Chapter Text
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6:00 AM
The shrill, monotonous sound of Newt’s alarm clock rang through his bedroom. Some uneasy mixture of annoyance and dread radiated through his tired mind at the sudden awakening; he was never happy to hear that noise. With an ache in his neck from an odd position of sleep, Newt reached across his sheets to the bedside table, shutting the clock off as his fingers brushed the large button on its roof. Newt deeply considered burying himself back under his sheets and not coming out for about six more hours, though this exact consideration passed his mind every morning, and he almost always pushed it away. Staying home wouldn’t solve anything; he knew nothing good ever came from feeling sorry for himself (though it was still an activity he couldn’t help but to partake in often).
By the time Newt had finally dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the bathroom with a change of clothes, a thought struck him. He remembered one of his teachers briefly announcing that a new student would be attending Newt’s school starting today. His stomach sank. To anyone else, a new student wouldn’t mean much, it might even be a good thing; a chance to make a new friend. But to Newt, a new student meant one more kid to call him crude things and shove him around like a rag doll. The school had gained plenty of new students throughout the two and a half years he had been there, but not one of them had ever been nice to Newt. Not one of them had ever tried to be friends with Newt - he couldn’t imagine why they would want to, anyway - and he feared more than anything that this kid would be the same story. Sure, Newt did have a couple of friendly acquaintances, but Minho was in Japan on an exchange program trip for the rest of the year, and Alby’s schedule clashed dramatically with his own, resulting in no classes together. He never quite completely fit in with them anyway, what with both of them on the track team whilst he sat in the library reading for fun, but they were kind of all he had.
A sigh passed Newt’s lips at the thought of going to school. The idea of the inevitability of a possible new antagonist in Newt’s life made him want to vomit. He turned the knob on the shower as hot as it would go.
Once stripping himself of his sleep-worn sweatpants, Newt slid into the stream of water. He had hoped doing so would help, but as the scorching droplets pelted his pale skin, anxiety riddled his mind. It became increasingly hard for Newt to breathe, and he could hear his pulse behind his ears. He soon realised the water was drowning him more than relieving him. He fumbled to turn it off.
“Can’t even take a bloody shower without losing it, what the hell is wrong with me today?” Newt mumbled to himself as he yanked a towel from behind the door, messily drying his damp curls. He tied the towel around his waist, the scratchy material causing ignored discomfort.
Newt looked in the mirror. He stared at himself, almost studying his appearance. He watched a single orb of lingering water drip from the end of his hair and trickle over his skin, confining itself in the crook of his collarbone, which jut out at all the wrong angles. He hated it. He observed the slight awkward lean to his stance, the evidence of his limp reminding him of his weaknesses. He hated it. He searched desperately for any sign of reassurance in the reflection of his own dim eyes, though all he found was the same tiredness as always. He hated it. He kept staring so intently at the boy peering back at him through the mirror. He kept hating it. He kept hating himself. So he did all he could do then; he looked away.
He turned around and dropped the wet towel, quickly dressing himself to make up for the time he had wasted casually wallowing in self hatred. Once his simple skinny jeans and an old off-white hoodie had been thrown on, he exited the bathroom. As he stepped back into his bedroom, the lack of the thick steam sent a chill through his lungs; he coughed to rid himself of it.
The clock on Newt’s bedside table read 6:45 AM. He grabbed a few textbooks, shoved them in his worn out backpack, and slumped down the stairs. He expected to find nothing out of the ordinary downstairs, just the dimly lit kitchen as it sat every morning. Something did catch his eye, though. Nothing big, he discovered, picking up the unusual piece of paper resting on the counter. It was a simple note from Newt’s mother stating that his sister was staying home from school today due to an illness, so his mom was staying home with her and they’d both gone back to bed. He almost felt bad for envying them. He could use an excuse to get out of school today. Or any day, really.
