Work Text:
Newt was looking outside in awe, the normally grey streets now covered in a thick layer of snow. He pressed his nose against the glass and noticed how his breathing formed a circle of condensation on the frosty window. He could feel the cold winter air passing through, numbing his face.
He loved watching the snowflakes swirl down from the sky. They moved in a way that made randomness seem intentional; there was no pattern in the way they moved, no fixed choreography. But still, the white blanket that covered the streets was perfectly even.
He'd always thought Christmas wasn't Christmas without a good pack of snow. It made everything so magical, and it brought back so many good memories.
Though he'd gotten his snow, he still felt detached from the whole thing; even his Christmas tree couldn't get him in the holiday spirit. Sighing, he pulled away from the glass, reminding himself he'd have to clean the greasy stain that he'd left on it later. He turned and looked at the pictures hanging on his wall, one of them showing him and his sister playing in the snow when they were kids. Both of them were smiling broadly, their tiny faces flushed from the cold as they were hugging their freshly-made snowman, who they'd given a big grin as well. He remembered building Mister Snowy like it was yesterday.
Those days were long gone. Lizzy was currently on the other side of the world, celebrating the holidays with a family of her own. She'd call him occasionally, but when she did, most of their conversations had been about the great weather in Australia— if he could even hear her speak through the buzz coming from his crappy old iPhone. He thought she'd mentioned something about buying him a new one, but she also could've said she was trying her new shoes on— he couldn't tell.
Either way, as more time passed, his sister stopped calling him. She'd been gone for a year now, but he still checked the window in his living room first thing in the morning for her black-and-white Fiat, only to find his neighbour's grey Toyota parked in Lizzy's usual spot.
"Meow," His cat had appeared at his feet, her small eyes looking up at him as if she'd heard his thinking.
"At least I have you, Mimi." He bent down to stroke her brown fur, and she purred in response, cuddling her head against his leg.
When he got back up, he was facing his window again, and the sun was hanging low on the horizon now, the dark blue of nightfall beginning to come closer. It reminded him of the yolk of an egg, its orange glow breaking through the grey clouds that hovered before it. The light reflected on the white-glazed streets, making it seem like the world was on fire. The sight made him hold his breath for a second, his eyes taking in as much as he could. He'd forgotten how beautiful the world could be at times.
Since he didn't have anything planned for tonight, he figured going on a walk wouldn't be such a bad idea. He carefully moved his leg, apologizing to an angry-looking Mimi, who had curled up around his ankle.
"I'll be back soon, yeah?" Putting on his coat, followed by his scarf and gloves, Newt grabbed his keys and hurried out the door, locking it behind him.
It didn't take long before he'd descended the five sets of stairs and walked through the main entrance, the wind knocking him in the face with such force he almost fell. Steadying himself, he pulled his scarf up to his nose, his breathing warm on the piece of fabric but not quite enough to make his face less chilly.
The sun was going down fast, the dark blue now almost swallowing the tiny ball of light whole. A few houses he walked past had decorations, some so bright he had to close his eyes to avoid getting blinded.
Or maybe he'd rather close his eyes than look at those houses, where everyone was celebrating with their loved ones, seeming to have so much fun that it made him physically sick just by looking at them.
His steps made a crispy sound in the snow as he struggled to walk through the thick layer of ice, leaving a trail of footprints following his path. He felt like a criminal, ruining such a perfect piece of nature with his clunky boots as he walked toward the park located just around the corner.
When he'd reached the grass, the sun had disappeared and stars twinkled across the sky, the moon just a thin yellow curve hanging there above him, seeming so far away and yet so ridiculously close.
He wondered what it would be like to visit the moon. Something about the grey rock floating through space had always interested him, though he didn't know why. It was a foolish thought, of course, going to the moon. The chances of him becoming an astronaut were about as much as him seeing his sister's car pull up in front of his apartment— not impossible, but not very likely either. It didn't stop him from believing in it, though.
He imagined putting on his suit, sitting down in a rocket ship and taking off into space, surrounded by all the beauty of the universe. He thought of Planet Earth. How insignificant it would've been once he'd have discovered all that was beyond.
A sob coming from his right pulled his mind back into the real world, catching him off-guard. He turned toward the sound and saw someone sitting on one of the wooden benches, holding their head in their hands.
For a moment, he wanted to pretend he hadn't seen whoever was sitting there and go back to his much more joyful fantasies. He was about to do so when the sobs got louder, the person's shoulders evidently shaking. It was impossible to ignore. Newt took a deep breath before walking toward the bench, the boy sitting on it now slightly more visible.
