Chapter Text
They kept it quiet at first.
It was new and it was perfect and it was theirs.
Thomas had heard and seen and been happy for couples that wandered around moonstruck. But he hadn’t understood. Not really. What it was like to float in a haze. Everything was overstimulating to Thomas. Constantly egged on by Newt, always keeping him buzzing under his skin.
A week after that first morning on the balcony when they were out with friends in their booth at the bar Newt had reached over, brushing his knuckles against Thomas’s thigh. Making him jerk up, back ramrod straight, Newt hiding his smile behind his pint. Thomas had tried to breath, to see straight, to control his flush.
“Dude you feel okay?” Minho had asked, concern written on his face. “You don’t look so good.”
Thomas had sputtered, clearing his throat. “I don’t feel so good actually.” He squeaked out, grabbing Newt’s hand under the table and squeezing. “Think I’m gonna head out.”
Newt had faked a frown perfectly, innocent as fresh snow.
“I’ll walk you.” Newt said, the two of them tumbling out into the cold damp night, a five-minute walk to Newt’s apartment taking half an hour, the two of them pulling each other into alleys every few steps to kiss and touch.
Newt walking Thomas backwards through the door of his place, pushing him up against the wall, hand tracing the hard outline of Thomas’s jeans. “Newt-“ Thomas groaned. Hips bucking in response, fists clutching Newt’s jacket, shoving it off his shoulders. Pressing up desperately against him, pulling Newt down to slam their lips together. Newt licking his way into his mouth, one hand firmly grasping the back of Thomas’s neck, holding him in place, the other pressed up against the wall, boxing Thomas in, surrounding him.
“Do you have any idea-“ Newt paused to place a trail of burning kisses down Thomas’s neck, biting and nipping and making his head spin. Chest tight and back bowed into Newt.
“How bloody amazing it is-“ Newt tugging Thomas forward down the hall towards his bed, lips and hands everywhere, leading him, Thomas helpless but to chase the sensation. Newt pushing him backwards, Thomas’s knees hitting the edge of the bed, tumbling down and letting out a hitching sigh as Newt climbed on top of him.
“-How un-bloody believable it is to make you squirm?” The blonde finished, leaning over to claim his lips in a searing kiss, hand finally moving lower, unbuttoning his jeans with a decisive pop. Fingers skating over hyper sensitive skin, Thomas’s mouth opening to moan at the sensation. For the sound to be swallowed, Newt’s tongue licking and exploring and making him shiver and want.
Thomas broke the kiss, gasping for air, head thrown back. “Ah!“ He gasped, only to have Newt’s teeth nibbling on his collarbone, movement’s becoming sloppy and desperate.
The sigh against his heated damp skin had his eyelids fluttering and Thomas couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Newt drew back, just enough to look in his eyes and grin impishly, hand moving in slow lazy motions, devouring the way that Thomas twitched in his touch. “Just like this?” Newt whispered, nibbling on Thomas’s ear, making him light up from the inside out.
“Like that.” Thomas sighed, whole body drawn tight as a bow string. Voice threaded and uneven. “Just like that.” Thomas hitched, over and over again as Newt’s hand moved up and down and when he threw his head back to moan through his release Newt kissed him, swallowing the sound.
How different the world seemed, waking up in Newt’s bed. Everything in shades of gold and black. The sensation of Newt’s fingers running along his spine as he drifted. Pressing a soft kiss to Newt’s collarbone. Feeling the other boy bury his nose in Thomas’s own hair, inhaling deeply. “I don’t think we’re being very discreet.” Newt muttered against his temple.
Thomas hummed a question mark and placed another kiss under Newt’s jaw, shifting to get closer. Newt chuckled in response and welcomed the contact, the hand that wasn’t busy tracing his spine dropping to Thomas’s hip to squeeze.
“Because-“ Newt answered, stopping to place another kiss against Thomas’s messy hair and he could feel himself glow under the attention, the way that Newt could make his world turn to polished metal with just one action. “Your coat is out in the hall but you’re clearly not sleeping on the couch.”
Thomas sighed, unable to muster up the urge to care about much of anything when the light made Newt’s eyes shine like precious jewels. “Oh well.” Thomas muttered happily, thumb reaching to tilt Newt’s chin down and press their lips together in a deep tidal wave kiss. Newt opened his mouth and Thomas greets the morning with his hands fisted in sheets and Newt’s name tumbling from his lips.
-
The snow begins to turn a muddy brown slush. The last gasps of winter are freezing and damp and inexplicably Thomas finds himself spending most of his time in Newt’s bed. The heavy down comforter and sheets creating a tiny warm universe that they existed in. Thomas would wake in the soft grey light to find Newt already staring at him. A sleepy smile tugging at his face and long white fingers running through Thomas’s hair. Tangling in the strands and rubbing soothing circles in his scalp that made him rumble happily, nuzzling his face into the crook of Newt’s neck.
With a hum Newt lay a soft kiss to his forehead and the rush of affection that Thomas feels is all-consuming and shocking in its intensity. His arms wrap around Newt and tighten, pulling him closer despite the other’s laughing protest. “Tommy I’ll die of heat stroke!”
Thomas smiles. Newt was finally warm.
There is a day where they don’t leave bed at all, a day where freezing hail and raindrops tapped steady at the window from the time they wake up until the time they go to sleep. At some point during that day Thomas’s elbows give out from under him and he falls back against the pillows, flushed and overheated. Gasping and trying to put himself back together after Newt had spent the better part of the past hour taking him apart piece by piece. Newt paths a slow trail of scalding kisses up his shaking body and heaving chest and even though all Thomas sees is his gold hair he knew Newt was grinning like a cat. Newt settles next to him, head propped up on his palm and just looks.
