Chapter Text
Newt woke with a start, the blaring of his alarm only worsening the oncoming headache. With a dramatic groan he reached over to it, aimlessly tapping at the screen until the noise shut off. Feeling accomplished, he settled back into the covers, ready to return to a subconscious state of bliss.
Unfortunately, nothing good ever happened for Newt, so a few minutes later he was jolted awake by the honk of a car horn directly outside of his trailer. Begrudgingly he dragged himself from the safety of his bed, plucking up whatever clothes laid on the ground closest to him.
Another honk sounded just as he finished dressing, and he was out the door within the minute. Half because he didn’t want to make his best friend late, half because he didn’t want to bother his neighbors and cause them to light his trailer on fire in the middle of the night. That’s not to say they were bad people, but he wouldn’t put it past them.
“Good morning sunshine!” Minho chirped as he swung open the passenger side door, looking over at the jumper and joggers that practically swallowed him. “Don’t you look fancy?”
Newt shut the hatch behind him, glaring at the other with all of his groggy rage. “Why can’t you just knock?”
“Too much work,” his friend replied, offering Newt a piece of gum as his free hand made a gesture that said 'your breath smells like a rat died in your tonsils'.
The ride to school was no more than five minutes, but Minho blasted obnoxious pop songs the entire way, belting out every lyric in his usual off-key screeching. For Newt, or anyone really, it would be the most irritating start to the day, but the kid was his best friend. They’d been through everything together.
Newt was there when Minho broke his leg in the elementary school track race, he’d even signed his cast with more than a few profanities and lodged one or two pencils inside of it trying to reach an itch. And Minho was there, holding Newt’s hand while the cops dragged his father away, arresting him for the murder of his twin sister, Lizzy.
His parents, Lauren and Glenn, had taken guardianship of Newt as well, so the pair were more family than anything else. Though when he turned sixteen and things started to get impossibly worse, he insisted that it was time for him to live on his own. Of course the Lee’s entirely disagreed, but he pushed and they came to something of a compromise.
They’d buy him a trailer home in a park and pay the rent, and he’d be free to rot away in a secluded place where no one would have to watch. If it wasn’t for the fact that Minho’s family were disgustingly wealthy, he would’ve shut the idea down. But he agreed, and was entirely grateful to them nonetheless. His plan of isolating himself from the world was unsuccessful, however, as Minho had taken to forcing him out of bed every single day, even in the summer when school wasn’t up.
Minho was his brother, even before life kicked Newt to the ground. They’d met when he first came to the states, and became inseparable once Newt had offered him some Jelly Babies he’d brought from London. Of course they had other friends, but after the incident everyone else sort of disappeared into their own lives. It sounded unfortunate, but Newt didn’t mind in the slightest.
Glenn had paid a copious amount of hush money to ensure no one knew about Newt’s relation to the tragedy that shook their entire town, and with time no one so much as questioned it. Outside of Minho, Newt kept entirely to himself at school, and after being mute for the entirety of freshman year, even the teachers left him to his own devices. He was smart, so it never posed to be much of an issue anyway.
Most people would be miserable living like that, but he relished in the serenity of peace and quiet invisibility offered.
Gladings Secondary, home of the hounds, came into view and Minho cursed the lack of parking space, muttering a hundred miles per hour under his breath as they pulled in and started to search for a spot. After what felt like a million years they found one, and Minho shut off the radio, huffing dramatically.
“Think I should quit football and try out for Bark this year?” he asked before uncapping his water bottle and taking a long swing, as if the task of parking had knocked the life out of him.
Bark was their school's mascot, a big black lab with glittery eyes. “I don’t think you’ve got the skill for it– it’s a true art, y’know.”
Minho rolled his eyes, his usual cheery demeanor turning to an intimidating seriousness as he pulled their bags out from the back seat. “Anyone gives you trouble shoot me a text. Yeah?”
