zoo exhibit and he felt sick. It worried him to see so many faces that were out-right angry or disgusted. A few were even afraid.

Afraid of what? That they were contagious? That they were going to whip out knives and cause panic?

He felt a hard pang in his chest at the thought that Thomas's parents might go through situations like this one all the time. That they might have done so all their lives. He wished the world were a nicer place.

"Come on, Newt." Thomas said, when they both registered that the usher was looking at them unfavourably. "This isn't going to go our way."

They left, Newt ignoring the comments made at their backs and Thomas answering every one of them with something insulting. Newt felt ridiculously glad that his friend hadn't resorted to swearing, for he couldn't get the image of Lucy out of his head. Her little face had been so afraid, so confused. Why did such awful things have to happen when little kids were around?

"I'm sorry, Newt."

Thomas spoke up an hour later, after they'd wandered into a quiet corner of a park. They were lying on the roundabout, Newt's feet pushing them absently around as they stared up at the stars. They hadn't spoken since the cinema and both of them were feeling the weight of what had happened, the melancholy unfairness.

Was this what the world held for them? Had it really just been their obvious lack of Soulmates or had it been the gay image? He sighed.

"It's not your fault." he murmured back, turning his face to see him.

Their hands were still clasped, Thomas's grip a warmth that went further than just his skin.

"I shouldn't have said anything." Thomas admitted, a frown settling on his brow. "But she was out of order, calling you-"

The high tops of his cheeks were red and Newt could see the anger under his eyes. He shook his head slowly.

"It doesn't matter, Tommy. She had her opinion and there's nothing you could've done to change her mind."

"I still wish I could've screamed at her. But the little girl…"

Newt squeezed his hand, sending him a smile.

"You did the right thing. We know she was wrong, that's all that matters."

"But all those other people. They were just standing there. And what they were saying after? I mean doesn't it make you-"

"Yeah." Newt interrupted gently. "Yeah, it does. But what, Tommy? Fightin' 'em wouldn't do any good."

Thomas huffed, before turning towards him, rolling up onto his side to see Newt better. Newt watched him, flushing when Thomas reached over to brush a particularly long curl from his eyes.

"I can't believe she called you that." Thomas whispered between them, taking Newt's breath away as he looked up at him. His heart was stirring, beginning to skip and trip at Thomas's suddenly charged proximity.

"Tommy… It's fine."

"No it isn't," Thomas murmured forlornly, his fingers tracing down Newt ear to his neck and back up. "it isn't okay at all, Newt. You know I'd never see you like that, right? Never. Nobody should."

Newt frowned at him, bemused and oddly charmed by the weight in Thomas's voice.

"I know." he assured him.

Thomas nodded, before the stern look seemed to fade and he relaxed again, settling down against Newt's side.

"Anybody who treats you like that is getting a punch in the mouth." Thomas added, the lilt in his voice telling Newt he was smiling again.

"Even Gally?" Newt asked, with a pretend sort of thoughtfulness. "Because, I mean, he's a pretty big bloke."

"Well duh." Thomas snorted, shifting closer to that they were practically flush. "Gally deserves a punch in the mouth anyway."

Newt chuckled, giving in and letting go of Thomas's hand. Thomas looked up at him with a betrayed expression before Newt slid the arm under Thomas's neck and settled down again. In return Thomas childishly reached across Newt's chest to grab his other hand, twining their fingers together with a satisfied snort. Newt chuckled again to cover up the flutter in his ribcage.

"Child." he teased.

"Shank."

"Tool."

"Crank."

"Bugger."

"Asshat."

"Wanker."

Chapter Text

"I can't believe the cheek of her!" Teresa hissed, her sapphire eyes hard in her pale face. "What an absolute bitch!"

"Who's a bitch?" Aris asked absently, appearing beside them and dropping into his seat to begin rooting around in his bag for his metronome.

"This woman that started in on them last night at the cinema! Gave them abuse!" Teresa informed him, her eyes blazing and her voice hard and insulted on their behalf.

"What?" Aris looked up, his expression focusing as concern crossed his face.

"It wasn't a big deal," Newt assured them, even though it really felt like it was, "I'm sure other people put up with worse."

"That doesn't make it okay!" Teresa fumed.

"Right." Aris muttered, a rare scowl meeting his brow. "What happened?"

Newt shrugged uselessly, looking away as Teresa repeated what he'd told her. He saw as Aris paled, fire filling his calm green eyes. It made Newt feel ridiculous, because nothing had happened, had it? They just…

What? Shouldn't have been holding hands? What if he and Thomas had actually been a non-Bond couple? Would that have made it acceptable? No bloody way. It made him feel sick thinking about the people who did get subjected to that hatred. Newt had been raised like most of the human race, believing Soulmates were the only way to go. But he'd never been led to believe non-Bonds were anything bad. His parents were decent people. They'd raised him in an accepting atmosphere, never once hinting at any prejudices whatsoever.

Poor Lucy didn't seem to have that same luxury.

"What an absolute disgrace to humanity." Aris bit out, his voice uncharacteristically low and dark. "Are you okay?"

Newt met his concerned green gaze with a reassuring smile, feeling a little less silly because Aris was being so serious.

"Yeah. It could have been worse, but it wasn't. Tommy nearly hit her though, I swear. I've never seen him so mad." he chuckled, looking over to where the brunette in question was listening to the pianist try out the chords for a new piece they were going to sing.

"I don't blame him." Terea replied, sounding wounded and irritated at the same time. "If I'd been there I would have slapped her."

Newt looked back at her, unable not to smile at the sincerely pissed off expression she was pulling.

"I don't doubt it." he answered pleasantly, and she looked slightly pacified. "Thanks for the thought."

She seemed to deflate as her smile came back, and she flashed him stern blue eyes.

"You know I would. I mean, Tom might if someone threatened his Newt, but I definitely would!"

She simply grinned when he swatted at her, Aris getting in on the smiles as he watched them. When Newt and Teresa had finished slapping half-heartedly at each other like cartoon characters, Aris met Newt's eye once more.

"You're sure you're okay though, yeah?"

"Yeah," Newt grinned, realising it wasn't really a lie now. "Yeah I'm fine, honest."

"Good." Aris smiled, before his lips quirked in an almost Teresa-like manner. "Sorry she ruined your date, though."

Newt rolled his eyes and opened his mouth before the sudden thought jarred him still.

Had it been? His eyes wandered immediately to the back of Thomas's head, the slight angle of his cheek across the room. Was it meant to have been a date? Thomas had seemed so uncomfortable, almost nervous when Newt asked who else was going with them. He felt an odd squirming sensation in his gut and he fought the urge to fidget in his seat as he shook his head and snorted at Aris's remark. He brushed it off with some response or other, laughing with them as they teased him in a good-natured manner.

"It wasn't a date."

But his brain was racing.

"Alright, everybody! Listen up! I know we're in joint rehearsals today but we're trying out a new song and would appreciate a little bit of time to see it through. Feel free to play along with the new parts being handed out, otherwise do be dears and give us a little quiet, hm?"

There was the expected bustling and rustling and whispered seat-changing at the Choir Mistress's announcement, people putting down their instruments and switching to sit beside friends, phones in hand for silent conversations and to revel in the spontaneous free time.

Newt adjusted his reed and lifted his clarinet, having already skimmed his new part and decided the melody was far too pretty to pass up a chance to play. Aris and Teresa rolled their eyes at him but each put their phone away and raised their instruments to await the new piece. Newt watched as the red-haired woman spoke to Thomas, as he asked her something about one of the pages of his lyrics and she nodded, marking something on the page with the pencil she kept skewered through her messy ponytail.

Newt was distractedly thinking that such a habit was pretty nifty when Thomas turned and caught sight of him. Thomas's face broke into his familiar, easy grin and he mouthed a greeting Newt's way. Newt rolled his eyes but couldn't help himself. He mouthed back, ignoring the exaggerated groan from Teresa beside him. Thomas looked ridiculously pleased to receive Newt's silent reply, and when they broke eye contact Newt became aware that his cheeks were warming.

He bowed his head a little to hide his grin but it didn't work in the slightest.

"So it was a date?" Teresa whispered, right as he was placing his mouthpiece against his bottom lip.

He cursed his pale complexion as he felt the blush bleed maddeningly across his cheeks.

"No." he hissed at her, knowing that his ire only fuelled her amusement but unable to be pleasant about it.

"I don't know why you fight it so much." she whispered back, amused but surprisingly sweet. "You're practically married to each other anyway, what difference would it really make?"

"It would make all the difference and you buggin' know it." he answered, trying his best to keep his tone pleasant after all.

He was tired of having this conversation and more than that he didn't like speaking it out loud. It was bad enough having it fly through his head when he was least expecting it, the miserable longing rushing forth like an underground spring attempting to reach the surface. He knew that he was treading a fine line and that he wobbled over the edge more and more as time went on but he couldn't bear to actually sit down and force himself to consider truly doing it.

Because he couldn't have Thomas. Because Thomas belonged to someone else. Someone decidedly not his own dorky, lanky self.

He started, playing in the four bar intro and failing to notice that Aris and Teresa weren't joining in. When Thomas began to sing the guitarist dropped off too, leaving the voice of Newt's Clarinet the only sound besides the brunette.

You're stuck on me and my laughing eyes
I can't pretend though I try to hide
I like you. I like you

Newt couldn't stop himself from thinking it sounded like they'd meant to do it. Spontaneity had never really been his style but right then it was amazing. He closed his eyes for the second verse, sinking into the simplicity of the delicate melodic line and the honey of Thomas's voice.

I think I felt my heart skip a beat
I'm standing here and I can hardly breathe
You got me, yeah, you got me

He opened his eyes, an ingrained habit to check the bar he was on. But over the top of his stand he could see Thomas, expression sincere and eyes bright as he sang, and his gaze was locked on Newt, something that made it suddenly so much harder to play. What were his fingers doing, again?

Oh, right. Playing. Gotcha.

The way you take my hand is just so sweet

Thomas's voice was soft, and the feeling from before, the ridiculous one that thought maybe, maybe Thomas was singing about him, returned.

And that crooked smile of yours
It knocks me off my feet

Thomas's cheeks were blushing and it almost made Newt choke as he watched it race across the freckle-dusted skin, thankfully saved by years of playing through daydreams as his fingers moved on autopilot. Some part of his brain thankfully focusing on the music he wasn't even looking at anymore.

Oh, I just can't get enough
How much do I need to fill me up
It feels so good, it must be love
It's everything that I've been dreaming of

Newt's chest felt hot and tight but he kept on playing, working out the basic key and improvising the parts where he was supposed to have rests, filling the empty bars with the sway of a soft melody. Thomas harmonised several of the lines, making his voice even sweeter as between them they created almost-chords, those notes that just fit together better than others.

I give up, I give in, I let go
Let's begin
Cause no matter what I do,

A few of the girls had joined in with Thomas for the chorus, singing the octave above and quietly backing him up but Newt had only ears and eyes for the brunette looking at him so blatantly, so brazenly that part of Newt was sure everyone could see it in the air between them. That everyone could see what they'd told each other, how they felt.

Oh (oh)
My heart is filled with you

I can't imagine what it'd be like
Livin' each day in this life
Without you. Without you

He wobbled on one note as Thomas's expression changed, as his voice rang through a note of sorrow that sounded so real it caught in Newt's ribcage. Life without Thomas…

One look from you
I know you understand
This mess we're in you know is just so, out of hand.

You're telling me.

Oh, I just can't get enough
How much do I need to fill me up'
It feels so good it must be love
It's everything that I've been dreaming of

I give up. I give in. I let go
Let's begin
Cause no matter what I do
Oh (oh)
My heart is filled with you

I hope we always feel this way
(I know we will)
And in my heart I know you'll always stay

I bloody well shouldn't. It's trouble, Tommy.

Oh, I just can't get enough
How much do I need to fill me up
It feels so good it must be love

I give up, I give in, I let go, Let's begin
Cause no matter what I do

Oh, I just can't get enough
How much do I need to fill me up

It feels so good it must be love

(It's everything that I've been dreaming of)

I give up, I give in, I let go
Let's begin

Cause no matter what I do
Oh (oh)
My heart is filled with you

Oh (oh)
You got me, You got me
Oh (oh)
You got me, You got me

The last line faded and Newt played his final note, two below Thomas's as though they'd shared some psychic thought. When he ended it and lowered his instrument he was panting, feeling the tight pain in his diaphragm because he'd played almost non-stop for the whole song. He heaved in air as people started to applaud them, Aris thumping him on the back and Teresa whooped in his ear.

But Newt's eyes were caught in Thomas's, as he watched his friend's chest heave too. Thomas was grinning, his ear-to-ear grin that made Newt so full of enthusiasm he could burst, a simple and happy feeling he loved.

Because his crazy best friend had somehow chosen a song that worded perfectly how Newt felt about him, and it was spooky and freaky and somehow not at all surprising, even though it should be.

Chapter Text

"So that thing at rehearsals today was awesome." Thomas commented out of the blue, barely looking up from his book.

Newt looked up and sent him a half-grin, dislodging Thomas's hand and making him swap his book to the other one.

"Sure was, I love a bit of improv."

Thomas looked at him in mild surprise.

"I wondered, thought it was weird you had the whole thing."

Newt shrugged, tipping his head to the side as he filled in an answer to the music theory homework he had propped up on his knees. Thomas's abdomen was a pleasant warmth behind his head.

"It was too much fun not to." he answered, half-listening as he melted back into the sensation of Thomas drawing his fingers slowly through his hair.

If he'd looked up at that moment he'd have caught the blissful expression that crept over his friend's face at his words.

"Geek." Thomas muttered, laughing when Newt simply grumbled in response.

They were quiet like that for a while as Newt worked through theory and Thomas tried to catch up on the text his english teacher had set him. Newt knew the text, having studied it before, but he was refusing to help Thomas work through analysis until the brunette at least had the decency to read the bloody thing.

The atmosphere wasn't broken again until Newt's phone trilled, a flutey text alert sound he had assigned to Teresa. He twisted his head to look up towards where the phone sat on the bed but made no effort to move. Thomas turned to look at it too, and then looked down at Newt.

"Tee?" he asked.

Newt hummed in response, internally debating whether he absolutely had to move. The fingers of Thomas's hand were still twisting absently around the unruly curls in his hair and it was enough to keep Newt in a state of almost sleepy relaxation. Moving seemed like an unnecessary thing. He turned his face towards Thomas and gave him a deliberately blank look as the other boy looked down at him in amusement. After a pointed moment he turned back to his homework, his lips quirking as he felt Thomas laugh again.

"You're so lazy."

He shot Thomas a scandalised look.

"I'm lazy? Excuse me?"

Thomas simply laughed at him again before stretching towards the bed. He very nearly uprooted them both from their position as he over-reached, but Newt's complaints were mollified when Thomas not only handed him his phone but also replaced the hand in his hair, rubbing circles into his scalp in a way that made it difficult for Newt to keep his eyes open.

"Better?" Thomas asked him almost gleefully, teasing.

Newt reached up to poke him in the ribs. Right where he knew Thomas was ticklish. He was toeing the line of starting a war, but it seemed Thomas was feeling as dozy as he was, for he let it slide.

"Shut up."

Thomas's chuckle was warm and triumphant, but he did indeed shut up as Newt unlocked his phone.

We'll be there in ten. Better be decent.

"She's invited herself over." he informed his friend, not bothering to respond to Teresa's text.

Not because of some childish grudge at her words, of course. Because she wouldn't need a response anyway. Thomas folded over the corner of the page he was on, earning an annoyed whine from Newt, who immediately rescued the book from the floor when Thomas sat it down. He scribbled the page number onto the top of his worksheet and set to work straightening out the crease as Thomas texted Minho.

He wasn't too focused on salvaging the page to miss the stifled smirk on Thomas's face, though, or for his ears to miss the breathed utterance of "dork" that left his lips. He gave the brunette a knock with his elbow by accident in return.

It was just over five minutes before they heard Thomas's front door being knocked, the greeting of his dad muted but recognisable. Moments later they could hear the sound of feet on the stairs as several people traipsed up to find them.

"Better be decent!" Teresa's voice echoed her text, half a second before she pushed the door fully open and skipped right in followed directly by Minho, who gave Newt a raised-eyebrows grin so wicked it made his face heat up almost instantly.

Aris stepped in behind them, apologetically enough for them all, it seemed. Teresa dropped gracefully to a cross-legged position on the floor and leaned back against the bed, tossing Thomas a can of his favoured fizzy juice before giving Newt the pointed look that was becoming far too familiar.

"Shut up." he answered, and she said nothing.

"Got you a mocha." Aris greeted Newt, waiting for him to sit up before handing him the coffee cup. "They were out of hazelnut."

Leaving his comfortable sprawl was almost painful, and Newt barely contained the reluctant noise his throat wanted to make as he lifted his head from its living pillow. The smell of one of his favourite beverages was almost a fair exchange, however. Not to mention that when he righted himself into a seated position next to Thomas the brunette slid an arm around him, their sides pretty much flush. He was hyper aware of Thomas's hand flat on the carpet, mere centimetres from his hip, his arm a line of heat down Newt's back.

"I can't be the only one wondering when you two shuck-faces are just going to admit it." Minho sighed, dark blue eyes tracking them head to toe.

Newt squirmed, busying himself with the cardboard cup in his hands and pretending he couldn't feel every millimetre of Thomas that was leaning against him. Aris and he had an understanding. Meaning Aris understood that Newt couldn't really explain what he had with Thomas, and he respectfully left the topic alone most of the time. Teresa too had agreed to stop making comments, instead making almost constant use of her very expressive eyes.

Minho made no such promises, and Newt would wager their friend enjoyed seeing them grow awkward every time he broached the subject.

"You're far too interested in match-making nowadays." Thomas countered, opening his can on the floor with one hand, book forgotten. "I guess having a feminine influence has turned you soft."

Newt swallowed a mouthful of too-hot mocha to hide his laugh, watching Aris grin into his own coffee cup. Teresa bristled, of course, insulted at being referred to as anything remotely girly. Even though she totally could be, when she wanted. Minho snorted, meeting Thomas's smirk with his own.

"Well, now I could say the same, but I don't really know which of you shanks is the girl…"

Newt made an unhappy sound when Thomas threw his book at Minho.

"Watch the pages-" he tried, wincing as Minho caught it at an angle and tossed it back.

Minho found his scowl amusing, it seemed, and grabbed a trainer from the floor beside him to lob at the blonde. It turned into a barely contained riot, anything and everything fair game for ammunition with the absence of popcorn as they recklessly battled it out while attempting not to spill the coffee cups and cans that bravely sat in safe zones. Which meant, of course, that they were perched precariously on the windowsill and the side table, surveying the war with silent voices.

By the time Thomas called it off the battle had lost him some good men. Previously folded clothing was scattered over surfaces, hanging lifeless from the backs of chairs or wounded in their charge towards the wardrobe doors. There were sneakers and high-tops everywhere, laces unhooked and trailing like gutted entrails.

"You're the bloody girl." Newt finally muttered as he dropped back onto the floor, accepting the book when Thomas offered him it.

"I'm not the one crying like a shuck face over some bent pages."

Minho threw himself inelegantly onto the bed as he spoke, deliberately taking up as much of the space as he could.

"Piss off."

As always, Thomas chuckled appreciatively, making Newt roll his eyes at him in amusement. Thomas shrugged at his look, shooting him a surprisingly soft smile, and Newt felt the familiar tug in his chest as he smiled back.

"Urgh, get a room already." Minho snorted, reaching over to steal from the sharing bag of crisps Aris had produced, seemingly from nowhere.

"Pot." said Newt, matter-of-factly, continuing to re-arrange himself in his previous position, head pillowed on Thomas's lap. "Kettle, black."

Teresa scrunched her face up and gave him an exaggerated grimace.

"Eew, speak a proper language, would you?"

Newt's half-hearted kick only made her laugh, and so he gave up on arguing with her pretty quickly. Besides, focusing on the continued gentle catching of the fingers in his hair was much more pleasant, and he let it lull him as he listened to the bickering and laughter around him. Time passed in that hazy way it does when you're relaxed to the point of almost-sleep.

"Newt, buddy. You falling asleep?"

"Hmmmmrr?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

Someone was giggling as Newt tried to rouse himself. Several someones, he suspected. A warm hand was brushing the side of his face as he yawned.

"Tommy?"

Thomas's familiar, quiet laughter met his ears.

"Who else? You're falling asleep on me, man. I'm a wine-and-dine-first kind of guy."

To be truly fair, Newt was half asleep. That was the sole reason for his sleep-addled brain's decision to turn into Thomas's warmth as he grumbled incoherently back. Thomas's shirt smelled of his favourite cologne and washing powder and something undeniably Thomas scented. On some level Newt knew he'd buy the smell if it came bottled.

"Tell us again that you two aren't-"

"Shut up." Newt muttered, effectively cutting off whoever it was that was parroting the question he was coming to loathe.

Tell us again that you're not a couple?

Remind me, you're not together, right?

Something to tell us yet?

Why couldn't people abandon their quest to stick a label on himself and Thomas? The more they did it, the harder it was for Newt to convince himself that he didn't need to find a name for what they were. What did it matter? They were them, and shouldn't that be enough for them? For himself?

It only led to more agonising reminders that he really should be keeping his distance from someone else's Soulmate.

"New-ewt."

Thomas's voice was gentle and singsong, his hand stroking through Newt's hair once more. The blonde whined, turning his face further into Thomas's shirt. If he were more awake he would likely be much more embarrassed by the implications of his actions but right then he was barely awake enough to hear the others teasing him. Thomas's wasn't really trying to get him off, making very little effort beyond repeating Newt's name and gingerly squeezing one shoulder a few times.

Other than that he was pretty much okay with Newt using him as a pillow, not that he had actually come out and admit it.

"Tired." Newt managed to murmur around a yawn some time later, when the others tried again to rouse him. "Wanna sleep."

"Come on, we're going to the park."

Newt groaned, but the idea was a tempting one. He quite liked the field adjacent to the park, the one where they cloud-watched. They'd had a snowball fight there in the winter, a large-scale massacre that had very quickly dissolved from teams to an every-man-for-himself situation as they betrayed each other over and over.

"Do I buggin' have to?"

His friends argued the affirmative, Thomas's chuckled dislodging his cheek from a fold in the brunette's jumper.

"Well, you know you're welcome to stay here." Thomas offered in a gentle voice.

"But Tom's coming with us, so…"

Teresa's voice was less gentle, her smirk evident in every syllable.

"Shank couldn't handle the separation." Minho finished with a chuckle, and Newt heard Aris join him.

"Hate the bloody lot of ya." Newt muttered as he forced himself to sit up, almost unable to stop himself from whining at the loss of warm contact.

Thomas seemed to know, his eyes amused but understanding when Newt looked over at him as they put their shoes on, and he rubbed a soothing circle into Newt's elbow in apology. Despite the sleepiness, being outside woke Newt up considerably, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy walking out to the outskirts of town with his friends, dodging as they chased and bantered with each other, Thomas's hand familiar in his.

Nobody commented on the hand-holding in public much anymore, so used to it or dissuaded by their joint front of brushing it off. They were less inclined to do it in the school corridors, thought Newt had a suspicion that had more to do with his own reluctance than Thomas's. If he were to guess, and guess optimistically at that, he'd say that Thomas would hold his hand every moment he could at school too.

It was ridiculous how much Newt wished that such a thought could just be a good one. That it shouldn't have to come with the knowledge that he shouldn't want to hold the hand of a boy who was someone else's Soulmate.

Newt settled on a swing, pushing sluggishly back and forth as he watched Thomas and Minho race the roundabout, a competitive bickering breaking out as they pushed and shoved each other to pass by.

There was just something about seeing him laughing, standing there so comfortably in one of Newt's favourite T-shirts, that made Newt feel all warm and trembly.

"Why don't you just go for it?" Aris's voice murmured from beside him.

Unlike the teasing the question usually held, this time it was gentle, genuinely curious. Newt sighed, tearing his eyes from the brunette and looking down at the scattered leaves under his feet.

"Because he's not mine to go for." he answered, watching the white rubber of his toe dig into the soft earth and wishing with all his heart that his words weren't true.

