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📈📈📈
Thomas was supposed to sign up for an extracurricular activity before the day ends. Unfortunately, he had been busy trying to finish a group assignment with pretty much useless group members - hence how he completely forgot about the deadline for signing up into any club to his liking.
To make things worse, the clubs he was interested in were apparently full. He had jotted down a few clubs down on his notes as a passing thought. Who knew none would end up being the club he's signing up for?
Walking around in the faculty of language and art - which was very far from his faculty of medicine, mind you - he rubbed a hand down his face and groaned, lamenting his bad luck.
It was already close to midnight, which meant the deadline was closing in really, really, quickly.
Just as he was about to lose hope, he was turning a corner when he bumped into someone carrying many, many boxes.
The boy that was carrying the boxes fell along with the boxes, while Thomas managed to balance himself before falling.
“I- Crap sorry man, didn't see you there. I was just- I was walking ‘round the corner and was too deep into thinking about the clubs’ deadline and the fact that I haven't even signed up into one-” Thomas started, rambling off as he felt himself almost exploding in frustration a little at the boy.
He seemed to be too young to be a university student, but Thomas still bumped into him so…
Thomas cut himself off before he could ramble longer, offering a hand to the boy who was staring at him strangely. It was only after a few seconds did the boy accept his hand, standing up quickly before clearing his throat as his arms flailed a little.
“Nah I mean- It's all good, really. I mean, I'm short and all and the stacked boxes are tall.” the boy said, shrugging a little.
The boy started stacking the boxes again, and Thomas decided since there practically wouldn't be any clubs that's available this late into the night, he might as well do something nice to end the horrible day.
“Want some help with the boxes?” Thomas asked, not really waiting for an answer before he was already carrying most of the boxes. They weren't that heavy, but for this boy, they probably were.
The boy brightened up at the offer, profusely thanking Thomas as he lead the way.
“What are you doing around here by yourself anyway?” Thomas asked, wanting to fill the silence and ignore the deadline.
The boy adjusted his hold on the box he was holding as he answered,
“My mom works here. She teaches something about wood carving? She teaches a few languages too. Oh! And these boxes? They're for a club she and Uncle George are in charge of. I was just helping.” The boy explained in detail, surprisingly chatty.
Thomas was slightly happy to know he seemed trustworthy enough - to the boy, at least.
“Professor George? What's he doing here? Doesn't he teach forensic science?” Thomas questioned, recalling how he had seen the man a few times walking around his faculty building.
Also, should he introduce himself? He should, right?
“Yeahhh. But his daughter - her name's Brenda - is also in the club we're walking to. She was the one who persuaded him to supervise the club. See, the club was kind of her idea. In a way.” the boy once again provided a lengthy explanation - which Thomas was grateful for.
He's curious by nature - so detailed answers helped him to not ask too many questions.
Speaking of clubs…
“A club? Is it full?” Thomas asked despite not wanting to ask - he didn't really want to get his hopes up.
To Thomas's suddenly improved luck, the boy shook his head from side to side.
“They're going to try to add me in as the last member, you know, since my mom would probably not mind, but I doubt-”
“I don't have a club yet.” the words left Thomas before he could really think about it, watching as the boy's eyes snapped to him in an instant, looking hopeful.
“Oh! So you were talking about the club thing! Yeah, of course! I knew I should've asked you about it but I was kinda scared of being wrong. But yeah you would be it! Wait gimme your phone! The club's a bit far so we best put your name in first.”
Thomas automatically handed his phone to the boy, staring frigidly as he wondered if he had made the right decision.
He didn't know a single thing about this club he's signing for, except for the few facts that this boy was kind and nice and that Professor Jorge was in charge of the club.
Surely the rest in the club would be as nice, right?
“Alby! Sweet! This is Chuck! Yeah I borrowed a cool guy's phone! Guess what? This cool guy is thinking of joining The Glade!” the boy’s - Thomas now knew as Chuck - excited voice pulled Thomas out of his thoughts.
There were a few voices from the other line, most of them sounding thrilled. Thomas could vaguely hear one voice that seemed to be skeptical.
“Yeah, yeah we're on our way with the boxes! His name - crap I didn't ask for his name!” Chuck stammered once he realized, the voices on the other line laughing in endearment.
“What's your name, greenie?” A voice - the skeptical one, Thomas noticed - asked when Chuck put the call on speaker.
It felt a bit awkward, not getting to see the face of the one talking. Though Thomas tried his best to feign being cool about it. (Chuck did call him a ‘cool guy’.)
“Thomas. From the faculty of medicines. Just write down Thomas from the global health course.” Thomas answered, noting how the line went silent a little before he heard something like a chair falling and excited whispers in the background.
“Thomas from global health? That's you? You strayed quite far from your faculty.” a new voice said, this time sounding more amicable.
If Thomas hadn't known better, he would think these people on the other line knew him. There's a tone of familiarity in their voices after Thomas's introduction - not that Thomas was really sure of. He could only hear hushed whispers, really.
“Well, uh, yeah. Clubs are all full back in my faculty. But I was thinking of joining clubs that are around here anyway - a bad idea, apparently. Since they're also full.” Thomas explained, unsure why he's saying so much anyway.
The two of them kept walking, with Chuck holding the phone since Thomas's hands were kinda full.
“So we're your last resort?” the skeptical voice from before butted in, something sounding like a smack followed with the skeptical guy whispering how that hurted.
Whoever that had smacked the guy, Thomas ought to get to know them. Just because.
“Sorry about Gally. He's just grumpy that you're famous and he's not.” the voice prior apologised, followed by a ‘I'm not grumpy’ from that skeptical guy. Right. His name was Gally.
“Alby, I've written down his name!” a voice called out from the other line, followed by a series of cheers - probably happy they have enough members now.
