Author's Note: Damn, I still don't own this franchise.

I Still Love You, You Bloody Brat

"Bloody hell."

Little Thomas hung his head in shame. He clung anxiously onto his form-fitting panda motif hoodie, his oversized hood covering the top of his large, puppy-dog eyes.

"Bloody hell. Bloody hell. Bloody….hell."

Thomas bit his lip cutely, tentatively looking up at Newt, a hand brushing through the locks of his fluffy blonde hair, face contorted in a mixture of frustration and disbelief. Chapped pink lips biting on each other's, face flushed in weariness.

His eyes though.

Thomas already had a minor blush forming on his cheeks.

A mysterious, chocolate brown colour, with minuscule specks of caramel accentuating them. Those eyes had always looked gorgeous, even when Newt was angry. There were even times when he came to visit after school and had a mildly depressing air around him, his eyes glazed and hazy brown, as if he was in a trance.

Thomas couldn't stop eyeing him when he was in that state, while he gently comforted his babysitter slash home tutor with tender rubs to his back and neck. Newt would smile lovingly at him and he'd bring him to his chest and cage him in a overwhelmingly warm hug.

Thomas himself would feel a violent thrill shoot through him as he shivered against the leaner, more muscled body embracing him.

Thomas loved hugs. Especially Newt's.

Now however, was definitely not the time to think about hugs.

"Look Tommy, I'm pretty sure I'm not a professional chef here, but what on earth made you think to break eggs with a hammer?"

The twelve-year-old flinched at the older teen's tone and he looked down to his feet on reflex, tiny thumbs twiddling together in anxiety.

"I'm sorry, Newt."

Newt gave a defeated sigh, the feeling of his palm hitting his forehead in exhaustion followed up by muttered curse signalling a storm to the younger boy.

"Shit, Tommy. This kitchen looks like fucking World War II in here."

Thomas always feared when Newt started swearing. It was normally limited to 'bloody hell's and 'oh my god's but anything further than that should've raised bells. The blonde teen was frustratingly polite, and it often appeared to most people as him being indifferent or gentlemanly, often the former.

"Tommy, you're fucking twelve, you should know bloody better!" Newt roared, slamming the counter with a resounding BOOM as pieces of cracked egg shells and broken yolks flew across the surface.

"But Newt I - "

Newt shot his student a death glare, vein pulsing on his cheek. Thomas was now backed up against a corner, restlessly fiddling with the fabric of his hoodie. He didn't dare meet the piercing, furious glare of his beautiful tutor. Thomas knew he messed up. He knew he did something even a five-year-old shouldn't be doing but he did it anyway.

Thomas felt like a failure.

"I'm s-sorry…" the younger boy stuttered, biting his lip until it bled. He was shaking like a leaf, his panda ears drooping miserably over his head. He knew he looked like a child like this. A stupid, immature, weak child that couldn't see right from wrong. A child that disappointed everyone. A mere, undesirable, child.

"I-I'm sorry for messing up…" Thomas choked on his tears, timidly pulling down the top of his hoodie so Newt couldn't see the tears pouring down from his burning hot cheeks, "I'm sorry for being so stupid. I-I'm sorry that you have to babysit someone s-stupid like me. I'm sorry that I do things like this and m-make you unhappy….I'm sorry….for being a failure!"

Thomas sobbed uncontrollably, big blobs of tears dripping on the floor as he crumpled to his knees, hands hurriedly wiping away the heat from his cheeks.

I'm sorry.

Thomas's mouth erupted into a harsh wail, panting frenziedly like dog. He felt faint, he wanted to puke, his head was on the verge of splitting open.

I'm sorry.

Thomas felt every nerve in his body heighten by a million. He couldn't bear to even look at Newt any longer. Newt, the model of intellectual and physical perfection. Newt, the eye candy of many, no matter the sexuality. Newt, the one Thomas longed for the most.

I'm sorry Newt.

With that, Thomas collapsed onto the floor.

The dreams Thomas had were never pleasant.