Thomas feels himself flush and grin wide and love drunk as he comes down, breath slowly returning to a normal pace. “Are you trying to kill me?” He asks weakly.
Newt laughs, pressing his lips against Thomas’s shoulder. “I try not to bring my work home Tommy.”
There was a day where they managed to leave bed for a few hours to go to the art museum, spurred on by an exhibit that would be closing soon and a need for fresh air and seven dollar lattes.
Newt’s fingers lingering and brushing against his as they wandered through the gallery, feeling every inch of contact like lighting. Pupils blown out from fleeting touches. Newt standing in front of a massive canvas, looking like a part of the renaissance painting. All intricate line work and soft brush strokes, a study of light and shadow. Thomas’s mouth suddenly feels very, very dry.
Finding a dark deserted corner tucked away behind a stairwell, Newt laughing as Thomas pushed him up against the wall. “You artsy types sure are swayed by the creative.” He murmured, laughing again until Thomas’s mouth found his pulse point, chest hitching under wandering fingers. Letting his head fall back with a soft thud to allow better access. And then Thomas was sinking to his knees and Newt made a tiny surprised noise that trailed off into a moan, fingers twisting into Thomas’s hair, doing his best to not bite his lip. When Thomas looked up at him Newt’s eyes were burning.
And, later, when they’re once again walking through the exhibit, Newt laces their fingers together. Paintings everywhere glow to life, shimmering shifting colors like the tides pulled by the moon. Some with names, but most without.
There was a day where Thomas had to drag himself from the bed and Newt’s sprawled out form regretfully. (He’d already missed his first lecture of the week and guiltily he realized that he was behind on all his readings.) Watching how Newt smiled up at him as he pulled on the closest sweater. When Thomas leans over to give him a peck goodbye Newt reaches up, hands wrapping around the back of his neck and pull him down into a searing kiss that leaves him breathless and wondering if graduating really was worth it. Newt reads his hesitation correctly and laughs, shoving him away playfully. “Bring back Thai food?” Newt asks.
Thomas grins, cocky. The self-confidence radiating from him was a welcome side effect of their new relationship. “What’s in it for me?” He teased.
Newt pouts and shrugs. Stretching. The way his back curved had Thomas wondering all over again if academia was worth missing a moment of soft pale skin. The sun filters weakly through the window and Thomas loses the battle with Newt’s gravitational pull on him. Drifting back into his orbit, leaning over and bracing his hands on either side of Newt’s head. Kissing him in slowly languished burning swipes of lips that has Newt arching up, soft gasps falling from his mouth only to have Thomas swallowing them again and again. When he finally pulls back and away Newt makes a noise of complaint, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy.
Thomas tried not to be smug. He fails and a shirt is lobbed at him which he catches deftly. “Thai food?”
Newt’s face twisted into an exasperated smile. “Thai food. You tease.”
Thomas shivered and hunched his way through the knee-high slush to class, sitting in the dark lecture hall and inhaling the smell of Newt on his clothes. Wanting nothing more than to be transported back to drown in the warm sheets and feel himself be pressed into the mattress while Newt whispers burning words in his ear.
After two hours and one take-out order of Thai food later he returns to the dark quiet apartment, Harriet off in some horribly prestigious hospital placement program and Sonya out at a film festival with Teresa and Fry. And as he puts the plastic bag stuffed with food on the wood island counter and hurries out of his shoes, practically running down the hall to Newt’s room Thomas is a bit embarrassed to admit that he’d actually missed Newt.
Horribly, achingly missed him from the minute he’d stepped outside of the apartment and the entire time until he’d come back. Thomas opens the bedroom door and he’s greeted with the sight of Newt, shirtless, (possibly naked, his favorite) covers bunched around his waist. Blinking at him sleepily. Long dark lashes standing out in sharp contrast to pale skin, and Thomas is filled with desire so intense he’s caught off guard.
And then Newt sees the look on Thomas’s face and his eyes darken, slow teasing smile unfurling. Thomas’s legs carry him over to the bed to climb on top of Newt and kiss him before they’d even said a word to each other. Newt nips at his lips and Thomas opens them obediently. Newt’s fingers hook under the edge of his shirt and pulling once, sharply. Thomas breaks the kiss just long enough for Newt to pull his shirt up and over his head, throwing it to the side and burying his fingers in Thomas’s hair and pulling him back down.
With another sharp tug Newt is rolling them over, their positions reversed, and it seemed like some of Thomas’s desperation is infecting Newt as well from the way his kisses are becoming sloppy and hands are wandering all over Thomas, leaving tiny trails of fire everywhere his fingers touch. Newt’s hands ball into fists in his hair, forcing Thomas’s head back and neck to bend up and expose, and Thomas can’t help the weak gasp that escapes his lips when Newt latches his mouth onto his pulse point.
“Ah!” Thomas cries out, eyes slamming shut as Newt sooths the tiny bruise with his tongue, feeling flushed and overheated. Newt leans back, one hand sliding down from its grip on his hair to his chest, fingers brushing errantly over his nipple teasingly in a way that had Thomas gasping again before Newt’s hand was sliding over his ribs to grip at his hip. Fingers dipping below the waistband of his jeans.
Newt kissed him, long and smoldering and Thomas couldn’t help the whimper of complaint when Newt pulled away. “Quite the greeting there Tommy, did you forget the Thai food?” His fingers played with Thomas’s jean button. “Trying to distract me?” The sound of a zipper being lowered echoing through the room as Newt dipped down to kiss him again.
“I missed you.” Thomas whispered honest and uneven against his lips. The hand currently pulling down his pants stilled. Newt leaned back to look him in the eye and Thomas felt his already flushed cheeks burn.