“Thanks, Minho. At least while Gally's busy being a douche, someone's doing something.” the one Thomas has been talking to - Thomas now knew as Alby - said, earning himself a retort from Gally that Thomas couldn't hear properly.
“Alright, I'm gonna end the call. See you in the club room.” Alby said, saying his goodbyes shortly before ending the call.
Thomas noticed how once they turned another corner, there's finally a room that had its lamps on and voices speaking excitedly, concluding that that room was probably their club room.
Also, Thomas still had no idea of what the club was actually about.
“So you are Thomas! I've heard of you a few times! Well, not really a few times. A lot of times, actually. About how you're super good at labs. And how you broke up with Teresa.” Chuck had said.
And his break up with Teresa was two years ago.
How come everyone still brings it up?
Well, at least it didn't bother Teresa much. She's a great friend to have - intelligent and has a great sense of humor. They were friends before they were lovers. Felt like they're more comfortable to be just friends - so they broke up.
“That was an old story, Chuck. Teresa's my best friend now. I don't know how that story seems to still be around even after two years.” Thomas replied truthfully.
They were only a few steps to the club room when he noticed an Asian guy around his age leaning against the doorframe, well toned arms crossed over his chest as he said,
“Don't blame us, Tommy . Most people idolized your relationship with her. Saying how you guys are a match made in heaven. Obviously, they're wrong. Since I know that your other half is someone else.”
Thomas furrowed his eyebrows a little at the nickname and just, everything that the guy had said in confusion, was about to ask a lot of questions when the Asian guy was pulled into the clubroom by the collar.
“Bloody- you should stop saying confusing things, Minho! You're going to scare him”
The accent in that voice caught Thomas off guard a little, distracting him from the questions that were at the tip of his tongue just a few seconds ago.
Someone else popped up at the door, and from his voice Thomas knew that this was Alby.
“Welcome, Thomas! Hope you're not frightened. Minho here has been a huge fan of yours.” Alby grinned good-natured, picking up some of the boxes from Thomas while Chuck entered the room, making a beeline for an empty spot to put his box.
Thomas suddenly noticed how bright the room was.
“Wrong guy, Alby.” Minho commented, hands on his hips as he raised an eyebrow when Thomas stared at him in slight confusion.
Thomas felt like he's missing something, really.
He looked around the room, taking note of the people in it. There's Alby, talking to Chuck as the two of them start opening the boxes and checking the items in them. There's a guy who had a scowl on his face, eyebrows slanted as if he were angry or annoyed before he was dragged by a girl with short hair towards a bookshelf with disorganised books on it. There were two other guys in the room; one wearing an apron while the other was talking about something Thomas couldn't exactly focus on.
Was there a kitchen here??
Then Thomas turned to Minho, who was oddly squinting his eyes at him from afar. Feeling awkward, Thomas turned to the other guy who had pulled Minho away and had that accent from before, and found himself, well, staring.
He was not really aware that he was staring until the blond was suddenly in front of him, clearing his throat to gain Thomas's attention.
“Sorry. About Minho. He's always like that.” the blond said as a way to start the conversation, chuckling awkwardly.
Thomas internally smacked himself for staring so unabashedly.
“No- I mean, it's cool. Just- well, yeah I don't really mind.” Thomas said, wiping his palms on his pants subtly when he felt them sweating a bit too much.
The blond was really attractive though-
“It seemed like everyone's busy with things. So I'll do the introductions.” the blond smiled a little, perhaps to comfort Thomas.
Thomas's heart skipped a beat.
“The name's Newt, by the way.” the blond introduced himself, offering a handshake.
Thomas grabbed Newt's hand, gave it a little squeeze, and said automatically.
“My name's Thomas.”
Newt raised an eyebrow at that, an amused grin on his lips as he said,
“I know. You told us during the phone call, remember?”
Thomas felt embarrassed then, clearing his throat while Newt's grin grew wider. The blond retracted his hand that Thomas didn't realize he was holding for a bit too long, and then he gently held Thomas's bicep, pulling him the newcomer along.
“I'll show you around. Not much to show, really. But you should at least meet everyone and know what the club is all about.” Newt said, eyes at Alby while all Thomas could focus on was the warmth seeping through his sleeve from the palm on his bicep.
Weird. This was a very, odd occasion for Thomas
Thomas let himself be dragged around then, looking around for Newt everytime he lost the blond.
Thomas reasoned that it was probably because he found himself most comfortable with Newt - and that he seemed to be drawn to the blond the most out of the bunch.
Perhaps Newt may be the one Thomas liked most.
Maybe.
📈 1 📈
Apparently, The Glade was all about fulfilling the members’ dreams.
In other words, for every meeting, they would do something that a member wanted to do.
The purpose of The Glade was ‘to encourage students to do the things they love as a form of ‘healing’ and to encourage students to live a life outside of studying’.
Thomas wasn't entirely sure how the club was even made official, but he's not really complaining.
So they had a box filled with folded papers, written on them were things the members of the club wanted to do. A day before their meetings, Alby, the club's president, would pick a paper and they would do the activity on the day of their meeting.
To be honest, Thomas felt like he was lucky to be in such a club.
He had exchanged numbers with all the members of the club that night, and he found himself texting Newt. A lot.
Newt was patient and nice; always answering Thomas's questions about everyone.
Thomas knew that the members of the club have long been friends before forming the club - so he didn't want to be that out of the loop and make things awkward. Hence why he was asking Newt questions like ‘is Gally always so mean to everyone new?’ and ‘does Frypan really bring a spatula everywhere?’.
It was fun - texting with Newt.
He found himself thinking about the blond a lot. Enough times that Teresa noticed how he had been checking his phone far too many times the whole week.