Newt nodded in wordless understanding, though truthfully he wasn't too worried. Yet another perk of being unknown was no one cared to bother him, the list was truly never ending. Minho’s shit-eating grin made an appearance and he roughly punched Newt’s shoulder. “Ready for senior year shuck-face?”
With an eye roll he muttered an agreement and pushed his door open, bag slung over his shoulder as he stared up at the surprisingly massive building. Just one more year, he thought to himself. Just have to make it one more year.
His first period was English Language Arts, which happened to be his absolute favorite class. Despite this he still chose a seat in the very back corner, tucked away against the wall where he had a few minutes to read before the bell rang. Luckily for him, the one next to his held a box, meaning it’d go unoccupied. The room itself was half the reason he favored the class so much, Mrs. Paige never being one to conform to the usual fluorescent hell the rest of the teachers did.
The industrial lights were shut off, their searing rays of utter terror replaced with the warm glow of an assortment of lamps. The walls were lined with educational posters and one or two pieces of art, and shelves that held books and potted plants. It was homey, in a way, the touch of a mother obvious within it.
Mrs. Paige was very proud of her daughter, Teresa, and spoke of her whenever given the opportunity. He adored her for it, really, she was probably the most incredible person he’d ever met. From his first year he’d met her he’d ensure he was in whichever class she was teaching every semester, even if it wasn’t necessary for graduation. They’d never spoken, of course, but she would leave sweet little sticky notes on his work, praising him whenever she could.
He pulled out his book, Flowers for Algernon, from his bag, opening it to the very first page. He’d read it maybe a hundred times, it had been Lizzy’s, and she’d begged him to give it a chance, but then he couldn’t look past the spelling and grammar. She’d given him her very own copy on their last Christmas together, and he started it for the first time a few weeks after her death. She was right in saying he’d love it, but then again, she’d always been right.
He knew every word coming up after whichever he was reading, every line and every scene, by now he was almost certain he could recite the novel without the text. Maybe he should’ve grown sick of it at some point, but he never could, he could feel his sister's energy within the pages. He could see her reactions and feel her emotions embedded in the paper. Lizzy was his entire world, and he would continue to study every damn letter until the entire book crumbled to dust.
Before he knew it the bell was ringing and students began filling the desks laid out, excited chatter among them that settled as their teacher stood from her chair, greeting them with a warm smile. He slipped the novel into his bag, focusing his attention on Mrs. Paige and preparing himself for her ‘Welcome Back’ speech that never changed.
She cleared her throat, panning over the class once more before beginning. “Welcome back! This is grade twelve English, so if you’re meant to be somewhere else now's the time to head out.” She paused, only continuing when no one rose from their desks. “Now, I’ve known a handful of you since your first year here, and I see that some of you are new.” She peered around a bit, smiling. “It’s alright, you didn’t miss much.”
A few students laughed, and Newt settled further into his chair with a sigh, he was almost glad to be back. Mrs. Paige went on with her introduction, walking towards him and plucking the box off the desk beside him. Everyone had already chosen their spots, however, so it didn’t matter. She walked back to the front and just as she’d finished her sentence the door shot open, slamming against the rubber stopper before going to close again, only stopping when a hand held it in place. A boy stumbled a bit, doubled over in the door frame as his chest heaved with exhausted breaths.
“Is this English?” he huffed. “Grade twelve?”
Their teacher gave an amused smirk. “Yes. Who are you?”
The kid moved forward a bit, throwing an arm out onto the wall for support as he attempted to straighten himself up. “Thomas Greens– we spoke on the phone?” A question, though it shouldn’t have been.
“Right, yes, you’re where you’re supposed to be,” she said, gesturing to the room. “A little late though, might I add.”
He gave her an apologetic look and turned to search for an empty seat, still breathing pretty heavily. He faced Newt now, his features in full view. He was around his height, but a bit more broad shouldered with honey colored skin littered with moles. His hair was dark and messy, sticking up in every which direction. His eyes matched, but they glowed in a way Newt couldn’t really understand.
