Chapter Text
The alarm clock rings noisily, above the quiet sounds of rustling leaves and cicadas. It reads 09:00 in bright red lettering, glaring through the darkness of the room.
Newt puts a hand to his face and groans loudly, trying his best to ignore the incessant beeping the clock is making. Eventually, he succumbs to it, throwing off his covers and stumbling ungracefully across the room, slamming his hand down on the stupid machine.
Running a hand through his golden hair, he treads to the bathroom. A quick glance in the mirror makes him grimace. Dark circles run under his brown eyes, as if he had gotten no sleep the night before.
Which is true, because Newt had spent the previous night dabbling in his sketches, perfecting every line, every detail of his subject. He had gone to bed at around six due to his persistence of trying to make full use of his creative outburst.
He washes up quickly and readies himself for class, which starts promptly at ten-thirty. He might just get a cup of tea before he goes.
As he walks towards the front door, he spots Thomas at the dining table, laptop placed in front of him. The dark haired male types frantically and hits backspace more than he needs to.
"Morning, Tommy. Rushing essays again?" Newt asks as he puts on his shoes. Thomas glances away from the screen and scowls. He looks more roughed up than usual, hair messy and scruff on his chin.
"Yeah, yeah. Gotta hand it in later. I shouldn't have gone out last night," He sulks, berating himself for his choices. "You heading for class?"
"Gonna get something to eat before then. Want to tag along?" Newt has his bag slung over his shoulder, finished with his shoes. He waits expectantly for Thomas to reply. "I'll probably head by Alby's for some food."
With a torn expression, Thomas glances between his unfinished essay and Newt's slightly hopeful face. Before he can reply, Newt interjects. "I thought you might need some fuel to complete your work. It's alright if you don't want to go."
A sigh escapes Thomas' lips as he shuts the cover of his laptop. A wry smile is etched onto his face. "Can't say no to you and your charms, can't I? I'll go, but I'm bringing my work with me." Thomas gets up from his spot at the dining table and moves to his room, throwing on some jeans and a simple shirt.
"Ready?" Newt smiles as he watches Thomas grab his computer and his wallet.
"Yeah, let's go."
They shut the door and lock it, heading past several other apartments and out into the warm air. Alby's small cafe is tucked away from the usual path, a small corner hidden between business districts and the university campus.
The door rings when they enter the quaint cafe, well known by the students for a quiet and cosy environment. Alby's at the front counter, mixing some drinks while Minho tends to the counter. A grin appears on Minho's face when he sees Newt and Thomas.
"Hey there," Then he looks pointedly at Newt. "Don't you have class?"
Newt shrugs easily. "Doesn't start until half past ten. Came here cause I was hungry."
Minho nods. "So, what do you guys want? We've got a few new sandwiches that Frypan is eagerly promoting. Avocado something, I think."
Thomas raises an eyebrow. "I think I'll stick with my usual."
Newt nods in agreement. They pay for their drinks and sandwiches and move to sit at a table, near the back of the cafe. Thomas pulls out his laptop and opens his document again, looking it over and trying to regain momentum. He runs a hand through his dark locks in an exasperated motion.
"I don't know how to write this," Thomas says, after a prolonged and dramatic silence. Newt almost laughs. "Want me to look it over for you?"
Thomas shakes his head. "I doubt you'd want to read my boring analysis of A Streetcar Named Desire. I did a pretty rushed job." He flushes in embarrassment.
Newt smiles tenderly, as if saying that it was alright, and that he wouldn't have minded. Minho then interrupts by placing the plates on the table, sandwiches and salads looking delicious. Their drinks are put down too and Minho says, "Rushing your work again, Thomas? Bad habit."
"Not my fault I was invited to a party," Thomas retorts, glaring at Minho, who puts his hands up in defense. "Not my fault you said yes."
"Oh come on, you were practically begging me to go. Don't deny it!" Thomas says bitterly, glancing at his essay in frustration. Minho laughs easily. "Needed someone to be my wingman. At least you didn't drink."
"Lucky me," Thomas rolls his eyes. He hears Alby shout for Minho to get his lazy ass over to the counter and the guy leaves their table, returning to his post. Newt shoots Thomas a questioning look.
"You went to a party last night? No wonder you were back so late," Newt remarks, delicately eating his chicken sandwich.
"Reminds me, you were awake too, right? Saw your light turned on. Late night sketching?" Thomas asks, gulping down his hot drink. He begins eating his sandwich with much less grace than Newt.
"I was inspired, so I thought I'd make use of it. Never thought I'd draw until that late though," Newt replies, an embarrassed flush dusting his cheeks. He had drawn quite a few things, mostly scenery and random shapes that filtered through his mind. There was also a small sketch of Thomas in the corner, eyes half-lidded and glazed over.
Newt would never mention that though.