"You guys would be happy." Aris told him. "I know you would, you'e just… Man, I've seen Soulmates who were less suited than you two. Who cares what society says? You should go for it anyway."

"Aris…" Newt just wanted it to stop, for his gentle words to go away before they made the heat in his eyes into a true problem.

"He loves you."

The words stopped Newt cold, fingers clenching around the swing's metal chains as he froze. His heart skittered and fell, righting itself with a painful thump.

"Anybody could see it. You're both… You're pretty damn perfect together and I just… I just wish you guys would make yourselves happy. You deserve it, y'know. To have him, to be happy."

"Aris…" Newt's voice cracked and split as the emotion clogged his throat again. "Our Soulmates…"

Aris sighed, looking down at the table under his hands.

"If they were made for you they'd understand, wouldn't they? How happy you two would be together? Maybe- Maybe there's a mistake, maybe they weren't-"

"Don't." Newt interrupted, finding strength somewhere. "Don't say it."

When Aris opened his mouth again Newt shook his head.

"Please."

Aris clamped his mouth shut, an apology in his eyes as he stood up to wander over to Teresa. Newt watched him arrive, watched him grin a hello as she looked over at Newt suspiciously. He gave her a wan smile and turned back to his shoes, realising that he didn't feel like swinging any more.

If anybody noticed him slipping away into the late evening they didn't call after him, and his phone stayed quiet until almost midnight, when a single text from Thomas pinged softly in the dark as he was trying in vain to fall asleep.

I'm here, if you want to let me in.

He held the phone tightly as his mind performed a familiar battle with his heart. With a sigh he gave in, accepting the double meaning and throwing on a discarded hoody as he left the warmth of his room for downstairs.

Thomas was leaning against the side of the house, looking up seriously when Newt opened the front door. For a long moment they simply looked at each other. When this thing had begun was something neither was sure of, but that seemed to fit the pattern of their relationship. By some unknown signal each started forwards, meeting at the base of the porch steps and entangling in an embrace.

We need to work this out. it said.

We need to find a way.

Thomas stayed the night, sprawled atop Newt's duvet because it was too warm for him underneath. Newt would never admit it out loud for far too many reasons, but he had quickly found it was easier to fall asleep when his friend was near, and sleep came for him quickly with reassuring weight of Thomas beside him, so close while still being so untouchably far away.

Chapter Text

"Hey! Hey Greenie! Hey! I'm talking to you, shuck-face!"

Newt closed his eyes and cursed his luck. Without Minho beside him in class he'd barely made it through the torture of Gally's underhanded and sly tactics, bruises forming up one of his legs from the bigger boy's continual accidents as he deliberately passed by Newt's desk at every opportunity; going to the toilet, sharpening his pencil, handing his homework to the teacher.

With a reluctant sigh, he turned warily to see Gally and two of his friends standing in the corridor behind him, suspiciously close to Newt's locker.

"What?"

Gally raised his eyebrows and his goons tittered for him like well-trained hounds.

"Rude. Thought you brits were supposed to be polite?"

Newt clenched his jaw and tightened his fingers around the folder in his hands. It was lunchtime and he was headed to rehearsals. He didn't have time for Gally's rubbish, and he felt the urge to tell him so. Of course he didn't, realising that responding to Thomas's influence on him wasn't always such a great idea.

"Usually." he resounded in a neutral tone. "But I'm in a rush, so…"

He turned to go, ignoring the response of Gally's indignant calls. He made full use of his long legs, striding down increasingly empty corridors towards the Auditorium. Students were piling out to leave for lunch, or headed towards the Dining Hall in the opposite direction. If Gally cornered him here there'd be nobody around, and Newt's ridiculously over-imaginative mind wouldn't let him think of much else.

He turned into the right corridor just as Gally's hand grasped his shoulder to spin him around to face him. Newt could hear the sound of people tuning up their instruments, the warm atmosphere of chatter seeping through the doors just feet away from where Gally slammed his back into the wall.

"I've got a bone to pick with you." Gally hissed, as Newt was debating the embarrassment of calling out for help as he tried to reclaim his breath.

Sure, Gally could probably slaughter him if he really wanted to, but he wasn't truly as stupid as he looked. It wasn't as if he was going to kill Newt right there in the corridor. It didn't stop Newt's veins from filling with the icy fear, or his face from cringing away when Gally pointed at him. His heart was racing ridiculously hard in his chest, each thump a bruising pain against his ribcage.

"Last week, remember? You and that other shucking Greenie-"

"What are you playing at?" came an infuriated voice, and Newt didn't need to look to know that somehow, by some twist of fate, it was Thomas.

"Get your fucking hands off him, Galileo."

Gally sneered in response as his lackeys jumped to attention.

"Move along, shirt-lifter. Your boyfriend and I have some business that's none of yours."

Thomas's hands were clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles were white, and despite the anger that flared through Newt at the homophobic term, he felt a pang of sorrow for the brunette. Of all the people Gally could hate, Thomas was quite possibly the sweetest around.

"I said get your hands off him." Thomas repeated lowly, and Newt swallowed at the dark fire that was burning in the gold of his eyes.

Gally didn't seem to see it, or perhaps he disregarded it entirely.

"And I said move along." Gally spat back, tightening his grip on Newt's collar when the blonde filched away.

"Miss Paige is through the wall." Thomas informed them evenly, his chin raising at a challenging angle when Newt and the three older boys looked at him.

"So what? She can't hear a shucking thing from there."

"So I run track." Thomas answered cooly. "I can be in that door to fetch her before you even manage to let go."

"That a fact?" Gally challenged menacingly, his two bodyguards stepping forward threatening.

Thomas nodded, his gaze unblinking as he skipped back two steps to keep the space between them, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Let him go and we'll forget about it." Thomas offered, his mouth set in a serious, straight edge. "Unless you want to help re-set all the chairs and mop up after the Windband have been on. And doing all the other fun things she makes you do in detention."

Newt felt a grateful little lurch in his chest at Thomas's quick thinking, relieved when the hand on his shirt loosened marginally.

"We'll just get you another time." Gally sneered, flicking his wrist when he let go to send Newt stumbling towards the younger boy.

Thomas caught his arm, twining his fingers through Newt's as he tugged the blonde down the corridor towards the doors before Gally could change his mind.

"Is Miss Paige set up already?" he murmured, just as Thomas pulled the door open for him.

Thomas turned the full wattage of his sunny grin on him, sending his heart stuttering because he wasn't prepared.

"Nah." Thomas replied toothily. "She's not even here yet."

Newt's surprised laughter shut out Gally's profanity as he tugged Thomas into the chaotic atmosphere of pre-rehearsal noise.

"You're a nutter." he told the content brunette, watching the way the caramel eyes turned to twinkle at him.

"Possibly true." Thomas agreed pleasantly as he pulled Newt down into an empty seat and passed him his lunch. "But I don't exactly think straight when it comes to you."

Newt stared at him as he rummaged through his own lunch, meeting the warm brown eyes when they raised again. And then Thomas was sniggering, flicking a piece of popcorn from the stealthily opened bag in his hand. It hit Newt's fringe and hung there for a moment before falling, cutting through the peripheral of the blonde's unimpressed glance. Thomas giggled away to himself as Newt turned to his lunch, one hand reaching out to brush Newt's fringe back from his eyes almost apologetically.

When Newt looked back at him in surprise Thomas only leaned in, causing Newt to tremble under the brush of lips across the crest of Newt's cheek, under the guise of picking invisible popcorn from the side of his head.

Newt's heartbeat rocketed, his skin instantly ablaze from the mere whisper of Thomas's breath as the brunette pulled away again. They stared at each other for a handful of heartbeats, so close Newt knew it'd take almost nothing to-

And it was over, Thomas saying something and leaning back to unwrap the sandwiches his mother had made them that morning. Newt was stuck in place, barely even breathing as he tried to process what had happened.

Every time he looked at Thomas he could feel the ghostly heat that tingled over his skin to be chased by the rash of a blush.

It was almost a week before he could meet Thomas's eye without turning scarlet, something their friends were intensely curious about despite the lack of forthcoming information from either boy.

Newt tried his best not to fixate on it, pushing it to the back of his mind every time it occurred to him, growing confident in the belief that it was just an accident, an unexpected contact like so many others. Thomas hadn't done it one purpose.

The next time it happened Newt was just as unprepared, over-tired from the all-nighter they had pulled the evening before, sprawled atop his duvet in his worn joggers and his favourite of Thomas's t-shirts, theory book in hand. Thomas had his iPod docked across the room and it was playing on shuffle as the brunette seemed to dance his way through hunting for some worksheet or other he was supposed to have finished for his computing class, humming and singing and generally being himself.

They'd alreadys earthed Thomas's own bedroom, coming swiftly to the conclusion that he'd probably left it at Newt's considering they basically shared their rooms now. They'd abandoned all pre tense to the contrary, considering they often wore each other's clothes and now co-owned a metronome and various other bits and bobs, from stationary to the iPod dock. Newt had come to the conclusion that if nothing else their friendship had trained him in the art of watching Thomas while pretending to do something else. He wasn't even sure which section of the Music theory he was supposed to be brushing up on, nor could he really tell what page he'd opened it to.

The song playing faded into a crackly background as the bars of a new song twanged through the room, Thomas's head popping up as his face split into a grin.

First time, first love

Oh what feeling is this?

Electricity flows with the very first kiss

Like a break in the clouds and the first ray of sun

I can feel it inside something new has begun!

Newt chuckled, watching Thomas throw his head from one side to the other as he mimed the chords on an invisible guitar.

And it's taking control of my body and mind

It began when I heard

I love you

He turned to flash that grin Newt's way and the lyrics were hot in the blonde's ears as he tried to roll his eyes and laugh in return.

For the very first time!

For the very first time!

Thomas's head was thrown back, his back arched in an exaggerated guitarist's pose as he belted the chorus.

For the very first time!

For the very first time!

He spun over to face Newt as the next verse started, pretending he was holding a microphone and pulling faces that made it hard for Newt to keep his face straight, despite the trembly sort of attraction that was building at the situation, at Thomas singing words like those and leaning so close.

This life this love, oh what sweetness I feel,
So mysterious yet so incredible real.

He dropped down next to Newt, throwing a casual arm around him as though to draw him in to sing with him.

It's an uncharted sea, it's an unopened door
But ya got to reach and ya gotta explore!

Thomas's exaggerated hair-flip motion over-balanced them, sending them crashing to the floor in a heap, giggling and tangled in each other and the duvet they'd dragged with them. Newt's heart was thrumming pleasantly as he opened his eyes to laugh breathlessly at the boy above him.

Even thought you're not sure
Till the moment arrives

It seemed ridiculously well-timed, or badly timed, the music filling his head as Newt realised that his friend was mere centimetres away, his tan skin almost blurring in his vision. Thomas's caramel eyes peered down at him and a gently lop-sided smile was painted on his lips. His chest was heaving shallowly, as he mouthed the words.

There he is and you know
You're in love

It was sheer agony not to close his eyes and give in to the way his body was filling with a wave of warmth, a reaction that tingled from his toes and raced up his skin. Thomas's gaze wavered and Newt knew he'd never convince himself that the younger boy hadn't looked at his mouth. He hadn't, right?

Right?

For the very first time!

Their faces were so close and Thomas was making no move to free him from their position.

For the very first time!

Newt found he didn't really want to move yet anyway.

For the very first time!

For the very first time!

He swallowed, growing more an more aware of every brush of Thomas's skin against his own, of the fact that his breath was hitting Thomas's cheek.

For the very first time!

For the very first time!

Thomas finally moved, shifting his weight to free one knee which had gotten caught and pinned under the fallen duvet, and as he did his mouth brushed Newt's ear. The blonde was ashamed to a admit even to himself that he had arched into the touch as Thomas clambered off of him.

For the very first time!

As Thomas stood, Newt gasped in air like he'd run track with Thomas and Minho, like he'd pushed himself. He met Thomas's gaze from where he still lay on the floor, dissolving with him into nervous, gleeful giggles.

It was a while before he could find the muscle strength to get up, throwing himself into the task of helping Thomas find his worksheet.

Once again he was plagued with the ghostly feeling of Thomas's lips against his face.

Chapter Text

April was the month that almost tore them apart.

When Newt first heard, it was in a moment like many before it.

They were arguing. Bickering the way they seemed born to do, eyes alight with amusement and grins easy. It was Newt's favourite way to be, sprawled as always across Thomas's floor with his chin resting on the heel of one hand, the elbow propped on the rug beside the book he was reading.

"If you're so certain he was the buggin' kid in that film then why don't ya just-"

Thomas was beside him, inelegantly spreadeagled like a lop-sided starfish, his head by Newt's other hand so that the blonde's fingers could toy with the length of his fringe. The action began under the guise of a taunt, which was often the case, and developed into the almost-absent, lazy twirls of now.

Thomas had his head tipped back to look at Newt upside down with those contented, whiskey eyes. Newt was grinning at him as he teased his best friend, their faces barely half a foot apart. The part of Newt's brain that was now almost permanently thinking about what it would be like to kiss Thomas was doing just that, and the rest of him was relishing their friendship in that moment. Unaware right then that it had the potential to be one of their last like that.

Until his phone warbled its way through the first four bars of Carry On My Wayward Son to signal that Aris had sent him a text. He paused to reach for it, Thomas making some comment or other about Newt running away from an argument because he knew he couldn't win when Thomas's phone buzzed out too.

Aris: Incoming. Awesome news!

Newt: How awesome is awesome?

He glanced over at Thomas, watching his brow slope a little as he focused on the screen of his phone, his gaze shifting subtly to meet Newt's. Even upside down the smile that broke out was enough to make sure Newt's heart over-balanced.

"Minho says Aris is wound up about something."

Newt chuckled, holding his phone screen above his friend's face so that he could see it.

"Yeah, sounds excitin'."

Just as Thomas opened his mouth to agree the door opened and Aris rushed in, red on the tops of his cheeks and a scarf trailing behind him like something out of a movie. His dark hair was windswept and his glasses were squint on his nose as he bent over to place his hands on his knees. He was gasping like he'd just played for hours, and the two boys got the clear message that he'd been running.

Newt raised an amused eyebrow as Thomas laughed. Aris grinned broadly and pushed the frame of his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"There's a new boy- at my- sister's school-"

Minho appeared in the doorway looking equally windswept and nowhere near as breathless, his fringe swept up in its usual peak as he leaned against the doorway with crossed arms. He was the picture of calm beside Aris's red-faces gasping.

"-and he- has a brother- starting tomorrow- and he-"

"We found your french cousin." Minho finished for him, rolling his eyes at Thomas. "He's called Tomaś, and he's got Harry Potter over here all wound up."

"Hey-"

Newt's ears didn't catch the words the two boys were exchanging, the sound of his own blood suddenly much louder than before.

Tomaś.

Aris was racing to tell him because-

"Tomaś?" he tried, the french pronunciation sleek and foreign on his tongue.

"Yeah," Aris panted, his green eyes locking on Newt as though to convey a significant message. "and he goes by Tommy."

"Weird, huh?" Minho grinned, moving around Aris to claim the bed, toeing off his trainers as he spoke, "Shank thought it was so amazing he had to come and tell you instead of actually ordering any food before we took Lana home. So can we order pizza or something? Because I'm shucking starving."

Time seemed to slow. Newt felt like his limbs had seized, his gaze boring into Aris's as his circulation became the only sound in the room that his ears wanted to focus on. His chest was constricting, his skin feeling tight and cold against his muscles and bones as he stared at Aris and Aris stared back.

Tommy. He went by Tommy. His name was Tommy.

Newt felt sick, but with what emotion he couldn't decide. Anticipation battled fear which was trying to beat down a brewing excitement. But holding it all close to its keen breast was the unstable flare of disappointment.

Tommy.

"Huh. Looks like I won't be the only one anymore." Thomas mused absently, stretching out one arm to try and catch the takeaway menu that had been kicked under his bed the last time they'd used it. "I wonder if he likes…"

Newt watched him, unable to focus on the words the brunette was speaking as he watched Thomas's hand twist and pincer to catch the worn paper flier between two fingers, as he watched a strand of cocoa-brown hair fall against the shell of Thomas's ear. Time slowed right down and his heartbeat overtook his senses as Newt stared at Thomas and realised that if what he thought was happening truly was, they wouldn't be like this ever again.

They wouldn't be them any more, not in the way they had always been so far, and the strength of trepidation which trickled into him was almost frightening.

Another Tommy.

There was another Tommy out there. A Tommy who was about to step into Newt's life. What were the chances that he would know two of them and have neither be the one on his wrist? This new french student could be his Soulmate.

His Soulmate could be about to step into his life.

And Newt didn't know how to feel about it.

Chapter Text

The next morning was Friday, and Newt found himself getting ready in trepidation, staring at the laces on his trainers as though they would take it upon themselves to loop and tie without him. He could hear Thomas downstairs already, chatting to Newt's mother in the kitchen. After Aris's revelation Newt had made up some excuse to come home, and of course hadn't managed to think fast enough for one that would require Thomas to stay away.

So naturally the sunny brunette had followed Newt home, his hundred-mile-an-hour chatter warm and bright and completely unaware of the turmoil within the blonde. Newt had barely been able to pay enough attention to put one foot in front of the other as his mind had raced and looped and spun, a rising sick feeling making it almost painful to breathe.

Newt swallowed hard as he stared down at his feet, the worn canvas sides looking less familiar the longer he looked.

What the bloody fuck was he going to do? Another Tommy, one who actually went by the handle before Newt came along… Could it be?

For all the years Newt had thought about Soulmates, for all the nights he'd spent staring at the ceiling in his old bedroom, wishing fervently for his Tommy to appear, for all the hours agonising over what his intended would be like, for all that time, it had never occurred to Newt to feel afraid.

Yet now, sitting on the edge of his bed with the duvet twisted and hanging over the edge from Thomas's unsettled turning in the night, Newt felt fear creep up his spine good and true.

What if he didn't like him?
What if they had nothing in common?
What if he didn't like all the things Newt hated about himself? The ones Thomas was so eager to learn and always in such a rush to reassure Newt about?
What if he didn't like Music and they couldn't bond over his favourite books, or what if he hated horror movies or popcorn or Newt's friends?

What if it didn't happen like Newt had always daydreamed it would, and Tomás didn't love him?
What if Newt couldn't love him?

Worse, what if he couldn't love him more than he loved Thomas?

Newt bit the inside of his cheek, tasting the tang of blood before unclenching his teeth. What if he was doomed to spend his life wishing his Soulmate was Thomas? He hoped desperately that it wasn't going to be like that, that he wouldn't be such a dreadful Soulmate to Tomás, if that was who he was meant for.

"You look like they hold all the answers."

Newt glanced up at the quiet brunette in the doorway, returning the gentle smile with no little effort.

"Ya never know, Tommy," he answered, reaching down to finally tie them with a sigh, "maybe they do."

Thomas snorted softly and rolled his eyes, reaching to grab his coat from where it hung on a hook on back of the door. Newt looked back up in time to see him do so, and his stomach panged at the thought that it might be the last morning they spent like this. He'd grown so very used to their domesticated balance so quickly that sometimes he forgot how… abnormal they were.

Meeting his Soulmate would change everything between them. For better or worse he couldn't be sure, and it made him feel sick.

"Ready?"

Thomas held out his coat to him.

He couldn't put it off any longer, couldn't think of a reason why he shouldn't be leaving the house with Thomas right then. Too late to mention he felt sick, too late to craft some ail to convince his mother to keep him home. Too late, too late.

Too late to convince himself he didn't love Thomas.

"I suppose."

Their walk to school was quiet, the choice to leave early and walk in during the milder months a decision Newt had always supported before then. The bus would have been quicker, the faint awkwardness between them easier to ignore with the bustle of people around them, but their journey was uninterrupted, something he secretly revelled in on any other day.

He was feeling so anxious by the time they reached the school building that Thomas had to speak twice before Newt even heard him. Thomas's hand was gentle on his arm.

"… quiet this morning." he murmured, making Newt realise they'd stopped dead in front of a set of doors for no reason.

The car park was empty around them, only a handful of teacher's cars parked there so far. They had overestimated the time they'd take, something that didn't usually faze them. Newt wished the place was busier already, other students pushing past them, that the TVs on the walls in the crush areas were already on and set to one of the music channels like they usually were as the morning geared up.

"Yeah." he responded, forcing himself to pay attention and make his feet move again.

The morning was slow and then all at once fast, dragging onwards until one moment Newt blinked his eyes and opened them to find himself packing up at the end of his first class. He shouldered his rucksack, dodging Gally's attention and hanging back, dragging his feet to his next class. Thomas appeared beside him as always to walk him across the school to Maths, despite the brunette needing to be two floors up in the Computing labs.

They didn't talk as they made the journey, and Newt only felt worse when he realised that their silence wasn't awkward. Thomas's presence was comforting and non-intrusive, like he always was when he sensed Newt needed some space. It made Newt's heart constrict and stutter because it seemed so far-fetched that anyone else would be able to know him so well so quickly, or ever.

Thomas's hand flicked out to catch his wrist as Newt was about to turn into the alcove his classroom was situated in, a gentle but firm request for his attention. He looked up from the fading patch on the floor beneath his feet, finding the corridor still busy with the rush of students who were edging on late. One of his classmate brushed past with a muttered grumble but Newt barely moved in response.

Thomas looked so serious.

"Catch you here at Interval, yeah?"

Newt nodded, knowing even as his mind questioned him that Thomas was asking for the sake of something to say to him. They always met there on Fridays because somehow Thomas always managed to make it down his corridor and two flights of stairs in the time it took Newt to pack all his things into his rucksack and leave the room. Newt was almost convinced that Thomas must move through school at a perpetual rush, or else he was late to every class.

He felt a little guilty that he was never the one to meet the brunette, but it was a habit that had evolved during their first weeks as friends, back when Thomas was dogged in his determination that they become friends. It had just stuck, like much else about the pair, and with the exception of Wednesdays when they were both in the same corridor before lunch, himself for Biology and Thomas for Chemistry, Thomas was always the one making the effort.

He swallowed.

"Course, where else would I buggin' be?"

Thomas's answering grin was sunny and relieved, making Newt wonder what sort of vibe he had been giving off to worry his friend so.

"I dunno," Thomas smirked, twisting his hand around to fit their palms together and giving Newt's hand a squeeze, "by the looks of you this morning, the moon?"

Newt was only half-surprised himself shooting his friend a half-smile as he bumped his shoulder against him.

"Bug off, ya loony."

Thomas shrugged as their hands fell apart and he switched both hands to his rucksack straps.

"Whatever."

Newt was caught unawares, rolling his eyes when Thomas stepped close and then away, already chuckling and turning to go before Newt even realised he'd been kissed. He stared after Thomas's retreating form, his fingers brushing against the ghostly feeling just an inch from the corner of his mouth, realisation making the spot blaze as though Thomas's had left his heat behind.

He watched till Thomas reached the stairwell and turned out of sight, almost expecting the other boy to turn and flash him the cocky, cheeky smirk that made Newt's knees weak. It was the warning bell ringing on the wall four feet away that jerked him back to the present moment, his skin flushed and his heart beating an uneven rhythm against its cage.

Fuck.

He made it to the classroom just as the teacher was closing the door, slipping through like a lanky shadow and giving the older woman his best apologetic expression. She frowned to let him know he'd cut it close but then her usual smile of greeting reappeared. Newt made his way to the second last row, shrugging off his rucksack and dumping it in its usual seat before sliding into his own. He lifted his face as he did so and only then did he notice the slight figure hovering by the teacher's disorganised desk.

Slim fingers clutched at one red rucksack-strap, the other hand buried in the deep pocket of a dark blue jumper. Newt's stomach lurched with realisation as his gaze lifted to travel across the top of a shirt collar, the peek of a school tie, a stretch of skin, a dark mouth, a straight nose softly rounded and freckle-dusted high cheekbones under a devastating pair of green eyes.