After making a quick piece of toast and lacing up his sneakers, Newt walked out the door at 7:00 AM on the dot, dreadfully making his way to school. Of course, he could always catch the bus, but he seriously preferred walking; it was only about a fifteen minute walk, and he figured it was ideal to postpone the harassment until absolutely necessary.
It was a fine morning, the sun was strung just barely above the horizon and Newt could smell autumn in the wind. He faulted once during his walk to debate staying home again. In 20 short minutes, he gloomily arrived at the front steps of The Glade Union High School. He took a shaky breath and unhappily managed to pull himself up the stairs and through the door. The aroma of fall was immediately replaced with that of body odor and failure. Newt walked to his locker and kept his head down. He didn’t lift it until he had settled into a desk in the back corner of the history classroom - his first class.
History was relatively easy to get through. The black haired girl who always sat next to him was quite nice - Teresa, he thought her name was - and the teacher never made him speak in front of the class. Plus, all he had was study hall right after it, so he could go to the library for about an hour before biology. It was the first period of the day, so it was a bit of quiet time before he encountered the real trouble.
Newt sat silently in the back of the history room for an hour, not exactly paying attention but not neglecting the teacher’s words completely. He didn’t need to tune all the way in, anyway; he had already finished the book they were discussing. The block of time passed very quickly under Newt’s radar, and soon the bell sounded the beginning of study hall. He sluggishly gathered his unused things and returned to his locker, shutting it as most people left to go to class.
Newt heard him before he saw him. Gally.
“Hey, there’s my favourite faggot!” The gravelly voice of Newt’s main source of unhappiness rang through the empty hallway. Gally always waited until no one was around except himself and a few other jocks to torment Newt.
“Go away, Gally.” Newt tried, but the words sounded hopelessly pathetic, even to himself. He swallowed the fear rising in his throat.
“In your dreams, pretty boy.” The low chuckle that escaped from Gally was the same chilling one that almost always accompanied the uncomfortable nickname he’d given Newt. The blond’s silent prayers for Gally not to come any closer were diminished when he came to feel the bully’s hot breath on the back of his neck.
“What do you w-want?” Newt cursed the uncontrollable wobble of anxiety in his voice as Gally and his friends erupted into laughter. When he felt Gally’s unnaturally firm grip on his shoulder, Newt knew he was doomed. Proving his ill fate correct, not five seconds after, the same shoulder was smashed into the lockers with an overpowering force as Gally used his superior strength to shove Newt into the metal behind him. The action forced him to finally - yet unwillingly - come face to face with Gally. Dismay struck his chest as his eyes met Gally’s cold ones.
“What do I want? To remind you how worthless you are.” Gally’s snarl dripped from his harmful lips and seared into Newt’s frightened mind. “To tell you that I wish you’d succeeded last year.” The second the words hit his ears, Newt’s stomach dropped with the memories of his suicide attempt the previous year. “I was so hopeful when you were out of school for that week, because believe me, I could go forever without having to see your ugly face again, but you just had to come back from the hospital.” Gally’s hold on now both of Newt’s shoulders tightened, and Newt could already feel small bruises forming where Gally’s fingertips pressed him into place. “Why did you come back?”
“I- I don’t know.”
At times like this, Newt really didn’t know. He often wished he hadn’t.
“Why not try again?” Gally smirked revoltingly. A chorus of mumbles erupted from his friends. A few disapproving, though most agreeing. “Try again, pretty boy. Why don’t you jump again?” Newt’s upper body was lifted from the lockers only long enough for him to be slammed back into them, the back of his head searing with a sudden pain. “Jump again, freak. And this time do it right.”
Newt could already tell he’d hear the voice urging him later. He felt panic bubbling in his lungs and the will to push it away grew weaker as Gally’s friends chanted mockingly.
“Jump again! Jump again! Jump again! Jump a-”
“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” An unexpected voice cut through the small crowd of Gally and his friends - a new voice. Newt didn’t recognize it. For a moment he thought he’d imagined it, until the taunting ceased and Gally turned his head angrily in the assumed direction of the stranger.