But then Newt was smiling at him and biting his own kissed-red lower lip between shockingly white teeth, so happy he seemed to shimmer. “I missed you too.”
And this time when Newt kissed him there is none of the urgency, none of the desperation and heat from a second ago. No now his kisses are slow and full and gentle and it’s, if anything, even more overwhelming. Thomas’s hands can’t stop moving, pulling at Newt’s shoulders, rubbing his arms, grasping Newt’s hips and tugging on them fitfully. The pooling heat in his lower stomach spreading and expanding and making him want.
Newt made short work of his pants, pulling them off and throwing them to the side, and then for a while he just stroked Thomas through his boxers, clearly loving the way that it made Thomas twist and shift against him. “Newt come on.” He whined, arching up into Newt’s tracing fingers, ghosting just along the outline of his straining erection.
“What Tommy?” Newt whispered playfully, breath hot and moist against his ear and Thomas groaned again, arching up into him, desperate for friction.
“Newt please I nee-fuck.” He gasped as Newt’s fingers slid smoothly under his boxers, hand wrapping around him and giving one long firm pump and making him see stars. Newt let out a tiny laugh that might’ve also been a groan and he kisses Thomas, pressing down on him and Thomas can feel just how much Newt was enjoying this.
“Newt I want-“ He cuts off as Newt’s hand moved (those fucking hands, the ones he’s dreamt about). Newt loved it when Thomas was begging and shattering and undone. “Newt I want-” He moaned out when Newt attacked his neck again, licking long wet stripes, making Thomas’s hands clench, thumbs pressing into pronounced hip bones until they bruised.
“What do you want Tommy?” Newt mumbled between kisses, already starting to travel down his chest.
Thomas fought against the lust clouded jumble in his head, hands moving up to wrap in Newt’s hair and pull him back up, kissing Newt in a wet open-mouthed burning thing that had them both breathless.
“I want you.” Thomas mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush. He felt Newt smile against his lips.
“Well you’ve most definitely got me.” Hand sliding up and down his length again and making him whine.
“No I-ah! No Newt I want you.” Thomas pleaded. They had done almost everything. They hadn’t done that yet. Newt goes still above him for a second, realization dawning on his face.
He pulled back, hand bracing against the pillow next to Thomas’s head and staring down searchingly. “Tommy are you sure?” Newt muttered.
Thomas nodded, breathing out and trying to release the glowing butterflies in his lungs, never more sure of anything in his life. “Yeah. But I’ve never-well-I haven’t. With, uh, with a guy before. So if it’s terrible, if I’m terrible-“
Newt cut him off with his lips, hand in his hair reaching down to cup his face and the kiss is so sweet and slow and gentle and happy that Thomas’s whole world feels bright and warm like he’d taken a shot of smooth whiskey.
“It’ll be so good.” Newt mumbled, sounding drunk with happiness, pupils blown, shots of whiskey all his own. “You’ll feel so good. I’ll make you feel so good.” He promised over and over between kisses, hand that was still gripping him starting to pump in slow practiced strokes and Thomas couldn’t help the whine that slipped from his lips, a nagging itch in the base of his spine that drummed insistently. And then Newt was rummaging through the drawer in his end table and Thomas was making short work of Newt’s boxers.
Settling between Thomas’s thighs and chest moving up and down rapidly Newt locked eyes with him, tracing soothing circles on Thomas’s hip bones. “It’s completely up to you Tommy. Only if you want too-we don’t have t-” Thomas sat up, kissing Newt deeply and he laughed, once, breathless.
The broke apart, barely, lips still brushing. “Alright.” Newt muttered, hand pushing gently at Thomas’s shoulder, lying him flat on the mattress. “Alright.” He said again and then his hands (shaking slightly) were fussing with the bottle.
Seconds later Thomas was gasping and squeezing his eyes closed and Newt was murmuring encouragement in his ear, one finger slowly becoming two and then three, a searching quality to his slow thrusts. The long slim digits brushed against something and Thomas saw stars, hips snapping and ‘Newtnewtnewtnewt’ falling raggedly from his mouth. If he wasn’t currently going to the moon Thomas would have seen Newt smile in triumph. Those fingers, (those fucking fingers) brushed again, on purpose this time and Thomas’s nails were drawing long, angry red lines down Newt’s back.
Newt really didn’t seem to mind.
“Fu-u-ck.” Newt hissed out uneven and the word went straight to the heat in Thomas’s spine, painfully hard and practically jumping out of his own skin.
Thomas bit Newt’s shoulder. “I’m good, it’s fine, Newt please.” He whispered, hazy and strung out.
“Kay’.” Newt breathed raggedly and pulled back, Thomas mourning the loss of contact. There was a moment of cold and then Newt was placing a hand on Thomas’s lower stomach to steady him, (or maybe both of them) and Thomas couldn’t help but shiver at the contact. Newt must’ve sensed his moment of nerves because he leant down, lips slanting across Thomas’s, sweet and slow, and Thomas swayed into the kiss.
“This okay? Does it feel okay? You sure?” He mumbled against Thomas’s lips and Thomas was kind of embarrassed to admit that he whined. (Newt was hot. Newt constantly making sure that he was okay, checking in with Thomas, was hot. Newt asking for consent every step of the way was hot. Newt caring about him, about wanting him to feel safe and comfortable and good was really really fucking hot.)
“Newt please I’m so-I can’t a-ah!” He stuttered as Newt wrapped his hand around Thomas again, stroking once, twice.
