Chapter Text
2007
Teresa sticks her tongue out at Thomas, waving his pencil above her head.
“Teresa, give it baaack,” Thomas whines.
Miss Paige walks into the class with a small boy at her heels. “Class, settle down now. Teresa please give Thomas his pencil, and Gally please face forward. Stop bothering Aris.”
Thomas smiles smugly at Teresa who rolls her eyes in return.
“We have a new student who is going to join us. I shouldn’t have to tell you this but I am expecting you to treat him well,” says the teacher. Thomas thinks the boy looks too young to be in the seventh grade. And why is he starting school here in December? Miss Paige turns to the boy (short blond hair, hands in pockets, skinny). “Would you like to introduce yourself?”
The boy shrugs. “Uh… Hi. My name is Newt. Like the animal,” he says with an odd accent. British?
“Anything else?” Miss Paige asks, clearly expecting him to say more. “Anything about yourself? Where you’re from? Any fun facts?”
“No.”
Miss Paige pauses. “Alright then,” she says and addresses the class. “I’m going to need a volunteer to show him around.”
Everyone bows their head and stares at their desk.
“If no one volunteers, I’m going to have to pick someone,” she says pointedly.
Thomas closes his eyes. He knows where this is going. Maybe Teresa is right; maybe he should be less of a ‘goody two shoes’ so teachers don’t assume he is happy to do anything they ask.
“Alright then,” she says again. “Hmm, Thomas.”
He sighs inwardly and looks up.
“Can you make sure Newt gets to all his classes on time?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She smiles at him. “Teresa, could you move to the back? Newt, take a seat next to Thomas.”
It is Teresa’s turn to smirk and Thomas can't help but pout.
“Hello,” the boy—Newt—says as he plops down next to Thomas with a nervous grin.
Thomas smiles back reassuringly and hopes the day would go by fast. “Hi.”
2017
College is supposed to be fun. Thomas does not think this is fun. He’s always up late but not for parties. No. Because he has to study. And he had to quit the athletics club this semester because he has no time to do anything nice anymore.
So of course, on this random February morning, Thomas is almost late for class as usual. He has his backpack in his hand while he’s running and trying to stuff his books inside. And that is when he bumps into Newt. Literally.
“Hey, arsehole, you nearly broke my lens,” Newt says from where he’s crouching on the ground, picking up a camera.
“Newt?” Thomas breathes.
Newt looks up. He’s wearing a beanie, strands of hair falling out, long enough to brush against his furrowed eyebrows. He looks older, which is to be expected really, but Thomas can’t help but feel like he’s looking at a stranger and an old friend at the same time. Well, that’s pretty accurate, actually. “Tommy?” Newt stands, gaping.
Oh god, it really is him, he thinks, because this is all a shock. Why is he here?
The camera is being hung around Newt’s neck and he looks as if he is both frowning and smiling. There’s a long pause where neither of them says a thing. Finally, Newt tilts his head and asks, “Are you alright?”
“I, um… I’m seriously going to be late. Gotta go,” says Thomas because 1) he is actually running late, 2) he’ll always be an awkward idiot around Newt, and 3) he never wants to see this guy again.
Newt blinks, twice and almost deliberate, and replies, “Yeah, uh, sure.” He pulls out his wallet to hand Thomas a small square piece of paper. “Here, we should catch up?”
It’s a business card with Newt’s number on it. So, he’s a freelance photographer now. That’s good.
It still doesn’t make Thomas want to call him.
Newt clears his throat awkwardly and Thomas realizes he has just been staring at the card in Newt’s outstretched hand.
And he’s going to be tremendously, fashionably late for his lecture.
“Yeah, of course.” He takes it out of courtesy, says “See ya around” with a smile, and runs to his 9AM.
He throws the card in the trash can outside the lecture hall before he goes in.
Then, after class, he rummages through coffee cups and apple cores to fish it out again.
*
Thomas keeps the card in his wallet for a month, right at the back where the expired coupons and old receipts stay because he is too lazy to throw them away. He almost forgets about it until his roommate gets snoopy.
“You have no cash in here, man!” Minho shouts from Thomas’s room.
Thomas gets up from the sofa and makes his way to the room. “I was sure there’s something there.”
“Uh, everything except cash. Your wallet is full of shit. What even is this?” Minho asks, squinting at a tiny, very crumpled receipt. “‘5% off your next gas fill’… expired a year and a half ago.”
Thomas rummages through his bedside table in search for spare cash. The pizza guy clears his throat pointedly from the door of their apartment. “Shut up, Minho. At least my room is clean. Yours smells like cheeseburgers and feet.”