In Thomas’ wandering gaze their eyes met for a brief moment, something unrecognizable flashing in the others as Newt dropped his head, focusing on his wringing hands and pretending that he very much wasn’t awkwardly staring at the guy. By the bumping of desks and mumbles of hushed apologies he could tell Thomas was moving closer to him, and when he finally looked up he saw the other in the newly available seat next to him, rummaging through a worn backpack.
Mrs. Paige continued on with her lesson, to which Newt paid his full attention. She was utterly brilliant, keeping him hooked on her every word and making him internally chuckle with well thought out jokes and plays, by the end he was practically on the edge of his seat. She clapped her hands together, motioning to the digital clock up on the wall. “Now, usually I don’t do this because I know you all despise such activities.”
Newt’s heart dropped into his stomach, knowing what was coming and fighting to telepathically beg her not to continue. “But because we have so many new students this year-” Don’t you dare. “I thought it’d be fun if we went around and introduced ourselves. Yeah?” No! "Give us your name and your favorite book.” Goddammit. “Start us off Clint.”
The panic started in his chest, his blood running cold and breath falling shallow. The kids at the front started, but there were just over a dozen other students in this class and soon enough he’d have to blow his cover and reveal to the group that he had a name, and existed. They would see him, hear him, and the illusion of his invisibility would shatter. What if his voice cracked? What if he said the wrong thing? Something that caught their attention, something that they would tell their friends and anyone else who cared to listen. Bile threatened in the back of his throat at the very idea.
A voice sounded beside him, Thomas’, and suddenly the deafening white noise that blared in his ears faded, making room for a bubbly tone. “My name’s Thomas,” he announced, voice clear and confident. “And my favorite book– well it’s not like a novel really– but it’s a book, you know,” he chuckled to himself, as if he wasn’t the one talking. “It’s a book of poetry, by Walt Whitmen. I have like six different editions I swear it’s a different book every–”
“Thomas,” Mrs. Paige said sternly, though there was no real heat behind it. “We don’t have much more time.’
The class snickered, a few whispers sounding, but the kid didn’t seem to care less. He grinned, scratching at the nape of his neck. “Right! Sorry, it’s called Leaves of Grass."
Newt was entirely entranced by him, failing to notice the fact that his breathing had evened or that his heartbeat was steady, no longer thumping painfully against his ribs. Thomas’ gaze meeting his woke him out of the daze, and he turned to see the class, and Mrs. Paige, watching him expectantly. He shifted a bit, the words escaping him before he could stop them. “Names Newt. And Flowers for Algernon." his voice was steadier than he felt, hands still giving him away with their tremor.
“Fantastic! There’s two minutes to the bell, please remain seated until then. And take a sheet on the way out– they’re due tomorrow!” the woman called, beaming bright. He was grateful to return to his invisibility as his classmates' attention fell from him, though the worry of it had been replaced by confusion. He shook it off, however, as well as every thought of the strange boy that seemed to be the human embodiment of sunlight.
He’d beg Minho to switch to the class at lunch, anything to save him from such a humiliation again.
The squeak of chair legs against vinyl floor sounded, breaking his eyes from his trembling fingers and landing on Thomas, who’d been awkwardly scooting in his chair over to him. "Flowers for Algernon is a really great book,” he said, settling a foot away. “I have a really cool edition– I’ll bring it for you tomorrow.”
Newt had to fight the mix of confusion and distaste from his features, entirely bewildered by this strange guy and unsure of how to go about this. “No, it’s alr–”
“I want to,” Thomas said, waving a dismissive hand. “Trust me it’s like a whole different book.”
For a few moments he just stared, perplexed, before he gave a short nod. “Thanks.”
His attention finally fell back to his lap as he decided this was the longest two minutes he’d ever experienced. He hoped Thomas would take the hint and leave him be, scoot back to his place, but the guy seemed to absolutely have it out for him. “If there’s ever any other books you’d like let me know. I have a bunch.” His eyes were on him, but somehow somewhere else. “Or if you need anything, really.”