“Okay.” He said before kissing Thomas in that same swaying rocking way. “Okay.” And then in time with the rocking kiss, Newt’s hips rolled forward, sinking into him an inch, his hand at Thomas’s hip going iron strong. Thomas took a sharp whistle inhale between bared teeth and then heat washed over him, muscles going taunt at the desperate noise Newt made. His body short circuited at the sensation and Thomas gave a fitful press of his hips, trying to draw Newt in. Newt’s grip tightened.
“I just-fuck Tommy, give us a sec-“ He muttered, accent thick and bubbling behind grit teeth. Breathing hard as he tried to get himself under control.
Thomas let out a breathless laugh. “I’m flattered.”
Newt let his head fall forward, dewy damp skin sticking to Thomas’s shoulder and bit him, once, playfully. “You should be.”
“I definitely am-oh-oh!”
Newt rolled his hips again and suddenly he was sinking into Thomas fully, Thomas scrabbling at his back and arching and trying his best not to swallow his own tongue as Newt set an aching slow pace, drawing out slowly and rolling his hips back while Thomas groaned and sighed in his ear. His motions a delicious mixture of dragging pooling heat and sharp bursts of pleasure that had Thomas a gibbering mess.
And then he was slowing down and shifting the angle of his hips and Thomas was complaining until suddenly he wasn’t, a sharp shattered-glass gasp falling from his lips when Newt hit the spot inside of Thomas that his searching fingers had discovered earlier. Thomas tipped his head back and squeezed his eyes shut in reflex, Newt lunging forward to kiss his jaw and bite at the shell of his ear. He hit that shimmer bright point over and over and Thomas was practically begging, the dots of light on his spine connecting to the heat in his stomach.
Newt’s own breathing growing erratic and thrusts becoming sharper and harder and more insistent. He let out a low groan against the side of Thomas’s jaw, kissing and panting and whisper-gasping into his ear. “Tomm-ohfuck-I”
There was a shaking moment as Thomas hung on the edge of the cliff and Newt’s hand wrapped around his erection, pumping in time with his thrusts and with a whimper Thomas was officially done for. Newt pressed a last desperate kiss to his lips.
“I love you.” Newt gasped as Thomas tipped over into glitter and gold and smoke, Newt following him down seconds later, and the combination of Newt’s words and their releases made Thomas come harder than he ever had in his life.
-
“Holy crap.” Thomas mutters weakly when he’d finally winds down, pulse still pounding in his ears and reaching up to trace small languid circles around the knots of Newt’s spine. Feeling the laugh shake Newt’s chest as he lay slumped on top of Thomas, face buried in his neck.
With a resigned sigh Newt places a kiss to his neck and then shifts, pulling away only to collapse next to him, shoulders pressed together. “Yeah.”
Thomas’s body felt like jello, his bones turned to mush, his head hazy like he’d just woken up from a very good dream. Next to him Newt stretched, back arching and arms going straight up in the air, tense wiry muscles standing out before they dropped back to the bed with a soft thump. “I’ve been thinking about that for a long time.”
Thomas turns to him, slightly shocked. “Really?”
“Mhm.”
“How long?” He asks, doing his best to make the comment appear off-hand, failing miserably.
“A few weeks after we met.”
Thomas sits up on his elbows, looking down at Newt in shock. “That long?” He repeats and Newt nods, bangs damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead.
“But you were…”
Newt raises an eyebrow. “With Alby?”
“Well…yeah.” Thomas says.
“I kept hoping it was a crush and it’d go away.” Newt shrugged. “It didn’t. Wasn’t fair to Alby, so that’s why I broke up with him.”
Thomas frowned. “I though Alby broke up with you?”
“Nah, just let everyone think that so I didn’t have to give a reason.”
“Hmm.” Thomas hums and can’t help the smug grin that unfurls on his face. “Because you looooooooove me.” He sings. Newt hits him with a pillow and Thomas laughs, dodging and kissing Newt’s forehead. “I love you too.”
-
There was a night when Thomas was woken in the dark by a low rattling buzz. He had fallen asleep mid-afternoon, exhausted from the cold going around campus and pulling an all-night study session. Sonya letting him in on her way out to meet Brenda and Gally. She’d tried to wheedle him into going, pouting when he waved her off regretfully, swaying where he stood. He’d climbed into Newt’s bed and hadn’t stirred even when the other man had joined him.
The buzzing started anew and Newt swore and muttered sleepily. He pawed at his night stand in the dark, searching for the small flip phone. Opening it and squinting against the sudden blue light. Thomas yawned next to him and tucked his face into the crook of Newt’s neck to shield his eyes from the glare. It was quiet for a moment and Thomas started to drift comfortably off again before he felt Newt slide out from underneath his arm, making a disgruntled noise. “S’okay?” Thomas mumbled.
There’s a rustle of clothes being pulled on in the dark and then Newt’s hand is rubbing soothing circles on his lower back and placing a kiss between his shoulder blades. “Don’t wake up, I’ll be back.” Newt whispered against his skin. Thomas nodded and drifted off, lulled back to sleep by the words and Newt scented pillows cushioning his cheek. He woke up when Newt came back, sliding into bed and gathering Thomas up in his arms, shivering. Smelling of smoke and lavender and something thick and cloying. Thomas reaches out in the pale pink dawn and kisses the color back into Newt’s lips.
-
Real life comes knocking in the form of deadlines and due dates and Thomas regretfully rejoins the world after two weeks of nothing but Newt. “He emerges!” Teresa teases when Thomas slides into their booth at Trinity a few days later, sheepishly unpacking his laptop while Minho wolf whistled.
“About time honestly.” Teresa says with a knowing grin. Thomas coughs.
“What do you mean?” He asks high pitched and obvious.