They fall into mindless banter about menial things, watching the small flocks of people pass the cafe, idly strolling in the warm weather. At ten fifteen, Newt has already polished off his chicken sandwich and has already taken the last sip of his drink.
"I'd better get to class now. I need to be there at ten-thirty," Newt gathers his things and stands up, watching Thomas pack up as well. He smiles when Thomas looks at him again.
"I'd better finish up my essay," Thomas grins cheekily and they leave the cafe together, waving at Alby and Minho as they open the door. "I'll see you later then, Newt."
Newt stands on the empty sidewalk as he watches Thomas leave.
He doesn't turn back.
Newt sighs and heads for class, biting his lip as he does so.
A strange, empty feeling crawls up his throat and all his thoughts are trembling, left in the wake of Thomas' presence. Newt clutches his bag tighter and wills the feeling away, concentrating on the sound of his footsteps.
He wishes for something, but he doesn't know what.
x
Figure drawing is something that Newt likes. The curve of the spine, little freckles dotted along cheekbones, odd quirks that their models might have. All these make figure drawing so much more interesting. He captures different people, their smiles, the way they sit, posture and all.
The sound of pencil on paper fills the room, bright morning sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains providing good lighting for the model. Newt watches as his canvas is filled up with the image of the female model, her soft features glowing in the rays of the sun.
Soon, his class ends and Newt checks his phone for any new messages. Habitual behaviour, honestly. This time, there's a text from Thomas. Curious, Newt taps on his inbox and finds Thomas' name.
From : Tommy
To : Newt
I'll be late tonight. Found myself a hot date. She might be the one I think!! :)
Newt stares at the message for a long while. He doesn't realise Teresa is peering over his shoulder to read it. Briefly, he wonders how Thomas could have found someone for a date if he was busy rushing his essay.
"Thomas is going out again? He really needs to stop his soulmate searching business," She says, nudging Newt in the side. He snaps out of his stupor and ignores the cold sear his heart feels, the emptiness swelling. Teresa stares at him.
"You're upset," She says in a factual tone, ushering Newt out of the classroom. The blonde male raises an eyebrow, a blank look on his face.
"I'm not," Newt denies, walking alongside Teresa as they enter the courtyard. She shakes her head, blue eyes piercing Newt.
"It's clear to me that you're jealous." Her hair glimmers in the sunlight. Newt ignores her in favour of replying to Thomas, typing a short message.
From : Newt
To : Tommy
Have fun. Good luck.
He stuffs his phone into his pocket and continues walking. The warm gust of wind caresses his hair gently and he barely notices Teresa opening her mouth to say something.
"You should tell him. You really should. It's not good to keep it in like this, Newt. I'm sure Thomas likes you too," Teresa has a sullen tone to her voice but her gaze doesn't waver. Newt wants to laugh at how ridiculous she sounds.
"What if he rejects me? Our bloody friendship would turn into dust at that point. I don't want that to happen!" Newt barks back. "He's going on a date anyway, so I'll probably just get in his way. Don't challenge me, Teresa."
"I'm not challenging you. I'm just trying to give you advice. You never know what might happen, Newt. Think about it, okay?" She slumps in resignation and sighs.
Newt doesn't say anything more, waving goodbye as Teresa goes off for her next class. The early afternoon crowd of students surround Newt, chattering animatedly with their friends. For Newt, there are no more classes for the day and he takes off to the city area.
He doesn't know what he's doing, Usually he goes to the library or back to the apartment, but he follows where his feet are going.
Newt ends up in front of the train station, where people mill around, waiting for the trains to arrive. It's scenic, with the lush trees surrounding it, the ringing of bells when a train departs and the rustic nature of the building.
He finds a bench nearby and pulls out his sketchbook, lining the form of the station and the people around it. It's strangely comforting, the way his hands move along the paper.
Somewhere along the line while he's sketching people, he finds himself drawing Thomas. He stands in front of the station with welcoming arms, stretched wide. With a grin, his eyes beckon Newt to follow him. Newt groans in frustration, putting a hand to his face. He snaps the sketchbook shut and watches the sun slowly cast darker shadows on the floor.
He had been watching the train station for a few hours, he assumes as the sky changes from the bright blue of day into glorious gold. Pigeons coo as he gets up from the bench and he walks back to the apartment, fingers tightly curling around his sketchbook.
He opens the door to find the apartment empty, as he expects.
After eating a quick meal (courtesy of the fridge), Newt showers and settles in bed. He pulls out a copy of 'A Streetcar Named Desire' which Thomas had given him because he had accidentally ordered two copies and begins reading. He is reminded of Thomas' essay and wonders if he did finish it up and hand it in.
Drowsiness seeps into his being as he continues reading further into the night and he succumbs to it, book still in hand.
He falls asleep, reading, “What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it's curved like a road through mountains."