The bell saved him from having to utter a response, and Thomas stood from his seat, pulling his backpack over his shoulder. “It was really good meeting you, I’ll see you tomorrow!” he said happily before turning off, grabbing the homework sheet, and disappearing into the crowd of students that pooled around the door.
Newt sat for many moments, stunned. He felt less invisible, and couldn’t decide whether or not to hate it. Mrs. Paige walked to his desk as the students filed out and slid the assignment onto the surface before him with a smile, then hastily returned to the front. It held a little yellow sticky note with neat writing sprawled across it.
‘Give him a chance.’
Who? Thomas? The kid was weird, he’d seen that from the start. But something strange stirred inside him when the damn guy looked at him, that thing in his eyes Newt couldn’t exactly place. He rose from his seat, collecting his things before starting towards the door. He hoped Thomas would leave him be from this point forwards, or at least after he borrowed the book, but unfortunately he doubted it. Luck had never been on his side.
The following two classes were more of the same, introductions and little assignments to be completed within the period or given as homework. Newt found himself to be distracted, however, fidgeting restlessly as he struggled to listen to the lessons teachers belted. He’d never been more glad for lunch when it finally came, even more so for Minho finding him so quickly.
“I’m already sick of this place,” he said, tucking Newt under his arm. “Let’s bust our butts, I’m starving.”
Newt hummed his agreement, bowing his head as they navigated through the crowd of moving teenagers, headed off towards the parking lot.
The second he turned on the engine, Minho resumed his brain cell murdering music, screaming every single lyric like there was no one around to hear him, which there very much was. Newt ducked into his seat, pulling his hood further over his head as they pulled out of the parking lot. He wasn’t as anxious about it today though, his mind whirring with thoughts of the strange brunette he’d met this morning. The interaction between them replaying in his mind over and over.
Thomas had watched him with eyes that spoke a thousand words in a language he didn’t speak, as if he was the only person in the room. The only person anywhere, for that matter. It was weird, and that was putting it lightly, but Newt couldn’t stop thinking about it no matter how hard he tried. It made his chest tighten uncomfortably.
“So how’s your first day going?” Minho asked, flicking the knob and turning the volume of a terrible, terrible song down.
Newt sat up, sighing a bit. “The usual– Paige made me introduce myself.”
“Oh man that’s brutal," he replied, head tipping back in laughter. “Sorry I wasn’t there to save the day.”
Newt chuckled a bit, biting his tongue before he let it slip about Thomas.
“There’s my favorite customers!” Mary called as they stepped into her diner. “The usual?”
Both boys nodded eagerly, heading off towards their booth. Minho was quickly taken to a game on his phone, tapping away furiously as Newt pulled out his book and laid down in the booth. This had been their routine since Minho had gotten his license, well, maybe a few months before. When illegally driving wasn’t an option they’d go whenever Lauren agreed to take them, and in the summer they’d walk. The place was the best, seat cushions worn in perfectly and overall design being retro, it was lovely.
Newt sat up eagerly when Mary served them a few minutes later, murmuring the usual small talk and asking about their first day back. She was motherly and kind, a care only a parent could speak with laced in her words. Minho stuffed a hundred dollar bill in her apron pocket with a wink. “For all the free muffins.” Despite her arguments he refused to take it back, insisting that she was bothering them while they were trying to eat. Eventually she left with a permanent grin etched into her face, mumbling thank yous.
Newt took a fork to his pancakes, shamelessly shoveling multiple bites into his mouth with a satisfied groan. Luckily the place was empty, otherwise he’d have eaten with at least a little bit of human decency. He’d never let his friend know, but it’d been a few days since he’d had a single bite of food. The days leading up to their return to school tended to be stressful, and he’d end up laying in bed for hours and hours, only getting up to use the washroom once or twice.
Usually Minho would force him, but the previous week he’d been busy going to university tours and such with his parents, and Newt had talked him out of forcing him to come along. He’d lost a bit of weight, more than he’d like to admit, actually, but his choice of clothing concealed it perfectly. His best friend would be none the wiser.
