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Thomas stepped out of his final class of the day, immediately assaulted by the oppressive humidity that eagerly clung to him as he regrettably left behind the realm of air-conditioned bliss. Ever the multitasker and always in motion, Thomas whipped out his phone whilst striding towards the nearest patch of shade—a small copse of trees lining the main entrance of WCKD university—seeking some small relief from the sun, which seemed hell-bent on murdering him from 150 million kilometres away.
Newt, his best friend and resident artist of their friend group, (and also the single most talented individual Thomas knew) finished his last class now as well. Coincidentally, many of their classes overlapped, though they hadn’t planned it that way despite knowing back in high school that they’d be attending the same university.
Thomas had barely hit send on a message asking Newt if he had time to grab bubble tea (he hesitated for a moment to consider whether he should add a smiley face. Should he? He did), when the ‘typing…’ indicator popped up almost instantly.
I always have time to get bubble tea with you Tommy :)
Thomas stared blankly at the response. His heart did a strange flutter-flip, and for a brief second, he wondered if he should be concerned. The smiley face had been a good call, he decided. Newt sent him one back, after all. That was good… right?
It took Newt three minutes to reach the quad, having to cross the road from the other side of campus. By that time, Thomas had settled whatever had happened with his blood pressure, and he looked up just in time to see Newt crinkle his nose in that oh-so-familiar way, his smile easy and genuine as he spotted Thomas. Walking next to him was the third member of their trio, renowned athlete (as he liked to think) and ladies man (also as he liked to think).
“Newt picked up a stray on his way,” Minho announced cheerfully.
“I can see that,” Thomas replied with an answering grin.
“You weren’t waiting long, were you? It’s bloody hot out here,” Newt said in his usual English lilt, clapping Thomas on the shoulder as they started down the tiled path, sticking to the shadiest spots. Thomas forcibly ignored the way his heart threatened to take off again at the casual touch—he did not need any more of an excuse to pass out in this ridiculous heat, thank you very much.
“Nah, three minutes at most.”
“Good that.”
Newt’s gaze met his, and for a second, Thomas forgot about the heat entirely. The sunlight caught in Newt’s eyes, turning the usual warm hazel into something closer to molten gold. There was always something steady about the way Newt looked at people—like he was really seeing you, rather than just glancing your way. Thomas felt an odd little twist in his chest and quickly looked away.
“Well I don’t know about you two,” Minho cut in, “but I am very ready for some bubble tea. That torts class did my head in. I’m convinced my professor is actually trying to make us fall asleep. Also, if we don’t get inside soon, I will genuinely melt.”
They chatted easily amongst themselves as they walked to their favourite coffee shop in a small, tucked-away spot hidden three blocks away from campus. Nestled in a cozy pocket of the city, the area had a unique charm, where winding laneways wove between boutique cafes, bookstores, and family-owned restaurants. With its tucked-away courtyards and leafy corners, it had quickly become one of their favourite places to escape to.
Newt and Thomas had stumbled upon the café during one of their spontaneous outings when they first moved to campus. Somewhere along the way, their habit of aimlessly wandering into new places had turned into a tradition, daring each other to pick the most obscure item on the menu or lingering in hole-in-the-wall coffee shops just to escape their ever-growing pile of assignments. It wasn’t something they’d planned, exactly, but it stuck. Eventually, the rest of their friend group had joined in too.
Once they’d ordered and received their drinks, the trio settled at their usual table by the window, safely sheltered from the relentless August heat. Thomas leaned back against the plush cushions of the booth, reveling in the cool rush of air conditioning sending a welcome chill across his sun-warmed skin, finally letting himself relax. Across from him, Newt sat with a pink paper straw dancing in his hand as he absentmindedly stirred his drink. His expression was soft, lost in thought, and the sunlight filtering through the window highlighted the faint freckles dusting his cheekbones, making him look almost... serene.
Thomas was perfectly content with his quiet observation, until his train of thought was interrupted by the unmistakable gleam of mischief he caught in Minho’s eyes. He barely had time to brace himself before Minho spoke.
“Soooooooo, I was thinking,” Minho began, drawing out the words.
“Oh no,” said Newt immediately.
“Wait, you can think?” Thomas asked in mock horror.
“What kind of trouble have you planned now?” Newt again.
“Rude.” Minho pointed accusingly at Thomas before turning back to Newt. “For your information, not all of my plans end in disaster, you know.”
“No? What about that time with the chickens? Or that other time when the chem labs had to be evacuated? Oh, and let's not forget the infamous tree incident,” Thomas reminded him.