“Excuse me?” Gally spoke intimidatingly, his hold on Newt loosening to fistfuls of the hoodie, though still anchoring Newt to the wall of lockers.
“What’s your problem, man? Leave him alone!” The voice had a face now as it - he - walked into Newt’s view. The boy had short, chocolate brown hair that was trimmed above his ears, though fittingly unkempt slightly in the front. His speckled amber eyes flickered repeatedly from Gally to Newt, a worried (and slightly pissed off) look suspended in them. He had broader shoulders than Newt, though was much smaller in figure and height than Gally. A worn out, long sleeved shirt hugged his stomach, the dirty blue of it accenting the golden hue of his irises well. Black jeans hung from his waist, blending with the black sneakers resting beneath their skinny hem. Freckles haphazardly dotted his pigmented skin. His dark eyebrows were knit together - seemingly half in confusion, half in displeasure. If the situation had differed, and Newt hadn’t been so focused on remembering how to breathe, he most likely would have admired the boy’s beauty.
“And what if I don’t?” Gally appeared on the outside to be enjoying this new encounter, but the sudden increase in aggression on Newt’s front told otherwise.
“Then it just makes you more of a douche. What benefit are you getting from being an asshole to him?” The presently nameless boy strode quickly to the scene and made a successful effort to tear Gally’s hands from Newt, and it was evident that Gally didn’t like that at all. Newt, however, couldn’t have been more physically thankful to get the added pressure off his chest, for it wasn’t helping the feeling that his entire body was concaving upon itself.
“I wouldn’t say that if I were you.” Gally warned, stepping minisculely away from Newt, his upper body turning to face the unknown boy, feet following a few seconds later.
“Why not?” The brunet challenged, and Newt noticed a vein that stuck out from his neck when his voice raised.
None of the teenagers expected Gally to snap as quickly as he did. Not five seconds had passed since the last word rolled off the stranger’s tongue, and Gally had already wound up and swung at him. Before anyone had time to react, blood was dripping slowly from the blue shirted boy’s lip and Gally was swearing under his breath.
“That’s why.” A final grumbled remark from Gally. He spun on his heel and began walking, his friends following, in the opposite direction of Newt and the new kid who was clutching his mouth.
Newt should have felt relieved, he should have felt compelled enough to have thanked the boy then and there, he should have felt compassion for his savior, but Newt never felt the right things at the right times. Instead, Newt felt like he was going to vomit, like his lungs had collapsed and he was only able to breathe Gally’s sticky breath that he could still feel spitting harsh words in his face, like his throat would cut itself open if he tried to speak a single word or even take a breath. Before he could comprehend his own actions, Newt was running. His feet hit the tile with loud taps that echoed hauntingly off the empty hallway walls. He ignored the boy calling after him to stop. His legs carried him to the bathroom, where he leaned over a sink and tried to recall the last time he had taken in a full breath of air.
It didn’t take long for the dark haired boy to turn the corner into the bathroom at a worried pace. Peripherally, Newt saw the boy spot him and rush forward. He was seemingly ignoring the red liquid beginning to clot in the split in his lip, focusing all his attention onto Newt instead.
“Are you okay? What happened? What’s wrong?” His multiple questions almost overwhelmed Newt, until he realized a single answer could somewhat address all of them, if he could only get himself to talk properly.
“I- I c-can’t- can’t br- breathe-” Newt managed to stutter out in between desperate gasps. The boy standing opposite him seemed then to understand that Newt was having a panic attack. He peeled the closest of Newt’s hands from the edge of the sink and placed it delicately on his own chest, fingertips covering Newt’s. The blond could feel the strangely reassuring heartbeat under his palm.
“I need you to breathe with me, okay?” An exaggerated breath was taken in the lungs of the chest Newt’s hand rested on. “Can you do that for me?” Another one. “Breathe when I breathe, it’ll get easier in a minute, I promise.”
