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The community theater group Thomas signs up for is located in the prestigious part of town, where all the houses are two stories with large metal gates blocking the driveways and large front lawns with statue fountains and the like. All the shops are expensive brands, run by the type of people who don't want you setting foot inside unless you plan to buy something. The group itself meets in a large, fancy theater with rows and rows of seating, all facing a particularly miraculous stage, complete with thick velvet-red curtains and a hundred lights hanging from various places on the ceiling.
The group is run by Thomas's friend, Alby, who's the one who convinced him to try it out in the first place, despite Thomas originally insisting that he wasn't an actor. They're all standing in a circle with their scripts in hand. Thomas has already read through it several times (it's the Shakespeare classic Romeo and Juliet) and knows that despite how unlikely it is that he gets the part, he'll audition for the lead role. The entire plot doesn't really fit to his taste (like, a fourteen-year-old girl and a way-too-old-for-her guy fall in love five seconds after seeing each other for the first time and actually feel the need to die for each other?) but he thinks he might be able to do the role justice.
Alby clears his throat, pulling the attention of the group. "Welcome to day one of Romeo and Juliet. I assume you've all read the script and know which part you're auditioning for. I'll be going down the list by role and having people audition one by one, and each of you will be reading a chosen scene against my co-director, Minho." He gestures to their friend, standing next to Alby. He raises a hand in greeting.
"Cast list should be posted sometime next week," Alby continues. "If you don't have a script, see Minho and he'll give you one. We'll be starting with auditions for Juliet."
Thomas takes a seat in the middle of the audience, away from the cluster of others who are socializing quietly. Instead, he opts to watch the auditioners. The first person onstage is a girl named Teresa, and she looks and sounds confident as she reads the lines, while still managing to embody Juliet's innocence and naivety. The next girl, Brenda, isn't as passionate with her lines, but still delivers fairly well. A few other girls read for Juliet, and then Alby calls for all auditioners for Romeo.
Thomas stands with a fairly large group of boys below the stage. The first guy is handsome with dark skin and hair, who says his name is Aris, and he's impressive. Thomas's confidence falters after that performance, and he walks onstage with shaking hands gripping the script. He introduces himself and the scene he's reading while Alby makes notes on his clipboard.
"Alright, Greenie, it's your time to shine," Alby says, smirking up at his friend. Minho raises an eyebrow, grinning.
With a nervous smile, Thomas begins reading his lines. He tries to picture how Romeo would be feeling in the scene, and pours his heart and soul into each word. When he's finished, Alby gives him the look of a proud father and Minho is nodding his approval.
Thomas heads back to his seat, heartbeat slowing itself down. He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans and looks up to see the next person walk to center stage.
The boy looks younger than him, tall and thin with golden hair covering his eyebrows and pale skin washed out underneath the stage lights.
"I'm Newt," he says, in a surprisingly deep voice. "I'll be reading for Romeo in the balcony scene."
Thomas detects the British accent immediately, and apparently so does Minho, who turns his head to whisper something to Alby. He ignores him and tells Newt, "Go ahead."
Minho starts off reading Juliet's lines, and then Newt comes in strong and passionate, emotions etched across his face. Thomas is very jealous, but also very impressed.
When he's finished, Alby thanks him and makes several notes on his clipboard. As Newt walks offstage, several girls giggle behind their hands and smile at him. Thomas rolls his eyes.
//
Auditions are over and Thomas is on his way out the auditorium doors when he hears a voice call, "Hey, you!"
He cranes his head back around and goes rigid when he sees the boy from earlier, Newt, coming up the aisle towards him.
"Um, yeah?" he says lamely, at a loss for words.
"You're Tommy, right?" the boy asks.
"Well, uh, it's Thomas," he corrects him awkwardly.
Newt seems to be mulling this over in his head. "I think I'll stick with Tommy." He starts walking up the aisle alongside Thomas. "I'm Newt, by the way. Anyway, I wanted to tell you how great your performance was. I really enjoyed watching you."
Thomas flushes red. "Really?"
"Oh, yeah," Newt says, completely serious. "I dare say you've beaten me out for the part."
Thomas laughs nervously, flattered but embarrassed and unsure how to respond. "Nah, you were really great. It's definitely your part. And everybody loves British accents." The last part must've been a result of Newt's infectious confidence, because he's surprised it comes out of his mouth.
Newt laughs and smiles, revealing small dimples dotted with freckles. "I like you, Tommy. How about you and I go out this evening? There's a bar not far from here that I've been going to for a while, and I'd love the company. What d'you say?"