Minho rolled his eyes. “Honestly dude, the only two people more obvious then you and Newt are Brenda and Teres-OW!” He jumped, reaching down to rub his ankle. “What the hell?”
Teresa shrugged, smiling. “Sorry, had a leg twitch.”
Thomas turned, lording over Teresa with a smug grin. “So it looks like Brenda finally realized that you’re not ‘looking for the perfect sweater.’ when you visit the store every other wee-OW.”
Minho rubbing his shin still. “You should really get that leg twitch sorted out Teresa.” He advises dryly.
Soon after Teresa’s hair begins to change color rapidly. Shifting from blue to green to purple to pink week from week, the shades so vibrant and glowing people on the street would stop and stare. Thomas is sitting with her in the library when a girl from their study group looks over and gazes at the sparkling magenta weaved through brown curls in awe. “How do you do that?” the girl asks with envy.
Teresa smiled, mouth pulled secretly to the side. “Witchcraft.” Is all she will answer.
-
Thomas stops jumping at Lazarus the floral snake sliding around corners or being curled up behind the teapot roughly around the same time Newt leans over to kiss his forehead absentmindedly when they sit in their booth at the bar. Thomas feels himself look up from his notebook, flushed and grinning megawatts and Newt tilts his head, trying his best to hide his own pleased smile when Mary the bartender offers an exasperated “Finally.” from behind the counter. It’s a sentiment most people in their lives share.
Looming finals take him away from the smoke and magic and gold dust that he had wandered into and lost himself in, and Thomas realizes that although Newt had always been part of his life, he’d recently became his whole life. He’s trying to fix that.
“Long time no talk.” Chuck’s voice declares sullenly from his phone and Thomas winces, shifting the device to his other ear as he walks through the grocery store, shoving things absentmindedly in his cart. He hadn’t been back to his apartment in weeks, and he plucks a bag of brown rice off the shelf as a peace offering to Minho, wondering just how much food he’d left rotting in the fridge.
“I know Chuck. Sorry about that. Finals are getting crazy and I’ve been working a bunch and…”Thomas trailed off, teetering on the edge of telling Chuck about Newt. It wasn’t that he thought it would be poorly received, his family was good and kind and made their feelings known about how love was love and that was the end of it. It was more the fact that Thomas was afraid of jinxing it. That Newt, and everything that he brought into Thomas’s world was too good to be true.
“…and?” Prompts Chuck, causing Thomas to snap back into reality. He swallows, tipping over the edge.
“And, well. Uh. Remember my friend Newt? You met him when you guys helped me move out of dorms after first year?”
There’s hysteric laughter on the other end of the phone and Thomas suddenly wishes that you could send a noogie through a text. Chuck eventually stops and collects himself, and when he speaks again he’s still a bit breathless. “Yeah. I remember. Mom’s going to be over the moon you finally got up the balls to make your move. She was starting to get a bit worried. I’m happy for you bro. Anyways-you see that they dropped the DLC for Zero Dawn? Mom said she’d get it for me if I get a eighty in calc which is impossible. You had Janson for that class too right? He’s a fucking sociopath.”
Thomas tries not to drop the peace offering rice and sputters in the overpriced grocery store for about twenty seconds before letting out a small relieved laugh of his own, Chuck’s instant acceptance giving him a bit of emotional whiplash. “Yeah. Janson’s the worst. You’ll get the eighty though. Study the practice exam, he’s lazy and uses the same questions a lot of the time.” He advises, absentmindedly tucking a package of mint tea into the basket. He knew Newt and Sonya were running out.
The peace offering of brown rice and protein powder (added into the cart when Thomas guiltily remembers the Tupperware of pasta that, by his count was now a month old) was gratefully received. Gally sulks for about ten minutes that his love nest is gone and reminds Thomas of the fact that it is his turn to buy cleaning supplies, also-oh he moved in two weeks ago, and Brenda spilled the beans about the whole ‘Witch-Death clusterfuck’. (Thomas sputters and squawks but accepts this with minimal complaint once he’s reminded that his rent is now three hundred dollars less.)
His world quickly devolves into muttering study points and frantically high-lighting scrip lines and clicking keys. Minho fighting back tears as he labels diagrams of muscles and Teresa compulsively braids her hair (a classic coping mechanism) as they sit in the library late into the night. Thomas looks up out the window of the library and thinks longingly of marble pattern sheets and a deep voice whispering things in his ear as he falls asleep and he’s simultaneously happy and annoyed with how love struck he is.
On a bright day in spring close to exams when everything smelt of earth and life there was a soft scratch at the front door. Thomas and Harriet looked up from the kitchen island where they were studying. Newt and Sonya locked eyes and shrugged, neither of them expecting visitors, but, drop-ins were far from uncommon.
Sonya floats over, drinking her strawberry milkshake from a curly straw, bracelets singing and jumping on her wrists. She opened the door and crouched down at the sight of a large calico cat. It held in its mouth an envelope so black it seemed to absorb light. She scratched the cat behind the ear, taking the envelope with a polite “Thank you.” The cat meowed, (either in acceptance or as scolding, it was up to the individual’s interpretation) and slunk away down the hall like only a cat could, tail waving lazily in the air.
Newt stood and walked over as Sonya opened the letter, reading over her shoulder. A frown forming and pulling his eyebrows together.
“Huh.” Sonya said and Harriet and Thomas looked at each other.
“Huh?” Harriet repeats, deadpan. Clearly the art of the mystique had long since stopped shocking her.
“Apparently there’s a good chance I’m the Anti-Christ.” Sonya said matter-of-fact around the bright pink curly straw tucked in the side of her mouth.