“Slow down shank, my god,” Minho said, his own mouth full of mashed grilled cheese. “You tryna choke to death?”
Newt narrowed his eyes, giving him a stern 'bugger off’ expression before returning to his animalistic habits, the already amazing food’s taste amplified by the days of starving.
Minho laughed gingerly, though his attention was quickly taken by the jingle of bells that were hung above the door. Newt paid no mind, far too enveloped in the pool of deliciousness that drowned his senses. Maybe it was dramatic, but seriously this place had the best food he’d ever tasted.
When Minho kept to his staring, Newt followed his gaze, eyes widening a bit in horror as the scene unfolded before him.
“What d’you like?” Thomas asked Mary as he glanced over the overhead menu. “I just moved here, not too sure what to get.”
The woman beamed at him. “Where’d you come from?”
“Autumnvale? It’s a few hours away,” he replied, matching her bright smile.
“I’ve been there! It’s a beautiful place, I’d love to live there.”
“You should– the lakes there are stunning.”
“I wish,” she chuckled. “My kids are here though, never know when they’ll need me.”
He nodded in understanding. “They're older?”
“My daughter just turned twenty-five, my son twenty-one. I just don’t want to be far away, what if they need a place to stay, you know?” She paused, sighing wistfully before throwing her hands up. “Look at me, blabbering– I think you’d like the omelet, with a side of hot sauce. That’s my favorite.”
“That sounds perfect,” Thomas hummed, grinning. “I’ll take two.”
Thomas’ gaze began to wander and Newt turned away, tugging his hood further over his head. “Hide me!” he hissed to Minho, who gave him a strange look. What had he done to deserve this? He pleaded with whatever deity was listening to spare him of this boy's kind wrath.
“Who is he?” Minho asked, frowning. "Is he bothering you? He goes to our school?”
Newt rolled his eyes as his friends protectiveness took over. “No, he’s nice but I–”
“Newt?” a voice called, and internally he cursed himself for existing. Bouncy footsteps drew closer and he cautiously looked up, face flushed. Cedar brown eyes met his, filled with so much life he almost winced as if he were staring up at the sun.
“Hi,” he mumbled, deciding then and there that someone cruel was tormenting him.
Thomas slid into the spot next to him, leaving a decent amount of space between the pair as his attention fell on Minho. “Hey! I’m Thomas.”
His friend took it tentatively. “Minho.”
“You go to Gladings? I just started there. It’s weird to start new in your senior year but the people are nice enough!” He turned to Newt, that look– admiration almost– brimming in his eyes. “How were your other classes?”
Newt forced a small smile onto his face, fighting the urge to shrink away into nothing. “Good.”
The other beamed impossibly brighter, eyes falling down Newt and landing on his book that sat in his lap. “May I?”
Not once had anyone outside of Newt and his sister touched the book, so he had absolutely no explanation for why he handed it over, giving a chaste nod.
Thomas handled the novel with a gentleness only a bookworm would– or maybe an angel of some sort, Newt didn’t know– but his fingers ran over the spine, tracing every crease. He felt embarrassed at the state of it, faded and withered as time wore it down, but Thomas didn’t seem to mind. “The mass market editions are really pretty– the fonts small though, not that it’s a bad thing I just have terrible eyesight.” He paused a bit, skimming the reviews printed on the back. “Daniel Keyes studied psychology, you know, to better understand the characters he wrote about. Such devotion, I envy it.”
He continued on with fun facts about the book, the author, and the film they adapted from it, only stopping when Mary arrived with his food. He placed the book onto Newt’s lap softly, seeming entirely unaware of how strange that gesture was. Newt barely noticed as well, lost in the others words and movements for the second time that day.
The clinking of plates woke him, however, and he shook off whatever it was he was feeling. Mary had set two plates down, but not before Thomas scooped up the second and handed it back to her along with a generous tip. “This one's for you– I worked in a place like this and I always forgot to eat.”