"Sure," Thomas says (because what else can he say?). He briefly wonders if Newt is even old enough to get into a bar, let alone drink, but figures if he wasn't, he wouldn't recommend it.
"So it's settled then," Newt says, grinning at Thomas as they push through the doors of the auditorium and out onto the street. "I'll see you tonight. Meet me here at ten."
"Okay." Thomas nods, wringing his hands together.
Newt gives a salute in return and walks off in the opposite direction. Thomas attempts to distracts himself as he walks to the bus stop. Newt doesn't have to know that he's never been to a bar, or had a beer, right? He can fake it, no problem. Overall, he's surprised he's made a friend so fast, considering how people that look like Newt don't really hang around people like him. (There was no denying that the boy was absolutely gorgeous. Thomas doesn't bullshit himself on that.) He's never been good at playing the "cool card", so he assumes by the end of the night he'll have made a complete fool of himself in front of an attractive boy. It was destined—he could feel it.
When he arrives back at his apartment, his roommate, Gally, is on the living room couch playing Call of Duty.
"Hey, Thomas," he says, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "How'd it go?"
"Good, I guess."
"Think you'll get the part?"
"Maybe." Thomas starts for his room, but then he hears Gally pause the game.
"Are you okay?"
Thomas looks over his shoulder and nods. "Yeah."
Once in the safety of his room, he takes to going through every article of clothing in his closet and showering and generally freaking out. (This isn't a date, he wants to scream at himself, it's just two acquaintances going out for a drink together. Calm and casual.) As he's tearing clothes off hangers and flinging them around his room, Gally bursts in (without knocking, as always, though Thomas doesn't hold it against him).
"What the hell happened in here?" he asks.
"Um." Thomas doesn't turn around as he speaks. "Nothing much. Just some organizing."
"Right," Gally says, drawing out the word dubiously. "And your idea of organizing is turning your room into a hurricane of clothes?"
"Hey, we all have different methods," Thomas says back. "So, did you need something?"
"Well, I wanted to see if you had my headphones, 'cause they're missing," Gally says, "But..."
"I haven't seen them, sorry," Thomas cuts in hurriedly. "Thanks for stopping by, though."
"Wait, dude," Gally says, stepping over to where Thomas has stuck his head inside the closet. "What going on? Seriously." He pulls slightly on the neck of Thomas's shirt so they're finally face to face.
Thomas spills it all in one breath. "I may have met a guy at the auditions and he may have asked me to go to a bar with him tonight, but I don't know if it's a date or not because we just met, but he's really cool and attractive and he calls me Tommy and I don't know what I'm doing."
Gally looks a bit overwhelmed, but seems to get the gist of his rant. "Okay. I think I understood most of that, and I'm going to tell you the most clichéd response that a friend can give a friend when they're freaking out over a date—calm down. If it goes well, that's really great. If it doesn't, there's going to be tons of other people out there for you."
Thomas sighs. "You're right. That was really cliché."
//
"There you are, Tommy," Newt says as Thomas approaches. "Ready to have some fun?"
Thomas kind of half smiles because he's one-third excited, one third nervous, and one-third every other emotion. "Yeah."
The bar is only three blocks away and looks pretty low-key from the outside (which isn't what Thomas expects but is glad for). The bouncer gives Newt a hesitating look, as if he can't believe he's old enough to be there, but lets them both through. There's music playing loudly from somewhere and the lights are dim. Also, Thomas is pretty sure there's spilled beer on the floor, and he feels his shoes stick slightly to the ground as he walks. He stays close behind Newt as he navigates the way to the bar. He leans against the counter and says something Thomas can't hear, and then turns to him.
"Hope you like tequila," he says, grinning.
"I've never tried it," Thomas replies honestly. (He figures now's not really the time to pretend he's cooler than he is.)
Newt just laughs good-naturedly. "Well, you're in for treat then."
The bartender places two shot glasses on the counter in front of them. Newt gives him a thanks and pulls Thomas up to the counter next to him.
"Don't worry, I'm sure whatever you've heard about tequila isn't as bad as it is," he says, picking up his glass. Thomas does the same.
"Are you sure?" he asks, just in case.
"Absolutely." Newt nods and he's still smiling that beautiful smile. "On three, alright?"
Thomas gives an affirmative nod. Newt counts down with his fingers. "One. Two. Three."
They both tip their glasses back at the same time. Immediately, Thomas feels the burning sensation, like someone's lit his throat on fire. He guesses that he looks pretty ridiculous, because Newt is laughing hysterically at him.
"Is it really that bad?" he asks, heaving breaths through his laughter.
