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The church bells in the distance rang at regular intervals like a mantra. A snowflake danced playfully back and forth in front of Thomas' nose, swirling in small circles. His sneakers sank into the cool yet glistening wetness, soaking his feet. Thomas could not imagine a more beautiful time than Christmas. Although there were frosty temperatures outside and his hands were red with cold, he felt as warm inside as no heated ray of sunshine could have triggered.
He skipped along the snow-covered pavement - on Christmas Eve, people understandably had better things to do than clear the paths - and came to a street of typical British rust-red terraced houses, the colour of which, however, was almost entirely painted over by the snow. The grey mass of clouds, from which more and more snowflakes trickled down, also darkened the late afternoon, so that it was already almost pitch dark outside. Since he was starting to get really cold, Thomas quickened his steps until he reached the end of the street and turned into a path where he knew Newt lived.
The houses here had small distances to each other and Thomas headed for the third house in the row, which threatened to sink into the white, where a rather large front garden led to brightly lit windows. Loud music could already be heard from where he stood. Thomas pressed the bell and waited. After a minute of waiting in vain, he came to the conclusion that no one would probably open the door for him, no matter how long he froze his butt off. Nevertheless, he rang a second time, this time a little longer, because he genuinely wanted to see his friend. Why else had he made such a fuss about his present?
Actually, they never gave each other presents, but this year Thomas had decided to surprise his three best friends, because making others happy was somehow even better than getting a present himself, Thomas thought. First he had gone to Brenda's. It had been quite simple; he had given her the scarf she had practically melted with excitement when they had been shopping together downtown the other day. Her shining eyes had been worth the money and he had drunk a hot chocolate by the fireplace with her and Jorge. Afterwards he had gone to Minho's. Again, he had had no trouble. The video game that Minho had wanted to get for weeks had not been difficult to obtain. His friend had pretended quite convincingly in front of his family that he had also prepared a present for Thomas and had handed him a bottle of pretty strong alcohol, of which he knew full well that Thomas would be staggering around half-drunk after a few sips.
With Newt it had somehow been more complicated. He hadn't had the slightest idea what he could give him. There was nothing Newt had wished for lately, so he had had to improvise. He had finally come up with something that had cost less than the other two gifts, but the effort he had put into it didn't even compare. He could only hope that Newt would like it too, otherwise he would have thoroughly shot himself in the foot. Sometimes Newt was difficult to judge, which is why Thomas rubbed his frozen hands together a little nervously.
And still no one opened the door for him. Maybe the music was too loud? Thomas could clearly make out the beginning of Underneath the Tree and he had to smile slightly at the thought that Newt was lounging on the sofa with his family and enjoying Christmas music on full volume. His friend was supposedly not the biggest fan of Christmas or winter in general, but perhaps he hadn't been too closely with the truth here. Newt was very careful not to appear too effeminate, as Minho put it, which is why Thomas had always played the role of the softie in their group. Not that he minded too much, but maybe he could catch Newt off guard somehow. Just for fun, of course.
Thomas weighed the possibilities for a few seconds of how likely it was that he could get into an awkward situation as a result, but then he tried to push down the handle to let himself in. To his surprise, the door actually popped open. Now he could only hope that Newt was really home and that he wasn't about to face his shocked grandparents or anyone else. He crossed the hall and cautiously opened the crack to the living room door, from where he suspected the music was coming. The sight made him freeze instantly on the threshold.
The TV was on, obviously connected to the speakers, and Newt was standing in front of it with his little sister Lizzy. Well, standing was probably the least appropriate word for what was happening here. The two siblings were dancing to some music video that was apparently on the internet for Underneath the Tree . They were laughing their heads off, singing along to the lyrics at the top of their voices, spinning each other around while long blonde hair flew through the air and pine green Christmas sweaters flashed in the warm ceiling light. The partnered look made Lizzy look like a mini version of her big brother. Thomas decided it was probably the most touching thing he had ever seen.