Chased by the ever changing expectations of society. Haunted by the judging looks of the people gave him when he walked on the streets with his hand desperately grasping onto Newt's. The whispers. The insults. The laughter.

Thomas never stopped screaming.

Newt clamped his hand over Thomas's.

Newt was sure he wouldn't be able to even think of anything else, or even rest, after what he had done. After all the horrible, disgusting things he said to Thomas.

His Thomas.

"Tommy," Newt whispered soothingly, his other hand sifting through the dark strands of Thomas's hair. Despite the fact the kid often riled him up, pissed him off sometimes, completely bewildered him, and was often a distraction whenever he tried to study, Newt loved him to bits. There was never a time Newt wasn't tender with him.

The cute little boy, the son of two famous professors, living in the neighbourhood. The family moved in less than two years ago, when Thomas was ten. The professors were family friends of Newt's, and hired Newt to babysit and tutor their kid with a massive social skills problem.

He was brutally ostracized by his peers from an early age. Isolated by overbearing, over-protective parents. Now lumped with a teen tutor - Newt - who was almost four years older than him.

Newt had been his first friend.

It was a tedious journey. The first time Newt was left alone with Thomas, the kid wouldn't even leave the confines of his 'laboratory'. Newt would knock, he'd shout, he'd plead. Thomas wouldn't even respond to him. But Newt could feel the little kid's body warmth through the sliding door. He'd hear the scraping sounds of Thomas sketching on his pad, his mumbling and erasing like a musical rhythm.

Newt became addicted to those sounds. Thomas's lunch would lay cold on his lap as he listened away contentedly to Thomas. Sometimes the boy would drop his pencil, he'd adjust himself against the door, shuffle his feet.

There was one time Newt fell asleep by accident and woke up with a cup of homemade chai latte next to him.

What was even more surprising was the little boy sitting on his lap, face filled with bored interest as he quietly fiddled with the belt of Newt's jeans.

"You snore like a pig," were the first words Thomas said to Newt.

"Ne-ewt…."

Newt perked up abruptly.

The blonde watched dazedly, his shoulders slumped as he watched the boy fidget in his sleep. Twisting and turning and whimpering until he jolted awake, eyes fluttering open.

Newt forced himself not to chuckle as he gently caressed Thomas's face, feeling the brunette shiver slightly at the touch.

The younger boy turned his back on Newt as soon as he realized who he was with, causing Newt to smile uncertainly. Besides the heavy breathing, Thomas wouldn't even dare to look at Newt. His knees were hiked up to his chest, his clothed arms hugging himself protectively.

"Hey…."

Newt shuffled slightly so he could adjust his position. His arms wrapped slowly around Thomas's torso, causing the brunette to flinch. Newt's eyebrows furrowing worriedly at how violently Thomas reacted to his touch. Planting himself next to the boy, he lay his head on top of his. Almost like he was spooning him.

"I'm sorry….for how I acted…Tommy, please."

Thomas remained silent, face hidden.

"I overreacted, I admit that. And I want to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for shouting at you, I'm sorry for cursing. I know you hate that, Tommy. And I'm bloody sorry for saying all of it. I didn't mean them. Every, single, one."

The blonde could feel Thomas shift in his arms before he caught a glimpse of swollen lips and his student's blushing cheeks.

For a split second, Thomas's eyes were on him.

"You don't…hate me?"

Newt blew gently into the Thomas's ear, pleased at the full-body shudder the younger boy produced. If Newt wasn't concentrated on Thomas's body movements, he could have heard a whimper from the boy's lips.

"I'll still love you, no matter what," Thomas felt himself turn and pressed against Newt's chest, the brunette flushed at the warmth and the vibrations from his chest, "Brat."

Thomas felt a huge weight being lifted off his shoulders.

"Newt."

The blonde gave a soft 'Hmm?' as he tucked his student's legs under his, nose pressed against Thomas's skin, taking in the small, baby scent of the boy he just couldn't get enough of.

"I love you."

With a chuckle, his mind not understanding the weight and depth of Thomas's words back then, he bent down to kiss the crook of the brunete's nose and smiled against his skin.

"I love you too, brat."