“Okay, first of all, you should be thanking me for the chem labs—you got out of your exam. Which, if I remember correctly, and I do, you had not studied for because you were too busy helping our little Newtie here,” he continued, ignoring Newt’s indignant “Hey!”, “with his historical literature assignment. Besides, the whole tree incident was your idea, I was merely a willing accomplice.”
“Alright, fair enough,” conceded Thomas, holding back a wince at the mention of that particular incident. “That assignment was ridiculous, by the way,” he muttered, holding onto his grudge against the—objectively pointless, in his opinion—project that had stressed Newt out for no reason.
Newt, determined to shift the conversation back in some kind of direction, folded his arms and levelled a look at Minho. “So, Minho, care to share your latest brilliant idea?”
Minho took a long sip of his bubble tea before grinning. “Alright, so my idea is… hide and seek, but with cars.” He sat back, looking far too pleased with himself.
“Hide and seek… with cars?” That was Newt.
“Yeah. I ran through a neighbourhood a couple days back with so many side streets it felt like I was going through a literal maze.”
“A maze?” Thomas this time, with slightly less scepticism. “You’re really leaning into the whole theme here, huh?”
“How exactly is this supposed to work?” Newt asked.
Minho simply pulled out his phone with a flourish and leaned back in his chair. “Ye of little faith.”
* * *
The oppressive heat of the day had finally relented, cooler without the force of the sun bearing down on them and giving way to a balmy night laced with the scent of jasmine. It was quiet, save for the rhythmic chorus of crickets, and, of course, the resulting chaos that emerged whenever a group of twenty-year-olds who were intimately known to one another congregated.
Thomas resisted the familiar urge to sprint across the wide swathe of open grass, an inexplicable but persistent impulse that always emerged when faced with this much empty space. Something about it just made him want to run. Instead, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, keeping the impulse in check.
“So,” Teresa said, cutting straight to the point as usual. “When are you gonna tell us why we’re in the park at night?” Her query was aimed directly at the instigator (Minho).
Said instigator grinned. “I did tell you. We are here for a very important event, otherwise known as a group activity. Which, by the way, I explained in the message I sent.”
“I mean, you basically told us we were coming tonight and that we couldn’t ask any questions, or you’d unleash a dozen geese into our homes. You literally wrote the words ‘I know where you live’.” Gally exclaimed while throwing up his hands, exasperated. “How do you even get your hands on that many geese?!”
“Trust me,” Fry interjected. “He has methods.”
At the look of silent judgement Harriet shot him, Frypan quietly shook his head in the universal signal for you don’t want to know.
“Nevermind the geese! This is serious business. Stop getting distracted, Gally.”
“Oh, I’m the one getting distracted?” Gally scoffed. “You’re the one who—”
“Alright, so here’s the deal.”
Minho cut him off smoothly, stepping in front of the group like he was about to give a lecture. He clapped his hands together, ignoring Gally’s continued protests in the background (“He’s the one who mentioned geese in the first place!”).
After presenting his proposition of ‘hide and seek with cars’ to Newt and Thomas, Minho had immediately taken to their shared group chat (aptly named ‘Defenestration Watch’, thank you Gally), summoning the rest of their friends for another round of completely unplanned but absolutely necessary shenanigans. Of course, he had conveniently neglected to explain what, exactly, said shenanigans would entail.
“We’re playing hide and seek,” Minho announced. “With cars.”
A ripple of interest ran through the group.
“Boundaries are between Bourke Road, George Street, and the cathedral on the corner of St. Vincent’s,” he continued.
More murmurs. A few intrigued glances.
“The rules are as follows. One team seeks, one team hides. If a seeker gets a photo of a stationary car, the hiding team loses a point, and whoever’s been found is out for that round. If you’re hiding, you can move, but at your own risk—if a seeker spots you while you’re driving, you’re out.
“Most of us have Bluetooth, so we’ll be able to communicate with our teams. Each round lasts half an hour.”
Thomas would never admit it, but he was impressed. Minho had actually thought this through. If only he dedicated the same amount of care and consideration to his studies that he did to stuff like this.
Gally voiced that exact thought out loud, earning a sharp scowl from Minho and a choice remark on the quality of his own schoolwork. He didn’t have a good comeback for that.
Minho smirked, victorious, and continued as though nothing had happened.
“Since we don’t have enough cars,” he said, “some of us are gonna have to pair up.”
“I can go with Harriet,” Sonya offered. “That way, Newt can take the car.”