Newt's mouth went dry and he could feel his hands start to tremble as he clenched them around the cuffs of his long sleeves. The teacher's mouth was moving, the new boy's bottom lip caught between his teeth as she introduced him. Or appeared to, because the room was silent in Newt's ears, a roaring, crashing sound like waves the only thing he could hear.

Suddenly her eyes moved to meet Newt's and she smiled, her lips making a shape that he recognised as his own name, followed by the dark green gaze of the new boy finding him too. A pale flush raced over the unfamiliar face and when he blinked his lashes were darker than coal, darker than night.

Darker than the despair making its way through Newt's system as the new boy began to move towards the class, towards the aisle that led to the empty desk next to Newt. As he made his way, so slowly, so slowly, Newt cursed the teachers in charge of timetabling for not giving him Minho in Maths. Of all classes why not this one?

"Hello."

Newt blinked up at him, sound reappearing in a soft pop! as though it had never gone away, the teacher already speaking about something, already moved on, already beginning to write on the board like she hadn't thrust Newt's emotional state into turmoil.

There was a hand extended his way, an uncertain, shy smile crossing this new face.

"I'm Tomás, but you already know that. Uhh, may I sit..?"

Newt followed the jerky, half-hearted gesture towards his rucksack, some small part of his mind realising he was being incredibly rude.

"Uhhm, yeah- Sure! Here…"

He dragged the bag to the floor and the heavy thud of his many jotters banging his foot through the canvas was the jumpstart he needed.

"Sorry, yeah. Hi. I'm Newt."

He took the offered hand as the new boy smiled, watching as his cheeks turning a darker shade of pink.

"Nice name," the new boy, the new Tommy, replied, slipping into the seat and giving Newt another shy, uncertain smile, "I like it. Newt."

Newt forced his eyes towards the front of the class, trying his best not to appear as out of breath as he suddenly felt, fighting the sick feeling in his stomach as every inch of his skin seemed to shift, constrict, making it entirely too uncomfortable to sit there.

Bloody Fuck.

Chapter Text

It was not an easy lesson for Newt. The teacher - Thank the gods - didn't call on him as she began to re-cap the previous lesson's work, giving him the chance to realise, after twenty minutes of sitting there, that he didn't even have his jotter out.

Cue the awkward fumbling to unzip his bag in the near-silence of the classroom, cue the almost-embarrassed glance towards the new boy beside him. Cue said new boy glancing back and smiling again, a smile Newt wished he didn't like but liked anyway.

Bloody Fucking Fuck.

It was just his luck that in the last fifteen minutes of the lesson, right when he was beginning to think he'd survived, the teacher called them all from the worksheet she'd given them to introduce a new task. A collaborative task. With the person sitting beside them. Newt felt sorry for Tomás because it had to be blatantly obvious how reluctant he was to interact with him.

He stalled as the teacher explained their new task, his eyes locked on her like a good student, ignoring the boy beside him turning his way. His heartbeat was kicking up again and he was sure he was going to be sick and all he wanted was for the lesson to be over so that he could escape.

"Do you want to use your jotter or mine?" the new voice asked, shy and lilting and unfamiliar.

Newt looked at him, trying his best to avoid his curiosity and failing miserably as his eyes tracked swift, sneaky looks at the new face as he answered. Tomás seemed lovely so far, and Newt wished he wasn't. If the boy were confident and forward or mean like Gally he would be able to dislike him but it just wasn't the case.

Newt was struck by the unfair realisation that Tomás seemed nice, and he wished he wasn't finding i so easy to meet the green eyes and return a half-hearted smile. Trhough their task the boy spoke in polite whispers, every now and then quirking a half-smile at Newt. His cheek tops were stained pink for almost the whole lesson, something Newt found made it difficult to concentrate because it was really sort of nice.

Not nice the way Thomas's blush was, but nice just the same, in its own way. Newt found himself comparing constantly, an exhausting list of things he shouldn't be thinking about right now. Not only was he supposed to be concentrating on the Maths problem they were working on, but it was incredibly unfair to both boys if he continued down this path.

Of course his traitorous brain did it anyway, and the fifteen minutes dragged like a dead body up a steep alley.

His brain catalogued, seemingly unable to stop as every glance gave him something new to file away and compare to his best friend, to the Tommy he already loved.

Eyes so green they stood out strikingly every time the boy glanced his way. So green they put Aris's to shame because they were grass green, summer green, forest green. His freckles were light and heavy, round and uneven, a scattering like flecks of the faint cocoa dusting they sprinkled on Mochas in The Maze. His voice was shy and polite, almost musical, not at all like the easy comfort of Thomas's, and yet not unpleasant. His cheeks were high and yet somehow subtle as though they felt it would be impolite to take focus from his eyes. His eyelashes were ebony, like the dark wood of Newt's chosen instrument, dark on the almost-ivory of his skin.

It was becoming harder and harder to find fault with the boy's appearance and Newt was becoming irritated with himself for he supposed that Tomás was actually sort of attractive.

In an odd, not-Thomas kind of way.

Newt withdrew from their communications at much as possible, only speaking when he absolutely had to to avoid being rude. The less he spoke, though, the more nervous his partner seemed to become. When he began to drum his fingers gently against one knee as he whispered to Newt, the blonde found that suddenly he wanted to fidget too, and it just annoyed him more.

"Could you… not? It's buggin' distractin'."

Green eyes flashed up from the page and as apologetic pink seeped across pale skin.

"Oh. Sorry."

Newt tried not to feel bad about it, but he did just the same.

"S'alright." he conceded, looking away again.

How long could one lesson possibly take? The itch to be out of the classroom and away from the new boy built steadily, the thought of Thomas waiting in the corridor when the bell rang a welcome distraction, a soothing thought.

He just had to make it till then, and then everything would feel better. Things always felt better with the brunette nearby. Well, pretty much always.

"Okay class…"

Oh thank bloody fuck!

Newt slapped his jotter and notebook closed to quickly he sent the former skidding across his desk and into the lap of his new seating partner, requiring further interaction with him. Newt bit his tongue and shot the boy an apologetic look.

"Sorry." he muttered sheepishly, feeling his face heat.

Tomás simply smiled again, offering the offending item to Newt.

"Don't worry about it."

"Thanks."

He shoved it roughly into his rucksack, scooping his pencil, rubber and ruler in and zipping it closed. Any minute now the bell was going to go and he was going to be free. Free to listen to Thomas laugh and let the sound was over him in that way it did. Free to try and forget about the nervous new boy who might be destined to be with him forever.

"You look… eager to be out of here."

Newt looked at him before he could have time to think that he was supposed to be avoiding looking at the almost disturbingly green eyes. Eyes so green it was almost like they weren't real.

"Uh- Yeah. My mate's meetin' me in the corridor."

Why had he said that? He didn't need to share information with Tomás. The less he interacted with him, the less likely the boy was to seek him out again.

Newt missed what Tomás replied with, because he was too busy realising what he was doing.

He was deliberately sabotaging his chances with an admittedly good-looking bloke who might actually be his destined Soulmate, because he was nervous he'd like him more than his best friend, whom he shouldn't even love the way he did anyway.

He was going bloody loopy. He just knew he was.

He took a breath and met the green eyes, giving an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, could you say that again?"

"You wouldn't perhaps mind if I… Well, if I came with you?" Tomás asked, twisting the toggle of his jumper in one hand, "Only I don't really know my way around, or really anybody…"

Just then the bell rang, cutting off any further words and sending a jumpstart of adrenaline through Newt's body. Finally. He stood like a shot, a grin finding its way to his face at the knowledge that in mere moments he'd have his best friend by his side and everything would feel better again and…

And not only might Tomás be the Soulmate he'd been waiting on his whole life, but he was also a perfectly nice bloke who was new to the school. Just like Newt had been new so many months ago. When Aris and Teresa and of course Thomas had shown him around and helped him settle in. He glanced at the new boy, seeing the uncertain, anxious feeling he vaguely remembered being swamped with when he'd first moved.

"Sure." he heard himself say.

Chapter Text

"It's not so bad," the new boy replied, "I quite like it here, but starting a new school just before the end of the last year is a bit difficult."

"I'll say." Newt replied, squeezing past the boy as he left the classroom and stepped into the roaring noise of the busy corridor. "I only started this year, and it was a buggin' nightmare tryin' to learn where things are."

Tomás smiled, his eyes lifting to meet Newt's almost conspiratorially.

"I noticed that you are not-"

"Hey, dork."

Newt jumped, swivelling his head as a grin broke across his face at the sight of his favourite of favourite people. He'd barely opened his mouth to greet him before Thomas's fingers brushed the back of his hand, dancing up his wrist to circle his elbow.

"Look who's talkin'." he snorted, feeling instantly better about the whole situation now that he could see the ridiculously sunny grin the brunette favoured.

Thomas's brown eyes tracked his face, reminding Newt how distracted he had been that morning. He shot Thomas a half-smile, seeing Thomas relax as he was reassured. But then of course the caramel eyes flickered predictably over to take in the slight, nervous figure by Newt's side, and Newt tried not to allow the sinking feeling in his stomach have any bearing on how he dealt with it.

"This is Tomás." he supplied, gesturing with one hand before smiling a little awkwardly at the green-eyed boy. "Ahh, this is Thomas."

Predictably, the newcomer's face expression briefly entered confused before slipping into humoured, and Newt was caught off-guard by the gentle sound of his laughter. It was kind of nice, really.

Thomas's fingers tightened on his arm and tugged him forwards into the sea of students eager to escape Maths for their allotted fifteen minutes of freedom.

"Music?" Thomas asked, as though it were actually a question.

Newt gave him an exasperated look, his smile fond, not bothering to give him a verbal response. Thomas grinned devilishly anyway, the way he always did when Newt gave a dry response to something he'd said. Newt wondered if he'd ever reach that level of familiarity with Tomás, before he supposed that he would. After all, he thought, as he glanced back to gesture the new boy to follow, this green-eyed boy might be his after all.

Thomas led Newt to their usual alcove in the Music department, greeting Minho with a fist bump and Aris with a grin and a gentle query about whether he could talk about the newest episode of Supernatural without letting slip spoilers. Aris eyed Newt almost hungrily, delight brightening his expression when he caught sight of the new figure with them.

Predictably, Teresa leapt at the chance to grill a new face, questioning him unabashedly in a way that made the others feel vaguely uncomfortable. But to his credit, Tomás - it's Tommy, call me Tommy - took it all bravely, answering almost as quickly as he was being questioned, growing in confidence before their very eyes.

"Star-sign?"

"Libra."

"Favourite colour?"

"Cobalt."

"Sports?"

"Hockey, but only on TV."

"You a reader?"

"Books?"

"Duh."

"Definitely."

"Genre."

"Crime fiction, horror, thriller."

"All things dark and spooky, nice." Teresa briefly met Newt's eye pointedly. "Arty?"

"I draw. But I'm not very good."

"You don't happen to be a musician?"

A surprised, cheerful grin split the unfamiliar face, turning the pale skin almost rosy and lighting up the dark of his eyes.

"Hell, yes. I have played the saxophone since I was very little."

Fuck.

"You should totally come along to Band." Aris squeaked, eyes alight with excitement behind his glasses. "I bet the Sax section would use you and it'd be so much fun and oh-"

Newt gave a nervous chuckle, shooting his over-excitable friend a sharp look.

"Aris has obviously had too much sugar for breakfast." Teresa commented, reading his mind.

Newt had yet to work out what it was about iher that was so different today, what the new edge she seemed to have was all about. Her eyes flashed first to Aris and then to Newt, her usual wicked smirky-smile the same as always. And somehow Newt detected a jaggedness, as though at any moment he might see a thorn tip under the subtle gleam of her red lipgloss. He gave her a questioning look but she chose to ignore it, looking instead at Tomás.

"Welcome to the club."

Tomás smiled, shy and flushed, and Newt found himself studying him again, from the way his hair tangled into a nest of curls to the unconscious way in which he was pressing the toes of one shoe against the side of the other as he spoke.

"Thank you. You are all very kind."

He looked up at Newt and smiled.

"Newt especially has been very nice to me today."

Newt could feel himself flush under the sudden compliment, under the scrutiny of his friends, under Aris's gleaming gaze. He shrugged one shoulder, looking down at his feet.

"Don't mention it."

He threw Aris a veiled glare when he heard the faded peep the Oboist made. The bell going was almost a relief, the knowledge that he'd have Minho for the rest of the day making him feel a little better about the constant awkwardness he knew was ahead of him. Thomas accompanied them to their English class, bonding pleasantly with Tomás and chattering in his usual easy manner.

His hand on Newt's arm was subtle and gentle, but as always it had Newt's pulse heightened, his skin sensitive and his heart longing for-

Tomás, right? Shouldn't it be Tomás?

It longed for Thomas just the same.

School let out and Newt took what felt like his first free breath of the day, oblivious to the racing, shouting students around him as he wandered to the bus rank. He could walk, there were several reasons to do so, but he was just plagued by the want to go home and snatch himself some peace and quiet before his parents got home. Before the probable appearance of one or other of his friends.

His phone pinged off Carry On My Wayward Son and he sighed as he pulled it from his jeans.

Here we go.

Aris: Oh my gosh! He's so cute! You're so cute together! Ohhhh, I ship it so hard it physically hurts! Did you see the way he blushed whenever you spoke to him? Oh he so likes you and I love it and Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh when are you going to ask him? You haven't already, have you? Are you already together? Arrghhh, I can't believe I missed seeing you guys at Lunch!

Newt: Slim it, would you? Jeez. No, I didn't ask him. For all we know he just happens to go by Tommy. And he didn't seem to freak out at my name either.

Aris: He went all red and nervous every time you even looked at him. He's sooo into you! Go for it! Please! You two are so cute together. And the Clarinet and the Saxophone are practically Soulmates! It's a sign!

Newt: You're loopy. You need your head looked at, have someone poke around in it for a bit.

Aris: You're not going to ruin my mood.

Aris: Or my conviction.

Aris You guys are obviously meant to be.

Newt: We don't know that.

Aris: We basically do, I mean come one! Were you even part of the same conversation I was at Interval? He couldn't keep his eyes off you and it was so sweet! And Minho says he followed you around like a puppy all day!

Newt: He's new, mate. He doesn't know anybody and I'm in his classes. Chill.

Aris: Must you try to burst my bubble? You'd think you'd be more excited about POTENTIALLY KNOWING YOUR SOULMATE!

Newt: I'm going to head for a bath. Talk to you later, yeah?

Aris: Your SOULMATE!

Aris: Newt!

Aris: Come on.

Aris: That's such an obvious cop out.

Aris: Shank.

Aris: … Newt?

Aris: You suck.

Newt listened to the buzzing of his phone, barely sparing it a glance as he kicked his shoes under the bed.

Chapter Text

Newt watched the Na'Vi as she leapt from her perch onto the back of her bird, as she loosed a cry and took to the air. He watched as she and Jake danced through the neon darkness, as the air carried them through hunts. He had avoided the movie for so long, so unconvinced by the concept that he had never attempted to watch it until Thomas had come along.

And now he shucking loved it.

He twisted to lift his face far enough to peer through the soft darkness of the room to where Thomas was curled in his usual corner of the couch. The brunette's eyes were half-lidded, each blink sedate and measured as he watched the screen. The colour palette of the movie flickered gently on his face, cool and dream-like, the soft pink of the Tree of Souls precious on his skin.

Newt's heart gave a slow, deep beat as he looked.

Thomas hadn't been sleeping too well lately, the past few nights unsettled. Newt had woken several times to find the brunette shifting and twisting, muttering under his breath or worming his way closer to the blonde. He'd found that a careful hand on his friend's shoulder and a whispered reassurance was all it took to make him settle down again, but it wasn't preventing how tired Thomas was the following day. And that was only on the nights when they shared one room or the other.

It seemed such a very alien concept to remember that sleeping alone was supposed to be what he was used to, not the nights he top-and-tailed with Thomas or the nights they fought over the pillows.

It had been almost a week of uneasy nights, ten days since Tomás had stepped into their lives. The two that Newt had slept alone were long and spent wondering if Thomas was sleeping any better alone. Aris had been driving Newt crazy with everything from not-so-subtle glances to a bombardment of texts which had Newt tearing at his hair in frustration. Teresa had promised, without him even needing to work out how to ask, to keep the whole thing to herself and not tell Minho. Newt felt bad about it, swearing it was only until he'd somehow reached a decision.

Because he knew Minho would tear him to pieces with sarcastic jokes, and then possibly proceed to tell Thomas and-

And Newt just wasn't ready for that quite yet.

He quirked a half-smile, watching the dancing light caress the face he'd grown to love so quickly and so deeply. Thomas's legs were tangle in a familiar manner with his own, his feet clad in soft black bed socks, one of which was twisted the wrong way and making Newt feel oddly emotional. The thought of Tomás sprang into his head unbidden, and set a sour taint to his mood.

It would be so much easier if he could find true fault with the bloke. If he could put his hand on his heart and honestly state that Tomás was awful, or that he wasn't Newt's "type", or that he held unfavourable views or that he was a bully, then it wouldn't be so bad.

But that was just the thing: Tomás was lovely.

He had begun to settle into their group, his smiles quicker and brighter than his nervous ones that first day, his laughter warm and easy. He was sweet and charming like Aris, comfortable and settled like Thomas. He was funny and optimistic and when he spoke in a rushed lilting voice of something he loved, his eyes flashed in a way that Newt had to reluctantly admit was… kinda bloody cute.

He shared Aris's love for Castiel and supported Minho's view on idiotic football players who were clearly paid too much. He talked art with Teresa and had begun teaching Thomas his favourite French nursery rhyme. And he had a Music theory knowledge to rival Newt's, speaking at length of an Opera he'd been introduced to recently, which just so happened to be Newt's favourite too.

Oh, and of course he agreed readily that the combination of the Musical and Horror genres in Sweeney Todd made it a candidate for the best film ever made.

He was simply a very nice, very sensible, very calm and friendly person and Newt hated the way his stomach had begun to sort of flip these past few days.

Not in the same deep swan dives that Thomas provoked, of course.

But still.

Newt swallowed the sudden melancholy that was rising in his throat and shifted his knee accidentally, bumping against Thomas's shin. The brunette blinked as though waking from a stupor and lifted his sleepy face to look at him, a gentle smile curving the sides of his mouth as he did so.

Newt's heart tumbled in a familiar clumsy summersault and his breath caught in surprise.

"Hey", Thomas mouthed.

Newt reached out a hand to give Thomas's knee a soft squeeze, quirking an eyebrow in response as he copied the silent word. Thomas's smile secured itself in place as he lay his head back down against the arm of the couch and turned his gaze back to the flickering screen.

Newt lay back down properly too, watching Thomas surreptitiously from the sides of his eyes.

Newt estimated that Thomas was asleep as the movie geared into the penultimate battle, the drone of the helicopters filling the room as the screen showed the many coloured creatures clinging to the mountains. He debated simply staying there once the film was over, like they had so many times before.

But in the end his concern for Thomas's sleep won out, and he untangled himself from their warm coil. He leaned down to touch shy fingers to the brunette's face, tracing the curve of one cheek as he whispered for him to wake.

"Come on, Tommy."

He offered a hand and pulled his dozy friend to his feet, slipping an arm around his waist automatically as Thomas's fingers gripped the opposite shoulder for support. Despite the warmth that rushed to his face, Newt felt no inclination to readjust their contact.

"Let's get ya to bed, yeah?"

"Mmf." came the reply, muffled by a yawn as the brunette turned his face into Newt's shoulder. "Tired."

"Yeah, ya don't say." Newt murmured back fondly, trying his best not to think about the way his heart was shouting about the rightness of this way, this moment here in the hush of the after-Midnight darkness, reliant on each other for balance. "Come on."

The stairs were tricky but the task so pleasant and unhurried that Newt didn't mind, and by the time he'd closed the bedroom door behind them his restraint was so thin he could think of nothing else but curling up beside Thomas and never moving again. Which, of course, he shouldn't do.

"Bed, Tommy." he murmured, glancing down at the younger boy's jeans and sweater combo. Are ya gonna change or are ya stayin' like this?"

Thomas yawned, his face moving so that his chin rested on Newt's shoulder and the sleepy golden eyes found his. Newt's heart gave that same familiar thump as that same rush of want rocketed up from the bottom of his gut. He swallow hard and raised an eyebrow in an attempt to cover up the way he was starting to tremble under the proximity and the warm, slightly charged air around them.

"You gonna change me, like?" Thomas muttered back, cheeky grin half asleep as it snuck onto his face.

Newt rolled his eyes.

"You're a wanker." he said, before giving the brunette a gentle shove that sent him down onto the bed.

Thomas simply gave a sweet, sleepy chuckle and curled onto his side, drawing his legs away from the side and rubbing the side of his face against the pillow. Newt watched him lie there for a moment as his breathing settled settled and Newt's heart began to beat regularly again.

He couldn't keep doing this. There was going to have to come a point when he simply had to stop torturing himself. Whether it was for Tomás, or yet another Tommy. It was only going to break him further if he allowed himself to continue falling this never ending fall for this brown-eyed singer with his cheerful grin and his understanding and his laughter and the way he-

The way he lifted his head so delicately and blinked so slowly, so sleepily, as he reached out to catch hold of Newt's cuff.

Newt crumbled, following the gentle tug on his arm as he gave up and climbed onto the bed, helping his sleepy friend to pull the duvet out from under him. He tucked Thomas in, stopping to help him lose the sweater, their arms back above Thomas's head and their faces so close their breaths mingled between them.

Newt scraped his willpower together to pull away, Thomas's eyes barely slits as he fought sleep. Newt's blood was racing, his face burning as his friend squirmed and wriggled to untangle himself from his belt.

He was settled and half asleep himself when the first unsettling dream began, Thomas's voice a pitiful, pale whine in the darkness. Newt reached over, his hand finding Thomas's messy hair, raven in the heavy darkness. He coiled his fingers, drawing his hand back slowly in a soothing motion, travelling softly to the ends before circling back to his scalp and starting over. Thomas quieted, and then fell silent again, the twisting motions stilling.

Newt was on the very edge of sleep once more when Thomas turned towards him, shifting close until their bodies were flush, his heat flooding Newt at the same time the rush of affection and want. He barely caught the mewl the action brought forth, suddenly aware how loud his breathing was, how hard each thud of his heart.

Thomas's fingers found one shoulder and his fingers clenched in the fabric, his cheek rubbing against Newt's chin as a sigh escaped him. Newt swallowed hard and shifted comfortably into the embrace, Thomas's proximity the sweetest torture he could imagine. Thomas shifted again, adjusting, and then he fell still as though he'd never moved at all, not so brave and bold in sleep but soft and cuddly and…

Something Newt felt the desperate desire to protect, to keep safe.

"Newt…" Thomas breathed, an almost, barely, just audible sound.

Newt hummed in return, falling asleep even as every nerve in his body was shocked and alive. Thomas's fingers curled and uncurled against his shoulder.

"Newt…"

"Here, Tommy. I'm here."

That seemed to satisfy him for he fell still and quiet once more. His lips brushed Newt's shoulder just as the blonde slid over the edge and into sleep.

Chapter Text

"So how's it going on the new guy front?"

Newt lifted his head and threw her a suspicious glance, but her sapphire eyes weren't glittering the way they did when she teased. If anything she looked a little… down.

"He's… nice." he admitted uncomfortably, looking away and busying himself with the little silver screws on his mouthpiece.

Teresa gave a quiet little sigh. Newt looked at her again, taking in her quiet disposition, and determined to find out what was wrong.

"You look like you've had bad news, Tee. What's got ya so blue?"

She frowned a little, meeting his concerned gaze before looking away again and fidgeting with one of the pads on her Flute. After a moment she simply shrugged, and Newt was starting to believe she was truly too uncomfortable with whatever it was she was feeling to share it. He turned his eyes back to his instrument but made no move to complete the task of setting it up. Teresa's head stayed down and he pretended not to see the way she fiddled with her thumbnail.

But then she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth before sighing again.

"I know Soulmates are… well, Soulmates. And I know I can't really talk because I've found Minho. But I just… I guess I just believed you and Tom would somehow work out, despite not being Soulmates. I just… I think you two are perfect and I just… I dunno."