-
In a whirlwind of exams and papers and one mild mental breakdown involving Casablanca, suddenly Thomas finds himself standing outside Exam Center Three, blinking in the bright spring sunlight as a tide of bodies moved around him and his undergrad is suddenly and definitively, done.
Huh. Is all he can think until he spots Minho running towards him, screaming with joy, fresh from his own final exam. He picks Thomas up, practically throwing him into the air and Thomas can’t help but laugh. A buzz from his phone and then he’s texting Teresa and she appears half an hour later, barreling into the two of them with a shriek of joy all her own, hand stained with ink.
Minho picks her up too, throwing her into the air with much greater success than Thomas. There’s a honk that they all recognize and as one they turn to see Newt leaning against his white beat up Cadillac, arms crossed and grinning wide.
Minho rushes over and Newt throws out an arm. “Don’t you dare-“
Minho ignores him, chucking him up into the air, and after the second toss Newt stops struggling and succumbs to laughter as well. Even Death was allowed to have fun on his days off.
-
Minho’s parents gave them a weekend free at their family cabin as a graduation present. Their friends piled into two rented vans and took off for the forest with the trunks full of hot dogs and clinking bottles and bathing suits. There was also a large cake that read ‘Happy Birthday Thomas!’ although Thomas only found out about its existence later. (He’d hoped they’d all forgotten his birthday, not wanting to make the weekend about him. This was supposed to be a celebration for all of them finishing school. They hadn’t, obviously. They were his best friends, after all.)
The cottage had a dock and beach, a fire-pit and, as Brenda put it with a limp wave of her wrist ‘avant-garde rustic vibe’.
“That was exactly what my parents were going for, I’ll let them know.” Minho deadpans, holding bags and bags of groceries as they unload the car.
Thomas looks down at the water and turns to see Newt already smiling at him, quirking an eyebrow.
“Race you?” Thomas asks, and Newt grins at the challenge in his voice, but Thomas is already moving. Kicking his shoes off and thundering along the dock, whipping his shirt over his head. Hot on his heels the graceful quick steps of Newt are a direct contrast. Thomas lets out a shout as he jumps, springing through the air before pulling in tight for a cannon ball, watching the water rush forward and squeezing his eyes closed at the last second.
The explosion of breaking the lakes surface, and then nothing. Muffled silence, hanging suspended in the black, so profoundly peaceful and quiet. And then Newt was next to him, shifting the currents and spinning them closer together. Their fingers tangle together. With a sharp kick he rose, breaking the surface and laughing wildly. “Beat you.” He gasped to Newt.
Newt looks at Thomas and, pulls on their clasped hands, towing Thomas closer as they tread lazily. “You won the battle Tommy.” He said, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders and Thomas leans in, already tilting his head to receive a kiss. Newt’s eyes flash. “But I’ll win the war.” He whispers before pushing down. Playfully dunking him and then sputtering when Thomas pulls him down below the surface as well.
They splash their way back into the shallows and Thomas stood, waves lapping at his chest. He reached out, grabbing Newt and pulling him close, the ripples from their bodies meeting in the murky water splashing. Newt wrapped his long slim arms around Thomas’s neck, legs locking around his middle.
Their noses bump together and Thomas can’t help but grin. “I won.” He insisted stubbornly, hands gripping Newt’s waist as they swayed in the water.
Newt gave him a swift firm peck. “Debatable.”
The birthday cake comes out around the same time the stone fireplace gets lit and Thomas is thankful for the warmth as an excuse for his flushing cheeks. At least until Newt kisses him, light and closed lipped on the mouth just after he blows out the candles. And then he has no excuse at all.
Newt is sent out to get firewood and Thomas almost follows him because, well, there’s a lot, a lot of scenario’s that could be explored. But life is not kind, and just as Thomas is tip-toeing out the door to go find Newt Harriet spots him.
“Could you go grab Sonya? She’s down by the dock I think.” She asks. (Maybe the long dead ghost of the snowflake was getting its revenge.)
Thomas grumbles and grumps and stumbles out into the cool evening, spotting a thin figure down by the water, long hair glinting in the bright moonlight. And it was bright. The moon unnaturally luminous and as Thomas makes his way down to the girl something prickles and rises in his throat. She was swaying slightly, as if pulled by the tide, but the water in front of her was still. Still and reflective like a mirror. Unnaturally so.
“Sonya?” He asks timidly.
She turns.
She had never looked more beautiful. Hair hung loose and long down her back, strands spilling and tangling as the wind off the lake caressed the liquid gold, so like her brother’s. Her eyes were unfocused and seemed to ripple, pupils unnaturally narrow. Her lips part, a perfect bow shape curing downward like a scythe. The moon hung directly above her head, huge and full, a crown of white against the black, and despite the warmth of the summer evening goosebumps rose on Thomas’s arms.
“I am the end.” She says in a voice that rattled from deep within her chest like the shifting of bones in restless tombs. Her arms rise on either side, palms upward and outstretched, tiny slivers of light hanging from her fingertips, threads of destiny.
Thomas felt his stomach turn to ice, his tongue curl and roll to the roof of his mouth and he took a step back, careful not to touch the shadows of the trees that seemed to stretch and reach for him in the moonlight.
Her lips part and her teeth shine white.
“I was born before life and I will never die, for I cannot claim myself, and no other dares to try. I have been earthquakes and pestilence and the splitting atom. I have been plagues and I have been war. I have been the words of false prophets. When giants ruled and shook the ground with their steps I was an errant moon brought to earth. Before that, a boiling sea. You know not what I will be when your time comes, only that it will come. I am inevitable. I am the end.”
“Sonya-“ He breathed, hushed, taking another shaking step back. There was a moment of silence, her eyes ancient, distant galaxies floating within.