Especially since Newt was at least a whole head taller than Lizzy, but still looked just as cute in the huge jumper, his eyes squinted with a happy glow that made his face look more childlike than ever. The sight stung Thomas lightly in the heart. He leaned against the doorframe and watched the two siblings with an amused but warm smile. At one point though he could solely look at Newt, who was moving so carefree, so gleefully, as Thomas had never seen him before. Actually, it was a pity. He would have liked to see this side of Newt more often.
The song was coming to an end, but the siblings were so absorbed in the music that they hadn't even noticed Thomas yet. As the last note faded away, Newt and Lizzy jokingly bowed to an imaginary audience (apart from Thomas), he couldn't hold on any longer and started clapping with a big grin on his lips. It was impossible to tell who had let out the ensuing shrill scream. The two of them both whirled around to face him with panicked expressions. Lizzy's panic vanished immediately when she caught sight of him. Newt's horror, on the other hand, seemed to increase.
Silence reigned for a few seconds, until Lizzy shouted, "Thomas!" and rushed up to hug him. "How did you get in here?" she wanted to know, chuckling, without a last hint of terror in her voice. Thomas by now thought he knew who had let out the scream.
"The door was unlocked," he explained, also laughing as he broke away from her.
He saw over her shoulder that Newt was walking towards them with his arms folded. Judging by his flushed cheeks, he was either warm from the dancing or embarrassed that Thomas had seen him like this.
"You broke in here, Tommy. I can’t bloody believe it," he said accusingly, nudging Thomas gently against the shoulder.
"Well, nobody opened the door for me." Thomas swung his backpack with Newt's present off his shoulder. "It's not too hard to be a burglar here, just for next time."
Newt rolled his eyes, at which Lizzy laughed and wormed her way past Thomas, presumably to lock the front door properly.
"Alright, dude, I'll just barge in on ya unannounced soon too. Preferably when you're ballerina dancin’ in a frilly dress."
Thomas looked up at his friend, startled, but when he saw that he was just teasing him, a grin spread across his face again.
"You're cordially invited. Your dancing skills are the best thing I've ever seen in my life. When do I get to see your next performance?"
"You're such a bloody idiot," Newt snorted, shoving Thomas a little too hard this time, but then reflexively holding him before Thomas could bump into the door frame behind him.
"Oops, sorry, Tommy." He giggled a touch too over-excited. Only now did Thomas notice that his ears, behind which he had just tugged a long strand of hair, were also slightly reddened and that his eyes seemed a little glassy. Was Newt drunk?
"Whatcha doin‘ here anyway?" Newt asked thereupon. "Besides stalkin’ Lizzy's an’ my performances, of course."
"Hm, your favourite burglar was actually going to give you a present before he was so rudely attacked."
Newt's glazed eyes widened almost comically as a result of his statement.
"Tommy! A present?! But I don't have a- ah, hell since when do we even give each other presents?" he exclaimed.
"Not really at all, I know, but don't worry; Minho and Brenda didn't have anything either," Thomas said. "Well, apart from the liqueur, which I'm sure Minho bought for himself."
"Ohh," Newt went on, reaching out for the gift Thomas had pulled out of his backpack at that moment. "I can unwrap it now, right? If I have to wait till tomorrow, that’d be real mean."
"Sure," Thomas mumbled, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he handed the package to Newt.
Shit, he hadn't been prepared for Newt to open the present in front of him. What if he actually thought it was stupid?
For God's sake, he was really stressing himself out too much...
"Then come with me to the kitchen. There's cookies. Can have some, if ya want."
"Where's the rest of your family anyway?" Thomas enquired as he followed Newt into the kitchen.
"Still at the pub," the other boy replied. "Lizzy's still too young, ya know. That's why I stayed here with her."
"Newt, you're only seventeen yourself," Lizzy's incensed voice rang out from the living room.
Newt grimaced.
"Would have gotten hold of alcohol some other way then. But well, there's better wine here."