He looked at her and she looked back at him. Her blue eyes were uncharacteristically nervous, a rare reminder that Teresa wasn't made of steel the way she would have them think. Sometimes, sometimes like this, he realised just how… vulnerable she could be.

"Is that awful of me?"

Newt shook his head, reaching out hesitantly to touch her arm.

"I don't think so." he told her quietly, fighting the urge to just draw away and change the subject. "You're not…" he swallowed. "You're not the only one."

She blinked, looking at him steadily, and he could almost feel that she was reading his face. She didn't look surprised as it dawned in her eyes what he was telling her.

"You finally admitted it." she said, hushed.

That time he did draw back, digging his fingers into the pockets of his hoody instead.

"Too little too late." he answered, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I coulda… All this time. But I thought that… That it would only feel worse when…" he cleared his throat as his eyes began to prick. "This happened."

Teresa shifted beside him, and from the corner of his eye he could see the concern bared on his face, untainted by her usual brand of sarcasm and fun. It made it harder to see it, somehow.

"And would it?" she asked him slowly, "Feel worse than this?"

Newt closed his eyes.

"I don't think anything could feel worse the this."

She didn't say anything, instead placing one cool hand on his knee. Their practice forgotten, they sat there for a moment, Newt trying to keep the urge to cry at bay.

"I feel so guilty." he told her eventually, finally looking at her, glancing away. "I shouldn't love Tommy the way…" he stopped himself, the words he'd spoken out loud truly hitting home.

"Oh Newt." Teresa moved her chair closer, slid an arm around his shoulder to pull him into an awkward, soothing hug. "I know. We all know." She placed a soft kiss on his temple and squeezed him tight. "If Thomas is what you want, why not go for him? Stuff the Soulmate thing." she whispered in an almost hissed, her voice growing firm, "If you're not going to be happy with someone else then don't go for someone else. Thomas loves you too, y'know. Anybody can see it."

"Teresa…" he tried, feeling the first tears prepare to truly fall.

She sighed.

"I know. I know. I just wish you could. I wish you could just be happy with Thomas instead. I- Oh, Newt I hate the stupid names on our wrists so much for this."

"Teresa."

She sighed again, a little louder, more exasperated.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. There's nobody else here, calm down."

She held him until he drew away, wiped his face with one sleeve. Her dark eyes were heavy and unhappy and Newt felt so terrible that her unhappiness was his fault.

"Sorry." he said, and she rolled her eyes as she picked her Flute back up.

"Clarinetists are so mushy." she said, twisting her mouthpiece round until she was satisfied with it. "Bloody Reedies."

Newt chuckled, her comfortable smirk toying with the corner of her mouth as she raised the silver instrument and blew a Middle C. He readied his own instrument, testing the A before glancing her way again.

"Thanks."

In return Teresa merely rolled her eyes and played her first note, taking him with her as they began. When Aris finally showed up to help out he'd barely said Tomás's name before Teresa had snapped at him, launching into a lecture about how maybe it wasn't such a great idea to get so wound up when Newt obviously wasn't all that interested and that maybe he should be more sensitive about the fact that Newt felt torn between the two and-

"Teresa." Newt interrupted her, "That's enough."

She stopped, and just like that her scowl disappeared and she bit her lip a little before smoothing her face out with what must have been a considerable effort.

"Sorry." she said, looking back at her music. "Cramps."

Newt rolled his eyes at Aris, almost sniggering at the way the younger boy scrunched his nose up and mouthed "Eew."

Of course he didn't dare let Teresa see for fear she'd give him another lecture on natural functions and how she didn't exactly choose it so shut the shuck up. He gave Newt an apologetic smile as he readied his Oboe.

"I know eight girls with my wrist-name, and that's just in my year. I've probably been a bit excited about the whole Tomás situation because Teresa's found Minho and I just want you to have your Soulmate too. I…" he fidgeted, glancing away uncomfortably. "Sometimes it really sucks not having mine and so maybe I projected a little. I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Newt assured him as he brought his Clarinet back to his lips, even though he knew himself that his situation wasn't exactly ideal.

Chapter Text

That night Newt pushed open Thomas's bedroom door to find both him and Tomás sprawled across the floor, controllers in hand as they battled in what looked to be some dinosaur/bug crossover game. Newt couldn't remember the last time he and Thomas had played video games, because Newt himself was pretty rubbish at them and Thomas always won.

It made him feel an uncomfortably acidic feeling in his lower chest, and Newt was appalled at himself to recognise it as jealousy, pure and simple. He swallowed, pushing the door closed behind himself, and wandered over. He was about to sit by Thomas's other side, but just as he stepped up the brunette moved over, widening the space between the two boys and flicking Newt a half-glance.

"Heyy, Newt."

Newt felt better instantly, his grin wide and easy as he stepped over his friend to settle cross-legged between them.

"Hey, Tommy."

As he had expected, Tomás grinned.

"Bonjour, Newton."

The blonde rolled his eyes as Thomas sniggered.

"I told you, it's Newt. Not Newton." he mimicked, over-exaggerating the sing-song quality of the french boy's voice just a little.

His friends merely gave him matching grins in response. Newt sighed, rifling through his rucksack for his workbook to hide the way his face wanted to laugh.

"You two are terrible together. You'll be the doom of all mankind."

"Dramatic." responded Tomás, sounding entirely non-plussed.

"Indeed." Thomas agreed, in a bad mimicry of Newt's own accent, earning a musical giggle from Tomás.

Newt said nothing, but shifted his knee into the brunette's side purely by accident. Or at least the wide-eyed look he gave him said accident. The smirk prowling behind his lips said otherwise.

While they battled and muttered and yelled and yowled insults and complaints about unfair three-combo whatevers, Newt worked on his homework, letting the welcoming atmosphere seep into his skin. Despite the way he often felt awkward and uncomfortable around either of the two, Newt had to admit that it was worth putting up with for their friendship.

Tomás had wound his way into their group with the same dexterity of Minho, as though there had always been a space there, waiting for him. He was charming and funny and a little shy, and Newt had to grudgingly admit that they were compatible in many ways. It had become difficult to dislike him, and was now near impossible, and Newt felt absolutely wretch about it because he was beginning to worry that his heart would soon truly be in a dilemma.

Aris had backed off after their conversation, although Newt couldn't help but notice the way the younger boy watched them sometimes, wistfully, and he seemed utterly incapable of hiding his grin whenever Tomás or Newt himself did anything the Oboist could even remotely construe as flirtatious. It still drove him crazy, but at least now Aris did attempt to his his squealing fanboy madness. Sometimes.

Teresa seemed determined to keep a distance between herself and their newest friend, not at all cold or cutting (the way Newt knew she could be,) but aloof enough that they hadn't yet made that step towards… What? True friendship? Newt tried to shake it all from his brain. It was giving him another headache and he just wished it were simpler.

Tomás seemed to like Newt, or at least could be argued to. Teresa murmured quietly to Newt about it sometimes and rather than taunt him she seemed determined to fix this fr him. Which was nice and all, but on the other hand Newt could see how much Tomás was trying to win her friendship, and he could see that Teresa actually wanted to give him it.

It was all far too confusing and Newt just wished he could approach Tomás about it, but that would mean giving over the secret of the name under his wristband, and whenever he considered it he quailed at the thought and changed his mind. He'd shown Teresa and Aris and that was more than enough to get him into the deepest trouble he could possibly ever be in, short of murdering someone. Or putting chewing gum in Teresa's hair.

The crux of the whole matter was that Newt simply didn't know.

He didn't know the name on Tomás's wrist.

He didn't know if he was the Tommy he was supposed to fall in love with.

He didn't know what to do about the beginning stages of attraction he could feel taking hold.

He didn't know how to go about finding out.

He didn't know how to just accept it.

He didn't know what on Earth he was expected to do, because it wasn't like he could just ask his parents, and, more importantly,

He didn't have the first clue as to how to go about removing Thomas from his heart.

Because such a thing seemed monstrously difficult, and felt impossible. All it took was a single glance in Thomas's direction, for those caramel eyes to turn his way and that stupid, at times infuriating, fucking gorgeous cocky smirk to cross the younger boy's mouth and Newt was a goner all over again.

Practically living in each other's pockets wasn't helping at all, but regardless of how adamantly Newt decided he would sleep in his own house on his own, by the time it came to the end of the night, habit and his worn-out defences won out, and he would end up back where he started, head-over-heels for the sunny brunette and wishing guiltily that Tomás had never stepped into his life.

Which was a shucking harsh thing to wish for, and only made him feel like more of a crank than he could handle.

"Either that's a really thrilling question-sheet, or your brain's switched off again." came an amused murmur from his side, and when Newt blinked and turned it was to see Thomas grinning at him, a handful of popcorn half-way to his mouth and his eyes gleaming with that I caught you daydreaming look that always made Newt squirm just a little.

Because he so often read implications into it that couldn't possibly be there, like Thomas knowing Newt certainly was daydreaming, and about him. Newt scowled and stuck his tongue out, but it only made Thomas laugh. Newt glanced hopelessly to the other side in a vain attempt for back up, but found the spot empty. He twisted around in surprise to survey the room.

"He's gone home." Thomas informed him, the amusement still lacing his tone. "He did try to say goodbye but you've been switched off in Robot-Newt-Mode for about twenty minutes."

Newt could feel the heat rising in his face at the taunt and didn't respond to it, instead returning to find his place in his homework.

"Piss off." he said, when Thomas only grinned smugly and snorted as though he'd been proven right.

"You don't mean that." Thomas replied, lifting a remote from the floor beside him and pressing what Newt guessed to be the Play button, considering it made the TV spring to life and a familiar opening theme begin to play.

He must have completely zoned out, because Thomas had cleared away the game cases and controllers and put a DVD in the slot instead, without the blonde even noticing. Whoops.

"And I know you don't mean it because you'd miss me too much if I did indeed piss off."

Newt shook his head at Thomas's crap British accent, and unwound from his cross-legged bowed position, scraping one knee along Thomas's side completely on purpose. The brunette chucked a handful of popcorn at him and squirmed away with a laugh. It seemed Newt's touch tickled more than it hurt. Newt stretched out, popping the joints in his shoulders and doing something to loosen the tension in his muscles.

He didn't catch the way Thomas's gaze travelled over him, following the stretch as it rolled from toe to knee to back to neck, so he missed the emotion Thomas couldn't keep from his eyes, and he missed the way the brunette swallowed, the almost-sorrow that hid in the shadows at the corners of his mouth.

When he did look back at Thomas his friend was smirking, his eyes bright and gleaming as Newt rolled his eyes at his antics.

"Maybe I'd enjoy the peace and quiet." he responded, dragging pillows from the bed and propping himself up against the frame, his legs stretched out on the carpet underneath him.

Thomas laughed and moved his own nest of blanket and pillow, leaning heavily against Newt's side as their movie started. Newt reached up to press down the lamp switch, casting the room in shadow save for the flickering screen. Thomas was a welcome weight against his side, warm and familiar, and his arm dipped around the brunette's shoulders.

"I don't think so." Thomas replied, dropping his head onto Newt's shoulder. "I still think you'd miss my company more."

Newt huffed out a breath as his fingers took a trip to Thomas's hair without asking for permission, easily slipping into the gentle drag-through rhythm he knew Thomas loved as much as he did.

"I dunno, Tommy," he answered softly, quiet now in the embrace of the dark. "the peace and quiet sounds tempting."

Thomas hummed as their mutual favourite character walked onto the screen, the crunch of popcorn his response for the time being. Newt assumed that was it, a small smile crossing his face at winning, but it was short-lived.

"Tempting, maybe," Thomas yawned, almost to himself, pressing closer in a motion that could only be described as cuddling, "but I know you love me too much to really want me to piss off."

Newt swallowed, listening to the TV even though he wasn't currently capable of taking his eyes from the brunette under his arm. He watched the pale flash of his fingers as he trailed them through Thomas's hair, undeniable affection obvious in the motion. He didn't say anything in response, because how could he, truthfully?

He was screwed and he knew it, and his chest was tight and heavy with the knowledge of how much he loved his best friend. There was a flicker, like that of a candle beside the roar of a fire, of almost-fear that Thomas knew it too.

Chapter Text

"Look who's back." Thomas sighed on Wednesday morning, nudging one shoulder against Newt's.

The blonde followed his line of sight and groaned under his breath, meeting Thomas's eye with a defeated acknowledgement.

"Bollocks." he hissed. "I was hopin' after Thursday he'd stay off all this week too."

Thomas nodded in agreement, his lips twisting a little as they watched the bigger boy climbing out of a car on the other side of the car-park. He was turning to speak to whoever was driving, his usual sneer missing from his mouth and making him look… different. Newt shuddered.

"We nearly got a week." Thomas commented.

"Holiday over, I guess." he muttered back, lips quirking in a half-smile at Thomas's muted chuckle.

"Bonjour." came a gentle voice from Newt's other side, and the two boys turned to see their newest friend. He twisted his hand in a little wave, eyes cheerful. "Good Morning."

"Hey, Tommy." Thomas responded with a smile.

"How's it goin'?" Newt asked, glancing his way.

"Good." Tomás responded cheerfully, turning curiously to see what they were looking at. "And you?"

Thomas answered for them both and Newt hummed the affirmative, his stomach tightening as he looked again and saw that Gally was looking their way, his frown settled in place. He had one foot placed flat against the wall he was leaning against and as he noticed Newt looking he pushed off the wall to make his way over. Newt knocked his elbow against Thomas as subtly as he could.

"Comin' our buggin' way." he breathed, his lips barely moving as he felt his fingers tighten against his rucksack strap and began to wonder whether he could turn now to go inside and pretend he hadn't seen the bully.

Gally's menacing sneer was as thick on his face as oil on water, so that was a firm no.

Newt could almost feel Thomas tensing beside him, Tomás on his other side making an unhappy noise in the back of his throat as he stepped closer to Newt.

"Well if it isn't Thomas and the greenies." Gally greeted them, dark eyes hard as his slow gaze tracked them one by one. "What's the matter with you, stage boy? Nobody else want to hang out with you so you're sticking with the rejects?"

Newt felt the insult burn like Gally'd flicked hot ash at him, and he bit his tongue to stop himself from spitting back a retort that would only make it worse.

"Just shuck off, Gally." Thomas groaned, rolling his head on his neck and laying an even gaze on the much bigger boy. "We never did anything to you."

Gally laughed, a dark and mocking sound that just made Newt want to walk away before…. Well, before it got any worse. The dark gaze flicked his way and Gally's lip curled, before he turned his attention on Tomás, who stood very close to Newt and looked back at Gally with level green eyes. Newt couldn't help but think how unfair it was that the saxophonist was being welcomed to the school in such a manner.

It truly made him angry.

"Or what, Tommy boy?"

Newt reached out automatically, his fingers curling around Thomas's wrist as though he'd known the brunette would start forwards. And of course, he'd been right. Thomas stilled under his touch but Newt could feel the tense strain of the muscle under his skin as Thomas curled his hands hard against his side.

"Fuck off, Gally."

The bigger boy blinked, a split second of what looked like surprise before his sneer was back in force and the furrow between his eyebrows deepened. His mouth turned in a nasty twist and he stepped up so close to Newt that he could smell the toothpaste on his breath. Newt did his best to still the tremor brought on by the icy flash of dread that scraped up his spine, resisting the urge to blink or back away.

"What's this? Little cockney found himself a backbone? Too much time hanging around with your boyfriend here." He stepped forward menacingly and reached for Newt's collar. "Try that again, tea-breath. I dare you."

Newt did nothing of the sort, every scrap of willpower he had intent on keep Gally's gaze. He knew his fingers were digging into Thomas's wrist but he didn't dare let go, for fear that he might lose courage and reveal to Gally the chinks in his armour. Or that Thomas would do something decidedly Thomas-like and piss Gally off further.

Which Thomas managed to do anyway.

The snigger started gradually, a quiet cough that became a chuckle that grew as Thomas began to suppress it. Despite the look Newt shot him, Thomas continued to snigger into his free hand, his brown eyes brightening and glittering with humour. Gally was not best pleased, drawing his face back from Newt to growl at the younger boy.

"Tea-breath." Thomas spluttered, mirth making his skin glow. "Tea-breath. Why didn't I ever think of that one? That's fantastic!"

His giggling grew and, despite the anxious feeling that was flushing freely through Newt, his friend's laughter was, as always, a favoured sound. Gally didn't seem to know quite what to do, struck by the unfamiliar reaction. Tomás laid a hand on Newt's arm as he peered around the blonde to stare at Thomas as he began to laugh properly.

"Tea-breath! I- haha! It's so f-funny- I - haha!"

Gally drew away properly, his face a mixture of bemused irritation and anger, probably at his threatening tactics being sullied. Newt cringed as Gally threw the palm of his hand out to knock Thomas over, almost taking the blonde with him. Newt caught his balance in time to prevent himself from hitting the tarmac ground beside Thomas, and he shot Gally a glare as he helped Thomas scramble to his feet.

The brunette's laughter was sufficiently snuffed, and his expression darkened into the scowl Newt so hated to see. He did however link his fingers with Newt's as he stood to level a glare Gally's way, and Newt was too busy fighting the flaring injustice to realise that he was squeezing Thomas's hand back. Gally, of course, noticed.

"See!" he cried, looking like some miraculous secret had been handed to him to boost his torturing words, a foul glee creeping into his expression.

Newt let go, but it was too late anyway.

"I knew it." the older boy spat in disgust. "Non-bonds at The Glade!" His voice lowered, foreboding and chilling. "Wait till they all find out. You're disgusting."

He shot them that twisted, gleeful sneer and shoved past, knocking an elbow Tomás's way as though to remind him he hadn't forgotten the new boy's presence either. Thomas spat on the ground by his feet, and Newt was further dismayed to see that when he'd fallen, the brunette had bitten a gash into his lower lip.

"Tommy…" He reached out a hand half-way to Thomas's face, filling with trepidation as he remembered that they weren't at home, that Tomás was there, that people could see-

"It's fine." Thomas answered, caramel eyes flicking his way, spearing him as though they knew what he was too afraid to do.

As they made their way across to the second set of doors, the ones that would let them into a whole other corridor from the one Gally had stormed into, Thomas bumped into Newt. Probably an accident, but it just so happened that as he did, his fingers traced up the back of Newt's hand and his shoulder rubbed against the blonde's.

Newt wished with all his heart that his stomach wouldn't do that ridiculous leaping motion because of something so… everyday.

"Why doesn't Gary like you, Tom?" Tomás asked as they reached the main Auditorium corridor, startling the daydreaming Newt.

The others shared a glance before giving him identical questioning looks.

"Gary who?"

Tomás turned a little pink, looking nervously between them as though he felt he may have gotten something wrong.

"Gary. The boy with the bad temper."

There was a moment of silent realisation before Newt and Thomas laughed.

"Gally." Newt corrected helpfully, unable to help himself from finding his new friend's bemusement a little funny. "Not Gary."

Tomás simply frowned a little, like he thought they were teasing him.

"Gally." he repeated, trying out the pronunciation in his lilting way and looking to Newt as though for confirmation, like he didn't believe it was a real name.

"It's short for Galileo." Thomas chimed in, his tone halving the humour on his own face. "He's an absolute crank. Hell knows what I ever did to him, but he's never liked me."

Newt rolled his eyes and elbowed Thomas playfully.

"Probably your rubbish sense of humour he can't stick."

He ducked from Thomas's indignant laugh, skipping out of reach as the brunette tried to swat at him. He was grinning, feeling so good now that the awkwardness was starting to fade, and he was finding it so much easier to ignore the looming possibility that he may have to address the fact that-

Tomás had gone very pale, round green eyes locked on Newt and all the remaining colour seeming to leech from his cheeks, his lips. Even his hands had paused, one clenched around his rucksack strap as the other froze half-way to his hair, a tremor running through the long fingers. Newt felt a worried twist in his stomach.

"What's up?" he asked, seeing Thomas straighten in the corner of his vision, Newt's tone of voice sobering him.

Newt reached out to grasp his elbow, feeling him sway a little as he blinked absently. He looked like he was a million miles away, and Newt looked to Thomas for ideas as to what to do. Thomas's face was wiped free of the humour from moments ago, his brown eyes serious as he looked Tomás over and moved to the other boy's side.

"Tommy?"

Both boys looked at him then, and Newt was struck again by how funny it was to have two people in front of him who would answer to the same nickname. To the name stencilled on his wrist. He gave a cough to cover up the sudden, nervous snigger that wanted to escape.

"Tomás?" he tried, snapping his fingers in front of the boy's eyes. "You alright?"

Tomás blinked again, before seeming to come to himself again. He looked at Newt first, then at Thomas, before he jerked slightly and threw up all over his own shoes.

They took him to the Medical Room, explained to the suspicious nurse that they had no idea what had triggered the vomiting, that he had been absolutely fine just moments before. They expressed their desire to stay when the Registration bell rang, Thomas's ability to work his magic crucial. She wasn't happy with it, but when the brunette pointed out that Tomás was new to the school and that they had both become friends with him and promised to look out for him and that he didn't know anyone else, she had softened just enough to leave them with him as she went to phone his mother to pick him up.

Newt had felt the charm of those whiskey-brown eyes first hand, had no doubt Thomas could coax him into just about anything if he were so inclined. Thomas flashed a triumphant grin when the nurse closed the door behind her.

"You could sweet-talk Miss Paige into cancelling rehearsals with that bloody face of innocence." Newt grinned, helping Tomás to sit up from the compulsory prone position the nurse had insisted he lie in.

"With great power comes great responsibility." responded Thomas solemnly, as Newt had known he would.

"Feelin' any better?" Newt asked Tomás when he saw him smile wanly at Thomas's reference.

The forest eyes turned his way and then one long-fingered hand brushed through his curls as he sighed and looked away again.

"Galileo." Tomás told them, as though they ought to know what he meant just by the utterance of the bully's name.

Thomas shot Newt a puzzled look and the blonde shrugged in return.

"You shouldn't listen to him." Thomas answered carefully, placing a soothing hand on Tomás's shoulder. "He's just a shuck-face of epic proportion."

Newt half-smiled as he watched Thomas try to reassure their new friend, as his stomach twisted uncomfortably at how much he wished his heart would sort itself out already. Tomás shook his head, and when he looked up again the boys were surprised to find that he was close to tears.

"That's just the problem." he answered, his voice wobbling as though the worst thing he could imagine had just happened.

When he looked between them and saw their bemused expressions, Tomás sniffled and pulled on the sleeve of his jumper, fingers pushing under the tangled maze of coloured fabric bands that were knotted there. Newt felt every muscle in his body lock as though he'd been dipped in ice as Tomás drew back his hand.

Galileo

He looked up at the two startled friends who were staring at his wrist.

"He's a shuck-face of epic proportions." he whispered miserably.

Chapter Text

How he got through the rest of the day was anybody's guess, because he couldn't recall actually living it.

That night Newt curled under his duvet feeling lost and unsure how to really feel. He felt guilty, for feeling relieved. He felt horrified for Tomás, to be Soulmates with Gally…

And still he felt lighter, like some great weight had been flung from his shoulder so fast he was light-headed. And at the same time, he was a little bit sad too. Because he'd begun to make peace, however little, with the fact that he might have found the one person he was meant to be with and that that person wasn't Thomas and he had begun to start believing that he could accept that.

Now he was back where he'd started and several feet deeper, because his heart didn't know what to feel any more.

He rolled to his other side with a sigh, gazing into the greyness of his room. His eyes couldn't help but pick out shapes; the huddle of his trainers hiding under a hoody, the tangle of his laces trailing as though reaching across the rug for the heap of his homework jotters. The bulk of his desk, the pale glint of moonlight on the pens standing haphazardly in a cup on the wooden surface. A silvery juice can tucked in the corner of the windowsill was getting in the way of the blind, standing nonchalantly in the shadow like it was taunting the crumpling material.

Newt closed his eyes with a heart-heavy groan, because the juice can was Thomas's and now of course he was thinking of Thomas. He could truly tear his hair out. He was so worn out from this constant merry-go-round of thought, the destination the same as where he started and every checkpoint between just the same, the clip of hooves beating out the sound of his name.