"You don't think it burns?" Thomas asks, wiping tears from his eyes.
"Nah, I've gotten used to it." Newt takes both their glasses and sets them down. "So, just a beer, I take it?"
"That would be nice," Thomas chokes out.
//
An hour and five combined beers later, Thomas is sitting next to Newt on the street curb outside the bar. Thomas feels slightly nauseous, yet euphoric, and decides the good feeling outweighs the bad.
Newt takes a drag from the cigarette he's holding between his fingers and lets the smoke out of the cracks between his lips, disappearing as wisps in the cool night air. "Drank quite a lot there, didn't you, Tommy?"
Thomas can't help but snort. "You're the one who drank almost four beers. I had one and a half."
Newt smiles and shakes his head. "Innocent little Tommy. Was this your first time at a bar?"
Thomas coughs awkwardly. "Maybe."
"I knew it," Newt says, throwing the cigarette on the ground and stubbing it out with his sneaker.
"That stuff'll kill you," Thomas states matter-of-factly.
Newt glances at him out of the corner of his eye, an amused expression on his face. "What, the cigarettes? It doesn't bother me—we're all dying anyway."
"Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine." Thomas laughs, and bumps his shoulder against the other boy's. "I'm just kidding. You know, I really think you'd make a great Romeo. Isn't he, like, a rebel?"
"Romeo, a rebel?" Now it's Newt's turn to snort. "He probably got involved with some gangs and shit. The only incarnation of that play I've seen was the movie with Leonardo DiCaprio."
Thomas bursts out laughing. "The one with the ridiculous Hawaiian clothes?"
"That's the one," Newt says, grimacing, but a small smile is turning up the corner of his mouth. Thomas finds himself staring for far too long, but Newt realizes before he does.
"What are you looking at?" He sounds amused.
"Nothing," Thomas replies quickly, averting his eyes to the concrete underneath his feet.
Then he feels fingers on his chin, turning his face to meet the boy's across from him, gently holding his cheek like it's fragile glass.
"I like you a lot, Tommy," Newt says quietly.
Thomas swallows hard, feeling like his throat is closing up. "Me too."
Then Newt's surging forward and pressing their lips together, and Thomas doesn't even care that he tastes like smoke and alcohol and it's a terrible combination because this is happening. He runs his fingers through soft hair and grips the back of Newt's neck to bring him impossibly closer. His lips are warm and inviting, and Thomas just wants to stay like this forever so he can memorize the way their mouths fit together like corresponding puzzle pieces.
They break apart and Newt's eyelids open, his long eyelashes fluttering. "How was that?"
Thomas laughs in disbelief of his ridiculousness. "Absolutely smashing."
And then they're kissing again.
//
"I know you got the part," Thomas is saying to Newt as they walk through the auditorium doors.
"Shut up, you wanker," he says back. "There's no way it's me. Just accept that it's you and we can finally stop arguing over this."
"It's funny when you're annoyed," Thomas says, pressing a kiss to his cheek just as Minho comes up to them.
"Whoa there," he says, raising his hands up in surprise. "What happened in the past week that I missed?"
Thomas and Newt exchange glances.
"A little of this, a little of that," Thomas says ambiguously, shrugging, and Newt laughs.
"Okay then," Minho says, and he's about to walk away when Thomas calls out to him to wait.
"You and Alby did the casting—who's Romeo?"
"It's you," Newt says.
"I told you it's going to be you."
"Would you stop that?"
"It's neither of you," Minho interrupts, clearly amused. Thomas is about to ask again, when Alby calls from the table in front of the stage, "Alright everybody, cast list is here! Don't break your necks."
Thomas pulls Newt into the crowd surrounding the table, and when the reach the paper, they both hunch over it, trying to read the name. Thomas finds the part, Romeo, and follows the line to the right of the page, where the name is written in bold. Aris.
"What?" he and Newt say in unison.
"Guess you were both wrong," Minho quips from behind the table. Thomas glares at him.
"I guess we were," Newt says, laughing. "It's alright, Tommy. We may not have parts, but we have each other." He smiles cheekily at the other boy.
"You sap," Thomas groans, and rolls his eyes.
"Who said you don't have parts?" Minho calls mysteriously.
"What do you mean?" Thomas peers back over the sheet, and sees his name next to Benvolio. Right underneath his is Newt's, next to Tybalt.
"I'm Tybalt, and you're Benvolio?" Newt says.
"This is amazing," Thomas says. "I can't wait to kill you."
"You're a dick," Newt replies.
Thomas smiles and ruffles the soft blond hair. "I like you, too."