Okay, so Newt was indeed a little drunk. The already drunk wine bottle on the kitchen table was confirmation enough.
"What's your situation, Tommy?"
"My parents have to work until six," Thomas said with a shrug. "Before that, I wanted to play Santa Claus."
Laughing loudly, Newt ran his fingers through his curls and settled down on one of the chairs at the table.
"Let's see then," he grinned.
One by one he removed the red and gold paper of the rectangular, flat package. Thomas had to pinch himself to keep from stepping tensely from one foot to the other. Or run away.
" Tommy ."
The flabbergasted sound of his name made him look up. When he met Newt's gaze, he could have sworn the slight glitter on his sweater didn't shine half as brightly as his dark brown eyes did. Thomas' heart stumbled in his chest.
"You ass really want to make me cry, don't ya?"
"So you like it?" Thomas leaned across the table to share a look at the palette of photos in the white and grey frame with Newt. "It's not too...?"
"Tacky? Yeah, but I love it because it's from you," Newt said lightly, looking dreamily at the collection of pictures in front of him. Somehow Thomas had the feeling that he wasn't even really aware of what he was saying.
The photos showed a number of group photos at parties, on the beach, at the cinema - many of them exclusively of Newt, Minho and him. Thomas' undisputed favourite was the one where he and Minho had persuaded (or coerced) Newt to wear a black hair band with neon green cloverleafs because their PE teacher had said he had to tie his hair back. Minho leaned on Thomas, neighing with laughter, while the latter tried to adjust the ribbon for Newt. Their friend looked as if he would explode at any moment. On top of that, Thomas had pasted in a picture of Newt and Lizzy playing table football, which he had secretly taken of them half a year ago.
And lastly, there were the photos of him and Newt alone. One where they were laughing their asses off at a very bad joke told by Thomas' brother Chuck. Another where they were arm-wrestling (Thomas had insisted on a draw, whereas Newt had claimed that he had flattened Thomas mercilessly). Another where Newt had fallen asleep on his shoulder on the bus (his sleepy yet beyond embarrassed expression when he woke up was not something Thomas would soon forget). And one in which Newt carried a drunken Thomas around piggyback because he had refused to move another metre. Thomas had considered for a very long time how much it would scratch his ego to choose this photo, but finally decided that Newt would surely find it funny. And perhaps a tiny bit it was. On the corner of the frame he had written in black felt-tip pen: 'Merry Christmas from Tommy :)'.
"At least it's something. You won’t believe how long I was at that stupid photo booth at-" Thomas began, but was interrupted when Newt abruptly stood up and wrapped his arms around him. He nearly lost his breath when Newt embraced him as tightly as he could.
"Thank you, Tommy. Really. I- you don't make it bloody easy, ya know that?" Newt murmured close to his ear.
"What do you mean?" Thomas asked. Newt didn't answer, but Thomas didn't probe further as the sweet cinnamon smell emanating from Newt was strangely befuddling.
"You want cookies?" Newt squeezed his hand one last time before reaching across the table for a large bowl of hazelnut biscuits with little chocolate drizzles. "Help yourself."
Quickly he popped another one into his own mouth. At Thomas' amused look, he said, "Had to convince myself again how terrific my baking skills are."
"If they're anything like your dancing skills, I'm sure I won't be disappointed," Thomas teased him. Barely a second later he regretted his words, for Newt suddenly held the bowl so high above his head that Thomas could no longer reach it.
"Hey!"
"Not a word to anyone about this or you won’t get one," Newt said with a little smirk.
"Yeah yeah, but just give it to me, Newt!“
"Why don't you go get one? I ain’t stoppin’ ya."
Thomas' mouth dropped open in a mixture of indignation and amazement.
"You- why are you- you're never getting presents again," he spluttered as he tried to tiptoe over, but Newt was unfortunately a good deal taller than him.
"I'm just messin‘ with you." Grinning, Newt lowered his arm again. He grabbed one of the biscuits and held it out to Thomas. "Go on. Open your mouth, Tommy."