He finds some bills then jogs to the door.
“Keep the change,” he says and takes the box.
The pizza man (smells faintly of tobacco, hat skewed) raises an eyebrow, probably because there isn't going to be much (any) change, and walks away without a word.
“Ew, do you keep business cards from your hook-ups in the back of your wallet so I can’t see them?” Minho calls from the bedroom. “And why are there stains on it? I seriously do not want to know what caused these stains, dude.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Unless, you are going on a photo-shoot for some bizarre reason,” Minho says as he joins Thomas on the couch and grabs a slice of pizza.
That’s when Thomas realizes what he is talking about. He tries to play it cool because when Minho gets suspicious, he could be worse than Thomas with all the questions he asks. “Oh. It’s from a friend from high school.”
Minho stops chewing. Shit. “Why isn’t his number on your phone?”
“I just bumped into him recently and I keep forgetting to put the number in.” Thomas gives himself a mental high-five.
Minho’s eyebrows draw closer together but all he says is, “Okay,” and he hands the card to Thomas. He keeps his eyes on Thomas, so Thomas feels obliged to take his phone out and save the number, then gets up to throw the card away for good.
*
Thomas thinks that’s the end of it. He no longer has the stupid card but now, but he can’t bring himself to delete the number from his phone. Thankfully, he manages to refrain from sending Newt a text or, god forbid, calling the guy.
Of course, he should never think that anything good will ever happen when Newt is involved because after a few days, he gets a call from Teresa.
“Hey,” he says after he picks up.
“You saw Newt and you never even called me?” Teresa’s voice is louder than normal.
All the color drains from Thomas’s face. “Oh, I’m fine and school’s going smoothly, thanks for asking. How are you doing?”
Teresa sighs. “Don’t even try to get out of this. Tell me what happened.”
“Look, I was running late and I somehow literally ran into him. Then I left.”
There’s no sound from the other line. Obviously she knows about that evil card. He’s going to strangle Minho in his sleep.
“Yes, he gave me his business card to ‘catch up’,” he makes quotation gestures with his hand even though Teresa can’t see him. “I threw it away.” And I should have left it in that trash can in the first place.
She sighs again. “Minho says you have his number in your phone.”
“I deleted it,” he lies. “I don’t want to see him, Teresa, let alone catch up.”
“That’s not what you said in junior year.”
“Yeah, well, I grew the hell up. That was a long time ago.” Why is she making this a big deal? It’s just Newt, for fuck’s sake. Who cares? “Besides, I thought I’d never see him again and I was perfectly okay with that.”
“No, you weren’t,” she retorts.
“Yes, I was!” he says, a little too loudly. “Okay maybe not at first, but like I said that was a long time ago.”
Teresa sighs a third time and the sound without the image makes Thomas miss her greatly. “Tom.” The nickname has him sighing in return. “Don’t you even want to patch things up? Just clear the air and get closure?”
“What do I need closure for?” Thomas rolls his eyes. “No, don’t answer that. I mean I’m fine. I was fine before I saw him again, and I’m fine now. It doesn’t bother me anymore.”
“You sound like you’re overcompensating.”
Thomas groans. “I was okay until everyone kept bringing it up. First Minho and now you. I just want to forget it and keep living my life, you know?” He attempts to change the subject. “How’s work?”
Teresa makes a disgruntled sound and he can just sense that she’s rolling her eyes. “I’m a secretary to a mean old boss who makes a face every single time I suggest something. I’m living the dream, Thomas, what do you think?”
“Wow. I didn’t need to verbally slapped, T. I was just asking.” He then realizes something. “Minho. You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”
“No. But I think he’s already suspicious.”
“Well, there is nothing to be suspicious about.”
“Tom…”
“No. This is it, Teresa. I’m deleting his number when this conversation is over.”
Teresa’s laugh resonates in his ear. “I thought you already deleted his number.”
Thomas bites his cheek. “I’m hanging up now.”
“No! No, wait!”
He gives in. “What?”
“Are you sure?” She sounds way too concerned.
“Yes,” he says.
She sighs once more. “Okay then.”
He deletes the number and then hates himself for it.
2007
By lunch time, Thomas knows that Newt likes drawing, ice cream, and playing ‘football’. Thomas tries to get rid of him but the poor boy knows no one else in the school. So in exchange, Thomas tells Newt that he likes cool cars and hanging out with his best friend Teresa. He also says he likes math but Newt sternly replies, “That’s stupid. No one likes maths, Tommy.”