The siblings shared a vehicle, having pooled together their savings to buy it—a decision that had worked out well so far, considering they spent half their time together anyway.
Newt shot his sister a look, as if trying to decipher whether she was doing him a favour or setting him up for something. Given her track record, it could go either way.
“Works for me,” Newt said eventually.
“I would like to formally propose that Gally and Brenda should not be allowed in a car together,” Alby announced, raising a hand as though making an official motion in court.
“Hey—” Gally started indignantly, only to be immediately drowned out by laughter.
“He’s right,” Thomas agreed with a grin. “The two of you together are an absolute menace.”
Gally looked like he was going to object, but one glance from Brenda shut him up.
“He’s right, babe,” she said, completely unbothered. “We’d decimate everyone here.”
The statement was met with a loud chorus of protest.
“Petition to have them both drive solo and on opposite teams,” Alby’s suggestion was met with immediate agreement, Rachel shouting “good call!”
“And I happen to know that you took Jorge’s car, Brenda, so it works,” Alby added, ignoring Brenda’s muttered correction of “Borrowed. I borrowed it.”
“Since Aris doesn’t have a car, he can ride with me,” Rachel offered, to which Aris voiced his thanks.
“I’ll go with Alby, then,” Frypan chimed in. “Seeing as I don’t have a car like the rest of you shucks apparently do. Seriously, most of us live on campus. Why do y'all even have cars?”
“I don’t live on campus, and I don’t have a car,” Thomas pointed out.
“That’s ‘cause you’re broke,” Sonya stated helpfully.
Thomas spluttered before managing a weak, “Plants are important…” and proceeded to nearly die when Newt, sitting beside him, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. At least, he assumed it was meant to be comforting, seeing as it had the complete opposite effect and sent his heart rate skyrocketing past definitely-not-healthy levels.
“I like your plants, Tommy,” Newt said softly.
Could Newt feel how fast his heart was beating through the hand on his shoulder? God, Thomas seriously hoped not.
By the time he tuned back into the conversation, Teresa was saying, “In that case, I’m going alone. No offence, Tom, but last time you were in my car, you somehow managed to reset every setting on my dashboard. It took me a week to get the temperature back to normal.” Thomas couldn’t argue with that. He had indeed turned her car into a veritable icebox.
“Okay, then how about Thomas and Newt go together in Newt’s car, and I’ll go by myself too. I’ll prove to you all that I am numero uno.” And just like that, Minho had decided the final pairings before Thomas had a chance to get a word in edgewise.
He snuck a glance at Newt from the corner of his eye, who seemed completely fine with the arrangement. Of course he was fine with it—his heart didn’t try to burst out of his chest every time he looked at Thomas.
Before he had so much as a chance to object, the conversation already moved on.
“Me, Brenda, Sonya, Harriet, Fry and Alby are the seekers. Teresa, Gally, Newt, Thomas, Aris and Rachel, you guys are hiding,” Minho declared.
“Do we get a say in this?” Gally asked, still bitter over not being allowed to team up with his girlfriend, looking worried about the way she was eyeing him now that they were on opposing teams.
“No.”
Gally rolled his eyes, but was the first to get up and head to his car, grumbling the whole way.
The rest of them followed suit, shaking off the grass as they stood. Thomas sprung up and offered a hand to Newt, trying to keep a stupid smile off of his face as Newt uttered a quiet, “Thanks.”
“Ten minutes start now, guys!” Minho shouted to their backs.
Thomas hesitated before slowing down, deeming it very necessary to demand an explanation for Minho’s blatant matchmaking before he left and why he had taken it upon himself to pair Thomas with Newt.
“You coming, Tommy?” Newt had stopped walking to his car, waiting for him.
“Oh, yeah, I’ll be there in a sec. You go on ahead, I just have to ask Minho something quickly,” Thomas explained.
Apparently satisfied with that, Newt nodded and moved on. Thomas, meanwhile, hurried to catch Minho before he could make his escape.
“Uh, hey— Minho?” Thomas caught up with him just before he crossed the street. “Why’d you pair me with Newt?” he hissed, unsure whether he was mad or grateful.
Minho looked genuinely confused. “Aren’t you guys, like, best friends?”
“Well, yeah. But so are we.”
“Right. But I figured it wouldn’t make much of a difference to you either way. Unless…” Minho’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. “There’s some other reason you don’t want to be stuck in a car with our Newtie?”
Thomas stared at him, unblinking.