Thomas glared at him with narrowed eyes.
"I'll bite your finger," he threatened. As he plucked the entire cookie from Newt's fingers with his teeth, his friend snorted.
"I'm still growing," Thomas added with his mouth full. Of course, this promptly made him choke on the food, which made Newt laugh even harder.
"Sure you are. Maybe next time you won't need a stool, we'll see".
Newt pushed past him back into the living room with a wink.
"You really are insufferable," Thomas pouted, trotting after him anyway.
"Sorry, Tommy." Newt threw himself onto the sofa, where he stretched out, yawning audibly. "You're just too bloody adorable for your own good."
Thomas ignored the heat that rose to his face in response.
"It's so hot in here," Newt muttered after a while. "I think I'm goin’ to burn up."
"You can walk me home for a bit, if there's still time," Thomas suggested. "It's cold as hell outside, but pleasantly refreshing."
Newt pulled up from his reclining position so jerkily that Thomas had to suppress a yelp.
"Right away, I just need to change. Give me a minute."
He jumped up, stumbling against the perplexed Thomas ("Oops, got up too fast") and sprinted past him to the stairs upstairs.
With a queasy feeling in his stomach, Thomas dropped onto the sofa. The way Newt was behaving today was... Different? Exciting? Strange? Just new. Thomas forced himself to think of something else. Lizzy, who suddenly sat down next to him on the couch, was a welcome distraction.
"Is this your Christmas present for Newt?" She held the frame with all the photos under Thomas' nose.
"Yep."
"Oh damn." Lizzy ran her finger along the pictures. As she did so, a half-impressed, half-pitying smile curled her lips. "My big brother's got it bad, man."
"What do you mean?"
Slowly, these vague remarks were getting to be a bit too much for Thomas. But again, he got no response as Newt was already bustling down the stairs.
"We can go," he announced, beaming over both ears.
For a moment Thomas could only stare at him. Newt had accomplished the phenomenon of wrapping himself up in a dark snowsuit, a scarf paired with a dark blue hat with a fluffy pom-pom over his shock of blond hair and snowshoes in the space of a minute. Wrapped up like this, he looked like an Inuit.
"Are you laughin‘ at me?" Newt outraged when he saw Thomas' quivering lower lip.
"Not at all," Thomas lied, his lips pressed together with an effort not to laugh off.
"Yeah, would be better. It must be bloody North Pole temperatures out there."
Humming All I Want For Christmas Is You to himself, Newt trudged down the hall towards the front door.
"Um... how much was it that he drank?" Thomas said turning to Lizzy.
"Tommy!" it echoed impatiently from the hallway. "Move your butt."
Lizzy simply raised her eyebrows with a look that said, You're still asking that? Shaking his head in amusement, he followed Newt.
In the few minutes Thomas had spent inside, it had gone completely dark outside. The snow was still falling from the sky and if Thomas had been dressed even half as warmly as Newt, he would certainly have enjoyed the beautiful flakes. But like this... he pressed his hands over his gradually numbing ears.
"Cold?" Newt asked.
"M-hmm." Thomas tried not to chatter his teeth.
"Yeah, wish I hadn't forgotten my gloves," Newt sighed.
Thomas didn't want to believe his ears. While here he was with his jeans, normal sneakers and no headgear at all, on the verge of freezing to death, Newt in his snowsuit was complaining about the fact that he had no gloves with him.
"My condolences," Thomas grumbled, rubbing his ears feverishly.
Against all his expectations, he suddenly felt something warm being put on his head.
"Still had these in my jacket pocket," Newt said as Thomas stared at the red beanie in his hands, whereupon Thomas put it back on with a grateful smile.
"Thanks, Newt."
"No problem. Keep it, if ya want. Looks better on you anyway."
A breath of fresh air passed over Thomas' burning face and he prayed that the darkness would hide his blush or that Newt would think it was a result of the sub-zero temperatures.