“Is the club sooo interesting that you're waiting around so eagerly like a puppy?” Teresa asked once Thomas had picked up his phone as soon as it buzzed for the nth time that day.
Thomas could feel how his ears started to redden a little, could feel how Teresa was watching him skeptically, but he couldn't care much because Newt left him a voice note.
Thomas connected his earphones to his phone quickly, listened to the voice note, and found himself grinning at the cheerful laughs belonging to Newt that filled his ears.
“Okay. That's it, young man. Who got you smiling like that.”
The phone was abruptly taken away from him, but Thomas was quick to steal it back, furrowing his eyebrows at Teresa who stared at him even more skeptically.
But then Teresa saw the name on his phone, and her skeptical face morphed into one of familiarity before a smirk was suddenly on her lips.
“Newt? Newt from the faculty of art and language? Who has that British accent to die for and who's skilled in poems and who's artistic and excelled in almost everything art related? That Newt?” Teresa asked, basically info dumping on Thomas.
Not that Thomas's complaining.
“You know him?” Thomas asked, struggling to hide his excitement.
Teresa rolled her eyes, suddenly relaxed as she crossed her arms and made himself comfortable on her seat, pretending to finally start paying attention to whatever Ratman was talking about at the front. (Ratman's a terrible lecturer who fails students depending on his mood - Thomas wasn't even sure how he still got to keep his job.)
“Of course! Unlike you who prefer to only wander around in our faculty, I've been networking . Made some friends from other faculties. Newt's super famous among students from his faculty. Talented, really.” Teresa said, writing down topics that were going to be in their upcoming quiz.
Thomas found himself unable to hide the smile on his lips, because then he could find out more about Newt.
Which was great. Super important for him.
He wanted to know about Newt the most. Newt with his blond hair and comforting eyes, Newt with his fair skin, Newt with his thick British accent, Newt with his calming voice, Newt with his cute surpressed giggles and amused grins, Newt with his-
“Okay, lover boy. Geez I'll tell you all I know about him. You ought to stop looking so giddy right now - Ratman has been glancing here for a few times already. You'll be dead if he ask you a question and you can't answer.” Teresa snapped him out of his trance, stiffling an amused laugh when Thomas's cheeks grew a little red.
“I'm just curious. As a friend.”
“Sure. And Janson's not Ratman.”
Thomas really wanted to say something, but then Ratman was walking towards him with that familiar scowl on his lips.
Needless to say, Thomas ended up having to do an extra task that he needed to send before midnight.
Professor Janson deserved to be called Ratman for his whole life, really.
While Thomas was suffering to finish his extra task that night, he found himself being slightly distracted, recalling the stuff Teresa had told him during their lunch break about Newt.
Newt knew how to play a lot of music instruments.
Newt knew how to paint.
Newt's quite great at faking an American accent.
Newt tried skateboarding before - Teresa's unsure if Newt ever managed to be able to skateboard.
Oftentimes Newt went hiking - he loves posting pictures of scenery and of his friends.
When Thomas noticed he had accidentally types Newt's name in the middle of writing a sentence, he decided that Professor Janson could wait.
He picked up his phone, dialed a number he had remembered ever since a week ago, and found himself grinning when it was picked up on the first ring.
“Thomas? Why are you calling so late?”
Usually, Thomas would feel bad and end the call after hearing how Newt's voice sounded like he had gotten out of bed just to answer the call.
Tonight, though, he really needed to ask.
“Did you manage to skateboard in the end?”
There was a pause on the other line, and Thomas was suddenly hit with the thought of how creepy that question could be - since Newt had never told him about skateboarding. What if the blond assumed he-?
There's suddenly an amused huff, and Thomas visibly relaxed as Newt asked,
“Can't wait until tomorrow to ask that question?”
“Would like it if you could answer it tonight.” can't really focus on anything else but you if I don't get my answer right now.
That night, Thomas sent in his task around 2 in the morning, listening attentively as Newt's soothing voice accompanied him throughout the night.
Thomas's quite sure now that he definitely likes Newt. A lot. Newt's a really great friend to have.
Maybe.
📈 2 📈
They're collecting rubbish at the beach for the day.
The friend group - also known as everyone in The Glade except for Thomas - came to the beach quite often. They liked it there. So they decided to return the favour of the beach welcoming them by cleaning the beach.
Winston and Frypan being the exception since they're preparing evening snacks for them, the others were picking up rubbish.
Gally and Brenda were quite far from Frypan and Winston, picking up rubbish and working with each other quite efficiently. In fact, just a few seconds ago, Thomas was pretty sure they were going back and forth with each other. Wonder how they got over it so quickly.
Minho was with Alby, a bit closer to Frypan and Winston. The two were talking about something while they worked together, sometimes glancing around and answering kids when they asked if they were beggars collecting for trash that could be recycled. (Minho could be seen almost popping a vein on his neck when a kid called him homeless. Lucky enough Alby was there to calm him down).
Chuck wasn't able to join since he, well, got school.
“What got you thinking so hard, Thomas?”
Newt's voice pulled Thomas out of his own thoughts.
Thomas looked away from Alby and Minho, turning to Newt who was crouching, looking at him with slightly furrowed eyebrows and squinted eyes as he held onto a small seashell.
The sun was super bright and hot that day.
They were collecting the rubbish that were closer to the shore, the small waves washing up their feet most of the time they were collecting trash.
Thomas crouched down in front of Newt, glancing at the sky before turning to Newt who still had his eyes on Thomas.
“Nothing much. Just thinking about how amazing you guys are for volunteering to do this kind of thing.” Thomas admitted, noticing another seashell and picking it up.
It's pretty.
It reminded Thomas of Newt.
“Just contributing to society, mate. We're loyal visitors to the beach after all. Might as well do something good while enjoying our time here.” Newt said, putting the seashell he was holding back onto the sand.