Minho’s grin widened. He knew exactly why Thomas didn't want to be stuck in a car with Newt.
Mad. Thomas was definitely mad. Not that it mattered now—Minho had already turned away, sauntering off like he hadn’t just destroyed him. He supposed it couldn’t really be avoided now.
“Have fun!” Minho called over his shoulder.
Well. Fuck.
Thomas exhaled sharply and hurried back to Newt, making a valiant attempt not to think about the situation (which, of course, made him unable to stop thinking about it) and to focus on the game instead.
To his surprise, Newt was still outside the car, waiting.
“You know, I do know which car is yours, Newt,” Thomas joked.
“Heh, yeah I know. You ask Minho what you needed to?”
“Oh. Uh, yeah.”
“Good that.” Newt glanced away, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck. “I uh— I actually wanted to ask if you’d be cool with driving instead. My leg’s been botherin’ me more the last few days, makes it a little harder to drive, y’know?”
Thomas, being an idiot, took a moment too long to respond. Newt must have mistaken his hesitance for reluctance, because he quickly added, “But if you don’t want to, it’s fine. I can still drive. We won’t crash or anything.” He looked vaguely sheepish, and Thomas immediately kicked himself.
“No, no,” Thomas corrected quickly, “I’m happy to drive! It’s no problem, really. Please, don’t ever feel like you need to be afraid to share things with me.”
The second the words left his mouth, he cringed. What the hell was that? He scrambled to recover, “Or, you know. Whatever.” Thomas was suddenly very aware of how bright his white shoes appeared against the tarmac.
Newt didn’t seem to notice his mini-crisis, flashing him a small, grateful smile.
“Thanks Tommy. Hop in, then. Minho’s already started the timer, and I, for one, want to win.”
* * *
“Okay,” Newt began, “I think our best bet is to hunker down in a side street, but one that’s easy to get out of if we need to. I was thinking Rose Avenue,” he held out his phone for Thomas to see, pointing to a spot on Google Maps.
Thomas chanced a quick glance away from the road. “Sounds like a plan,” he replied, following Newt’s directions.
Rose Avenue was flat, which gave them the advantage of seeing other cars from a distance, but also long, meaning they’d have to park near one end for a quick getaway. They chose a narrow section, hoping their friends would overlook it.
“Alright,” Thomas began. “Brenda is definitely going after Gally, which is good for us. No clue what Fry and Alby’s strategy will be. Minho will want to find us, but he’s too invested in winning to focus on only one target. Sonya, on the other hand, is almost definitely prioritising us, and Harriet will go along with whatever she suggests.”
Newt raised an eyebrow, amused. “I had no idea there was so much strategising involved in hide-and-seek.”
Thomas winced, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry, I guess it’s just the scientist in me.”
“Mate, don’t apologise,” Newt said, shaking his head. “The way you think things through—how you notice patterns and figure stuff out—it’s bloody brilliant. You see things other people don’t. You always have.”
Heat rose in his cheeks, and Thomas quickly looked away, pretending to adjust his seatbelt to distract himself. Compliments always made him feel awkward. But coming from Newt? That was something else entirely.
“So, we’ve established that my sister is the biggest threat,” Newt continued, smiling. “Good thing I know her pretty well, then.”
Thomas huffed a quiet laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “That also means she knows you just as well, genius. She’s probably already predicting every move you’re going to make.”
Newt groaned, leaning back in his seat. “Fair point. But that’s what you’re here for, yeah? Over-analysing everything so we stay one step ahead?”
Thomas drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, thinking. “Okay. If Sonya’s coming after us, we need to play into her expectations and then flip the script. She’s expecting you to be cautious, to avoid any major roads and stick to back streets.”
“Because I’m smart,” Newt pointed out.
“Sure,” Thomas said, smirking. “But what if we do the opposite? What if we take the main roads, move faster, make it harder for her to predict where we’ll go?”
Newt considered it, nodding slowly. “Risky, but it could work. She’ll assume we’re playing it safe and waste time searching the wrong areas.”
“Exactly. And if we time it right, we can double back and lose her completely.”
Just as Newt was about to respond, Thomas stiffened. A flash of movement caught his eye.
“I see headlights!” Thomas whispered urgently, pointing toward the distant beams rounding the corner at the end of the street. His pulse quickened. “What should we do?”
“I can’t tell who it is from here,” Newt muttered, squinting at the approaching lights.
Suddenly, his expression lit up. “I have an idea. If that’s Harriet’s car, we’re screwed. But if it’s anyone else, this might just work.”