Thomas Thomas Thomas Thomas Thomas.

Always shucking Thomas.

He squeezed his eyes tighter shut, trying hard to shake the name from his head for even just a few moments of peace. His fingers reached for the nightstand, sliding over the cool of the wires before grasping the cold metal square. He shoved the earbuds in his ears, flicking the lock button and pressing the bottom of the curved circle, knowing the song that would begin without ever needing to open his eyes.

The music filtered into his ears and he felt his face frowning.

Loving him is like driving a new Mazarati down a dead end street.

He opened his eyes by accident, cursing the jolt of surprise as a song he didn't expect began to play.

Faster than the wind, passionate as sin.

Fantastic. Shucking idiot had been at his bloody iPod again. He tried to muster up the irritation, but it was a lost cause. One, he was exhausted. Two, it was always so difficult with Thomas.

Damn it.

Loving him is like trying to change your mind once you're already flying through the free fall.

He hadn't even noticed this album on the little metal contraption. How long ago had Thomas put it on? That afternoon whole Newt was lost in fairyland? Yesterday? Last month? Thomas was always messing with his stuff, adding music to his iPod, borrowing books and CDs, changing the background on his laptop, the ringtone on his phone.

In reality, it didn't really bother him much if he was honest.

Like the colours in Autumn, so bright just before they lose it all.

He pressed the touch button. But that didn't mean he was lying in bed tonight listening to this angsty, soul-dampening song. Not if he wanted to shake of the slump he was in. No thanks. He spun his thumb around the slightly raised circle and stabbed the button again.

Well it's Midnight, damn right, we're wound up too tight.

Better.

With a sigh, Newt spun the volume down low and flicked the lock button, tucking the contraption under his pillow and settling back, gazing up at his familiar ceiling as he felt the regularity of the baseline lull him, a push-and-pull like waves.

I got a fist full of whiskey, the bottle just bit me.

He let the rebellion wash over him. He let the small spark build, the ragged and gritted voice feeding it perfectly.

Never in his life had Newt been particularly rebellious. He'd pretty much stayed between the lines his whole life. Even his early teens had been pretty smooth sailing. Barring minor disagreements with his parents over his subjects or staying up late or his penchant for mis-matching socks, Newt had been a bland and admittedly boring teenager.

But now? Nearing eighteen and approaching the end of his school years, Newt felt like rebelling. He could feel a building urge to holler, to just yell along with the lyrics. Just this once, for a moment, Newt allowed himself to really dream about it. A life of rebellion, a life of breaking the rules he'd always tried to hard to follow. A life of moving against the grain, of shocking everyone who knew him. A life of daring.

A life of Thomas.

Newt fell asleep like that, curling on his side with one hand loosely caging his iPod, guitar riffs playing aggressively quiet in his ears and his mind full of a certain golden-eyed boy. In his dreams Thomas had nothing scribbled across his wrists but empty skin, his eyes twinkling and his smile dazzling as he turned his head where he lay by Newt, sunlight glinting in his hair as he squinted through the grass.

Their fingers were entangled in a heated mess of hands and instead of feeling guilty all Newt felt was euphoria, because with nothing on his wrist Thomas belonged to Newt and Newt alone.

As Newt turned over in his sleep, the earphone wires unravelling as the small metal square slid from his grasp and down the duvet, his sleeping nose could smell the sweet meadow grass that swayed in the gentle breeze.

Chapter Text

Tomás wasn't there to greet them at the edge of the car-park the next morning as had become routine. Thomas and Newt walked towards the school building in a sympathetic silence, each privately mulling over the enormity of what they'd learned. The revelation weighed heavily on both their minds, making them feel as sick for Tomás as they had been excited for Teresa and Minho. Though neither said anything out loud both burned with a low anger at the unfairness of it all.

On their way to the Music department they passed Gally in the corridor and watched as, predictably, the bully threw them one of his many original and insulting greetings. They both looked at him silently as he gave a laugh and shoved past them, wondering just how their newest friend was expected to live with being destined for him. Though neither said a thing, both ached in the face of knowing that Soulmates like that existed. It made Newt feel wretched and fearful of what could lie in his own future.

When Gally had moved around the corner from them, Newt reached out and took Thomas's hand. Thomas didn't say anything, but from the corner of his eye Newt could see the faint quirk at the corner of Thomas's mouth.

Despite the growing anxiety the longer he held Thomas's hand in the corridor, knowing that at any moment someone could turn the corner and see, Newt gripped it tightly and allowed himself to like the feeling.

Things are going to change. Newt knew, There's no going back.

When they reached their favourite room in their favourite of corridors, Teresa was perched on the window ledge, her legs kicking back to beat a soft drumbeat from the wall underneath. The window behind her was ajar and her hair swayed in the gentle breeze, making her look like she were sitting on a swing at the park instead of at school. When they opened the door she looked up, pausing in her conversation with with Aris to smile in greeting. When her eyes flickered over their joint hands she looked to Newt, a single arching eyebrow asking all sorts of questions. Newt only looked back, and her smile grew warm and confident.

"Did you guys hear from Tomás?" Aris blurted as soon as he saw them, his eyes wide and his expression pale.

Thomas glanced at Newt as he shook his head, his eyes asking whether they had any right to say anything. Newt swallowed uneasily, releasing Thomas's hand to dig the fingers of both hands under his rucksack straps as though they would give away that he knew anything.

"No?"

"What's up?" Thomas asked.

Aris had already opened his mouth to answer, his eyes flickering a little before frowning.

"He- Didn't you take him to the Medical Room?"

Newt felt like he'd been caught out in a lie he hadn't even told, his neck flushing. But Thomas had it covered, apparently.

"Yeah," he answered easily, the casual tone of his voice colouring with concern, "he was sick in the car park. The nurse said he seemed okay but sent him home anyway. What's wrong? Is he still sick?"

Aris nodded mournfully, looking down at his phone in his hand.

"Yeah. Says he might not be in for the rest of next week. Sounds bad."

Teresa rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated little sigh, a touch of amusement on her lips as she shot Aris a fond look.

"It sounds like a stomach bug. He's not dying. He'll be fine."

Aris hummed, sounding like he didn't believe her, but he did look a lot less concerned when she spoke. Newt felt the anxiety in his gut unwind, and he gave a low whistle.

"Poor Tomás."

He couldn't help glancing at Thomas. The brunette's eyes met him, their honey depths full of sympathy even as he cocked a a brief smile Newt's way. Soulmates with Gally. Poor Tomás indeed. Newt swallowed the urge to reach for his hand again.

"He's been texting." Teresa put in, laughing at them, "He's fine guys, lighten up."

Her eyes met Aris's and she raised a teasing eyebrow at him.

"Stop being so melodramatic."

Aris's cheeks tinged pink and he pulled an exaggerated scowl, before sticking out his tongue at her. Teresa and Thomas chuckled, and Aris changed the conversation to the episode of a new TV show e and Thomas were particularly interested in, sparking a playful debate between them at which character they decided deserved to die the most. Newt rolled his eyes and shared a grin with Teresa, ditching his rucksack and hopping up onto the windowsill beside her.

She gave him a half-smile and tipped her head in Thomas's direction. Newt fought the urge to turn and look, knowing it was what she wanted. He raised an eyebrow in return, a smile playing on his lips.

What? he mouthed, watching her own smile only grow, Shut up.

Teresa was beaming, her eyes practically glittering, and Newt gave her shoulder a faux shove, which only made her laugh. She tapped at her phone, tipping it his way as her text conversations appeared on the screen.

"I like Tomás," she told him, her voice low and intimate under the budding riot breaking out between Aris and Thomas, who were growing particularly passionate about their differing view on one character, "but I think you should…"

He tried to give her a reprimanding look, but all that happened was her waggling her eyebrows and looking over his shoulder and Newt feeling his cheeks heat up. Her smile was wicked and she gave a soft shrug.

"Hey, fine." she chuckled, her eyes meeting his again and turning a little softer, "But you seem… different today. You haven't-"

Her voice paused and her eyes widened a little, looking at him purposefully. He shook his head, but whatever she was doing was working. He could feel himself being cheered, the weight in his chest lessening.

"Well." she sighed, "you should."

Newt rolled his eyes and bit back a smile, but Teresa could see it anyway, if the look on her face was anything to go by.

"Tomás on the other hand, seems to have developed a weird interest in Gally." she murmured.

Newt's abdomen felt cold.

"Odd choice of subject." he answered weakly, but she didn't seem to notice.

She made a humming sound, opening texts from their newest friend and scrolling through, showing Newt text after text of gentle probing on Tomás's part and playful repartee from her. Newt's gaze skimmed over them as she scrolled and wished Gally wasn't such a crank. Tomás was such a sweetheart. He didn't deserve someone as awful as him for a Soulmate.

"Maybe he has a secret nice side?" he attempted, forcing himself to give her a half-smile.

"What, like Tomás is going to stumble onto it when nobody else ever has?" she asked absently, her eyes growing thoughtful even as she spoke, "Wait-"

She stilled, her eyes growing wide and blue as her mouth stopped moving. Her hand reached for her lips, fingertips touching upon her face with a barely perceptible tremor.

"Oh god."

"What? What?" Aris's head flew up and he looked between them with a confused frown, "Oh god what? Guys?"

Teresa's huge sapphire eyes caught onto Newt like they were a bear trap, locking him in place as he tried to pull together a confused expression, cringing at the huge knowing in her eyes. Why the bloody hell did the girl always have to be so damn perceptive? The urge to drop his eyes was fierce, as though she could read all truths from his very soul. But his gaze betrayed him and flicked Thomas's way and that was his downfall. Just like always.

The brunette was looking at him with heavy, steady brown eyes, all traces of his previous humour falling from his mouth.

Shuck.

"He isn't." Teresa insisted, and Aris only looked at them all, thoroughly bemused, "Newt?"

He shouldn't have turned at his name, wincing when he saw how she narrowed her eyes at him. Newt swallowed, looking away from Teresa way too late, digging his teeth into his bottom lip and wishing he'd stayed in bed, because that wasn't his secret, it wasn't his place to tell people or lead people or let people work it out.

"Poor Tomás."

Teresa sounded absolutely heartbroken, and Newt couldn't blame her. He only nodded lamely in return, fixing his gaze on the floor below their feet.

"Don't say anything." he asked.

"Guys?" Aris asked again, voice wavering between concern and oh, haha, you're tricking me again.

Teresa bit her lip, looking down at her phone.

"Fuck." she said.

Newt couldn't agree more. Fuck indeed.

Teresa handed her phone off when Aris came over, get gaze pained when he looked up from the screen.

"Surely not." Aris tried, looking mournful again, "Poor Tomás."

When the bell went for homeroom it was almost a relief, breaking through the weird, unhappy air in the room. Newt jumped down, offering a hand to Teresa in a half-hearted tease, managing a smile when she snorted and gave him a look before hopping down by herself. Newt grabbed his rucksack and followed her and Aris from the room, holding the door open for Thomas.

As he brushed past, Thomas's fingers caught onto his and held, squeezing reassuringly. Newt ignored any looks that might have been sent their way as they walked through the busy corridors, focusing only on the grid of Thomas's hand in his and where he was putting his feet.

When they reached his class the loss of contact made him feel oddly cold, but Thomas left him with a bright-eyed smile, so it wasn't all bad.

Chapter Text

On Saturday morning Newt woke early, waking in that languid, unhurried way that belongs to weekends and holidays. It started at his toes and rolled over him, drawing a lazy yawn from his throat before he blinked himself awake. In front of his nose was a bedhead that always made something inside of him turn soft and sort of sappy.

The crazed, carefree locks of his best friend, naturally.

Thomas was coiled in a foetal curl beside him, his back pressed to Newt's chest and his head pillowed one one of Newt's arms. His ankles were kicked back, tucked between Newt's own. Newt lifted his head a little, careful not to jostle Thomas as he peered down at his sleeping face. It wasn't by far the first time Newt had ever seen him like that, often the occurrence of a weekend when Thomas slept later with him instead of getting up to run before school like he did during the week. It always made Newt's heart hurt and sing in equal part to gaze down at Thomas like that, before he set about untangling them and putting a more appropriate space between them. This time, he took himself a steadying breath and settled down again, his heart pounding, one arm still wound around the brunette's waist.

That Saturday, instead of untangling them with slow and careful motions, Newt pulled Thomas closer against his chest and tucked himself back down into the warmth, closing his eyes to listen to Thomas's sleeping breaths.

In his defence, he woke Thomas several hours later by shoving him over the edge of the bed. Thomas retaliated by dragging every scarp of the duvet with him, and signalled the end of their lie in. Newt tripped over Thomas on purpose on the way to nab the bathroom first, and Thomas laughed like sunshine and threw a shoe at him.

When he woke on Sunday morning he expected Thomas to be there instinctively, before realising his best friend had slept on his own that night. Newt stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, allowing his body to wake at its own pace, thinking of Soulmates once more, of the fact that he had no guarantee at all that he'd like his Soulmate.

Of all the things he'd worried about, right from his childhood through to meeting Thomas till right at that moment, Newt had never truly been afraid his wrist mate could be a crank like Gally. Sure, there had to be something nice inside of Gally, didn't there? There just had to be.

But what had Tomás ever done to earn the crappy stuff inside of Gally? They hadn't known him all that long, but they had all agreed it was an unfair match, Newt pointing out that it looked unfair but that there had to be good there. Because he refused to believe that when his own Soulmate came along he'd have to give up all the things he'd dreamed would come with him, the way that they would bond so surely. Your Soulmate was supposed to be your very best friend, that's what everybody told you when you were a kid.

A best friend, a complimentary personality, the perfect other part of you.

Maybe Gally was secretly nice under all his awful exterior. Maybe he was secretly into comic books or cute animals or something else that Tomás loved. Maybe he just needed someone as lovely as his Soulmate to find it.

And maybe, maybe wasn't Tomás's wrist mate. Galileo was an incredibly unusual name, yes, but maybe it was just a coincidence. God knows those bloody happened. He didn't envy the fact that the only way for Tomás to know was to find out what was on Gally's wrist.

Thomas came over for dinner and afterwards, sprawled on Newt's floor with a YouTube video about people playing one of Thomas's favourite video games filling the room with the sound of muted gunfire and commentary. Newt was sitting against the wall reading a book, for once having a chance to read something for pleasure instead of for school. Thomas was doing Science homework on his knees, his back resting against Newt's knees.

It wasn't any different from any other lazy day they'd spent together in the last months, and yet with May cresting their horizon it was.

Newt would soon be leaving The Glade, moving on to pastures possibly less green and that knowledge was beginning to make itself known in small ways.

Thomas cocked his head to one side as he pondered an equation and Newt's hand reached out to touch his hair. Thomas made a humming sound and tipped his head further into the touch and Newt adjusted to reading with one hand, the fingers of the other curling slowly through the familiar feeling.

So he hadn't technically done anything about his most recent revelation, but he'd get there. He glanced up at his best friend noting numbers in the margin of his jotter as he worked through the problem, at his own hand twisting through Thomas's hair.

"I can hear your brain working." Thomas murmured without looking away from his work.

Newt felt his cheeks flush and gave a you-caught-me sort of chuckle, tugging a lock of Thomas's hair. The brunette made a wounded sound, but Newt could see him smiling.

"Whatever you're freaking out over probably isn't as bad as you think it is." Thomas added, scoring out a number and scribbling a new one next to it.

"What makes ya think I'm freakin' out?" Newt laughed, flicking Thomas's ear, "And I'm not, just to be clear."

Thomas's smile grew and he lifted a shoulder in a playful shrug.

"Dunno. But I know you are. Or at least you're worrying about something."

He turned a little that time, looking at Newt with amused brown eyes. Newt felt his heart lurch, fought the urge to swallow.

"I know you, you know." Thomas teased him, turning back to his homework, "You could just say you don't want to talk about it."

Newt stared at the side of his face, a tremor of wary acknowledgement curving around his ribs. Sometimes it was uncanny how attuned to him Thomas was. It made the argument just to go for it seem even more pressing.

"I don't." he answered after a moment, watching Thomas nod his head gently, "Want to talk about it, I mean. At least not yet."

"I know." Thomas said back, softly, "Me either."

Somehow Newt knew he shouldn't be surprised that Thomas knew what he was thinking. He swallowed and turned back to his book, suddenly finding he couldn't focus on the neat black print. His eye was drawn back to Thomas, to watching him answer questions Newt wouldn't have the first clue about. Science had never been his strong point. They passed another few moments in pleasant quiet before Newt said anything further.

"Thanks, Tommy."

Thomas didn't turn round, but his smile was wide and lovely, easing the anxious feeling.

"Anytime, Newt."

Chapter Text

Monday was strange. Not that any of them had thought Tomás's impact upon them insignificant, but it surprised them how quickly they'd become used to his constant presence. By lunchtime, Newt was desperate to be surrounded by his friends again. Minho was sick again, some flu-like bug his dad had caught at work, and without him or Tomás in class beside him, Newt was feeling the sting of being the new kid for the first time in months.

He'd gotten so comfortable with Minho and Tomás around that he had made little effort to get to know the rest of his classmates. He knew names, and there was that one girl who went to choir, but apart from her familiar face and their non-existent relationship, Newt was on his own.

So maybe that was why he reached for Thomas's hand the second the brunette appeared beside him, and maybe that's why he didn't let go when Teresa and Aris arrived. Maybe it was why, when Thomas rubbed his thumb softly over Newt's knuckles as they stood so closely together, Newt turned his face in the middle of telling Aris exactly why he thought his soft spot for Rowena was so poignant and pressed a kiss against Thomas's temple.

He didn't even know he'd done it until he'd finished speaking and Aris didn't immediately jump in to tell him why he was totally wrong, like always. Instead the boy stood entirely still, one hand lifted in a familiar gesture meant to make Newt aware that what Aris was about to say would disprove everything Newt had just said because Aris was the resident Supernatural expert. Instead, his eyes locked on Newt from behind his glasses, bright with surprise and something else.

Newt turned his gaze on Teresa, and it was upon seeing the sparkle in her sapphire eyes that it clicked into lace in Newt's head. His skin burned instantly, heat scorching up his neck and across his face, his hands suddenly hot and clammy. He loosened his grip on Thomas's hand instantly, intending to pull away.

"I don't know about that, Newt." Thomas's voice spoke up, as if he hadn't just doomed them in the eyes of their best friends, his fingers curling tightly around Newt's to stop him moving, "I mean, she's evil. She literally tries to bleed Sam dry. For the sake of more evil books. I mean, she is a Witch."

Aris blinked, eyes flickering between them and full of a sort of desperation, as though he was going to burst if he didn't say what was on his mind. Newt had seen it before, that look. Aris got it every time his favourite TV shows came into conversation, every time someone talked about a character Aris had seen die in future seasons. He swallowed, bracing himself for it.

But instead, Teresa rolled her eyes, a smirk playing at her lips as she looked at Newt.

"Hey, the woman's bad ass, okay? She used crazy dark magic and she survives everything for hundreds of years? She's awesome. So, okay, she used dark Magic. But so? I mean, Sam drank Demon blood, aka a very bad thing, but with good intentions, yeah? Is it too much to believe Rowena could be almost a good guy, just…"

Her eyes held words Newt knew he'd be hearing later, a bright burning flare of curiosity.

"Doing the right thing, with the wrong thing, for the right reasons?"

Newt's heart was galloping, so hard he was sure they could hear it as he tried to calm himself under the weight of knowing what he'd just done and in front of people. But Teresa had saved him, she and Thomas both, and whether Aris saw what was happening or not, he took the bait with both hands, delving into an animated and vehement explanation of just why they were all idiots.

Newt couldn't pay any attention, thinking only of the warmth - almost, almost too much - between his hand and his best friend's and the way that Thomas's shoulder brushed with his own when the brunette argued back amicably, or laughed at Aris's cries of mock despair.

When the bell had gone and Aris had hared from the room with a goodbye and a cry of how ticked his P.E teacher was when he was late making his way out to the start-line for their Cross-Country, Teresa gave Newt a look that let him know, on no uncertain terms, that they'd be having words later. She couldn't have them now, despite how she wanted, because Newt knew she was at P.E. then too, and the journey through the whole school detracted from their allotted time to change.

"We better not be outside." she muttered as she gathered up her bag, shooting Thomas a look when he laughed at her, "I'm tempted to say I've got a lesson this period."

Newt laughed then too, knowing the P.E. coaches had no idea what days the Flute instructor was assigned to their school. Teresa could very likely get away with such a lie, if she was careful. It wouldn't surprise him if she'd used it before to get out of something gruelling in P.E. He wouldn't really be able to blame her, either.

Newt cringed at the thought, knowing his class would soon be starting Cross-Country too. With Winter technically gone, it was inevitable. At least the weather was warmer here than it was in April back home. Cross-country then had always been abysmal, March weather cold and dreary and the mud thick and wet and unpleasant when it leaked into his trainers.

When Teresa shot them a look as she left the room and Thomas tugged Newt around to face him, Newt couldn't really say he was surprised. For the handful of fleeting, - Newt firmly thought of them as friendly - kisses that the brunette had dropped upon Newt's cheek during their friendship, Newt had never given one back. He'd be an idiot if he'd hoped Thomas would shrug it off, or forget.

Instead, Thomas looked up at him with those whiskey-gold eyes, and Newt's heart gave a leap. He didn't need to ask, and Newt didn't need to hear it out loud anyway. He could see, plain as day, the query in Thomas's eyes.

"I'm sorry." he said, glancing down at his feet between them, trying not to look at their clasped hands, "I didn't mean to."

Thomas said nothing, but Newt could tell he wasn't mad. He didn't now how he could tell, right enough, but he knew it anyway. When he finally glanced back up, the sounds of people rushing through the corridor beyond the door dwindling as they reached their classes, Thomas was still looking at him.

"It's fine, Newt." he told him, sounding amused as he gave Newt a gentle, lop-sided smile. "Honest."

Newt nodded, swallowing his stupid cowardice as Thomas let go of his hand and grabbed their rucksacks.

"We should get going," he said, Newt's eyes unable to leave the sight of his down-turned head as he fiddled with a zip on his bag, "I don't mind being late, but a goody-two-shoes like yourself should."

"Ha buggin' ha."

Newt gave him a playful shove and they left, parting at the very last moment they could, when their corridors went in different directions.

Newt was plagued for the rest of the day by how sure he was that he'd seen disappointment in Thomas's eyes, and how cold his hand had felt walking along the corridor without Thomas's fingers wound around it.

Chapter Text

It wasn't until after school that anything really went wrong. True, his day had been lonely and he'd been subject to Gally's attention on his own, tripping him every time he walked past him, knocking into him in the corridors. But none of that was new. Newt was used to it, by now. It sucked without Minho, but it wasn't like he couldn't handle being bullied.

He'd been bullied before, and at least Gally was mostly into verbal assaults.

Still, with the awkwardness that lingered in his gut after lunchtime, Newt was feeling sort of blue when he left the building at the end of the day, lost in his own head as he wandered through the crowds of students towards the buses.

The boy who knocked into him was one of Gally's lackeys. Newt didn't know his name beyond an inkling that it was Nick or Adam or something normal like that. He was about as tall as Newt but broader, and his elbow caught Newt in the ribs, knocking him off-balance. When Newt turned to shoot the boy an accusatory glare, he was greeted with a predatory sort of smirk.

A bully's smirk.

Newt's stomach churned even as he put every bad thing he'd felt that day into the glare, adjusting his rucksack on his shoulder.

"What the bloody hell do you want?" he spat when the boy merely stood, looking at him with that creepy, sharp expression.

In response, the bigger boy rolled his shoulders in a shrug before studying his own wristband with an exaggerated sort of intensity.

"Funny, these things." he said, voice quiet and mild.

Despite the lack of threat in the sound, it had Newt's hackles rising defensively. The boy turned muddy blue eyes on him.

"Hiding away the names of our Soulmate."

Newt suddenly felt violently sick, a dreadful realisation coming upon him. Fear snaked up his spine as he tried to keep himself cool, raising one eyebrow and hoping his hands weren't shaking as he clenched them in the straps of his rucksack.

"Primary children know that. You got a point?"