It was then did Thomas notice that the hem of Newt's pants were getting wet, the waves retreating after leaving once again.
Instinctively, Thomas went and reached out to fold the hem of Newt's pants, only realizing how odd it was when his knuckles brushed Newt's skin.
He retracted his hands in an instant, sputtering nonsense a little before clearing his throat embarrassedly.
“Sorry. Just- I noticed your pants were getting wet. So I was just folding the hem of it a little…” Thomas explained, looking away and clearing his throat again.
Fortunately, Newt found all this amusing; his amused laughs made Thomas turn quickly enough for him to be able to see how the blond's eyes crinkled a little.
Thomas felt like his throat constricted for a second there.
“It's okay, Tommy . You don't have to be so sorry every time.” Newt said, still laughing a little.
Thomas felt faint.
Thomas was pretty sure that Newt was saying something, but he was too busy staring at the healthy flush on Newt's cheeks to register any word.
Before he knew it, Newt patted him on the shoulder a few times before standing up and walking away, Thomas watching as Newt wrapped an arm around Frypan's shoulders once he reached their certified cook.
Thomas wasn't really sure how long was he staring off into space, but he found himself snapping out of whatever trance he was in when there's a smack to the back of his head.
“Wake up, greenie . You're drooling.”
Thomas knew that tone anywhere, really.
“I was not drooling, Gally . Also, stop calling me greenie.” Thomas huffed, standing up and realizing his own pants were wet.
Great.
“Sure you aren't, lover boy . Now hurry up. I'm starving. I would've left you here, but the others insisted that I should be the one to call for you. They said you would prefer Newt, but I think you're too drunk of him right now.” Gally drawled the longest ever since Thomas had known him.
Thomas raised an eyebrow at Gally as the two of them walked towards the others.
“I'm not drunk of Newt.” Thomas stated matter-of-factly.
Gally rolled his eyes at that - Thomas wasn't sure how to take that response.
But the Gally suddenly spared him a long look before mentioning,
“Newt likes picnics at the beach - aside from hiking. Ever since he got that limp, going to the beach has become one of his top favorite things to do.”
After dropping such information, Gally was suddenly walking faster.
Thomas filed the new information in his head, suddenly fresh and awake. He quickly caught up with Gally and said,
“You owe me an explanation.”
Gally scoffed.
“I owe you nothing.”
“Yeah you do. What limp?“
Gally glanced at Thomas, looking skeptical as usual before shrugging.
“Who knows?”
Thomas repressed the urge to strangle the answer out of the guy.
By the time they reached the small group, they've started a bonfire as it was getting cold.
Thomas enjoyed his food while sneaking glances at how the fire was illuminating Newt's features beautifully.
Halfway through a storytelling session from Winston, Gally pointed out loudly,
“What are you staring at, greenie ?”
Okay, maybe Thomas wasn't really being that sneaky. Or subtle.
But then Newt's eyes met Thomas's, and Thomas found himself holding his breath.
Truthfully, Thomas might actually like Newt more than he thinks - at least more than Gally. Gally's mean. Newt's nice. Newt made Thomas's heart warm. And skipped a beat. Or beat faster. Newt's the most nice one out of all of them.
Maybe.
📈 3 📈
“Fancy meeting you here, Tommy!” Newt greeted cheerfully when they somehow miraculously bumped into each other at the faculty of science and mathematics.
Thomas's heart stuttered a little at the nickname, and he found himself realizing how much he had missed the blond.
It has been a week since their last canceled outing, and two weeks since the beach activity.
Weather was really terrible last week.
“Right back at you, Newt.” Thomas awkwardly greeted back, suddenly self conscious over his glasses and his beanie.
He was supposed to meet Professor Ava to talk about his scholarship. She told him that it would be casual and he didn't have to dress up. Since he got no classes today, he opted for the beanie and the glasses.
He had not predicted that he would be bumping into Newt.
“What are you doing here anyway?” Newt asked, curious as he crossed his arms.
Thomas stopped himself from fixing strands of his hair the were not in his beanie, glancing at the guitar case on Newt's back before answering,
“On my way to meet Professor Ava.”
Newt hummed, suddenly looking slightly guilty - perhaps he's worried if he's bothering Thomas.
He could never.
He's welcomed to talk to Thomas anytime he wants to, really.
“What are you doing here?” Thomas decided to ask before Ewt could excuse himself.
“Aren't you in a rush, Tommy? I understand if you can't talk right now-”
“I always have time for you.”
Perhaps it was because he was staying up late doing Ratman's assignment while having to deal with Teresa's antics, but he found himself waking up terribly exhausted - exhausted enough to not be thinking through his words for you.
Newt stiffened a little at Thomas's words, looking startled before he averted his gaze and once again turned to Thomas.
“Wanted to sing you a song.” Newt whispered.
Thomas almost had a heart attack.
Thomas was about ready to drop everything and just give all the time of the world to the blond with red cheeks and pretty eyes when Newt stammered,
“Sorry- I meant that I wanted to sing a song for Professor Ava- I meant-! I meant I have a friend here who wants to learn how to play the guitar. So… Here I am… “
By the end of it, Newt looked super flustered.
It looked off and odd - for Newt to be looking so uncomfortable.
Unusual even, for Newt has always been one to remain calm and collected in everything, always the one to calm others.
But Thomas liked seeing both sides of Newt.
In fact, Thomas wanted to see all of Newt.
Thomas thought back to Newt's words, and he found himself frowning a little.
“So you're teaching him only?” Thomas asked, unsure why he had asked in the first place.
Newt seemed to be caught off guard by the question, before he answered,
“Yes, I guess. I'll teach anyone if they want to learn.”
For the nth time ever since meeting Newt, his lips betrayed his brain yet again.
“Teach me.”