"Are you all right, mate?"
The yellowish light from the streetlamps illuminated the boy's face, his brown hair matted to his forehead and his eyes all red and puffy. The brunet jumped when he spoke, quickly wiping away the tears rolling down his cheeks.
"W-w-who're you?"
He now stood no more than a metre away from the other boy, smiling to make him seem friendly. He assumed he came off as a creep, staring at him with his hands in his pockets like he was hiding a gun in there. He quickly pulled them out, immediately feeling the cold sneer at his fingertips, despite him wearing gloves.
"The name's Newt. Who are you?" He tried to sound as kind as possible, but the brunet was still eyeing him suspiciously.
"My name 's Thomas."
His words were slurred and followed by a quiet sniffle. He raised a shaky arm to wipe his nose on the sleeve of his purple hoodie which was soaked by the snow. Whoever this Thomas was, he didn't look too good. Newt would never go out without a coat with temperatures like this unless he had a death wish. How did he end up here on Christmas Eve?
"Are you a cop? I-I can leave if I have to, I just don't know... I d-don't know where I should go." More tears were streaming down his red flushed cheeks. His blue lips made it hard for him to speak, and Newt had to guess most of what he was saying.
"I'm not a cop, don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you."
He tried to meet the boy's eyes, but he'd lowered his gaze to his shoes, his arms wrapped around his waist. Newt felt terribly sorry for him, the way he sat there shivering when another gust of wind blew at them. While he'd been worried about being home alone for the holidays, this fellow had been out here for God knows how long with nothing but his clothes to protect him from the December cold.
"Please just... Go away."
"I'm not going anywhere. You're freezing out here." Right after he'd made this statement, he wanted to go back in time and unsay the words that'd just come out of his mouth. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't leave him there to die, but making a promise like that wasn't the smartest thing he could've done. As much as his heart ached for him, he didn't fancy having a stranger in his home.
"So what? Why do you care?" Thomas retorted, his voice cracking at the end.
"If you stay out here, you'll freeze to death."
"I don't care." He rubbed the tears that were rolling down his cheeks away with his fists, and Newt noticed the tips of his fingers were blue, matching his frozen lips.
He didn't know how to respond to that. The way he was crying proved he was lying, but the boy was rather stubborn in denying he found himself in a serious situation. Newt was biting his lip when the brunet closed his eyes for a full five seconds before opening them again, the frost on his lashes glueing together every time he blinked. It reminded him of the white mascara he used to wear when he went to concerts back in the day— he had looked hideous with it. He was glad he'd come to his senses since then.
Once again, Thomas woke him up from his side-track of thoughts by bursting into a series of coughs. It sounded like he was on the verge of choking, and if he didn't know any better, Newt would've given him the Heimlich manoeuvre. Maybe he should've done that anyway, but he doubted if it would've solved anything. His first aid course had been a long time ago, and he'd forgotten most of the stuff they taught him. But even with his poor medical schooling, he knew that if Thomas stayed out here, he would be dead in a few hours.
"Do you have a place to sleep?" He did a small step forward, attempting to reach out for the boy, who scattered away until the very edge of the bench he was sitting on. Newt retreated his hand but still tried to find Thomas' eyes, noticing how he was struggling to keep them open.
"You don't, do you?"
The howling of the wind was loud in the silence that fell between them, Thomas turning his head away and fumbling a bit with his hands. Seeing him sitting there almost made Newt cry too, the sight so depressing he felt something tug at his heart like it was trying to rip it in two. His legs started moving and carried him toward the boy like he got pulled in by an anchor, the force too strong to fight against. He sat down next to him, even though his brain was still stuck at the place he'd been standing before his body decided to act for itself.
"You can come with me if you want to. I have a sofa."
Slowly, Thomas turned his head toward him, his trembling lips showing the faintest trail of a smile. He looked completely drained, his face sunken and purple circles surrounding his hollow eyes.
"Really?" The disbelief reflected in that question was enough for Newt to place his hand on the boy's shoulder, studying his face to see if it was okay. When the brunet didn't back away, he dared give a quick squeeze, and even through his gloves, he could feel the cold radiating from Thomas' body.
"Really, Tommy." Part of him was still doubting if bringing strangers into his home was a good idea. Not that Thomas would hurt him in the state he was in. The boy couldn't hold a weapon if he tried to, much less punch him.