The boy flashed a dark sort of smile, his eyes making Newt even more uncomfortable.

"Well, you got one, don't you? A name on your wrist? Everybody does."

He looked again at his covered wrist, holding it above his face as though it could tell him secrets. Newt shifted his feet, his eyes darting over the thinning crowd of students towards where the buses sat. He could probably make a run for it, if he tried. Might even make it if he had the element of surprise and a head start.

But the knowledge that something like that was a bit of an over-reaction kept his feet grounded, despite the irrational fear that was sending adrenaline flickering through his system. The guy wasn't going to drag him into a dark alley and murder him. There were people around. There were teachers by the buses. He wouldn't. Newt swallowed.

"Huh-Huh." he answered, wary.

"Then you know how the world works."

Those eyes pinned on him again.

Shit. Bloody shucking Gally.

"We won't tolerate some brit coming over and screwing up our school."he hissed, voice suddenly menacing and really rather frightening, even there in the late afternoon sunlight, "Keep your fucking hands to yourself you Non."

Newt turned there and then, striding past the bloke with tight, wide steps, his heart in his throat. He'd forgotten about Gally and his threats because of Tomás throwing up. He and Thomas had been too busy making sure he was okay. They'd been too busy today worrying that he wash';t in, feeling so goddamn awful and sorry for him because he had Gally on his wrist.

They'd completely forgotten that Gally had drawn conclusions from seeing their joint hands. Newt's throat was beginning to close up in a stupid, all-consuming fear.

What if his parents found out? What if- What if they believed it? What if they stopped Thomas from coming over or Newt from visiting him?

Dear Gods, they could be so disappointed. They'd always been so proud of his wrist name, of the speed at which it had claimed him.

How were they going to feel when they found out he'd fallen for a different Thomas?

as he dropped into his seat Newt surprised himself with a fierce and sudden longing for his big sister. Sonya would know what to do. She'd know what to say to him, what to tell him to make the childish hold of the bully leave his system.

He rested his forehead against the cool window glass and closed his eyes, trying to soothe the feeling running rampant inside of him, to convince himself he was imagining the way the students on his bus were looking at him.

They didn't know. Gally hadn't told them, surely? Even he wouldn't do something so-

Would he?

Newt swallowed back a hysterical sort of groan at his own life.

When had it all become so shucking complicated?

Gods. What was he going to do? He felt like tearing up, like crawling into his bed and closing out the world for a couple hours. He wished Sonya was still living with them, even if it meant riots and no privacy and fights like the world was ending.

What was he going to do?

The buzz in his pocket brought him back into his own skin with a jolt, and he fumbled for it awkwardly, keeping his eyes down and trying not to cause anyone any reason to look at him. He unlocked it easily with his thumb, and then his world brightened, just like that.

Tommy: Dinner at mine? Mom says she's feeling like Chorizo.

Newt bit back most of his smile as a pleasant warmth crawled into being in his chest.

Buggin' hell how he loved him.

Chapter Text

"Long time no see." was how Chuck greeted Newt as he dropped his rucksack in Thomas's room.

He turned to see Thomas's kid brother standing in the doorway, looking utterly pleased with himself for the quip.

"Sarcasm." Newt hummed, raising a playful eyebrow, "You're your brother's brother alright."

Chuck only laughed and made his way into the room, plopping down on the edge of the bed as Newt dug his homework from his schoolbag.

"What's up, Chuck?" Newt asked him without looking up, feeling the kid's eyes on him.

"The sky." Chuck answered instantly, a hidden giggle in his tone.

Newt picked up one of Thomas's socks from the floor by his foot and tossed it in Chuck's direction, chuckling when the younger boy squealed in amused disgust.

"Eeeew. Come on man, that's life-threatening!"

Newt laughed with him, enjoying the way the kid's bubbling laughter unraveled the coiled feeling of awkward he'd ben carrying all day. Thomas's family were as brilliant as the boy himself, and always welcomed Newt into their fold with an ease that spoke of trust and friendliness. Newt liked them. Not in the way you were expected to like the family of your friend, but really liked them. Chuck was bubbly and fun, Mary was relaxed and caring and George was much like Thomas, if only wiser and more… mellow.

"Don't be a smart-arse then." he teased, and Chuck's chuckle was bright and bold in return.

"Fine. I just wondered how you were, that was all." Chuck answered him, swinging his legs absently and staring at his trainers as though they were ins some way interesting.

"Oh?" Newt asked, collecting his jotters and zipping his bag back up before turning to look at Chuck properly.

Chuck hummed, before cocking his head to one side and giving Newt a level, friendly look.

"Thomas came home a bit off. I wondered if you were okay."

Newt felt a familiar little thrum at the thought that people linked him and Thomas in any way.

"I'm good." he answered, because he was, now.

He kicked off his shoes and prepared to head back downstairs, tipping his head to ask if Chuck was coming too. The kid slid off the bed and bounded over, stopping at Newt's side and hesitating, tipping his head up to give him a shy sort of look.

"I just wondered. Usually when Thomas is like that it's because you're upset or something."

Newt didn't even get the chance to form any sort of response to that, before Chuck was hopping out of the room ahead of him as though he hadn't said the stuff of heart-to-hearts. Newt followed him downstairs, watching the kid head for the front room and allowing the sweet feeling to fill him, even though he knew he shouldn't encourage it.

Defying the feeling became as impossible as always when he reached the kitchen, where Thomas was already seated at the dining table with homework sheets scattered atop the surface. He looked up when Newt came through the door and gave him a gentle, lopsided smile.

"Hey." he murmured, and Newt was lost again, picking the seat right beside him even though he'd have more space across from him.

"Hiya, Tommy."

Thomas's answer to that was to swap his pencil to his other hand, ambidextrous shucker that he was, and lace his fingers through Newt's under the table. Newt fought the flush on his face and squeezed Thomas's hand tightly, biting back a smile when Thomas squeezed back.

"Brenda saw Adam corner you earlier." Thomas said softly some time later, looking for all the world like he was making small talk as he worked through a maths problem.

Newt tensed, but Thomas's thumb stroked slow circles into his numbles and Newt let it ground him.

"Yeah."

Thomas was quiet for a moment, giving Newt time to read his next paragraph and answer one of his questions.

"I can guess what it was about."

Newt winced.

"Gally did say he'd tell everybody."

Newt gave a tired sigh.

"Yeah, he did."

Thomas stopped writing, turning his head to look at Newt with solemn amber eyes.

"I'm sorry, Newt."

Newt glanced up at him in surprise.

"What're you sorry for?"

Thomas's smile turned chagrined, his eyes warm and shy as he looked a little to the side, like he was speaking to Newt's shoulder.

"For… You know. I keep…" Newt watched him shift uncomfortably, feeling his own face burning as he watched a slow, shy pink creep across the tops of Thomas's cheeks.

Instead of continuing, Thomas squeezed his hand again, and Newt knew what he meant anyway.

"That's okay." he croaked, his mouth dry, his heart beginning to stutter, "I… You know. I kind of like it."

Thomas's smile curved, took on a more confident edge.

"Just kind of?"

Newt looked away as a nervous, breathy laugh left his mouth. He scribbled something on his worksheet, underlining a random phrase with no idea what he was doing.

"Piss off."

Thomas's chuckle was warm and comfortable and safe, and Newt felt the last of that horrid awkwardness vanish from his gut. How wrong could Non-Bonds really be if being with Thomas always felt this this? If being with him, regardless of where or when, always felt right?

"I'm not…" he started, his words failing as the heat of his face obviously melted his buggin' brain or something, "I mean…"

He trailed off, losing whatever train of thought he;d been desperately grasping at. All he could think about was the warmth of Thomas's hand, of his fingers linked between Newt's own and how much it felt like they belonged there.

"I know." Thomas whispered, and regardless of the nervous fear in his throat Newt could;t stop himself from meeting those amber-whiskey eyes again, "And that's fine."

His tone was earnest and lovely, and it made Newt want to kiss him so fiercely that his heart dropped a beat and fumbled hard.

"But they're gonna be dicks about it, at least for a while. They think it."

Newt nodded, looking across the kitchen and taking a raw breath, just for the relief of the heat of meeting Thomas's gaze.

"That's sort of my fault." he added, giving Newt a half-smile that said What-can-you-do.

Newt laughed again, properly, boldly. He knocked his shoulder against Thomas's.

"Good. When Aris jumps us tomorrow, I'll throw ya under the bus."

Thomas chuckled, the air warm with the sound as they continued with their respective homework, subtly dropping their hold when Mary came through to make dinner.

It was as pleasant as it always was, Mary did indeed make Newt's favourite and Newt spent the meal talking about the new pieces they were playing at band and bickering pleasantly with Thomas over the garlic bread and congratulating Chuck on his latest wooden bear, which he paraded proudly across the table during the meal.

When they'd cleared the table and Thomas and Newt had gotten the lingering excitement out of their system by flicking soapy water at each other like five year olds, Thomas disappeared as Newt was drying the last dish. When he reappeared he had his hands behind his back and a gleeful sort of expression on his face.

"What?" Newt asked with a laugh, knowing right away there was something going on.

Thomas tipped his head to one side, the light dancing in the gold in his eyes as he produced the DVD case from behind his back.

"Thought maybe we'd pass on the horror tonight?"

Newt might have hugged him hard when he realised Thomas was holding Star Trek: Beyond.

Chapter Text

Newt rubbed sleepily at his nose, the fine threads brushing against it tickling his fingers. He was too comfortable to truly move, but he turned his head, blinking as the shadowed room came into focus. It was Thomas's hair, of course, that had woken him, ghosting over his face. The brunette was asleep, one arm tucked under the pillow they were sharing and the other thrown back, as though keeping Newt where he was, curled intimately around the younger boy.

For a moment, he considered moving away. His willpower had waned considerably throughout the evening, eventually ceasing when Thomas threw the blanket over them both and simply dropped down beside Newt, falling asleep in that easy, swift manner that Newt envied.

He watched the fingers of his left hand as they run slowly through Thomas's hair, without thought or command but comfortably. As though they were meant to.

Newt shoved all of the impending thoughts aside, instead enjoying the motion. Thomas murmured softly. Still asleep.

Newt sighed, what could have been an hour later, sleep invading his senses again and his hand growing tired. He tucked his arm around his friend and settled once more, listening to the earliest of birds waking outside.

He was almost fully back asleep when Thomas shifted, and after a few moment turned, rolling in Newt's embrace to face him. Newt could feel this, eyes too tired to open. Thomas settled again with his forehead brushing Newt's. Newt's heart kicked up sleepily, adrenaline shaking off sleep to flitter through his body.

"Are you awake, Newt?" was whispered, barely a breath of sound.

Newt merely gave a very small shake of his head in response, sacred to open his mouth incase his voice failed him. Thomas gave a shallow chuckle at this, the soft warmth brushing Newt's face.

His stomach flipped, his heart tripped over. His system was awake and alive with the almost painful crackle of adrenaline. He wanted. He wanted to-

"I'm thinking about heading for a run. Might see if Minho's up."

Newt nodded, drawing away enough to feel safe opening his eyes. Thomas was looking at him sedately, eyes warm and softened by sleep, his smile as easy as it always was.

"Mornin'," he greeted Newt.

Newt couldn't help but smile back.

"Mornin'."

"You wanna come?"

He snorted and shook his head, grinning at Thomas's laugh.

"No thanks. I'm bloody tired."

"Okay." Thomas taunted, shifting to stand, reaching move his head to stretch, "Suit yourself, lazy."

In return, Newt only threw a pillow at him and made himself a ball again, watching Thomas get ready like he had a hundred times already.

When he'd tied his shoelaces and thrown on a thin hoody, Thomas came back to the bed, leaning over Newt's almost-asleep form to lay a kiss at the blonde's temple. Newt stilled, his heartbeat rocketing.

"Bye, Newt."

Newt forced himself to keep his eyes closed until he heard the door close, Thomas's footfalls growing faint as he made his way to the front door. Newt stared at the closed bedroom door, any thoughts of falling back asleep gone, groaning in frustration as he rolled onto his back and scowled palely at the ceiling.

This was what he wanted. All of this. It hurt too much, knowing that-

He was tired of feeling guilty, of feeling torn. He'd had his fill of this. He was also sick to death of getting to this point, like in this moment, as though he'd reached his limit and felt like saying fuck it, I'm done, I'm doing it.

Because in the end, he'd find himself staring at Thomas and wanting to say what he had to say, and he'd shy away. They'd take a step or two forwards, there would be a moment, Thomas would look at him and Newt would think this is it.

And then he'd remember. That he couldn't.

He needed someone to tell him he was stupid. Needed someone to tell him what to do.

He rolled out of the bed with a sigh, turning to look for his stuff.

Chapter Text

Newt was lying on the couch in his living room, listening to the quiet of the empty house around him and wondering at just what point he'd become so used to the noise of others that silence felt odd. Back home in England he'd been much more accustomed to stretches of being on his own, filling the hours between school and his parents getting home with whatever took his fancy.

He wondered when the silence became feeling like something was missing, rather than being a presence all its own. He'd grabbed a book from the shelf but it still lay closed on his chest, the old coffee shop loyalty card he'd planned to use as a bookmark tucked just inside the cover.

It was while he was starting to believe there were barely visible marks in the white of the ceiling that his phone began ringing, jarring and loud and making him jump. The recognition of the personalised ringtone made him dive for it though, scooping it from the table before the first few bars were done.

"-could be busy, you never know what's going on with him and that- Newt?"

Her voice made him grin as he sank back onto the couch.

"Hiya, Sonya."

"Shuck, have I missed that voice!" came the reply, grin audible in every word.

"Me too." Newt smiled, "When are you coming back over?"

Sonya laughed.

"When are you coming here?You know, with Summer coming up you could come stay with us for a week or so. You wouldn't need a hotel of course, we've got a spare room in the new pal-ace!"

His sister singing the word out made Newt laugh, a warmth in his abdomen at hearing from her. He'd missed her hard. She kept in touch by text mostly, but those had been sparse lately, what with her and Harry finally moving into their own, real, not-a-student place. Like real adults.

"You could even bring that new boy of yours." she added, tone sly, and Newt groaned as he dropped back against the couch.

"Sonya," he started, trying not to whine, her laugh really not helping, "he's not mine."

His sister blew out a breath that told him she was rolling her eyes, before she paused.

"You know," she started, and she'd gone soft, almost serious, "that wouldn't make a difference to us."

Newt bit his lip. This wasn't what he needed. She was supposed to help him reaffirm his determination to find his Soulmate, the way she'd found hers.

I can't," he tried, so quiet he barely heard himself, "you know I can't."

"You want to, though." she answered gently, and it wasn't a question.

Newt felt his throat closing up as his eyes burned.

"I don't know what to do." he whispered back.

Her sigh was soft, and sympathetic.

"You know my answer," she murmured, "even though you don't really want to hear it. I'm not going to force a course of action on you."

"I know. I wasn't asking you to, I just…"

"Want someone to tell you that going after him is wrong." she finished for him, and he couldn't even argue with the surety in her voice.

"Yeah." he admitted weakly.

For a second there was silence from the other end of the line, and he could hear the care she was taking, readying herself to answer.

"I don't think it is, love." she answered, "I'm sorry."

Newt only nodded, had already known that was what she'd say. She was his favourite person for a reason, her level head and honest answers had been something he'd relied on many times growing up. He'd known she'd tell him to value his happiness most, even if it meant rebelling against what was in truth their nature.

Or at least, what was supposed to be.

"I really am sorry, Newt." she murmured softly, as the tears slipped over his cheeks, "I know that's not what you wanted to hear. But we just… We wouldn't care. I promise you that. And if things were too hard where you are then… then Harry and I would offer you somewhere else to live. You have to know that. We just want you to find happiness. To find love."

"I know." he sniffled, scrubbing his eyes dry with one sleeve, I do, I just…" he could feel the hot lump in his throat, he was going to cry. "Sonya why is it so hard?"

"Awh, sweetheart, I know. I know. It sucks."

Newt wished she were there, or he with her. He needed her to hug him hard and tell him everything would work out.

"Is that all that's got you so wound up? What else is wrong?"

Newt crumbled, as he always had under her concerned tone. He told her everything, hearing her anger and her concern and her upset. He told her everything, and he felt himself lighten.

Chapter Text

There was still no Tomás come Wednesday morning, and though he answered their concerned texts with cheerful reassurance, there was a definite lack of enthusiasm in their mood between classes. Eventually though, as was inevitable, the school day ended and the next upcoming concert meant a scheduled practice that would eat into their evening, so at least there was that to keep them busy.

When it became clear there was a scheduled break between last class and their beginning, Teresa took the opportunity to haul Newt from the hall gleefully, waving to Aris as the shorter boy was roped into helping set up.

"Caramel!" he yelped at their retreating backs, and Teresa laughed in answer.

She didn't say anything at all until they were free of the building, their pace brisk but comfortable. While most of the others pouring from the doors were headed for the takeaway places to grab dinner, Teresa and Newt were off to The Glade. (Aris' turn to choose, despite being unable to escape with them in time.)

"So." was how she announced her interest, and Newt groaned in return.

"Do we buggin' have to?"

Her deadpan glance was answer enough and Newt looked away in dismay. She waited him out, and he knew there was no point in postponing the inevitable, for she'd get it from him one way or another.

"It was an accident." he hedged, knowing what she was most curious about, "It's not… we're not. I wasn't thinking."

Teresa hummed, eyeing the couple who passed them on the street before she said anything further. When she did speak, Newt almost wished she hadn't.

"Doing it by accident is even more reason to go for it, Newt." her words were soft but her tone was firm and sure, as though arguing would be pointless, "If you mean to do it, it's because you choose to, right? But the things we do when we're distracted are things we just… want to do. Things we're comfortable with, things that feel…" she trailed away, her blue eyes looking at him apologetically as though she knew just what he was going to feel when she finished, "right."

And the truth was, as always, exactly that.

"You sound like my sister." he said lamely, looking away and biting the inside of his cheek to save from admitting he wanted her to be right.

"Smart woman." Teresa sniffed haughtily, her laughter bright and contagious as they finally reached the doors of the coffee shop.

"Shut up." he bitched, and shoved her half-heartedly.

They fell into playful bickering while they waited, and it was only by chance that Newt caught sight of the name tag worn by the unfamiliar girl behind the counter when she took their order.

Rachel

As he tugged Teresa to side to wait, he shot her a wide-eyed look, and it only took seconds for her puzzled glance at the girl to turn to him, melting into surprise, and then something different, gentler and pleasant.

The girl, whom Newt had never seen in the place before, nor ever at all to his memory, was quite pretty. Her hair was a dull golden brown and fell to just below her shoulders in straight sheets, held sweetly behind her ears by a delicate green hairband. She had large blue eyes and a naturally friendly smile, and even just from looking, Newt could see her being lovely.

"She's cute." Teresa hummed under her breath, and Newt felt his face flush as he nudged her.

"Teresa!" he hissed, but she just sniggered.

"Oh shut up, don't you think?"

Newt rolled his eyes, definitely feeling his face heat now.

"Yeah, she's pretty." he reluctantly muttered in defeat when she continued to stare pointedly at him.

"I think she'd suit him." she hummed a moment later, and though Newt was more than a little uncomfortable to be having this conversation - in public, of all places, the place was busy - he could see what she meant.

They collected their coffees and pastries, and if they were overly friendly when they thanked her she didn't seem to mind. The walk back only built the tense sort of excitement, and by the time they were back in the hall Newt could understand the look on his friend's face. He felt it too, just like he had watching Minho and Teresa meet.

Maybe she would be the Rachel Aris was waiting for. And jeeez, he sounded like a buggin' girl.

"Thanks guys." the oboist grinned, accepting the latte like one might accept a precious object, making Newt laugh, "Caramel?" he looked hopeful.

"Mhm." Teresa answered in a rush, her eyes bright blue and her grin plotting, "So there's a new girl serving at The Glade and she's really pretty."

When Aris merely paused in sipping from the cup to shoot a bemused glance between them, Newt found himself unable to contain it. Teresa elbowed him a little sulkily for spilling it so soon, but he couldn't help it, caught by the strange excitement so suddenly as he was.

"You're going to want to meet her." Newt informed him, each word spoken with clear and defined purpose as he passed the oboist his cupcake, "Her buggin' name is Rachel."

Aris blinked, his face suddenly pale behind his glasses as his eyes turned wide in surprise. The image made Newt chuckle.

"Whose name is Rachel?"

The blonde jumped and shot the figure beside him a startled glance. Thomas, of course, had popped up right beside him like a shadow. Newt was lucky he hadn't actually spilled his coffee, he'd jerked his hand so fast.

"The uh, the new girl." he answered, covering the wobble in his voice with a cough, "At The Glade. She might be uh- We thought Aris might uh-"

Shoot, why was he suddenly so bloody nervous?

"We thought Aris would think she was cute." Teresa answered smoothly with a roll of her eyes, "She must have just started there."

"Oh." Thomas answered, looking at Newt with a vaguely puzzled expression creasing his face.

Newt felt like his whole break had just stopped functioning, and he blinked back at him stupidly. His mouth felt dry all of a sudden, and he wasn't sure why he felt so panicked and caught off guard and all he could think was how Sonya thought Thomas was a good match for him and how all he wanted was to kiss that subtle little twist of confusion right off his face.

"And she's- She's Rachel? Like- like with a-"

"With an e-l." Teresa answered quietly, her eyes flickering from Newt to Thomas and back while the blonde simply stood there looking guilty.

"Shit." Aris breathed, his whole face lighting up with something gentle and hopeful, "What if it's her?"

"We'll drop by after practice." Teresa answered quietly when Newt couldn't, "We can check, if she's still there."

Thomas was looking very very suspicious, and it wasn't helping Newt calm himself at all. He felt exposed and caught out, and when he finally opened his mouth to say something, he saw the light in Thomas' eyes shift just a shade the other way. He looked to Teresa for help, but it was too late. Thomas was far too smart for his own good.

"You know." Thomas breathed, and Newt shut his eyes as he felt himself cringe.

"Thomas," Teresa started, her hand curling comfortingly around Newt's wrist, "it's-"

"Wait- So you guys… What, you know?"

Newt froze up, turning to his best friend in guilty discomfort. Thomas's eyes were bright with hurt. Newt swallowed hard, watching the brunette slowly start to shake his head, his eyes never leaving Newt's face. The guilt rose cold in Newt's gut.

Shit.

"Tommy…"

The other boy shook his head again, his mouth opening and closing twice before he could find words.

"You do." he whispered, making the blonde wince, "You know. You all know?"

Newt looked away, his teeth finding the inside of his cheek as he looked to Teresa helplessly. Her sapphire eyes were guilty when they met his gaze, and she looked down at her feet.

"But I…" Thomas paused and Newt couldn't help it.

It was like he was drawn to him, just like always. Thomas would be his ruin, and Newt knew it. But it didn't stop the pain that lanced though his body at the look on his best friend's face. His eyes were murky and confused, his expression even more so, squirming on his face as though it didn't know what to do. Newt looked into those golden eyes and knew he'd fucked up big time.

"Newt?" Thomas asked, voice quiet and pitching.

Newt couldn't find the breath to answer, staring at him helplessly as a shuttered look crawled into those eyes.

"I'm sorry." was what his mouth chose to say.

Thomas's mouth twisted, his eyes flashing away. Newt's chest hurt at the shine of water in them.

"I have to go to the toilet." he said eventually, brushing past Newt roughly.

It was that most of all that glued the taller boy where he was, because Thomas was never rough with him, not ever. Teresa's hand gripped his wrist tightly just in case, but Newt just watched his best friend leave, feeling like maybe he'd ruined something important.

The three of them left gravitated to the seats because time was not their friend, and as Aris pointed out distractedly, they'd need the sugar for the three hours of pretty constant playing that lay ahead. When Thomas finally returned he slipped into the fold of the other choir members, and despite how Newt could nearly tear his eyes from him, the brunette didn't look his way once.

It hurt more than it should have, and it made his food taste dull and awful in his mouth. If his friends were talking to him, he hadn't heard them.