Newt stared at him.
A few moments passed, with Thomas growing increasingly self conscious while Newt stared at Thomas as if he was trying to comprehend something difficult.
“Sure, Tommy. Why not?” Newt finally answered, smiling encouragingly and practically melting all of the worries in Thomas.
“When would you want to start?” Newt asked, checking his phone when it buzzed.
That must be the guy Newt was supposed to be teaching.
“What if we start now.”
Thomas himself was unsure why he worded it as a statement and not a question.
Newt looked baffled then, tilting his head in confusion as he reminded Thomas the obvious.
“Tommy, I have a friend I should be meeting right now, and you have a professor waiting for you.”
I don't want you meeting him-
“Your friend over here is right, Thomas.”
Thomas instantly turned to Professor Ava, noting how he was definitely at least 10 minutes late to their agreed meeting time.
Professor Ava was standing there with her arms crossed over her chests, raising an eyebrow at Thomas.
But then Thomas took notice of a familiar someone standing beside Professor Ava with a knowing look on his face as he stared at Thomas.
“Minho? What are you doing here?” Thomas asked, head slowly clearing as he awaited for Minho's answer.
Minho scoffed, approaching Thomas before patting the guy's shoulder two times.
“Thomas.
I study here, remember? Physics?” Minho answered, raising an eyebrow in amusement as Thomas grew flustered.
Of course.
Thomas forgot.
Then the friend…
“No wonder you weren't in your room, Minho. I thought you forgot about our plan. ” Newt said, grinning at the sight of his friend.
Minho crossed his arms over his chest, insisting how he would never forget his plan with the great Newt, master of literally every artistic thing ever.
Thomas somehow felt better knowing Minho was the one Newt would be teaching.
“Well, we better get going - since Professor Ava and Thomas have their own plans already.” Minho said, turning to Professor Ava to thank her for spending some time to answer his questions.
Meanwhile, Newt suddenly approached him and started fixing his beanie a little.
“You ought to at least look presentable when meeting a lecturer, Tommy. Not that you don't look good like this, of course.”
Thomas found his brain short circuiting.
Newt patted Thomas's shoulders then, perhaps in attempt make the creases on his shirt less visible, before retreating and grinning cheekily,
“Hope everything will go well.” Newt said.
Thomas couldn't do anything but nod, throat feeling a little bit dry.
“See you later, lover boy !” Minho called out as he dragged Newt away.
He didn't know how long he was standing there, but it was long enough that Professor Ava herself had to drag him out of his own thoughts.
“You really are down bad for him, aren't you?”
Okay, maybe Thomas liked Newt a tiny bit too much. Sure. ‘Down bad’ is a bit too much though.
Or not…?
📈 4 📈
“Look at you, greenie! Aren't such a bad actor, are ya?” Brenda teased, looking impressed as she watched the clip of Thomas acting once again.
For the activity that day, they were volunteering to help other clubs with whatever projects they're doing.
It was Alby's paper they had pulled out of the box. Alby said that since they're lucky enough to have an official club with such an odd way of operating and to their liking, they should at least help out the unlucky ones.
After all, it's not everyday a club without a clear purpose managed to be official.
The club members broke into small groups, and Thomas ended up having to help out the drama club with Brenda.
The drama club needed a few extras to act out a few scenes - it just so happened that Thomas and Brenda fit their criteria.
“Please don't start using that nickname, Brenda. I have enough of having to listen to Gally say that word everyday.” Thomas half-heartedly complained, exasperated at the nickname Gally used despite Thomas already being in the club for a few months.
Brenda laughed at that, turning away from Thomas and excusing herself when someone from the drama club called for her.
A few minutes after, spent with Thomas leaning against the wall with crossed arms as he watched the members of the drama club started discussing their next step, Brenda finally came back, showing a thumbs up as she told him they're done here.
There's an ecstatic chorus of thank you's as they left. Thomas nodded a little bit awkwardly while Brenda waved back and gave them a huge smile.
The two of them walked in silence after that, with Brenda leading the way while Thomas tailed after her.
After a while, it became obvious that they were not making their way back to their club room.
“A detour?” Thomas asked, slightly confused but was more intrigued by why exactly were they making a detour in the first place.
“Yeah. Everyone else is still helping other clubs. Might as well give them a hand since we finished early.” Brenda answered, approaching a club room that's growing louder as they approached said room.
Thomas glanced at the club room's name, and found himself suppressing a smile.
Fashion Club.
Newt was supposed to be helping here.
“Greenie's feeling a little excited there, isn't he?” he heard Brenda asked.
He didn't get to refute that question though, because then there's a familiar tuft of blond hair in Thomas's view, and he found himself being dragged along, fingers gently wrapped around his wrist.
“Thank heavens you came, Tommy! They're becoming bloody louder the more seconds you're not here!” Newt groaned, completely oblivious to Thomas's erratically beating heart.
The two of them entered the room, and cheers erupted - most sounding relieved while some sounded… Interestingly teasing.
“Lover boy's finally here!” Brenda announced after following Newt and Thomas into the room.
For some reason, The Glades have been calling him ‘lover boy’ for far too many times. Though Thomas usually just came to the conclusion that it's just a nickname - just like how ‘greenie’ is just a nickname.
Somehow, Brenda's announcement caused another uproar. Newt started saying something to the crowd, but Thomas found himself unable to focus on those words because Newt was giving his wrist a squeeze.
It was then that Thomas noticed the clothes Newt had put on.
It wasn't grand or anything - in fact, Thomas believed that the one who dressed Newt probably had a concept in mind. Perhaps an outfit that's worn during an apocalypse - light and loose enough to not hinder one from running, and simple enough to still look good in it.
Not that Newt couldn't effortlessly look good. In Thomas's opinion.
