Chapter Text
Newt knew he liked you the moment he saw you. Or heard you, in fact. Maybe it was the way you yelled at the football match when the opposing team scored points, maybe it was the way you laughed so carefree, tipping your head back and closing your eyes, or maybe it was the way you would smile and laugh after saying his name when he’d done something so amusing.
It was probably all three.
“Newt?” you asked, as you braked at the intersection, waiting for the red light to change.
“Yeah?” he said, somewhat distant, as he broke away from his own spiral of thoughts. He glanced at you, lazily, his brown eyes tired.
“I was saying—” you suddenly took off as the light turned green, but as you were about to continue your sentence, the car beside you sped up and cut you off, without indicating or any warning sign. Your jaw dropped and you gripped the steering wheel, tight, and rolled down your window.
“Y/N—” Newt said, eyes wide. He knew what you were about to do.
“Fucking wanker!” you yelled, sticking your finger out the window. The driver quickly vanished around a corner, taking a hard left, the tires squealing with sudden change in direction. You eyed the car before it disappeared completely with venom, a frown set upon your lips.
Newt stared at you, and you caught his eyes. He blinked. “You sure are scary when you want to be.”
You laughed at this, “Newt!” You hit the radio on, turning the volume up as you squinted out the windscreen again. You glanced in the mirrors as you changed lanes. The music was loud, the air was warm, and you were craving an ice cream cone.
“Anyway—” he mumbled, his cheeks a little pink. “What were you saying?”
You smiled, “Ice cream! At the beach!”
“What about it?”
You rolled your eyes, “Ice cream. At the beach,” you repeated. You turned a corner a little too harshly and Newt reached out for the side of the car and held on for dear life. You laughed. “Need I say more?”
He sighed, but there was a small smile on his lips. “You want to go get ice cream at the beach?”
“Yep,” you confirmed, with a nod of your head.
It’d been a long day, but he wasn’t about to decline spending more time with you. Ever since he met you, he felt like the circle of friends was complete. He’d always been good friends with Tommy and Minho, of course, but his friendship with you was different.
“Should I text the others?” he suggested, reaching for his phone.
“Nah,” you said, and the tips of your ears pinkened. You were suddenly thankful for the sunglasses you had on, otherwise he might see the nerves in your eyes. You weren’t easily shaken but when it concerned Newt…
Newt slipped his phone back into his pocket. The drive to the beach wasn’t far, and soon, you managed to park the car without cussing out the whole street. Newt always found your urge to swear very amusing, if not completely terrifying.
You greeted the warm, salty air with glee, and this made Newt smile. He watched as you danced over the hot asphalt of the road and onto the footpath, trying to slip your shoes back on without burning the soles of your feet or tripping over.
The path would lead down to the beachfront and soon, to your favorite ice cream place. It was a little breezy, which meant he could smell the salt in the air more than usual, but he enjoyed the warmth of the sun. He watched you as you paused in the middle of the footpath, trying to tie up your hair so it wouldn’t flail crazily in the breeze.
He came up behind you and swiftly pulled your hair out of your face with ease. His fingers brushed against the sides of your face as he scooped it up. He was used to doing this, you never quite managed to catch all the hair in one go. And you weren’t the most graceful human on the planet, but that was something he loved about you.
“Ah, my knight in shining armor,” you mumbled, the hair tie still in between your teeth. You pulled it from your mouth and grabbed your hair, your fingers touching his. You tied it up and he let go, taking a step back.
You turned to him, “Voila!” The breeze had shifted his blond curls slightly, and in the golden glow of the sun, he looked very attractive. Especially his eyes.
“Where would you be without me?”
“Bald, probably,” you giggled, and he smiled, shaking his head.
You both walked along the footpath, chatting about school and homework and your friends when you reached the small shop. The doors were opened up fully and there was only a short line waiting to order. You got in line quickly, and Newt stood beside you. You peered up at the menu board, though you were pretty sure you knew what you wanted.
But before you could order your ice cream, Newt stepped forward and recited your favorite ice cream flavor and his order, too. Then he paid for them both and he drifted inside to wait, watching as the girl behind the counter started scooping.
You watched him from where you stood, almost dumbfounded. You frowned, and quickly moved out of the line when you realized you were taking up space. You eyed him but he wouldn’t look at you, instead, his brown eyes were firmly planted on the hands making your ice creams.
You always paid separately. It’s just what you did. You were good friends, sure, but there was always this… prospect of it being more than that, almost like a pressure from outsiders’ expectations that you couldn’t explain, so to combat that, you’d always pay separately. Always invite the others to hang out with you. Always made everything strictly friend and not date. You even split money when it came to buying snacks from the supermarket—
“Why are you staring at me?” he murmured, watching the girl as she lifted the cones up onto the counter. Before you could answer, he stepped forward and grabbed them from their holders. He smiled and then passed your cone to you. He walked out of the ice cream shop and you followed, as if on autopilot.
He neared the sand and sat down on a concrete ledge that bordered the footpath and the beach. The breeze played with his curls and his shirt. He looked over his shoulder at you, ice cream on his lips, “Y/N?”
You sat down beside him in silence. You ate your ice cream, pondering the thoughts in your head.
“You’ve never been this quiet for this long, what’s up?” he licked the dripping ice cream off his fingers. His own sunglasses were still sitting on top of his head, propped up in his golden hair. He glanced at you when you didn’t answer him straight away.
“Y-you—” you stopped yourself, frowning. Newt watched you with curious eyes, practically forgetting about his ice cream. He’d never seen you stumble over your words or hesitate. “You… paid for my ice cream?”
Newt blinked. He glanced at his ice cream and he swallowed, “Yeah.”
“What—”
“I like you,” he said, straight to the point. But he couldn’t seem to lift his eyes to yours. But he didn’t wait for a response. “I’ve been thinkin’ about it,” he started, his voice both urgent and soft at the same time, somehow, “a lot. It’s been on a mind so often, I couldn’t just… ignore it.” He licked his lips, “I remembered the time you threw your popcorn bucket at the cinema, that time that we met, when we all went to see Avengers: Infinity War. You were so mad. And the bucket landed right on my head—”
You laughed, shaking your head, you remembered it too. You were so embarrassed; you’d never been embarrassed about something like that before. You knew you were loud, confident and a little crazy sometimes but that was who you were. And when you caught eyes with Newt, having just thrown your bucket right into his head, and he had turned in his seat to look over his shoulder up at you, hand on his head, he smiled so widely that your cheeks must have glowed red. It was like a shock to the system. This boy and everything about him.
He laughed, too, “And I thought, who is this girl?” he announced, with such enthusiasm, it made your heart flutter. He looked at you, eyes softening. “I liked you then, and ever since. I can’t ignore it anymore.”
You leaned over and kissed him, right on the lips, without warning, without second thought. He almost jumped out of his skin, not expecting you to feel the same way. But when the initial shock was over, he kissed you back. He blindly lifted the sunglasses from your nose, the things almost catching in your hair, and he set them down on the ledge. You tasted chocolate fudge ice cream on his lips. His free hand cupped your jaw, moved to your cheek, as he fumbled with his lips, messily pressing them to yours with a kind of urgency, a kind of confidence he wanted you to know about him. And then his hand drifted to your free hand and held it.
Your ice creams melted in your fingers, long forgotten.