They turned into a path from which on it was about ten minutes away to Thomas' home. The outline of a playground became visible in the distance and the closer they got the more they could see that not a single footprint had been set in the ankle-deep snow so far. The glitter, the pure white glow made the playground look like a fluffy sea of clouds.
"Oh," Newt whispered beside him. He stopped in front of the low, though locked, gate that led to the playground.
"Do you mind a little delay?" Without waiting for an answer, he jumped over the fence and hopped through the white mass, glowing even in the darkness.
Thomas also climbed over the fence while watching the happily laughing Newt spinning in circles. Again Thomas had to smile. This drunken Newt was probably his newest favourite thing in the world. A fright ran through him as Newt dropped backwards into the snow, but it dissolved into affection a second later; his friend had started making snow angels. The long blond hair peeked out from under his cap and fanned out as the perfect imprint for the angel's head.
"I think I lied, Tommy." Newt looked up at him with a beam. “Christmas is bloody awesome!"
"That's what I thought." Smiling mischievously, Thomas hunkered down beside him. "When you're drunk, people find out a lot of things about you. Did you know that?"
"Oh well." Newt traced the angel's imprint with his long legs. "But just imagine! A Christmas all in the snow; with presents, family an’ friends. With fairy lights, Christmas trees and delicious food, laughing until your stomach hurts an‘ no worries bigger than washin’ the dishes the next day. In fact, everythin‘ you could ever want." Newt gazed with wide dark eyes into the flakes trickling down on him. "Except for that one wish you can't ask anyone for. That you can only hope for, but maybe that's the beauty of it."
They were always words. They were always words with Newt. Intangible like the snowflakes tumbling around them, gone before you could get a closer look. Thomas didn't know what to think. And he certainly didn't know what to say. Consequently, he had just as little reason why the idea that struck him seemed like the only sensible option at the time. Although; Newt's spherical eyes, mouth agape in puzzlement and cheeks covered in wet powdery snow had, if he was honest, actually been reason enough.
"Did ya- did you just hit me in the face with a bloody handful of snow?" Newt stammered in bewilderment.
"Just wanted to see if you could be sobered up like that," Thomas replied with a grin.
"Oh, you are so going to regret this!"
From one second to the next, Newt leapt to his feet. Thomas yelped and stumbled away from his friend as hastily as he could. Normally he was a lot faster than Newt, but in trying to escape Newt's vengeance he had to laugh so hard that his entire body ached and his sneakers slithered hopelessly around without any control. Nevertheless, he had not expected Newt to catch him in a single grip and spin him around. Knowing how strong Newt was, he grabbed the other boy’s arm as tightly as possible and took a big step back.
He had not considered that the ground here was a tad more slippery.
A mixture of screaming and swearing resulted in a tangle on the icy ground with Thomas on his back and Newt on top of him. Thomas thought his pounding heart would jump out of his chest at any moment. Newt's warm breath brushed across his skin, a smile of victory on his face. Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas could already see his hand forming a huge snowball.
So whether it was fear of the icky cold ahead, a hope for distraction, or maybe just the befuddling smell of cinnamon and sweet hazelnut cookies so close to him, Thomas neither wanted nor could answer at that moment. The way he pulled Newt's face down to him and pressed their lips together was enough for now. Or the way Newt gasped in surprise into his mouth and made more incredulous little sounds that rang around in Thomas' ears like the tinkling of Christmas bells. It was the most heart-warming thing he had ever heard.
Possibly seconds later, which for Thomas, however, felt like all the cosy warm days by the fireplace, after hours hours in the bitter cold, they broke away from each other.
"Have I fulfilled your wish?" he whispered against Newt's lips.
"You‘re not allowed to tell anyone your wishes, Tommy," Newt whispered back. "Everyone knows that."
But this time it wasn't just words. This time it was again soft kisses that landed on Thomas' lips, his cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose, and a whole new wish was born in Thomas' heart. A wish that had begun with the boy right in front of him.
The hope for a shared wish.