Newt tried his best to match his breathing with the rising and falling of the body under his hand. The difficulty overtook him at first and he felt hot tears stinging his cheeks, but after probably two minutes, he was inhaling and exhaling exactly as his new acquaintance was.
“Good, there you go! You’re doing great, okay? You’re doing absolutely great.” The tone of voice being used seemed to reach out and wrap itself around Newt in a way that told him he was finally safe. “I’m Thomas. Can you tell me your name?” Thomas. Newt thought it fit him, as most names did their assigned people, though something shorter might fit better. Tommy, he thought, but he said nothing of the sort.
“Newt. I- I’m Newt.” He was still breathing slightly heavily from his previous struggle for air. Though he could successfully take in sufficient gulps of oxygen now, Newt still felt the unholy weight of Gally’s words hanging on him. He inevitably broke down again, and as hard as he tried to will it away, a small sob racked his body. Thomas took immediate action.
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright, c’mere.” Thomas dropped both of their hands from his chest and pulled Newt into him on a whim. Even though he wasn’t expecting the contact, Newt would be lying if he said he wasn’t ridiculously grateful for said contact. Newt clamped his arms around Thomas’ neck and cried into him. He came to realize the feeling of Thomas rubbing calming circles into his back with the hand that wasn’t wrapped tightly around his waist. Fifteen minutes ago Newt had been heading to the library, ten minutes ago he had wanted nothing more than to be anywhere other than where he was, and at that moment he was standing in a school bathroom hugging the life out of practically a complete stranger and sobbing like a little kid.
“It’s okay,” Thomas cooed reassurances repeatedly into Newt’s hair. “You’re okay, Newt. You’re safe, alright? I’ve got you, it’s okay.”
The two boys stood like that - wrapped around each other like they’d been friends their whole lives, though they had met not ten minutes earlier - for just longer than a full two minutes. Only then had Newt finally gained enough composure to pull away from Thomas and speak.
“I’m…” Newt ran a hand through his hair halfheartedly. “I’m sorry. For all of that. I could guess it’s not exactly the way you wanted to spend your first day at The Glade.” He chuckled a bit to himself, mostly out of embarrassment. It hadn’t taken him long to deduce that Thomas was, in fact, the new student, and he wasn’t anything like Newt had predicted so far. Newt still worried, though; there was plenty of time remaining for Thomas to turn on him. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“I don’t mind, really, I don’t. Let’s just say it was a hell of a welcome.” Thomas laughed, and Newt thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d heard all day.
“Your lip-” Before Newt had the time to fully think it over, he reached a hand out and ghosted his fingers over Thomas’ bottom lip. He quickly realised that his action may have been intrusive, though Thomas didn’t seem to be bothered by it - in fact, Thomas mimicked Newt’s motion, bringing his hand to cover Newt’s before a pink hue tinted the base of his neck and he dropped both of their hands swiftly. Newt was strangely disappointed by the lack of contact with Thomas - something about him captivated Newt in a way that seemed to leave Newt wanting more of the feeling of him.
“Don’t worry about it, Newt. It’s fine, I promise. I wasn’t just gonna stand there and let him harass you.” Thomas’ voice turned suddenly serious, acknowledging Newt’s guilt about Thomas getting hurt. Newt simply nodded in thanks - he wasn’t exactly sure of what to say. “Do you have a free period right now?”
Newt was mildly taken aback by the question, small talk not seeming fitting to the moment.
“Y-yeah. Why?”
“Let’s take a walk.”
“A walk?” Newt raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, a walk!” Thomas grinned. “So we can talk. I think I’d like to get to know you better, Newt. If that’s alright with you, of course.” He looked hopefully at Newt with surprisingly effective puppy dog eyes. The word that came to Newt’s mind was adorable, but he quickly pushed the thought away.
“Yeah, I’d like that.” Newt nodded, smiling.
So Newt allowed himself to be pulled lightly by the wrist by Thomas - out of the bathroom, out of the school.