Stretching out his free hand, Newt let go of his shoulder and stood up slowly, the ice slippery beneath his shoes. He waited for the brunet to take it, giving him a reassuring smile.
Thomas looked from his hand to his face three times before he finally stretched out his shaking arm and placed his hand in his. He couldn't hold onto him, his fingers too numb to wrap them around Newt's, who placed his other hand on top of the brunet's, tugging at the boy's arm with all of his strength. He carefully lifted him onto his legs, but his body was too weak to handle all of his weight. Luckily, Newt was fast enough to catch him when he was about to tumble into the snow, hooking an arm around his waist.
"Thanks." He whispered before breaking into another set of coughs, his jelly legs unable to stand the jerking motion, making him full-on hang onto Newt's arms, who tightened his grip around the brunet.
"Slowly, yeah? I don't live far from here."
Thomas gave him such a small nod he almost missed it, but when he placed his arm around him, Newt considered it to be a yes. Thomas was a few inches shorter than him, making it harder for him to hold on as they made their first step in the direction of the gravel path. Newt's neck was already strained from the weight of the boy clinging onto him.
Their feet barely lifted from the ground as they shuffled through the snow, and Newt started to wonder how long Thomas had been sitting on that bench. It had to be at least for a few hours, maybe even the whole day. More snow started falling, and it was hard to see where they were going, the only light coming from the lampposts stationed every two feet.
None of them spoke, other than him asking if everything was okay every time they were forced to take a break due to Thomas' cough attacks. He knew he must've looked worried since the boy kept assuring him that he was fine and they could go on, though his wheezing breaths told him something else.
After what seemed to be an endless trail, they reached the main road. His apartment came into view, the grey building just at the end of the street. The thought of entering his warm home gave him a new burst of energy, and he looked over at the brunet, whose face had impossibly gotten paler than it had been before.
"We're almost there now, okay?"
Thomas didn't respond to that, his feet slipping on the ice that covered the road, forcing Newt to drag him along until they reached the pavement, cars honking at them for blocking the way. Aside from the cars driving past, no people were outside. Everyone was eating dinner now, he supposed.
For the rest of their walk, all that was left of Thomas's strength had been spent. The only thing the boy could do was hang onto him, with all of Newt's muscles screaming at every step they took. The walk to his apartment was long and cold, and he couldn't imagine how Thomas must have felt when he dragged him up the stairs.
"Thank God, we're here. I thought those stairs would never end."
He turned his head to look at the brunet, who was blinking slowly, and for a second he thought he was about to pass out when the boy's eyes rolled back in his head.
Getting his keys from his pocket, he mumbled something about hot chocolate before opening the door, followed by a wave of hot air flowing past them. Thomas had slipped while Newt had been struggling to find the right key and now lay with his side against Newt's leg, eyes closed. Newt had to use the last bit of strength he had left to hoist him up by his armpits. Groaning with the effort, he managed to drag him onto his couch. The clumps of snow that had gathered on Thomas's sneakers and the bottom of his jeans immediately started melting, leaving a wet stain on the fabric.
"Home sweet home," Newt sighed, bending down with his hands on his knees, taking in deep breaths.
He was glad he'd put on the heating before he left, making the room a lot more pleasant than the sneering cold outside. Mimi came rushing toward them, backing away when she noticed their guest.
"It's all right, Mimi. Tommy's nice." She still kept a reasonable distance, sprinting toward the bedroom when Thomas groaned softly.
"You need some dry clothes and a hot drink." He mumbled, getting up to gather all the blankets he could find. Thomas didn't say anything. Ice started melting from his hair, water dripping from his forehead to the bridge of his nose and rolling slowly down his chin.
It didn't take long before Newt returned with three blankets and a set of fluffy clothes.
"Okay, Tommy, let's get you warm."
He carefully pulled at the boy's shoulder, getting him back into a sitting position. He looked at the soaked clothes that stuck onto the brunet's body, the lines of his chest clearly visible through the thin fabric. Carefully, he started lifting the end of his hoodie, blushing when it revealed a set of tanned abs. Though he wasn't supposed to, he couldn't help but run his fingers over the cold skin, the touch making his heart flutter.
When Thomas shifted slightly, he immediately retreated his hand. What was he doing, undressing a complete stranger on Christmas Eve of all days? If there really was such a thing as God, he'd be visiting Newt in person tonight, for the thoughts that passed his mind were all but holy.