Newt wasn't proud of himself for the relief he felt when their attention was called and they were directed to their proper places in the pit. It was hard to concentrate on what was happening with the image of Thomas was burned in his head; the bemused twist on his lips, the emotion that looked so much like betrayal in his eyes. Maybe it wasn't, he reasoned, maybe it only looked like betrayal because he-

Because what?

Because really, deep down inside, Newt wanted it to be?

The entire practice was torture. Newt couldn't focus, messing up easy notes and earning himself more than a few concerned glances that quickly turned irritable. He felt like he spent the entire three hours on the verge of tears, and by the time he was packing up his instrument when they were let go, Thomas had already disappeared.

That night, he tossed and turned miserably, feeling cold and alone in his own bed and knowing he shouldn't be more used to sleeping near someone than by himself. The knowledge didn't help, of course, and it felt like he'd barely drifted off when his alarm screeched at him that Thursday was upon him.

He continued to lie with his face hidden in the pillow, truly considering staying home.

Chapter Text

The heel of his hand dug uncomfortably into his cheek as Newt stared absently at the board their maths teacher was writing on. He hadn't written anything in his jotter since dating the top of the page, but he couldn't find the will to care about it. He felt listless, like every move his limbs made took a lot of focus and effort that he didn't have.

The last fortnight had rocked him like a see-saw, lowering him into listlessness before swinging up into restlessness and back again, and the whole thing was just exhausting. It felt like his life had gone into stasis, or that his mind had gone into stasis, unable even to comprehend the way that time was slipping away between his fingers. Tomás shifted in the seat bedside him, perhaps trying to catch his attention, but Newt just blinked lazily at the formulae being noted across the whiteboard in squeaky blue pen and listened to the drone.

There were hardly any weeks of school left. You could feel it in the air, the impending end. Summer was already trying to dig its fingers into their days, and Newt had been forcibly reminded by the warm nights how very different his new home was to England. May in England was nowhere near this warm. Sometimes the sun came out and gave them a day or two of potential sunburn, but nothing like this. All of a sudden it felt like the nights were too hot to sleep, and he hadn't closed his bedroom window in two weeks.

Something else he hadn't done in those two weeks was have anything resembling a conversation with Thomas. He'd tried texting, he'd tried running into him in the halls, tried catching him before or during or after practice. Every attempt had been futile, every stilted greeting shot down by the clear discomfort on his best friend's face and the way he wouldn't meet Newt's eye. He'd never seen the boy like this. it was incredibly unsettling, like Thomas wasn't really Thomas but was a clone, or something. He looked just like him, but it was like all the life that used to leak from him was muted, all the colours dull.

If he hadn't made the friends here that he had, Newt was sure he'd have gone mad already. He was wracked by guilt from the moment he woke up until the moment he fell asleep, over how wounded Thomas had looked, realising he wasn't in on the secret they'd all shared so shamefully. Guilty about betraying him, guilty about loving him, guilty about being such a mopey shucking burden on his friends, who'd had to deal with him zoning out constantly, deal with his moods, deal with the fact that nothing interested him anymore. It was like all he could do was exist and think about Thomas and how guilty and awful he felt inside.

It was Tomás' elbow in his side that alerted him that the bell had gone. He had zero focus, and exams were only a week away. At this rate, he was going to fail each and every one of them, and University would remain a pipe dream for a future he'd thrown away.

His parents would be so disappointed.

Newt cleared his throat and flashed an admittedly weak smile at the boy beside him, wishing the short boy wouldn't look at him so concernedly as he packed up his stuff.

"Sorry."

Tomás's mouth shifted in a weak smile too, but he waited.

"You are still not yourself, Newt." he said carefully as they finally trailed, last from the room.

Newt sighed. His friend said nothing more, and Newt was grateful, even if it left a bad taste in his mouth to keep disengaging from any conversation the gang tried to raise with him. Thomas was still a sore subject, always such a sore subject, and Newt just… ached. All over. All the time.

He missed him.

"How did last night go?" he asked, shoving the thought aside before it could take hold.

Tomás's mouth ticked up in one corner as his gaze darted away from the blonde. He opened his mouth as though to speak before halting, closing it, and ducking his head. Newt watched as the very faint pink dusted his nose. It twisted something sickly and jealous inside of him, but he swallowed it down and said nothing.

"It was… pleasant." the shorter boy eventually admitted, glancing shyly at Newt as he held the double door open for him, "He surprised me."

"Oh?"

Tomás nodded, unable to bite down the smile that time, and Newt's stomach tightened further with envy. The slow, unexpected blooming of Tomás SoulBond would have been exciting to watch, under other circumstances. Seeing the bizarre - but welcome - shift in Gally's attitude towards them recently had been rather dreamlike. Newt was never fully sure he was awake when the larger boy caught sight of them in the halls now, his usually narrowed eyes alighting each time with something much more tender than Newt had ever considered him capable of. Something much gentler than Newt thought he could stomach.

"Oui. We weren't intending on going anywhere, but it turned out he had arranged for us to eat at the Italian place, out past the Wall?"

"Oh, nice."

His friend's face grew pinker, and his smile secretive. Newt busied himself with fiddling with his textbooks so he wouldn't have to look at the expression. The acidic feeling in his stomach pooled further.

"It was, Newt. I did not think we'd have so much in common. He's very different from what I thought."

Newt almost wanted to argue. A small flicker of outrage flared in his abdomen, fuelled by his own misery. Gally was a crank. Everybody knew that. He had to be faking, had to be playing the naive younger boy like a fiddle. The boy Tomás was - had openly admitted to - rapidly falling in love with couldn't be the Gally who had tormented Newt since he'd arrived. Couldn't be the boy Thomas had warned him of, the boy who'd assaulted him, picked fights with Thomas for years. It simply couldn't be him.

But he held his tongue.

It wouldn't do any good to say those things to his friend, not least because of the damage it'd do to their friendship. He'd already shucked up one friendship, he didn't need to lose Tomás and the others too. But it writhed in that little festering pool of jealousy in his stomach anyway. That Gally could find his soulmate, that Gally could go on dates and make Tomás blush, and stop hiding his wrist.

It just didn't feel fair.

Gally, who'd made it his life's work to belittle anyone he felt like. Gally, who'd spent years accosting other kids in the halls, years picking on smaller kids, and quiet kids, and awkward kids, and calling Newt's favourite person in all the world every single name in the book. What right did Gally have to a happiness Newt couldn't have?

What right did Gally have to walk the school halls with his wrist visible? To know the other half of his soul existed, and that they wanted him?

What right did he have to wear his copy of Newt's mark on his wrist, those same five letter that had haunted Newt since meeting Thomas?

Why was it Gally who could show the world that he'd found his Tommy, when Newt couldn't?

It just wasn't fair.

But Newt said nothing of the sort, forcing it all deeper into that sickly puddle of envy and pushing a smile across his face.

"That's great. That's really great, I'm happy it's going so well."

Tomás merely beamed, green eyes flashing joyfully when they reached Newt's locker, as they ditched their extra schoolwork for the blonde's lunchbox. Newt did his best to feel that joy, the way he knew he should. He'd been giddy for Teresa, excited for Aris. So why couldn't he feel the same way for their newest friend?

Gally aside, Newt liked Tomás. He wanted him to be happy. He just… He selfishly wished it wasn't with someone who bore Newt's same SoulMark. It just felt like a further slap in the face from a universe that seemed so desperate to hurt him.

"How has it gone with…" Tomás bit his lip as his gaze grew somber and flicked Newt's way, "You know. Any… progress?"

Newt swallowed hard and shook his head and avoided the shorter boy's gaze like a coward. Tomás made no further attempt to broach the subject as they entered the Hall, and Newt was relieved when he was finally surrounded by his friends again, the presence of Teresa on one side and Aris on the other unlocking some pressure door that had been hanging around his lungs all day. Minho was lounging in the front row of chairs, chatting with one of the Choir Girls, and Newt gave him a smile in greeting before turning resolutely back to Aris.

Seated between them as they performed their usual task of speed-eating their lunches, he was almost able to pretend the ache in his chest was missing.

Almost, that is, until the sound of his own name very nearly made him choke on his water.

Thomas was fidgeting, standing next to Teresa's chair, his round caramel eyes fixed only on Newt. The blonde swallowed hard, his eyes watering as he fought to force the water down the right way, and stared.

"Can we talk?"

Newt thought he;d never ask. He'd feared Thomas was done with him for good. His heart gave an unsteady leap in his chest as he nodded, lurching to his feet with more speed than probably necessary. If he'd bothered to tear his eyes from the brunette he'd have seen Aris's grin, seen Terea's smirk.

Thomas led him from the Hall, into one of the deserted corridors in silence, Newt's heart thudding painfully the entire time. When the shorter boy halted, Newt almost ran into him, so fixated was he on what Thomas could have to say that he didn't even notice they'd reached their secluded destination.

"Hi." Newt said with a wince, when Thomas didn't speak.

"Hi."

Shuck, Newt was nervous. Ridiculously, unexpectedly nervous.

"What, uhm. What's up?"

For a moment, the question hung in the air before Thomas finally turned his gaze Newt's way again. Newt barely suppressed the shiver that tickled his spine. Two weeks, he knew, was nothing. Fourteen short days, give or take, since their last real conversation. But standing right there, it felt like it had been a year. His skin rose in goosbumps at Thomas's proximity, the familiar smell of his cologne making Newt's face flush.

Without preamble, Thomas dove right in.

"I want you to show me your wrist."

Newt's blood froze in his veins and all the air left his chest in a sharp whoosh.

He looked like he'd thought about it a lot and Newt knew, without knowing how he knew, that it had been on Thomas's mind from that first moment, that it had chased him and nagged at him until right now. He looked at Thomas and he wanted to, he wanted so badly it hurt. His fingers twitched, his mouth opened, but he couldn't. His voice wouldn't come. His stomach rolled. He closed his mouth, apology heavy on his tongue.

"I'll show you mine." Thomas promised him, his voice soft and secretive as he looked up at him with those baleful honey browns.

It took everything Newt had to close his own eyes against the expression on Thomas's face.

"Please, Newt." the words were quiet, and Thomas didn't look away even though his eyes were starting to water.

He was so much braver than Newt, who could barely look him in the eye, who almost couldn't shake his head.

"I can't."

"But… The others know."

Newt turned away.

"I can't."

Thomas's fingers closed around his sleeve even as he strode towards the doors. Newt had to get back into the Hall. He knew for sure that was the only place he'd be able to draw breath. The only way to ease the vice on his lungs was to escape back through those doors, away from Thomas.

He'd spent a fortnight wishing he could be near him and now that he was, everything in him was screaming to get away. His gut clenched with nausea. An image of Thomas recoiling from his exposed wrist made his eyes water.

"Tommy…"

"Please, Newt. Show me."

Newt could only half swallow the sob that rose from his throat as he yanked his arm away. He forced his legs to carrying him out of reach, ignoring the call of his name behind him as he rushed back towards the rehearsal Hall.

Chapter Text

"How d'ya think you did?"

Newt blinked, momentarily disoriented as his eyes landed on the boy beside him. It was still strange, having Gally appear beside him, all bulk and dark eyes and unsettling presence.

"Well, I hope." Tomás responded, sounding no small measure relieved, "I am just glad it is over."

Gally's chuckle was unfamiliar, and Newt tried not to stare as the larger boy slid his hand almost bashfully into Tomás's. Despite the weeks Newt had had to get used to things like that, he still wasn't. It still felt a little like he'd stepped into an alternate reality. One where Gally actually smiled and carried an air of poorly fitting hesitancy, one where Thomas… One where Thomas didn't smile at all, it seemed.

"Newt?"

"Hm?"

"What about you?"

Newt blinked at him, and did his best not to twist his lips. It was automatic, to recoil from the bully, but he was trying, for his friend's sake, not to let it show on his face. He managed a weak shrug, not quite meeting Gally's eye.

"'Bout as well as could be expected, I think."

There was a moment of quiet awkwardness as they followed the rest of their classmates from the corridor, where Newt wasn't sure what to say and Gally didn't seem eager to ask any further. Only Tomás seemed content, his mouth a gentle smile, that perpetual pink flush across the bridge of his nose the only indication that he was still shy about the whole Soulmate thing.

Newt was trying his hardest to shove aside the animosity he was feeling, but it was an every-day challenge. He supposed it was getting a little better, but could anyone blame him if it was going to take time? Gally had bullied him for no reason since his very first day at the Glade, and had bullied Thomas for years. A bloke couldn't just drop all that history because the bully had a Soulmate. Even if said Soulmate was kind of a darling that should speak volumes about what kind of person the bully really was.

"Hey, shanks! Over here!"

The sight of Teresa, however, did make it easier. She stood at the end of the long corridor that had been repurposed for the assessment weeks, her hair spilling from a clumsy bun at the back of her head, Minho leaning against the doorframe beside her while students streamed past them both on their way to the cafeteria. While the exams had started - and long before Newt felt prepared for them - they did have some small perks. Perks like being let out early for lunch afterwards, an extra fifteen minutes to savour the rapidly dwindling time he had with his friends.

"Feel like the Maze?"

Newt quirked an eyebrow in return.

"Going to take full advantage of getting out first, eh?"

Her smile was sweet and not at all innocent and she hummed noncommittally as they met, slipping her arm through Newt's as they all moved towards the main lobby exit.

"He'll meet us there once he gets out."

Newt snorted, but when she squeezed his arm and rested her cheek against his shoulder, he met her smile with one of his own. He'd miss her, when the summer was up. He'd miss them all more than he'd ever have expected.

"I missed him at break. How did last night go?"

Teresa's laugh was teasing and twinkly, and her blue eyes flashed cheekily.

"He met her grandmother. She made them this seriously lovely dinner, all formal and everything, and then right when he relaxed she gave them the talk."

Newt choked on his laugh as it was startled out of him, feeling sympathy for Aris even as they giggled together.

"Oh god, she did bloody not."

"She did!" Teresa cackled, leaning heavily on his arm as she wobbled.

"Shucking hell. Poor Aris."

Teresa waggled her eyebrows and grinned wickedly, her voice lowering.

"I don't know, broached the topic for them, if you think about it."

Newt pushed her half-heartedly as he felt his face heat, but she stayed looped around his arm the rest of the way to the cafe, snickering every few minutes as the humour overcame her. For his part, Newt rolled his eyes and thought of how mortified Aris must have been, trying his damnedest not to feel the faint little thread of envy lurking in his gut.

He'd find his Soulmate one day, and he could have this too, family dinners and embarrassing - but admittedly exciting - conversations and talks about the future the way Teresa and Minho were already having.

He just kind of wished he had them now, so that he wouldn't feel like such a fifth wheel among his friends as they queued for coffee and lunch, bickering pleasantly over seating and comparing what answers they'd put for which questions.

When he finally arrived, Aris fell into the seat left next to Newt with a melodramatic groan about the unfairness of their extra long lunch, and was immediately subject to a volley of retorts about not taking his senior exams yet. Gally was quiet, for the most part, whether because of awkwardness or a desire to keep his distance it wasn't clear, but his presence never really left Newt's peripheral senses all the same, and he wondered whether he'd ever fully relax around Gally the way that Teresa was already so good at pretending she could.

"How's… things, Newt?"

Newt glanced up from the salad he was pushing around his plate in thought, and it took him a moment to place why Aris was hedging his question. The bespectacled boy wasn't rude enough to actually glance in Gally's direction, but when Newt caught on, he wondered whether Gally knew. And, surprising himself, he almost felt bad for the attempt at exclusion.

Things. Things with Thomas, was what he was really asking.

Newt lifted his shoulders in a weak shrug and couldn't meet his eye any longer.

"'bout the same," he answered quietly, wondering if it was obvious - even to Gally - how miserable he felt, "all quiet."

An awkward air fell upon their table for a moment, and he had to suppress the urge to push out his chair and escape. Running wouldn't fix anything, of course, it wouldn't even help, but it was tempting.

The inevitable and unchangeable end to his time at the school was approaching faster every day. Not even the growing excitement for the Band Trip in June that bubbled from his friends every practice could fully stem Newt's dread. Even the buggin' exams being nearly over was of much distress to the blonde.

"It'll sort itself." Teresa said finally, and despite himself it raised a small smile from him.

"Yeah," Aris volunteered, "it can't last. Doesn't ever seem to, y'know?"

Tomás gave an abrupt laugh, and his eyes danced when Newt looked at him side-on.

"I agree."

The chilled weight that had been residing in Newt's stomach lessened considerably and he smiled for real. It was rude of him, really, to be so focused on missing Thomas that he should forget he'd made other, brilliant friends this past year.

He hoped fervently that things would sort themselves out between him and the brunette, though in his - frequent - moments of despair, he couldn't see how it would be possible without sharing with Thomas the one thing he couldn't bear to.

Chapter Text

"Are you coming over, after your tour?"

Newt shrugged, even though he knew she couldn't see. He'd doodled mindlessly as they talked, and it was only just dawning on him what journey his pencil had taken across the margin of his practice test paper. He hummed noncommittally as he traded pencil for eraser, and began the task of rubbing the paper clean.

"I'd like to. Harry and I never did get to finish that Scrabble game."

He grinned at the sound of his sister's melodious laughter, and filled with mild pride when she relayed his words to her soulmate.

"She says as she remembers it, you did, and she was winning."

Newt spluttered in feigned indignation and for a while their conversation continued in that vein, with Sonya playing messenger between the two of them with much audible amusement. When the topic trailed away and the line became quiet again, he could feel the change in her mood as though she were there, beside him.

"Any news on the other front?"

Newt hesitated. He didn't want to bring their conversation down with sombre words. Evidently he dawdled too long on his wording, because her voice took on an apologetic edge.

"Newt?"

"Sorry. Yeah, no news. Nothing… nothing's changed."

Sonya sighed, and he wished she was there to wrap a sympathetic arm around his shoulders. Shuck, how he missed her.

"Are…" she trailed off, and Newt was grateful. She had to know, by now, how tired he was of being asked that.

"I wish I could help." she settled on finally, and Newt forced out a short chuckle.

"I know."

"I feel so helpless, over here." she pouted, "If I were there…"

Newt's face warmed at the insinuation, and despite her teasing his chest felt lighter.

"I know."

He could hear her grin.

"You'd both have black eyes."

He laughed.

"Well, thank the gods you're safe across the sea, then."

Her chuckle was bright. Newt's heart ached a little.

"Seriously, though. If there's anything I can do, anything I can say..."

Newt heaved a sigh and slumped back in his chair. Something else had been bothering him, gnawing quietly in the background as he'd watched Tomás and Gally dance around their new bond these last couple weeks. He'd maybe been over-protective of the smaller boy, or maybe just had too much new free time on his hands, with Thomas missing. But he'd been watching, wrong or right. And he was… curious.

"Actually," he started, hearing her sit up properly to listen, "on an unrelated note, how was… what was Harry like, when you met?"

"Harry?"

"Yeah," he toyed with his bottom lip as he tried to vocalise the question he'd been obsessing over, "was she… did she change, when you met? I mean you haven't, really, but… well people always say you don't, but my friend Tomás..."

His voice fizzled out lamely, and he huffed in frustration.

"Not.. really." Sonya answered, though she sounded more thoughtful now than bemused, "she's always been pretty much the way she is-" he heard Harry's voice, muffled and querying. He waited.

"Sorry. Nah, she's always been the same. But she says her mum was different before meetin' her da."

Newt straightened a little.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Says she was a right mousy type, but her da was… what?" she directed to Harry, and Newt strained to hear, "well," Sonya started again, sounded a little embarrassed, "her da was a bit… well. He was a ladies man."

Newt flushed a little, but his grip on the receiver tightened in hope.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, apparently they wouldn't ever have crossed paths if it wasn't for her aunt, and when they started out together they changed practically overnight."

"Really?"

The worry in Newt's stomach unwound. If it had happened to other people, maybe Gally really was in the process of changing, or trying to, for Tomás. This was good news, really good news, because Newt had worried he'd never grow to like the boy, or that once the initial new-bond feelings faded, Gally might be a crank again.

"This person Tomás has met, they his wristmate?"

"Yeah," Newt breathed, and he knew he sounded relieved, "it's… well it's Gally."

"Gally?" He could picture her eyebrows shooting up, "The deadhead?"

"Yeah," Newt laughed, "the deadhead."

"Shuckin' hell." Sonya snorted, "What a weird match, I'd have thought."

"I thought so."

"Then again, Tomás being who he is, he's probably the best person to take the task on, ya think?"

Newt blinked, and realised she was right.

"Yeah."

Their conversation turned to other, more mundane things, and she asked after his exams and his studying. When they hung up, Newt sat for a time in thought. If Gally was trying, really trying to change, then maybe Newt should really be a bigger person too, and help him. After all, Tomás had become important to him, and he cared what the younger boy had to say, and he cared for his happiness. Maybe he and Gally would never get along to the same extent, but the least he could do would be to make an effort.

Maybe that might even be easier, without Thomas around as a reminder of the years of terrorising him that Gally had done. He felt a twinge of guilt for thinking it, of course. But he had to get used to life without Thomas. It was ridiculous that the world had seemed to shrink to involve only him, these past months. He was neglecting everything else, like a lovestruck girl. It was laughable.

All this he told himself while finishing up the few questions he had left before turning in for the night. His maths exam was going to be the worst one, he predicted, since he'd always found it difficult. And particularly, with his own distraction the last few weeks, he'd really neglected a lot of the study material his teacher had foisted on them every lesson. He'd need a miracle to do well.

He lay in the dark for a long hour, thinking about everything despite his resolve to sleep. It had never occurred to him to think of Gally as anything other than the bully he'd been presented as, and despite the very real evidence that the bigger boy had been every inch a bully, he'd been bound forever to one of the sweetest people Newt had ever had the pleasure of meeting, and that was a startling enough revelation to warrant a second chance, in his opinion.

Especially if, as Sonya said, sometimes soulmates really did change each other overnight.

Chapter Text

"Alright, pencils down. Remain in your seat until Mrs Hartman has collected your paper, and only then may you go."

Newt set his pencil down somewhat reluctantly. While he'd finished, - or at least attempted every question, - he'd spent the few minutes since completing them to return to ones he wasn't so sure about. He wasn't at all satisfied with the answers he had for two or three of them, but one in particular he'd been puzzling over almost obsessively.

He hated knowing his answer was wrong, somehow, but being unable to solve the mystery as to how.

Being nearer the back of the room than the front, the kind-faced elderly lady collecting their exams reached him well before she reached Teresa in the front row. She lifted her dark head to look for him when she was finally freed from her chair, her expression every bit as satisfied as he knew his was pained.

Teresa being a Maths whizz was a buggin' nuisance. When she grinned at him, he stuck out his tongue at her just to hear the tinkling laugh she gave in return. He tipped his head towards the doors and waited while she trotted over to the wall to grab her bag first. Newt had started leaving his entire schoolbag in his locker, after the first three times he had to traipse all the way back to the hall to collect it after forgetting he'd left it against the wall when taking his seat.

As if it wouldn't be really obvious someone was cheating, if they had their bags with them at the tables, but whatever.

"Maze?"

Newt laughed.

"No, I promised him I'd vote Glade."

Teresa gave him a dramatic groan, throwing her head back and almost whacking it against the doorframe as they escaped into the corridor.

"I was hoping to take advantage of the fog you're living in, figured you might have forgotten."

Newt feigned more insult than he really felt as he gave her a half-hearted shove into Minho, who appeared at just the right moment to catch her balance.

"Ouch." he complained, and Tomás gave an agreeable hum as he joined them.

"That is cruel, Teresa." he pointed out pleasantly, and she rolled her eyes at the faux telling-off.

"Alright, jeez. Seriously, though. How you feeling?"

Newt looked at her, and she gave a questioning raise of one eyebrow at his lack of an immediate answer.

"About the exam, moron."

Ah. Newt shrugged and let out a long sigh.

"Glad it's buggin' over."

Gally snorted from Tomás' other side.

"You and me both. I shucking' hate math."

Newt made the effort to look at him and give a wan smile in agreement, but Teresa cut off anything he would have awkwardly said, by giving a short laugh.

"So that's why you spend all period terrorising him. Gotcha."