But then he felt Newt unwrapping his fingers from around his wrist, heard Newt say something along the lines ‘it'll make Tommy feel uncomfortable’, and Thomas found himself reaching out and to hold Newt's hand.
“I don't mind holding hands with you.” Thomas found himself saying, before he could really think about it.
Newt turned to him a little, eyes wide and lips parted slightly before his cheeks turned into a shade of red - the darkest shade Thomas had ever seen on Newt ever since getting to know the blond.
The blond gave Thomas's hand a weak squeeze while his other hand covered the lower part of his face as he mumbled,
“... I meant being called ‘lover boy’, Tommy. I was just telling these people that you may dislike being called that.”
Thomas blinked a few times, eyes staying for far too long on Newt's embarrassed face before he noticed how the collar of Newt's shirt seemed to leave a large expanse of skin and collarbone to the eyes, and he-
He found himself only being able to let out a small ‘oh’.
The silence stretched for far too long for a room that was filled with cheers just a few seconds ago.
Newt's hand in his was trembling a little - but he didn't try to retract his hand.
Whatever trance he was in, Thomas managed to snap out of it when he found his eyes unconsciously trailing down Newt's shirt, head almost going into an unexplored territory as he awkwardly retracted his hand and patted Newt's shoulder.
“Uh. I mean, I would rather be called a ‘lover boy’ than a ‘greenie’.” Thomas found himself saying to break the silence.
Thomas finally looked away from Newt, and internally he found himself groaning in embarrassment upon noticing how many eyes had seen him being so… so….
Thomas was unsure what he was acting like.
Before he could really dwell on it, there was a clap from among the crowd, and judging from how everyone seemed to start moving, Thomas was thankful for the - possibly - president of the club's interference.
“Get back to work everyone! As interesting as these lads are, our time is limited!” the president ordered, causing the crowd to disperse and go to their stations.
The president, satisfied that work had started moving again, turned back to Newt and Thomas and gave them a long look.
Thomas still had his hand on Newt's shoulder, unsure if he should retract his hand. (He kind of didn't want to.)
The president then called out for Brenda who was at a station talking to someone who's doing something on a computer.
Brenda walked towards the three people quickly before she turned to the president.
“What's up?” Brenda asked.
The president gave Brenda a long look before she broke into a wild grin that had Thomas and Newt freezing.
“Are they…?”
“Yes ma'am. I believe they are.”
The president squealed, and all of a sudden Thomas was dragged by the president to a station that had a lot of clothes around. Thomas watched the president talking to the members of the drama club that were stationed there, eyes literally sparkling.
Thomas felt a little bit put off.
Just as sudden as before, the president turned to Thomas, grabbed his hands and gave it a little squeeze as she grinned,
“Would you want to see Newt modelling? I mean, he already did. We already snapped some pictures of him!
Would you want to see? Oh, of course! Just to take some inspiration for later when you are going to model for us! I could give you some pictures too! As wallpapers even! Oh but of course, simply and strictly for business, obviously!”
Judging from how ecstatic the president was, Thomas was sure that Newt did wonderfully.
Of course he wanted to see the results.
Like the president said - simply and strictly for business.
Thomas barely get to nod before he was dragged to the station Brenda was at previously.
He was forced to sit down on a chair a the president rapidly clicked at folders on the computer, opening a lot of photos of Newt.
Thomas found himself staring a little bit too hard.
While the president excitedly explained the concept for the photos, Thomas heard the snaps of pictures being taken. So his eyes drifted, and he found himself locking eyes with Newt's.
Newt seemed surprised - as if he was caught staring.
The blond averted his gaze for a few seconds before awkwardly waving subtly, turning back to the camera when the photographer called his name.
Thomas kept on staring at Newt, the president's voice becoming a background noise.
In the end, all Thomas could think about was how the photos did not do Newt justice at all.
“ Lover boy . Did you know Newt used to model for children's clothes back then?”
The question from the president had Thomas turning his gaze away, and he found himself flushing at the knowing look the president was giving him.
“He did?” Thomas asked, trying his best to act as if he was not caught staring at Newt.
Fortunately, the president agreed to not address it, acting as if she didn't notice Thomas was practically not listening to her rambles.
“Indeed. I could share the pictures with you. I've gotten to know Newt from then. So I have a lot of stories about him.
Would you like to know?” the president offered.
Obviously Thomas accepted the offer.
In the end, Thomas had gotten himself a few things - his picture with Newt, pictures of Newt, pictures of younger Newt, and a blurry picture of Newt with the red cheeks.
He ended up using the last picture as a profile picture for his private account with Teresa being his only follower.
It has come to Thomas's attention that he has definitely been harboring a small crush on his friend. Possibly.
Maybe.
Definitely.
📈 5 📈
“Thanks for having me, Tommy. I can't believe I forgot to bring my keys with me. Minho's out of town on a trip with his course mates, so I don't really have anywhere else to go.” Newt, freshly showered, hair damp and cladded in Thomas clothes, said sheepishly.
Thomas?
Thomas was trying to keep his cool.
Thomas was also struggling with his newfound feelings - or to be more specific, newfound crush.
Thomas, was unsure, if he's being terribly awkward or terribly obvious.
“I really don't mind, Newt. It's only for a few days. We've known each other for months already, and you're a close friend of mine. I wouldn't want you to be homeless.” Thomas said for the nth time ever since Newt had come knocking on his door, wet from the rain as he forgot his umbrella.
Thomas was in the living room, sitting on the sofa facing his TV while Newt was showering.
Then Newt came and sat himself beside Thomas, perhaps unconsciously sitting closer to Thomas since he was cold from the shower and Thomas had turned on the air conditioner.
And Thomas.