Sonya snorted.
“Got ya!” She said with a bright laugh, bouncing forward and steadying him when Thomas almost faints. She lets out a high sweet note of laughter, head thrown back and teeth flashing in the light of the moon as Thomas tries to remember how his lungs worked.
He clutched at his chest weakly. “Sunny what the fu-“
She laughed, again, delighted. “Birthday prank. Brenda bribed me with a very important picture. Do you know that Gally’s best friend when he was a kid was a pinwheel?” Sonya wrapped her arm around Thomas’s neck, pulling him down in a headlock to her height and giving a huge affectionate sloppy smack of a kiss against his cheek. “Happy birthday Thomas.”
Seconds later, Thomas kicks in the door to the cabin, locking eyes with Brenda who smiles evilly. “I think it’s time for a witch hunt.” He hisses. Brenda looks at him, eyebrows raised.
“I don’t care for that term.” She says primly.
“Sonya just try and scare the shit out of you too?” Minho asks knowingly from his spot roasting marshmallows near the fireplace. Gally sitting next to him lets his head fall onto Minho’s shoulder.
“That picture has brought nothing but despair.” He moans while gazing into the flames with desolation. Minho consoles his dramatic boyfriend by feeding him a toasted marshmallow.
Newt walks into the cabin, arms full of firewood and doing a double take at Thomas’s still pale complexion. “What’s wrong?” He asks, instantly dropping the wood and coming to cradle Thomas’s face in his hands.
Nothing, anymore. Thomas thinks, feeling his cheeks flush instantly. “Your sister.” He says with a murderous stare in the giggling blonde’s direction.
Newt lets out a long-suffering sigh, smoothing Thomas’s hair back from his forehead. “If it’s any consolation, I tried to convince my parents to get a dog instead.”
-
“You’re so happy.” Teresa says.
Thomas turned from the particularly enjoyable sight of Newt racing Minho in the water to look at Teresa. They lay on the dock together sunbathing, abandoned by their friends. He rested his cheek on his crossed forearms, feeling the grain of the wood on his stomach. He stretched, crossing his ankles together let the sun beat down on his back, trying to get as hot as possible before jumping into the lake.
Thomas grins, reaching out and pushing Teresa’s massive round sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose. “It’s been known to happen.”
She stuck her tongue out at him, readjusting her halter bathing suit. Sitting on her striped beach towel and looking like someone straight out of Grease, only missing a big pink bubble of gum to complete the image.
“You’re so happy too.” He adds.
Teresa stretches, flopping back onto her towel. “Darn right I am.”
Thomas rolls over onto his back and they stare quietly at the sky. He wonders how many times they’ve done this over the years. It must be in the high thousands. “Remember the plane ride to school? The first one?” He asks and grins when Teresa laughs in response.
They had been petrified, the both of them. Pale as ghosts and jumping in their seats every time the stewardess has asked them to put their table tray up. Two small-town kids on their big college adventure, a suitcase each and vague directions to campus folded in a zippered pocket of Teresa’s purse.
“I held your hand the entire way.” She says fondly, wearing the memory like a favorite t-shirt, material soft from time.
“Yeah your palm was super sweaty. It was really gross.” He says.
She flicked water at him and he laughed. He pulled just once, gently, on a long brown curl, the action an echo of childhood, adding “I’m glad we went to the same school together.”
“Tom we’ve done everything together since we met.” She pointed out, looking back up at the sky. “Grade school.”
“Middle school.” Thomas ticks off.
“High school.” Teresa adds.
“College.” They finish together. In the distance their friends and loves splash and play in the water.
Thomas points up at a fluffy white cloud. “That one looks like a crocodile.” He says and she shakes her head.
“No, that’s a giraffe.” She argues.
“What? How do you see that?”
“There-look? That’s the neck and there’s the head.” Her arm mirrors his in the air.
“What? No that’s the jaw. There’s it’s teeth, see?”
“You need glasses old man.” She says and lets her hand fall.
“You’re four months older than me!” Thomas scowls as his own hand flops to his stomach.
“Tom?”
“Yeah Teresa?”
The sky was so vibrantly blue his eyes hurt, but in a surprisingly good way. He hadn’t known that was possible. A year ago a lot of things weren’t possible.
“I’m glad we did everything together.”
Thomas smiles. “Me too.”
-
“Hey Thomas?” Brenda called mildly from her spot at the counter of the clothing store.
“Yeah Bren?” He looked over from the Master’s program applications strewn across the counter that he’d been filling out with varying stages of dread.
Brenda took a slow deep breath in through her nose, closing her eyes and her hands moving upwards to hover on either side of the faded Jesus prayer candle.
Thomas smiled. “Been working on your little fire tric-HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD.” He screamed, falling and scrambling sideways like a crab until his shoulders hit the wall.
Brenda opened her eyes and the massive column of flames that had burst into life died instantly. She grinned like the sight of Thomas gaping open-mouthed at her brought endless joy. “Still think it’s the wind?”
“How are we going to explain a scorch mark in the ceiling to Jorge?” Thomas asked weakly, still trying to swallow the image of the fire that had exploded around Brenda’s palms.
She looked upwards and narrowed her eyes for a minute as she examined the black sooty mark roughly the size of a dinner plate. “It’s brand representation. Scorched Earth with a literal scorch mark. It’ll be a way to stand out with the customers. Jorge’ll love it.”
Thomas got shakily to his feet, clutching a cabinet to steady himself. “Yeah that’ll work.”
Hours later, when Minho lifted weights next to him in the gym, he did a double take, leaning in close to examine Thomas’s face with a frown.