The rational part of him wanted to give up now, wanted to let him sleep in his soaked clothes and kick him out as soon as the first rays of sunlight caught his eye. But he couldn't do that. No one should be out and alone in the cold at Christmas.
He waited until he was sure the boy hadn't woken up before he continued with his arms, pulling at the sleeves and trying as best as he could not to rip his skin raw when he strapped the wet fabric from his frozen limbs.
"Okay, I'm gonna pull it over your head now, yeah?" Thomas didn't say anything, so Newt decided that was as good as a "yes". He would succumb to his hypothermia otherwise, so it wasn't as if "no" was an option here. He pulled the hoodie over his head, leaving Thomas' cheeks red from the cloth that sneered at his face.
"Ow, that hurt." Apparently, that was enough for him to regain consciousness, because he spoke in a slurred mumble when Newt was drying his face with a towel, getting all the remaining snow out of the brunet's hair.
He smiled apologetically, "Sorry, didn't mean to."
He continued dapping the boy's face, noticing the tiny moles that were spread across it, just as he noticed how his nose was perfectly shaped and how the blue on his lips was starting to fade. Then he remembered he was still wearing his wet jeans, and he tore his gaze away from those lips he might've been staring at for a bit too long.
He quickly removed his pants, leaving the boy in just his boxers. The blond felt himself getting hot, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers. Biting his lip, he started drying his legs, dapping his way up to his knees and then his hips, avoiding the one piece of fabric that was left on the boy with his hands, but certainly not with his eyes. When he was done drying him, he had to tell himself to get a grip. He was being an absolute creep right now, and if he were Thomas, he'd rather be left in the snow than be here with a random dude checking him out.
Redressing him was the easy part, and in no time the brunet was wearing Newt's fluffy hoodie and sweatpants with a pair of comfy socks on his feet. He'd started shivering again, but he'd woken up, which was a good sign.
"Thank you so much, uh..." He whispered when he tucked him in, his eyes seeming a little brighter than they'd been before.
"Newt. My name's Newt."
"Yeah. Thanks, Newt."
"It's Christmas, Tommy." He said as if that explained it all.
"Yeah, it is. Merry Christmas." All that was sticking out from beneath the blankets were his eyes, but he could tell that the boy was smiling.
"Merry Christmas to you too."
---
After about an hour of Thomas drifting in and out of consciousness, Newt got up and walked over to the kitchen to make them some tea. When he came back with two steaming hot cups in both of his hands, the brunet was still sleeping peacefully, his chest rising and falling with even breaths.
Though he should've been on fire right now, the boy's skin was still as cold as ice when Newt placed his hand on his forehead. He furrowed his brows, something he does a lot, or so he's been told. How could he possibly get him warmer when he was already covered in three blankets?
He decided after the whole dress-and-undress thing they were past the stage of feeling embarrassed, so he did the last thing that he could think of and lifted the blankets so he could crawl under the covers, next to Thomas— who was still asleep.
His arms hovered above the other boy's body before he placed them around his waist, placing his knees in the crook where the Thomas' were slightly bent, spooning him. He pressed his body as tightly against the other as he could, silently praying that this was actually going to work and he wouldn't make an even bigger fool out of himself.
Thomas mumbled something inaudible, but gathering from the way he placed his arms against his, Newt figured the boy didn't mind he was there next to him. He breathed in the scent of his hair, his nose almost touching the back of his neck. He smelled like some sort of flower, mixed with a strange but perfect scent of vanilla, and the blond found that he could lay there for hours and hours without ever wanting to leave.
With one of them asleep, the room was incredibly silent, the only thing he heard being the steady breaths of air coming from the boy pressed up against him, the motions of his chest matching his own. Was this weird? Maybe it was, considering they'd met about two hours ago. But right now, he didn't care if it was weird. He worried more about what would happen when the brunet would wake up with him straight-up spooning him.
As if he'd read his mind, Thomas started shifting a bit, not making any moves to remove his arms from his waist. "You're really warm." He muttered, grabbing Newt's hands and lacing them with his own, acting as if them laying there was the most normal thing in the world.
For Newt, it certainly wasn't the most normal thing in the world. He stiffened at the sudden movement, holding his breath when Thomas started rubbing circles on his hand with his thumb. What the hell was he doing to him and why did it make him feel so nervous?
Not daring to speak, Newt tried to steady his breathing, focussing on Thomas' calm inhales and exhales. They didn't say anything, and right when he thought the other boy had fallen asleep again, he heard his soft voice.
"My parents kicked me out."
