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.