Thomas felt it when his heart skipped a beat when he realized Newt smelt like him - like his body wash, like his shampoo, like his softener, like his-
There's also the fact that Newt also smelt like himself and-
-and Thomas was really fucked.
“What were you watching?” Newt asked after he was thanking Thomas once again - Thomas barely listened to Newt saying thank you to him because he was busy registering the view of Newt being so comfortable in his place.
Newt looked so right to be here. It felt like he completed the place.
“I wasn't really paying attention.” Thomas admitted, turning to the TV and noting how it was a random romcom show airing.
Newt huffed, amused, as the ends of his lips twitched.
“So you were just staring at the wall the whole time?” Newt asked, amused and all.
I was thinking about you.
“Not just staring at the wall, really. Was just thinking.” Thomas said in response - which was definitely not a lie.
Newt seemed intrigued - judging from how he had scooted closer that their thighs brushed.
Lord have mercy.
“Care to tell?” Newt asked, making himself comfortable.
Sure. I think I'm madly in love with you. Or maybe that's just an exaggeration. But I really like your hair. Your face. Your smile. The way your eyes crinkle when you smile. Your voice. Your accent. Your everything. Your-
“It's nothing much, really. I'll figure it out.” Thomas chose to say instead, trying to relax himself.
Newt hummed as a response, eyes trained on the TV as the actors started going back and forth on each other.
Grabbing a blanket that was conveniently near him, he went and wrapped it around Newt's shoulders, contemplating before he decided to just also wrap the same blanket around himself.
Newt stiffened a little before he fully relaxed, now practically leaning into Thomas's side as he rested his head on Thomas's shoulder.
“Thanks a lot, Tommy.” Newt said, voice close to a whisper as he practically snuggled into Thomas's side.
Thomas had to remind himself to not pull the blond into a kiss and confessing right then and there.
Thomas hummed, forcing himself to pay attention to the boring show on TV to distract himself from doing anything stupid - like wrapping an arm around Newt's waist, for example.
They sat in silence after that; Newt slowly stopped shivering, while Thomas slowly got used to having Newt so close.
Half an hour passed when he realized that Newt had fallen asleep.
Thomas knew he had to move Newt to the guest room. Knew that if they were to stay in that position for any longer, Newt would have to wake up to terrible neck pain.
So, reluctantly, he carefully dislodged himself from Newt before carrying the blond in his arms: an arm around the blond's shoulders and the other holding Newt under his knees.
Eventually, they reached the guest room, and Thomas carefully placed Newt on the bed.
Once Newt was tucked in, Thomas found himself lingering for a few moments.
After hesitating a few times, Thomas decided to throw caution out of the window and to start running his hands through the blond locks.
They were as soft as how he had imagined - perhaps softer even.
Thomas kept on doing so for a couple of minutes, finding the whole thing comforting.
Once Thomas felt like he's being too much of a creep, he was about to retract his hand when Newt's eyes suddenly opened a tiny bit - as if he was still sleeping.
“You're not going to sleep on the couch are you, Tommy?” Newt asked, voice thick with drowsiness as his words slurred a little.
Shucking adorable.
“No. I'm gonna sleep on my own bed.” Thomas answered. Which was true.
Newt furrowed his eyebrows a little, lips a little bit pouty as he frowned,
“Liar.”
Thomas raised an eyebrow as he ignored the urge to just pressed a chaste kiss on the blond's lips.
“Not lying, Newt. I have my own room.” Thomas insisted. Again, the truth, really.
Newt pouted even more, seeming to find the fact that Thomas had his own room absurd.
“That's what everyone likes to say. Then the next day I'll find them sleeping on the couch.” Newt huffed, not impressed.
Thomas stomped down the jealousy he felt at the mention of ‘everyone’.
“Well, I'm not like them.” Thomas chose to say among other things.
There was a pause then. Newt was staring at Thomas sleepily while Thomas patiently waited for Newt's response.
All of a sudden, Newt giggled - shucking adorably giggled - and muttered,
“Obviously. Tommy's always been different.”
Thomas could feel his heat being squeezed at that instant.
“How different?” Thomas found himself asking.
Apparently, Newt seemed to start drifting into sleep again before he could answer.
The only words Newt said before falling into a deep sleep once again were the words that would be stuck in Thomas's head for the next few weeks.
“Come sleep with me, lover boy .”
Leaving Thomas stunned, Newt ended up sleeping soundly once again after that.
Thomas couldn't sleep that night.
Newt didn't seem to remember what happened the following morning when Thomas not-so-casually asked.
Thomas likes Newt. Thomas loves Newt.
Thomas is officially and royally fucked.
📈 +1 📈
Like hell Newt did not remember.
Newt remembered it so well he wondered how he had not not buried himself 6 feet under yet.
Sometimes, Newt had the habit of talking in his sleep. Sometimes, he thought they were dreams.
Apparently, what he thought was a dream was not a dream.
Newt wanted to disappear.
“Look, it can't be that bad. I mean, Thomas totally believes that you didn't remember. Now you just have to forget about it.” Frypan said, handing Newt a freshly baked muffin.
The activity for The Glades that day was once again to help out other clubs. Apparently they found doing stuff like these were way more fun than they had expected.
Frypan and Newt ended up being sent off to the cooking club.
“I can't just forget about it, Frypan! I'm so bloody embarrassed that my brain wouldn't stop reminding me of what had happened! Sooner or later Tommy would find out I'm lying, and then he'll find it all absurd and we'll get back to square one where I'm just another one of his admirers admiring him from afar!” Newt retorted, struggling to keep his voice down as he covered his face with his hands.
Utterly embarrassing, for God's sake!
“Well, as far as I'm concerned, avoiding Thomas is definitely not the solution to your dilemma. Also, get moving - you haven't baked a damn thing ever since you started talking about Thomas.” Frypan chided, putting stuff into the oven.