Thomas tilted his head. “I’m listening.”
“Everyone is probably looking inside cars, not at number plates or the car itself,” Newt explained. “If we lie down in the back, they won’t see us and might just drive right past.”
Thomas blinked, a grin spreading across his face. “Newt, you’re a genius.”
He was already clambering over the armrest, shifting into the passenger half of Newt’s car. Not for the first time, he mentally thanked the Isaac siblings for choosing such a spacious vehicle. He still remembered the first time he’d seen it, wondering why they’d needed such a massive car, until Sonya reminded him of the nature of their friend group.
Thomas didn’t say anything, but he knew it would be easier on Newt’s leg if he wasn’t the one on the bottom. His bag leg didn’t need the added strain of Thomas’ weight pressing down on it.
It was only as he manoeuvred himself into place that he fully processed the reality of what he’d just agreed to.
They were going to be lying together. Practically on top of one another. In a very small, tight space.
Newt was going to be lying on top of him.
The air conditioning had shut off when Thomas killed the engine, and though the summer heat had been slow to creep in, he could already feel the air growing thick. Thomas decided to blame the temperature for the sudden onset of warmth flooding his body.
“They’re getting closer, Tommy, come on.”
With some effort, Thomas managed to adjust into a somewhat workable position, his head resting awkwardly against the door pocket, his legs bent and spread just enough so Newt could still fit.
Oh god, they were actually doing this.
How had they even ended up in this situation? He barely had time to process it before Newt was squeezing past the armrest. The blond winced as he shifted his weight onto his bad leg, and Thomas instinctively tensed, concern flaring in his chest.
Unfortunately, in trying to steady him, Thomas only made things worse. Newt’s other leg was wedged between Thomas and the passenger seat, and in a poorly timed attempt to adjust, Thomas accidentally threw Newt off balance.
Cue absolute chaos.
A mess of tangled limbs. Frantic, quietly panicked expletives. Newt’s knee colliding with Thomas’ ribs.
Then—
“Oof,” Newt grunted as gravity finally won, sending him toppling over completely and landing squarely on top of Thomas.
“Shit, sorry. You okay?” Thomas wheezed, still recovering from the sudden weight of an entire Newt knocking the air from his lungs.
“S’all good, Tommy. Don’t worry,” Newt reassured him, voice slightly muffled.
And then Thomas’ brain caught up.
Oh. Oh.
Newt was practically sprawled on top of him, their bodies pressed flush against each other in the cramped space.
All intelligible thoughts left his brain as Newt settled directly over him. He didn’t think either of them were breathing. Thomas became suddenly, painfully aware of every point of contact – the way Newt’s shirt had ridden up, leaving the warm skin of his stomach exposed, brushing against his own. The faint tickle of Newt’s breath against his neck. The way his fingers had instinctively curled into the fabric of Newt’s sleeve, holding him there without even meaning to.
Newt shifted, probably trying to find a more comfortable position (if that was even possible), succeeding only in brushing his knee against the inside of Thomas’ thigh.
A spark of heat shot straight through Thomas’ core.
Oh, hell.
“Do you think they’re gone?” Thomas whispered, more out of desperation to distract himself than any real concern.
“You know you don’t have to whisper,” Newt murmured, amusement lacing his voice. “They can’t hear us.”
“Besides,” he added, “we haven’t heard anything, yeah? I left my phone up front, so I couldn’t tell ya if anyone snapped a photo of us and sent it in chat.”
“Maybe we should stay here for another minute,” Thomas muttered, sending a silent prayer of thanks to the darkness for concealing the blush creeping onto his face. “I mean, you know, just in case.”
Newt hummed softly, his breath warm against Thomas’s cheek. “Maybe another minute,” he agreed.
The words lingered between them, weighty and unspoken. The silence stretched long enough for Thomas to think about just how close they were. Newt’s body was still draped over Thomas from when they’d scrambled into their hiding spot. His quick, shallow breaths sent faint puffs of air against Thomas’s skin, ruffling his hair ever so slightly. Though he’d stopped moving, Thomas could feel the steady rise and fall of Newt’s chest against his own, the rapid rhythm betraying the heartbeat beneath.
It’s just adrenaline, Thomas told himself. That had to be it. His own pulse was hammering, his breath anything but even. They’d barely made it into cover before someone had passed by outside—of course his heart was racing. Of course his skin felt too hot, his fingers tingling where they were pressed against Newt’s back.
That was normal. Completely normal.