Everybody sort of froze, was the best way Newt could think the following few seconds went. They were all still walking, the doors to the warm May air outside growing closer, but for several long, painful seconds, nobody spoke. Newt felt hot and out of breath, and wishing the floor would eat him was an understatement as he chickened out of looking Gally's way to see how he would take it.

"Babe."

Thank the gods for Minho. He was gentle, but it was clear he was voicing how they all felt about her comment. She blew her breath out, and slumped a little. Newt couldn't help but glance her way, and she already looked kind of sorry, in her own fierce Teresa-like way.

"Okay, maybe I-"

"No, it's cool."

Newt had whipped his head around before he thought about it, and Tomás was looking up at him with watery green eyes. Gally had hung his head, looking down at his hand found around the shorter boy's, and Newt realised suddenly that they'd all stopped moving.

"It's not like she's sayin' anything the rest of you weren't thinking."

"Galileo," Tomás murmured, moving just a little closer to him, his eyes still on Newt with an expression the blonde couldn't rightly decipher on his features, "don't."

Newt felt very much like he was intruding, as he often did when the two were together, and he couldn't look at the new boy any longer, shame welling up his throat because Gally was right. Teresa might have been the only one to say it, but that didn't make her the only one thinking it.

The newest member of their little group cleared his throat, and started walking again.

"Wasn't going to." he answered his Soulmate, and Tomás caught Newt's elbow to drag him back into motion too.

They continued outside in silence, and Newt felt more awkward than he had in a long while, as one couple walked slightly ahead of him and one walked slightly behind, and he walked alone, stuck in the middle and wishing more fiercely than he thought he could, that Thomas was with him. Maybe he was just strung out, exhausted by study and anxious about exams and missing his best friend, but his eyes were welling up and he just didn't want to be there any more, didn't want to go to lunch. As he thought about it, putting one foot in front of the other, the claustrophobia began to rise and suffocate his lungs.

Without really thinking, he turned on his heel and started back the way they'd come, ignoring Teresa's surprised call, and tucking his arms closer to his side as she grabbed for him. He didn't want to cause a scene, hoped they'd take the hint and just continue on without him as he almost sprinted back towards the building, trying to remember what class Aris had said he had before lunch today.

The bell rang not not after he arrived in the corridor, and he hoped he'd guessed right, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, trying to look both invisible and non-awkward, and aware he was probably failing at both. Worry squirmed in his stomach, but it was too late to bail now, and so he stood, the wall cold against his back keeping him upright, watching as classroom doors opened and students streamed out.

It felt like an eternity before the river of people thinned out, the last and slowest moving off towards the doors in drips and drabs, and Newt was figuring he'd gotten it wrong before they appeared, a pair of dark head walking slowly, Aris's green eyes furrowed in concern, and the boy beside him looking as dejected as Newt had been feeling recently.

Aris saw him first, his initial surprise melting very quickly into a naked kind of hope as he nudged his companion, and Newt's heart leapt into his throat as the second face turned his way, dull amber eyes catching his.

"I'll maybe see you guys at lunch?" Aris broke the silence softly, his voice almost disappearing under the distant yells and feet of students heading out.

Newt swallowed painfully, nodding half-heartedly, and shooting Aris a look for guidance he knew he wouldn't be able to give. In return, he got a small smile, and Aris patted Thomas on the shoulder before he too walked away.

The corridor was dead, suddenly and painfully, and Newt swallowed again and cleared his throat. Thomas stayed quiet, his head downturned as he fiddled with his rucksack strap, and Newt just… couldn't find anything to say. He knew what it would take to make things okay between them again, except it wouldn't make anything better. Showing Thomas his wrist would fix the rift that refusing had torn, but the knowledge that his name was on Newt's wrist would just break them anew.

It'd be cruel, to them both, and he didn't want that. He didn't want to look at the brunette and see the same pain in those eyes that he himself carried all the time, he just couldn't do that.

To his horror, he felt his eyes welling up again.

It just wasn't fair.

They stood, in uninterrupted silence, accompanied only by the occasional faint sounds of teachers moving behind classroom doors, and Newt felt the first of his tears crest his cheek and streak down his face.

"I'm sorry." he croaked. He wished he could explain why he couldn't share why.

Thomas looked up at him, his own eyes wet, and he didn't say anything. He just strode forwards and pushed Newt hard against the wall, pressing him into a hard hug that had Newt crying into his hair and he buried his face into the blonde's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Newt repeated, with what breath he could get around the lump in his throat and the burning in his chest."I'm sorry."

Thomas shook his head, and it broke Newt's heart all over again to hear him crying too. It wasn't a solution, and nothing was fixed, and if anything things might even be worse, but Newt tugged him closer and tried to get himself under control as the weight inside his chest lifted just enough to breathe.

When he felt he wouldn't burst into any more tears he scrubbed his face dry and cleared his throat, and Thomas shrank a little against him.

"We should get to lunch before the bell goes again." he managed to struggle out, his face burning from shame at breaking down in the corridor, of all places.

Thomas pulled away seconds later, his own face wiped clear, his eyes downcast as he did. Newt's insides twisted, wishing there was something he could do, or say, that would fix this, because it felt like any minute the other shoe was going to drop and Thomas was going to walk away, and he was going to live the rest of his life regretting it and wishing he could have stopped him.

"Aris said it's The Glade today."

Newt nodded, and when he realise Thomas couldn't see that, he voiced the affirmative. Thomas nodded back, and then turned away.

"Maze?"

Newt hadn't realised until then that he was dreading seeing the others, and it hurt, bittersweet, that his friend would offer him an escape.

"Yeah."

Thomas led the way, Newt following behind, wondering how they were going to move forwards now, but desperate to believe this was a chance to do so. When they got outside, the back of Thomas's hand brushed Newt's knuckles, and for just a second, the brunette's little finger curled around his with a single soft squeeze.

Chapter Text

Newt had never really thought things with Thomas could be awkward. They had been, before, of course. But every time things returned to normal - or, rather, every time they found a new normal, their own normal - it was as if he forgot. But the silence, the silence was awful. He walked beside the brunette as they made their way off school grounds, as they walked a path so familiar, but it felt as if they might as well be miles apart.

It was aching, deep in the centre of his chest, and yet he kept walking. Because somehow, it was still worse to be without him than it was to be with him. Even with all the twisting in his stomach, he still, somehow, felt better than he had for weeks. Brimming over, even, with hope and desperation.

He was utterly shucked.

The silence accompanied them the entire way there, heavy enough to feel like a whole other person, like Time, slipping away between them in stolen minutes and silent pain, pressing and pressuring growing, crushing all the air from his chest so hard that when Thomas pushed open the door to one of their favourite places and held it for him, Newt did something just a little bit stupid.

Thomas stepped back, one arm holding open the door as a woman ducked between them with a hurried thank you, the heat of the early Summer sunshine streaming through the leaves of the tree in the parking lot, melting the amber in Thomas's eyes to honey, dancing across his face like stardust, painting threads of gold in his hair, and everything just…

For just one single, infinite, breathless second, Newt felt... peaceful.

Just one second, but it was enough.

With Thomas looking up at him, his face softening into something recognisably warm as if he felt it too, Newt reached out and ran his fingers through the kinks of his fringe. Without his permission his feet took him forwards, Thomas' face turning up towards him like a flower to the sun as his fingers slid of their own accord, the brunette's head cradled in his palm. Thomas's palm, cool against his cheek, Thomas' nose, warm as it brushed his own.

All at once, he was suddenly there, in that moment, with everything he wanted within reach, with the beat of Thomas's heart under his fingers, and he didn't have enough time to fear it.

Thomas tasted like honey and salt, and a precious warmth bloomed in Newt's chest as the boy's lips moved against his own, his own fingers tightening in brown hair, a hand fisting in his sweatshirt collar. Thomas pressed closer still, his hands slipping up, his arms around Newt's neck, pulling him further into the kiss, causing further little bursts of heat to course across Newt's ribcage.

It was an endless moment of sheer, startling, gloriously unplanned bliss.

The shrill blaring of his alarm startled him awake, and Newt felt such a surge of grief at being cheated of even his dreams, that for a moment he could do nothing but shake with silent tears.

Chapter Text

"How'd it go?"

Newt swore he jumped at least foot in the air as Aris snapped him from his exhausted zoning out.

"What?" he asked dumbly, blinking at the green-eyed boy.

Aris's face showed fresh amusement, his eyebrows raising in a manner that suggested Newt was being coy. Newt should know, of course, what Aris was on about, but he'd lain awake most of the night, too scared to go back to sleep, and now he was paying for it, because he hadn't been sleeping well before that, either.

"That good, huh?"

Newt scrubbed his face with one hand and tried to place what he could mean. It seemed he was quiet a tad too long, because a worried note slipped into his friend's voice.

"Are you okay?"

Newt opened his mouth to answer, just tired, didn't get much sleep last night- when they were abruptly joined by three other figures, and of course, the sudden memory of the last time he'd seen Thomas - real, or imagined - made his face burn.

"Newt?"

The oboist ignored Teresa's greeting, laying a hand on the blonde's arm.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Just, uh- didn't, didn't get much sleep. That's all."

Aris looked at him carefully, his gaze flickering over the others only very briefly before a new light appeared in his eyes.

"Huh." he hummed, thoughtfully, and Newt wished he wasn't still thinking about that dream.

"Good to see you, Thomas." was what the bespectacled boy eventually said, turning back to the rest of the group as his face cleared, and Newt wished he could convince himself that nobody else thought that exchange was very, very weird.

Teresa was eying him, but she let Aris engage her in conversation and didn't say anything, and Minho kissed her cheek and headed off to his early meeting, and that just left… Thomas. The brunette hovered by their friends, tapping at his phone and looking about as awkward as Newt felt. Newt swallowed down every opener that rose to his tongue and kept himself quiet, trying his best to be able to look at the other boy without seeing it, his stomach flipping, his skin burning so hot it must be visible, and trying his absolute best not to let it show on his face where his head was at.

It was a new kind of torture, but when Thomas eventually stopped pretending he was on his phone and slipped the device into his pocket, the tentative smile he shot Newt was worth it.

~.~

"Seriously," came the amused chuckle, "how did it go?"

Newt lifted his sandwich just to buy time, chewing slowly as he tried to phrase his reply. Sandwiched in-between Aris and Teresa with few minutes left before rehearsal, it was kind of a miracle he'd managed to dodge that question all day.

He was, of course, still intensely aware of Thomas' presence a few rows over, but he'd decided that yes, it was worth this new level of uncertainty to have the brunette around again. Things might get better, he had to hope they would, if they were both trying.

"Alright," he began, carefully, "it… things are awkward. But, I guess, he doesn't hate me any more."

Teresa's snort was biting, and he eyed her in surprise as she levelled him with an exasperated look. Aris shot her a look that Newt didn't miss, but was sure stilled her tongue from spilling whatever it was she was about to - probably - argue with.

"I don't think he hates you." Aris said instead, clicking shut the lid of his own lunchbox and giving Newt an almost sad look, "I don't think he's capable of hating you."

Newt couldn't meet his eye any more, shrugging in place of a rebuttal. It was uncomfortable to have reminders like that, that everybody seemed to know how Thomas felt about him, or how he felt about Thomas, or how they- It was. Ugh.

What was he supposed to do, now? They couldn't be together, they were trying to heal a friendship that wanted more than they could give it, and…

And Newt couldn't get that shucking dream out of his head.

"Things'll be okay." Aris said firmly, patting him on the knee before rising and adjusting his glasses.

"Unless you don't finish in the next thirty seconds, because it looks like she's on a warpath today."

Newt looked over to see the Drama teacher, her expression cross and impatient, as she ushered the choir onto the stage. Teresa laughed at his expression.

"So are you gonna be able to play today, or are you gonna keep daydreaming about your dream man?"

"What?! How did- I haven't, I- "

Newt knew instantly that his alarm was betraying him. Teresa looked at him with a surprise that quickly turned to suspicion, and slid right into her trademark predatory glee.

"How did I what, now?"

Newt rolled his eyes to the ceiling as Aris crowded closer too, Terea's bright laugh evil and telling.

"Ohh, I'd nearly forgotten how shucking bad you have it. Dreaming about weddings, hm?"

"Teresa," Aris hissed, knocking her shoulder, "watch your volume."

Newt dropped his face, and it only took a brief glance around the room to know that more than a few people had heard her. On the stage, Thomas' amber eyes found his, before dropping to his sheet music, and Newt fell further in love when he saw the faint pink flood the boy's cheeks.

While he hadn't told Aris or anyone else what they'd talked about the day before - because it was personal, and because it made him anxious just knowing that Thomas knew how much he'd missed him - he was suddenly afraid of (and curious about) the possibility that his best friend had shared their conversation with the others.

"Lighten up, Newt, jeez."

"Sorry," he forced a sheepish grin and met her eye again, "I just didn't get enough sleep last night and yesterday was… taxin'."

Her expression softened a little, and she rolled her eyes.

"There's an easy answer, y'know." she muttered before getting up and grabbing her flute.

When he didn't answer, she sighed.

"I know," she amended, "but."

Newt nodded and got to his feet, following them both to their seats as Miss Paige shot the stragglers an irritated glance. When he'd gotten his folder open and was ready to play, he couldn't help but glance upwards, and that time when Thomas smiled at him, he even managed to smile back.

Chapter Text

Newt turned over and fumbled on the bedside table for his phone, sighing in relief as he hit the button to make the alarm stop. It was already bright in his room, sunlight streaming in through the window as he blinked the sleep from his eyes and lay for a moment in the new quiet. Another week almost over.

He'd had his last exam.

That was it.

There was no real obligation to go to school, no new topics for his teachers to introduce, no more notes in his jotters. It was… terrifying, where it should have been freeing. He didn't really feel relieved, but maybe that would come once the new freedom really clicked for him. He still got out of bed, still picked out his clothes and shrugged on his high tops, and made his way down for breakfast.

His mum gave him a knowing smile, and he smiled back when she took another plate from the cupboard for him.

"You're up early," he greeted her, kissing her cheek before checking the kettle was full enough and switching it on.

"I could say the same," she laughed, bumping him with her hips as he passed her, "I thought you were finished up now."

"Yeah, well. Apparently classes are still on, we just don't have anythin' to buggin' do."

She hummed, flipping eggs over in the pan she was working with. Newt set mugs out, dropping teabags and sugar into them.

"So you're still goin'?"

"Figured there's not really anythin' else to do. And we still have concert rehearsals, and all the new material for the tour."

"It'll be nice to get that extra time before finishing up," she added gently, sliding food onto one plate and then the other, "with your friends."

Newt nodded, watching the water in the kettle as it started to bubble, his mind wandering just a little to the friend he desperately wanted to spend more of that time with. Even now, he was anxious to get going, anxious to continue repairing the rend in their bond.

"That was what I was thinkin', yeah."

She set his plate at the table and waved him into the seat, filling both mugs when the kettle clicked off. Newt waited til she settled beside him with her own plate, stirring the bag around his mug and watching it spin.

"You look blue."

He looked up, startled at the observation.

"Do I?"

She simply smiled, the one that said Can't fool me, bub, and squeezed her own teabag out, adding milk to the mug, before passing him the bottle. She didn't say anything more, letting him get his thoughts in order while he sorted his own tea.

When he'd set the milk back on the table, he shrugged.

"I don't think I'm blue, just…" he trailed off and stared at his breakfast, poking at the egg atop his toast until the yolk broke and he could spread it over the bread.

"It's alright be scared, Newt. This is a big step, a big change. It's been a big decision to make."

"I know." he said softly, before sighing.

"I think you've chosen well." she added, reaching over to take his hand and squeezing it, "I know that it was a hard choice, and it's hard to make big decisions when you're worried about making the wrong choice. But all your options were good ones, so don't panic."

He gave her a grateful smile that time, squeezing back.

"Thanks."

"Eat," she said, "if you're still goin', you're not being late."

It made him laugh, and he realised suddenly that he was starving. It was several moments before he noticed it, that very subtle change in the air. When he looked up, she looked distracted, but it didn't sit right on her face.

"Sonya phoned," she eventually offered, kind of stiffly, when they'd eaten most of their meal, "she wanted to talk to you but you were out like a light when you got home last night and I didn't want to wake you."

Newt raised his eyebrows in question, confused by her tone, but his mother kept sipping her tea, looking down at her phone, and he had to prompt her.

"And..?"

Suddenly, his mother looked… unhappy.

"Mum?"

She met his eye with a sigh.

"She's worried."

"Worried? About what?"

"Didn't say she was worried, you know what she's like, but it was enough. Is everythin'…" her hesitation had him worried, "Is there anything that you want to talk to me and your dad about?"

Newt felt a little sick, suddenly. Sonya wouldn't have said anything, not when she knew as well as he did how traditional their parents could be about certain things, but it didn't help his stomach clenching with anxiety anyway. She wouldn't have, but what if they'd… guessed?

"What d'you mean?"

She pursed her lips, and Newt knew he'd said the wrong thing.

"We're here for you, y'know." she said, carefully, and it was clear she was choosing her words, "I know you weren't happy about us draggin' you all the way here, but we thought… we thought you were happy here, now."

"I am," admitted, because it was true now, "I like it here."

She looked at him for a long moment, and Newt realised that what he'd initially thought was disapproval was something else. She looked… concerned. Scared, almost. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen his mother scared, before.

"You know that we love you, right?"

Newt stared at her in alarm.

"Course I know. What's wrong? What did Sonya say?"

He watched her as she studied his face, clearly deciding how much to say. Anxiety started scratching at his throat long before she gave in.

"She wanted to talk about the Uni you picked. She was… she was telling us she had space for you, sounded like she thought maybe you'd want to go and live with her and Harry, back home."

"So?"

His mum picked up her mug, but put it down again without drinking from it. Newt watched her stalling, worry gnawing all the way up his windpipe as he started to panic. What if she knew? Oh Gods, what had he done?

"I…"

He didn't know what to say, didn't know what he could say without sounding defensive, terrified he'd sound like he had a secret they'd hate him for, that he might give it away if she didn't know. Fiercely hoping that she didn't.

But what else could it be? He could no longer decipher the expression on her face, the way her eyes had darkened. Was she angry? Disappointed? Despite everything, he felt ashamed.

"Whatever it is, you know you can tell us," she eventually said, her voice low and quiet, her face turned almost away from him, "we just want you to know we love you, me and your dad just want what's best for you."

Heart hammering hard, Newt opened his mouth to say - say something, Heavens knows what - when she did look at him, and finally spat it out.

"We're concerned about you, you and…"

He heard it before she said it.

"Thomas."

He couldn't bear to look at her anymore, because he knew she would see it, see everything, in his face. His breakfast tried to come back up. A week? Was that all he was to get?

"Con- concerned?"

In the silence, he stared at his plate and tried to hold back the burning in his eyes and nose.

Blissfully, like a beacon, his phone began ringing. He snatched for it, unsure why, unsure whether she'd take it from him, and hit the decline button. Minho's ID flashed across the screen before it went dark again, and Newt cleared his throat.

"I'm gonna be late." he managed to force out, pushing out his chair, "See you later."

He'd never felt the kitchen was long until striding to escape it right then.

Fuck.

She knew, by Gods, she knew.

Chapter Text

It was difficult to contain the stretch of his grin when he caught sight of them, shoving each other on the corner while they waited for him. His stomach fluttered, despite the way he'd felt leaving the house not ten minutes before. It was impossible, to quench the way everything seemed to thrum inside of him at the sight of him.

Minho's laugh reached his ears next, whatever Thomas had yelped as he dove away making the older boy throw back his head. It was him who spotted the blonde first, his expression melting into warm acknowledgment. Thomas turned his head to look, and there, there it was, Newt's favourite smile, blooming across his- his best friend's face and lighting him up.

"Hey, shank." Minho greeted, clearly not trying to hide the suggestive amusement on his face.

Newt felt his face heat, but Thomas had bounded to his side and thrown an arm around his waist, tugging him off-balance and into a tight hug that made him laugh.

"Mornin'." he responded, giving Thomas a brief squeeze before pushing at him, "Barnacle today, I see."

Thomas hung on a few seconds longer before letting go with flashing eyes and dancing back over to Minho with a laugh. He looked back over his shoulder to grin at Newt.

"You love it." he teased, and Newt could roll his eyes all he liked, they both knew he did.

The walk to school was pleasant, the weather warmer than Newt was really prepared for, still caught by surprise after all his years in the UK. Summer was making its approach known, and while the end of term and the end of his time at The Glade was drawing far too close far too fast, it was hard not to feel buoyed by the sunshine and the company of his friends.

He was glad Minho was still going in, too. It'd be much better to share his lazy, empty school hours with Minho's wicked sense of humour, especially if Gally was in all day too. Without the structure of class schedules or exams or study rooms, he was expecting there to be very little in the way of an excuse not to spend time with the bigger boy.

While Gally continued to be making an effort to get to know Newt, it was awkward still, and sometimes conversation just dried up. Minho would make a good shield for that, Newt hoped. Surely between the two of them, they'd come up with enough to talk about.

Thomas's knuckles brushed against Newt's every few moments while they walked, deep in discussion with Minho about some track team topic or other they were both invested in that Newt hadn't yet gotten his head around. Each time, the contact was a tiny buzz of electricity that fizzed the whole way up Newt's arm, and the temptation to take the brunette's hand only grew with each brush.

One block from school, he caved, and when it happened he twisted his little finger around Thomas's, and squeezed. Thomas tangled what he could of the rest of their fingers together, awkward and silly, and brilliant, and Newt's heart thumped hard, even when they reached school grounds and the warm breeze was between them again.

The building was still a little cooler inside than out, not yet warmed by the students or the sun, and it was a pleasant temperature as they passed through the crush area. At the junction for the music corridor, Thomas paused.

"I have to go talk to Ms. Everby about my essay. Say hey to them for me?"

Newt opened his mouth to say he would, but Thomas was looking at Minho, and Minho answered first.

"Sure. See you Interval?"

"Yeah," Thomas grinned, before flicking a glance Newt's way and tipping his head, "Newt?"

The blonde blinked, before shrugging.

"Could do. She's near my homeroom anyway."

Minho gave them his usual smirk, unhidden amusement as he turned down the hall, and Newt swallowed a denial at the unspoken taunt. Being defensive only made him look guilty, and would play right into his hands, anyway.

Thomas was quiet as Newt followed him down the still empty corridors, his mind wandering just a little. So he might have yelped a little when Thomas pulled him over the threshold, caught entirely unaware as he was herded against the door when it closed.

"Jeez, Tommy, what-"

Thomas bounced up onto his toes, suddenly right in Newt's space, leaning into him as the wood took their weight. Newt's heart stuttered at the suddenness, at the proximity, at the anticipation as Thomas's nose brushed him, and honeyed amber eyes rose to meet his own.

They shared a breath, Newt's heart finding a new, unsteady, and very, very fast rhythm. It was an endless moment as they looked at one another. Thankfully, there was no teacher in sight.

"If she comes back," he managed to choke out, voice weak and husky, "before the bell…"

And Thomas, Thomas beamed, bright and proud and pleased, and gave a short, breathless chuckle.

"She's on maternity leave now. Went into labour on Tuesday, didn't you hear?"

Newt flushed at the implication, and pouted, just a little bit.

"I've been buggin' busy all week, as you bloody well know."

Thomas's grin was just the right side of wicked, before his gaze fluttered further down Newt's face, and the racing in the blonde's chest skipped a beat. Or four. When he looked back up, swaying, their noses brushing, Newt couldn't help the way his breath caught. Thomas's expression softened into something vulnerable and sweet.

"I know."

It had been a day, and not even that long, since the last time, but Newt was beginning to suspect that every time Thomas kissed him would feel like the first, filled with shy nerves and promises, and he was glad he'd risked what he had, to stand outside in that corridor last week, to screw his courage down and open afresh their friendship. It was new, and terrifying, but heat bloomed across his chest when Thomas's mouth met his, and it was glorious.

Dreams were one thing. But this? It couldn't compare. As Thomas pressed a little closer, cautious with every move, tentative fingers reaching for Newt's cheek, Newt could say with honestly that no dream could come close.

And he, of all people, should know.