Newt groaned then, reluctantly standing up and joining Frypan.
They worked in silence for a while before Newt started speaking again.
“Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime. But you owe me now.”
The two of them worked together in silent, already used to working together since they're usually in charge of making dishes when they hung out together with The Glades.
The cooking club members joined them for a while after that before they had to leave for their tea time.
Then Frypan's phone buzzed.
Newt kept himself occupied, watching the muffins being baked in real time inside the oven as Frypan went and looked at his phone.
This cupcake was the last batch before they're good to go.
“Newt, remember how you owe me now?” Frypan suddenly said, the sound of his apron being shrugged off followed.
“You have to leave early?” Newt asked, eyes still on the oven.
There was the sound of rapit typing from Frypan, followed by the sound of Frypan gathering his things as he answered,
“Yeah. Tho- Winston wanted me to stop by our club room. Something about Tho- Alby forgetting his keys there.”
Newt hummed in acknowledgement and bid Frypan goodbye with a wave of his hand.
It was silent for a few moments, and Newt spent them staring at the muffins.
The oven finally stopped, and Newt eagerly took out the last batch of muffins, grinning a little at how wonderful they came out to be.
After he placed the muffins with the other batches on a cabinet, he heard rushed footsteps entering the club room. Seeing that tea time was not supposed to end for the next half an hour, he thought Frypan forgot something.
“Frypan? Did you forget something?” Newt asked aloud as he was still facing the muffins.
He was about to take off his apron when suddenly there were hands caging him to the cabinet he was facing, harsh breath hitting the back of his neck and leaving goosebumps on its skin.
“Glad I got here just in time.”
That was not Frypan.
Newt froze, trying his best to calm his increasingly fast heartbeat as he felt Thomas's warmth seeping through the back of his shirt.
Was Thomas running to get here?
“I was scared that you have left by the time I got here. Lucky enough Ratman was in a good mood and gave me the right direction to the cooking club. I don't even know how he knows this faculty so well anyway.” Thomas mumbled, still breathing down Newt's neck.
Newt wanted to shrink away.
Silence stretched as Thomas tried to even out his breathing while Newt was trying to calm down his heartbeat.
After a while, Thomas managed.
Newt did not.
“Why are you avoiding me?” Thomas asked, straight to the point as always.
Thomas has always been one to be straightforward - it's hard for someone who's always so curious to beat around the bush to satisfy his curiosity.
Slowly, Newt turned around, and he found himself stilling at how close Thomas was standing to him.
“I- I was not avoiding you.” Newt lied.
It was either Thomas didn't really care about being in close proximity with others or he was used to being in such a close proximity with others, but he didn't budge.
In fact, it felt like Thomas was leaning closer.
“So we just miraculously have not bumped into each other for a week?”
“... We study in different faculty buildings…”
“How come before this we're always bumping into each other then?”
“... Coincidences…?”
Thomas stared at Newt.
Newt tried staring back only to avert his gaze because it felt too intense.
The silence stretched.
The hands that were caging Newt were suddenly much closer to Newt than before.
“Newt.” Thomas said, softly.
Newt wanted to disappear.
“Have we met before?” Thomas asked.
They had.
Though it was fleeting. During their registration day. Thomas had bumped into Newt, said ‘sorry’ in that charming way of his, gave Newt a smile, and oh how hard Newt fell for the other.
It was just a fleeting moment.
“Newt.” Thomas repeated again, voice almost a whisper.
Newt could feel his cheeks reddening from the intimacy of all this.
“Not really. No.” Newt finally said something, voice barely a whisper and even cracking a little.
Thomas hummed, drumming his fingers on the cabinet before slowly placing his hands on Newt's lower back.
Thomas's hands were hovering over there for quite a while before he strengthen his resolve and lightly placed his hands around Newt's waist.
Newt could feel Thomas pulling him closer as he found himself being enveloped into a hug.
“Newt.” Thomas whispered.
Newt struggled to stay calm.
“Before. When I first joined the club.
They were talking about someone being a fan of mine.
It's you, right?” Thomas asked, voice soft and patient.
Newt wanted to melt.
Thomas made himself comfortable; wrapped his arms tighter around Newt and burrowing his face into the crook of Newt's neck.
Newt found his heart stuttering when Thomas exhaled against his skin.
“Newt.” Thomas said for the nth time with that soft voice of his.
Newt found himself tearing up.
“I'm not a stalker or anything like that.” Newt ended up saying when everything felt too overwhelming.
The chuckle Thomas made went straight through Newt's heart.
“Okay.” Thomas said, sounding like he's reassuring Newt.
“Okay.” Newt echoed, unsure of what to say as Thomas did not move at all.
Eventually, Thomas finally let go of Newt, eyes glistening with barely-covered joy meeting Newt's.
Thomas walked away, started gathering Newt's things while Newt just… stared at Thomas.
Once finished, Thomas went back to Newt, tugged on the apron Newt was wearing, before grinning,
“Time's up, lover boy . We'll have to meet the other at the club room.”
Newt?
Newt almost fainted.
Snapped out of his daze, Newt quickly took off his apron. His face, neck and the tips of his ears felt like they were on fire as he could feel Thomas's eyes on him.
After haphazardly keeping his apron away and cleaning the kitchen as best as he could with trembling hands, Newt went and took his things, standing still when Thomas kept on staring at him and not making any signs of leaving.
…
“Newt.”
“...yes?”
“...let's go.”
And then Thomas went and took one of Newt's hands and started walking towards The Glades.
Newt?
Newt found himself unable to shake off the happy smile on his lips on time before they reached their club room.
Thomas remained to stand super close to him throughout their post-activity meeting.
They walked around a park nearby later on hand in hand and talked about the most random thing.
Newt's not just an admirer from afar in the end.
📈 END 📈