And yet, when his gaze flickered instinctively toward Newt’s lips, he knew it wasn’t just that.
This close, he could breathe in the faint scent of cologne mingled with something unmistakably Newt—warm, clean, familiar. Like cedar-wood and the lingering sweetness of his tea. The scent wrapped around Thomas, grounding him and making him lightheaded all at once.
His eyes were a safe haven, a place Thomas had always found comfort in, steady and full of something unreadable, yet never unkind. And right now, those eyes were locked onto his, unwavering. It felt like standing on the edge of something, toes curling over the precipice, heart pounding with the weight of the unknown.
Newt’s voice broke through the haze, low and just a little breathless.
“Do you think they’ve gone now?”
“Huh?”
It took Thomas a moment to process the question. He certainly hadn’t been listening for any sounds from outside.
An amused huff escaped Newt’s lips. Thomas had never been quite so close to them before.
And Newt reached down and pressed those lips against his own.
Thomas stopped thinking. Stopped breathing.
Because nothing in the world could have prepared him for this—for the way Newt fit against him so perfectly, like this was inevitable, like it had been written into the universe long before either of them realised it. His mind short-circuited, every half-formed thought vanishing under the sheer rightness of it.
And then none of it mattered, because Newt was kissing him, and he was kissing Newt, and it felt so natural that he couldn’t believe they hadn’t done this sooner.
Newt’s lips were soft but certain, like he’d already decided how this was going to go. Thomas barely had time to catch up before instinct took over—one hand reaching to cup the back of Newt’s neck, the other gripping his shirt like he was afraid to let go. The world outside the car, the game, the risk of getting caught—none of it existed.
There was only this. Only them.
They broke apart with a shared, breathless exhale, their foreheads almost touching as their breaths mingled in the small space between them.
Thomas’s heart was still racing, but for an entirely different reason now.
“Glad to know I wasn’t imagining things,” Newt said softly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Thomas blinked at him, still dazed. “You— wait. You wanted to kiss me?”
“Bloody hell, Tommy. Why’d you think I suggested hiding in the back? Thought I was being obvious.”
Thomas let out something between a laugh and a breathless exhale, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”
Newt just raised an eyebrow, as if to say, And you’re just realising this now?
Before Thomas could say anything else, an all-too-familiar sound filled the car. From the front, the Star Wars theme demanded their attention. They both turned toward the phone, and Thomas groaned.
“Minho,” he muttered, recognising the ringtone instantly.
The call rang out, only to start again a second later. And then, a message popped up on the screen:
Minho: YEAH THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT.
Thomas closed his eyes in exasperation. “Unbelievable.”
Newt snickered. “Are you gonna get that?”
Thomas glanced at him, then at the phone, then back again. He could already picture Minho’s smug face, could hear the inevitable “I KNEW IT” the second he answered.
“How about we just stay here for now?” Thomas suggested instead.
Newt tilted his head, considering. And then, with a lazy smirk, he shifted closer again, his hand resting lightly on Thomas’s thigh. From the way his fingers curled just slightly, like he had no intention of moving anytime soon, it seemed he agreed.
Yeah. Who cared about winning, anyway?
* * *
It wasn’t until weeks later that Thomas discovered they had all been in on it.
Instigated by Minho, the whole thing—the game, the ridiculous pairing system, even Minho’s threats of unleashing geese—had been planned. All of it. Arranged to force both himself and Newt to confess their feelings for one another. Apparently, everyone had known. According to Minho it had been painfully obvious.
“If I had to endure the two of you unknowingly making heart eyes at each other one more time,” Gally had grumbled, “I would have defenestrated myself.”
Currently, the entire Defenestration Watch group was sprawled across Minho’s living room, engaging in a sacred ritual of friendship: movie night, complete with excessive amounts of popcorn, relentless teasing, and an unspoken competition to see who could take up the most space on the couch.
Newt, however, had abandoned the couch entirely, opting instead to sit on the floor, leaning comfortably against Thomas’s legs, his head resting lightly against his knee.
Absent-mindedly, Thomas reached down and ran his fingers through Newt’s soft, slightly messy hair, twirling a few strands between his fingers.
Newt hummed contentedly at the touch, tilting his head ever so slightly as if to wordlessly encourage him to keep going. The flickering light from the TV cast a warm glow over the room, laughter occasionally bubbling up from their friends, but Thomas barely noticed.
Instead, he focused on the slow, rhythmic motion of his fingers, the steady warmth of Newt against him, the easy comfort settling into his chest.
Yeah. He was glad they did this.