The woman pressed a hand over her heart. “What? Are you sure?”
“Of course,” he nodded. “Enjoy it, please. I’ll let you know how I like it before I go.”
After she disappeared into the backroom, replaced by a grumpy looking gentleman covered head to toe in what could only be assumed as food stains, Thomas dug into his food. Quiet for a moment. Minho looked at Newt with the deepest confusion he’d ever seen. He only shrugged a bit in response, unprepared for the plethora of questions his friend would surely be asking once they were alone.
“This is so good,” Thomas groaned a bit, hand over his mouth as he slid the plate towards Newt. “Try some.”
Newt hesitantly picked up his own fork, cutting off a small piece and dipping it in the red sauce before eating it. Thomas was right, it was really good. He’d make a note to order his own tomorrow. Newt nodded his approval and the boy beside him positively beamed with that godforsaken look, licking away a bit of sauce that was left on his lip. A movement Newt did not trace.
Thomas and Minho fell into a conversation about football, which apparently Thomas played every year at his old school. The pair seemed to click almost instantly, both sharing multiple common interests and overall Newt doubted anyone could dislike the guy. He was pulled back into the conversation when a hand pressed into his shoulder, startling him slightly. “Since kindergarten? You’re practically brothers,” Thomas said fondly. “I have a brother, he’d adore you guys.”
“Speaking of–” Thomas checked his watch. ”I have to drop off his lunch!” He stood from the booth, straightening himself out before turning back one last time. “It was really good meeting you Minho, I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” The pair gave soft responses but the boy had already taken off for the door, the bells tinkling as he stepped through.
Once he was positively out of earshot Minho’s expression fell into a state of utter shock. “Dude. Where did you meet the result of cupcakes and rainbows one night stand?”
Newt just slid down in his seat, tugging at his sweater strings. “He sits beside me in my first class, I swear he's like the embodiment of bubbles.”
Minho chuckled, staring at the door in a kind of awe. “I like him.”
They finished their meals and packed up, returning to school and attending the remaining two classes, which were just as mundane as the rest. The end of the day came quickly, and Newt sat alone in the foyer, absently listening to distant conversations of staff and students while waiting for Minho to finish his talk with the principal. The tiny bit of energy he’d had to survive today was far, far gone and all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep until next year.
Unfortunately, fate had it out for him.
For the third time that day Thomas approached him with his unfaltering sun-like happiness, and Newt responded somewhat weakly. As he drew closer he seemed to read Newt’s energy, lowering his voice a few octaves. “Are you okay? D’you need a ride home?”
Newt was far too tired to help the small smile that crept up on his lips at Thomas’ concern. “Just waiting on Minho.”
Thomas nodded and didn’t say anything more, just remained there in the comfortable silence that fell over them. Minho came out about ten minutes later, clearly frustrated. “Shank gave me a twenty minute lecture instead of just saying no.” He looked up, noticing the not-so-stranger. “Oh hey Thomas.”
The brunette hummed in reply, giving a small goodbye before turning off for the front doors. Newt was curious what exactly he’d been waiting for, but decided against using any more energy to ponder the idea, his head pounding harder at every thought he willed himself to think.
He slid off the bench and followed behind Minho to the parking lot, dipping in and out of consciousness on the quiet ride home. He bid his friend goodbye and locked the trailer door the second it shut, shedding his outfit and climbing into his bed, ready for the warmth of his many blankets to take him.
Thoughts of the sunny boy flooded his mind as he began to drift off, flashes of those eyes, the ones that looked at him as if he were the only thing that mattered, floated through his mind. It ignited a warm in him that pierced skin, flesh, and bone, settling deep in the marrow. Did he look at everyone that way? Did he just have the kind of personality that made those around him feel important?
He imagined Thomas’ eyes shifting to pity, to sadness, to distress after learning of Newt’s past. He imagined that look being tainted with the ugly emotions, the thought making him sick. Newt sighed, letting the exhaustion of his mind take over before his thoughts wandered any further.