He'd stopped stroking the back of his hand, now just squeezing it tightly, and Newt was sure that if he could look at their hands from underneath the blankets, Thomas' knuckles would be white from the force with which he held onto him.
"That's why I was out there. My parents kicked me out of the house this morning."
He placed his lips on the boy's neck, pressing a small kiss there and muttering something in his ear. "It's okay, Tommy. You can stay here." It was only when he felt the grip on his hand loosen that he realized he might've crossed a line. God, why would he always fuck things up?
"Your lips are really soft."
That wasn't what he'd expected, but then again, Thomas wasn't predictable. He wondered how his parents could've possibly kicked such a great kid out of their house, to leave him for dead in the snow. Though he'd never met them, he felt hatred for these people that burned deep in his chest, making him grit his teeth.
"Why'd they do it?"
His question lingered in the air, and for a moment Newt thought the brunet hadn't heard him.
"They found out about me."
"What about you? Did something happen?"
"They..." he breathed in hard. "They found out. That I don't... only like girls."
That was enough for Thomas to break down crying, his shoulders quivering while he let Newt remove his hand from his and place it in his hair, softly combing it with his fingers.
"Shhh, it's all right, you're all right."
He continued whispering those words of comfort into the boy's ear until eventually, he seemed to calm down. His breathing was still shivering and he was sniffling quietly, hiding his face beneath the blankets. Newt kept stroking his hair, his fingers twisting and pulling the brown locks on his head in a way he would've handled his most precious treasure.
He didn't know what time it was, but he felt his eyelids getting heavy, the comfort of Thomas' body making him drowsy. He tried fighting against it, but every time he blinked it was harder to keep his eyes open. Eventually, he felt himself slipping away into the darkness, the last thing he saw being the tiny mole that was hidden behind the brunet's ear.
----
When Newt woke up, he was met with a hot breath on his face, Thomas' nose only inches away from his own. They were still pressed together on his small couch, though somehow the brunet had managed to turn around and face him, his arm now resting on his hip.
He was relieved to see that the colour had returned to the boy's face, his lips now a healthy pink instead of blue. Another wave of hot air was blown on his face, Thomas' chest expanding when he inhaled a new breath. Newt smiled at the sight of his steady, healthy breathing. He wanted to do nothing more than lay here with him all day, the beauty of the boy's face something he could look at for hours.
Unfortunately, the brunet opened his eyes, squinting at the light coming in from the windows. He scrunched his nose a bit, and Newt had to suppress the urge to place a kiss on the tip of it. He didn't want to ruin the moment by making things weird. Again.
"Morning." Thomas said groggily, rubbing his eyes before he looked at him, a lazy smile tugging at his lips.
"Morning, sleepyhead."
Thomas grinned when he gave him a playful shove in response, allowing Newt to ruffle his bedhead hair and make it even more messed up than it already was. This, of course, made the brunet get back at him and he started tickling his neck, immediately finding his weak spot and laughing when he started to squirm and kick his legs, giggling and begging for Thomas to stop. It didn't take long before he fell off the couch, hitting the floor with a loud thud.
"Oh my god sorry, are you okay?"
Thomas jumped upright, his eyes big when he saw him shaking on the floor, only realizing after a few seconds that he was laughing.
"I'm...All...Right..." He was crying now and clutched at his stomach, his smile so broad he was afraid his lips would rip any time now. Thomas started laughing too, and he noticed his eyes were so much brighter than the day before. They had a sparkle in them, lighting up his whole face.
It took them a full five minutes to calm down, both of them still chuckling quietly as they looked at each other. Newt wondered what was going on in the other boy's mind, but just when he was about to ask, Thomas spoke up himself.
"Meeting you was the best thing that happened to me in a long time," he said while directing his gaze at his hands, fumbling a bit with his fingers. "So I want to thank you again. I don't want to be in your way for much longer so I think it's best if I just leave-"
"No, please don't go," Newt pleaded, realizing how desperate he sounded, "I mean, you can stay. If you want to."
Thomas looked up at him now, his beautiful hazel eyes lightened by the sun's rays shining on his face. He didn't seem bothered by it though, considering he didn't blink once while he was staring at him, his eyebrows raised slightly.
"Really?"
Newt couldn't help but smile, remembering last night and everything that'd happened. He remembered thinking about ignoring Thomas' cries. He couldn't imagine what would've happened if he'd just left him there, and he wouldn't let him go back into that cold again.
"Really, Tommy."