“Dude your missing, like, half an eyebrow.”
“Brenda.” Thomas offers, dropping his own weight with relief.
“Ah. No further explanation required.”
-
Their convocation ceremony miraculously lands on the Thursday before the start of Pride and Thomas wonders faintly about deals with the devil (Newt had been pulling a lot of overtime lately). The graduation cap and gown itch and they’re hot. It’s way too hot and Thomas melts his way through the speeches, noticing how the Dean pulls a face when he shakes Thomas’s sweaty palm. He can’t help but chuckle. His name is called and no one cheers louder than Chuck, his parents blushing and laughing. Minho is a close second, Brenda a very close third.
There’s a high-pitched wolf whistle when Thomas walks across the stage that somehow manages to have a british accent.
At the reception something short circuits in his mind as he watches Newt chat and charm his parents into being potentially more in love with him than even Thomas.
When Newt reaches over and loosens Thomas’s bowtie before absentmindedly lacing their fingers together Thomas feels himself gazing dopily up at Newt, the world spinning like he might fall over, and revises his previous statement about his parents.
It was impossible to be more in love with Newt than he was.
Apparently, it shows on his face because Newt smiles down at him, cheeks a touch pink and eyes glowing. Thomas’s mother beams and Chuck makes barfing motions behind their backs until Teresa elbows him in the ribs.
“Sorry, twitch.” She offers in apology to Chuck.
“Better get those twitches checked out.” Brenda advises from her spot draped across Teresa’s shoulder.
-
The Pride parade is chaos and color and they do three shots of tequila and smoke what was definitely the best joint he’d ever had before heading out. Thomas’s head filling up with flowers and a bright giddy taste on his tongue in the sunlight. Music blasts from speakers on the floats and the crowd is a massive crush of bodies dancing, Thomas shaking his head at the song.
“Really? Raising Hell?” Thomas shouts over the din of music and singing and limbs whipping around them. Newt can’t help but throw his head back and laugh at his disbelief as Brenda let’s out a shriek. (Kesha was, by far, her favorite.)
Thomas takes a moment just to look, smiling so wide he can feel the rainbow temporary tattoo on his cheek crinkle.
Harriet and Sonya sat on Minho and Gally’s shoulders respectively, Harriet sporting rainbow striped scrubs. He saw Brenda take a deep steadying breath and grasp Teresa’s hand, and then Teresa and her magic rainbow hair surged forward, kissing Brenda soundly, and then shake her head and laugh at Brenda’s glazed beaming expression.
There was a thump of base as the song reached its frantic peak and with a blast canons exploded confetti, showering the crowd in a rainbow. Thomas looks up into the chaos of color playing on the wind and then back down, eyes locking with Newt as they danced and spun. Newt’s hands reaching up, one going around his waist, pulling him close. The other resting on the nape of his neck (Newt really had a thing about his neck) and Thomas threw his arms around Newt, kissing him soundly, the two of them laughing against each other’s lips under the sun in an explosion of color.
And as Thomas kissed Death he could quite honestly say he’d never felt more alive.
-
Thomas had, for lack of a better word, royally fucked up. He slipped on the brick of the ally (again, fuck) and caught himself with wildly spinning arms that scrabbled for purchase against the fire escape. Steady, he took a deep breath and lunged upward, desperate fingers hooking around the first rung of the ladder hanging eight feet off the ground.
He was currently hanging off the ground because he was trying to break into his apartment. He was currently trying to break into his apartment because, he had, in fact royally fucked up. The royal fuck up in question was that he’d left a stack of papers that he needed to hand back to his tutorial students today in class. And that said papers in said apartment were key to a previously unmentioned thesis proposal that was due in-shit-two hours and twenty-three minutes. He was a Phd candidate for god sakes, he was an adult god damn it, he was getting his shit together by gods will. He was definitely going to congratulate Minho on his skills as a trainer because this was a lot easier this time.
Tongue sticking out the side of his mouth Thomas swung himself up and climbed the ladder easily. He couldn’t care less about breaking into the apartment that he shared with his boyfriend, but he was a little embarrassed to admit that he’d lost another key. So home invasion it was. Although, did it technically count as home invasion if it was your own home?
Thomas rattled and clanged up the fire escape steps and threw himself frantically into the unlocked window, and of course he tripped and knocked the contents of Newt’s desk all over the floor. Thomas scrambled to pick up the paper work, throwing them into the organized filing system he’d set up ages ago, absentmindedly placing Newt’s reaper I.D card (which now said, simply, Executive, the Junior part of the title dropped two months ago) in the ‘Don’t forget’ bowl on his desk next to his car keys, righting the thurible and its stand as well.
Thomas reached down again to grab more papers and froze. Because. Huh.
Lying on the ground scattered amidst graded papers and Newt’s various expense bills (mostly takeout food and gas) there was a small velvet box, black as midnight both inside and out, knocked open to reveal a simple gold band glittering back at him.
Thomas reached down with shaking fingers, trying to catch his breath and stop himself from smiling so wide his face split in half as he picked the ring box up to look. A deep burnished gold, initially just a simple band, but with closer inspection it seemed almost as though the ring was hollow and clear, a deep shining thick smoke moving and swirling and almost liquid in its consistency shifting under the glass.
There was an exasperated sigh and Thomas’s head snapped up, seeing Newt leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and his face a shifting mixture of affectionate exasperation and deep, deep love.
“Turning this into a bit of a habit, aren’t you?” Newt asked with a chuckle. He nodded at the ring. “Go on then, since you ruined the surprise. What’ll it be?”
Thomas flew across the room, slamming their lips together in joy. “Yes.” He breathed, answering both of Newt’s questions in one.