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The carnival had taken over the old fairgrounds on the edge of town—strings of lights looping lazily from pole to pole, the air thick with the smell of popcorn, fried dough, and sugar. Music drifted from every direction at once, overlapping in cheerful chaos, and laughter rang out in bursts as rides whirred and screamed and clanked into motion.
Thomas stood just inside the entrance, shifting his weight from foot to foot, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. He scanned the crowd instinctively, already smiling because he knew exactly who he was looking for.
“Oi—Tommy!”
He turned just in time to see Newt weaving through the people toward him, waving one hand above his head like he might get lost otherwise. He was grinning, cheeks already pink from the cool evening air, blond hair catching the glow of the lights. Minho and Gally followed behind him, arguing loudly about something—probably who had suggested the roller coasters first.
Thomas didn’t even realize he was smiling wider until Newt stopped in front of him.
“You made it,” Thomas said, unnecessarily, because of course Newt had.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Newt replied easily. “Been ages since we all did something together.”
Minho snorted from behind him. “Speak for yourself. Some of us actually have lives.”
“Minho,” Gally said dryly, slinging an arm around his shoulders, “you spent all day gaming.”
“Exactly. A life.”
Newt laughed, leaning slightly into Thomas’s space without even thinking about it. Thomas felt it like a spark—familiar, warm, grounding. He bumped his shoulder lightly against Newt’s in return.
“So,” Minho said, clapping his hands together. “Rule is: we do everything. No chickening out.”
Newt lifted his chin immediately. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
Thomas glanced at him, eyebrow arching just a little. “You sure about that?”
Newt shot him a look. “I’m not afraid of rides, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Didn’t imply anything,” Thomas said innocently.
Minho grinned like a menace. “Good. Because that roller coaster?” He pointed dramatically toward a towering mass of twisting steel tracks, lit up like a neon skeleton against the night sky. “We’re starting there.”
Newt followed his gaze. He swallowed.
Just once.
Thomas noticed.
But Newt straightened almost immediately, shoulders squaring. “Looks… fun.”
Gally laughed outright. “You’re lying.”
“I am not,” Newt protested. “I’ve been on loads of rides.”
“Name one,” Minho challenged.
“…the teacups.”
Thomas bit his lip to keep from smiling too hard.
The line for the roller coaster stretched longer than Thomas expected, snaking back and forth under metal railings. The clatter of the ride echoed overhead every few minutes, followed by distant screams—some excited, some very much not.
Newt stood beside Thomas, arms folded loosely across his chest. At first, he looked fine. Casual. Relaxed.
But as they got closer to the front, Thomas started noticing the little things.
Newt wasn’t shifting around like Minho or Gally. He wasn’t talking much either. He just stood there, still as a statue, eyes fixed on the track above them. His jaw was set tight, lips pressed into a thin line.
Thomas leaned in slightly. “Hey.”
Newt hummed in response, but didn’t look away.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” Newt said quickly. Too quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Thomas hesitated, then gently nudged Newt’s hand with his own. “You’re doing that thing.”
Newt finally glanced at him. “What thing?”
“The freeze thing,” Thomas said softly. “When you’re pretending you’re fine so hard that you forget to actually breathe.”
Newt scoffed, but there was no real heat behind it. “I’m fine, Tommy.”
Thomas didn’t argue. He just reached out and took Newt’s hand.
Newt stiffened for half a second—then his fingers curled around Thomas’s like it was the most natural thing in the world.
When it was finally their turn to board, Minho and Gally piled into the front row, already laughing. Thomas and Newt took the row behind them.
The safety bar came down with a heavy click.
The coaster lurched forward.
Newt went completely still.
Thomas felt it instantly—the tension running through Newt’s hand, his grip tightening just a fraction too much. Newt’s breathing was shallow now, almost imperceptible, eyes wide and unfocused as the ride climbed higher and higher.
“Newt,” Thomas murmured, leaning closer. “Hey. Look at me.”
Newt didn’t respond.
Thomas squeezed his hand, firm but gentle. “Newt. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
That seemed to reach him—just a little. Newt’s eyes flicked toward Thomas, glassy but present.
“I—” Newt swallowed. “I can’t move.”
“That’s alright,” Thomas said immediately. “You don’t have to.”
The coaster crested the top of the hill.
Newt’s grip tightened further, knuckles going pale.
Thomas laced their fingers together fully now, thumb rubbing slow, grounding circles over Newt’s skin. “Breathe with me, okay? In… and out.”
The drop came.
Newt didn’t scream.
He didn’t laugh.
He didn’t even gasp.
He just froze, body rigid, eyes squeezed shut as the wind roared past them and the world twisted upside down.
Thomas kept talking the whole time—soft, steady, like an anchor. “You’re doing great. I’m right here. It’s almost over.”
And when the ride finally screeched to a halt, Newt sagged forward slightly, like all the tension had drained out of him at once.
Minho turned around immediately. “See? Easy.”
Gally frowned. “Dude. He looks like he just saw a ghost.”
Newt opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I hated that.”
Thomas squeezed his hand one last time before letting go. “You were really brave.”
Newt huffed weakly. “Never letting you lot forget this, are you?”
Minho grinned. “Oh, absolutely not.”
They spent the next hour wandering the carnival—playing games, sharing snacks, laughing until Thomas’s sides hurt. Newt slowly relaxed again, color returning to his cheeks as the adrenaline wore off.
Minho, of course, did not let it go.
“So,” he said casually as they waited for funnel cake. “Roller coasters, huh?”
Newt shot him a look. “Say one word.”
“You froze,” Minho said cheerfully. “Like a startled deer.”
Gally laughed. “To be fair, Thomas basically carried you emotionally.”
Newt groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I hate all of you.”
Thomas bumped his shoulder. “You love us.”
“…unfortunately,” Newt admitted.
The Ferris wheel was quieter.
Slower. Calmer.
Newt eyed it warily, but didn’t object when Thomas nudged him toward the cart.
They were halfway up when the wheel shuddered—and stopped.
A voice crackled over the speaker, apologizing for the delay.
Newt’s breath hitched.
Thomas turned toward him immediately. “Hey. We’re okay.”
Newt nodded, but his eyes were already squeezed shut, hands gripping the edge of the seat.
Thomas gently reached for his hand again. “Newt. Look at me.”
Newt shook his head. “I can’t.”
“That’s okay,” Thomas said softly. “Just listen to my voice.”
Newt’s breathing slowly evened out.
“Now,” Thomas continued, “when you’re ready… open your eyes. Just a little.”
Newt hesitated.
Then, slowly, he did.
The view stretched out before them—city lights glittering like stars fallen to earth, the carnival glowing below them in warm golds and reds.
Newt’s breath caught.
“Oh,” he whispered.
Thomas smiled. “Yeah.”
Newt leaned closer, eyes shining. “It’s… beautiful.”
Thomas watched him instead of the view, heart full to bursting.
“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “It really is.”