Disclaimer: This is a fic I'm actually very proud of, as clichéd as it is. My hobbies include trying to put the number two hundred and fifty into my works to see if anybody will see them. R&R if you'd like! :) Enjoy.
x-x-x
"So, Newton… How's it going?"
"What the hell do you want, Park?"
"You dated Gally, right?"
"Yeah. What's it to you?"
"I want to go out with him."
Newt choked on his root beer. "You what?" He sputtered, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Shuck, there was soda spilled all over his favorite shirt now. It wasn't even fancy, it was just long-sleeved and grey, but it had colored splatters from when him and his sister Sonya had a paint war.
"You heard me… Umm… Need a napkin, or something?"
"What the fuck do you think?" He said angrily. He wasn't this snippy, really, but Minho got on his last nerve.
Minho Park was the playboy of their high school. He was a senior and captain of the football team. The Asian was also drop-dead gorgeous, with spiky raven locks and tan skin, not to mention those mocha-colored irises. Newt hated the boy, but he had to admit, he was the best looking person in the school. Boys and girls even strived to serve Minho and answered at his every beck and call (thankfully, Newt wasn't that desperate).
"Right, I'll be back." Minho turned and jogged to grab some.
"Don't hurry back!" Newt yelled after him.
He knew his behavior was irrational, but he was still a tad bit bitter about breaking up with Gally. Plus, Minho was rubbing it in his face, whether it was intentional or not. It was mutual when they decided to break up (and in both of their defenses, it wouldn't have worked out anyways), but it was Newt's first real relationship.
Newt grumbled to himself, getting out of his stupor. What the bloody hell was taking Minho so long?
Oh, he had stopped to talk to Thomas, a mutual friend of theirs (that didn't mean they hung out together, not at all).
Finally, Minho strolled over at a leisurely pace and dropped the tissues on Newt's lap.
"What the shuck took you so long?" Said Newt with a scoff.
"You said, and I quote, 'don't hurry back.' I assumed you meant it, since you're 'an angel.'" Minho used way too many air bunnies for those two sentences.
"Oh, just fuck off, will you?" The Brit assumed that wasn't a compliment.
"Sadly, I cannot. I don't want to hang around with your art-hoe ass all day, but I already told you that I need help asking Gally out."
"Better an art-hoe than a complete hoe." Newt snapped back.
Minho let out a laugh. "Can't blame you there."
"Why can't you just ask someone else? You're wasting both of our bloody time, and it's no secret that we don't like spending time with one another." Newt said tactlessly.
The Asian feigned hurtfulness, clutching his heart (Newt almost laughed, he was putting his hand on the right side, not the left). "I don't despise spending time with you, Newton. That's why I'm here and not on ."
"What, did you get shitty answers there?" He asked sarcastically.
"That information is confidential." Minho grinned, revealing the truth.
He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and placed it next to Newt's root beer bottle. "In case you decide to pity me." He explained when Newt raised his eyebrow.
"I doubt I will. Now, bugger off." Newt drawled.
"It was a pleasure talking to you!" The Asian fuckboy said cheerily to him before strutting off, followed by a posse of fangirls.
Newt rolled his eyes. God, Minho made him sick. He shoved his lunch tray aside and grabbed the paper. Of course, it was Minho's number. He supposed he could give it to some deranged kid (Chuck was always up for a prank), but even Newt didn't hate him that much.
The Brit crumpled the letter and shoved it into his jean pocket. He wouldn't be needing that any time soon.
x-x-x
Newt had never been more bored in his life. He'd already painted a complex drawing of a maze (he wasn't sure what came over him, but it looked really cool), and now there was nothing to do.
Newt laid back on his bed. For a kid who was obsessed with art, his room was devoid of practically anything. Newt's bedroom was completely white, from the walls, to the bed, to the desk. Those were the only two belongings in his room.
Except now there was his newest painting. It was propped up on his writing desk to dry. The maze was dark gray, with a dark sunset over head. Cracks lined all over the stone, from who knows what. There were vines of ivy creeping up the walls, with layered shadows. The more he looked at it, the more it looked like there was a shadow of a boy standing on top of the wall, looking down. Newt shuddered, his painting was supposed to be beautiful, not haunting.
He rolled over on his bed to reach his phone, which was on the other side. A crackling sound was heard in his pocket.
Newt shoved his hand inside of it and pulled out Minho's number, humming to himself. Now that he had time to think of it, he was a complete asshole today. Minho didn't really deserve it, he was just asking him for advice.
Newt sighed. Lovely, now he was feeling guilty. Might as well do something about it.
He stood up and walked over to his desk, grabbing a pad of paper and a pencil. He flopped back down on his bed, staring at the blank page, thinking of ways to help Minho.
The Brit picked up his pencil and started to write down some steps:
Reassure yourself that you won't completely fuck up (what's the worst that could happen?).
Make sure he's not in one of his "moods." Make sure he's not having a fit.
Get him alone. Remember to do it casually (but you're too cool to do it otherwise).
The step above was sarcasm.
Plan the date before, for if he says yes. Choose something fun, you're both people that like to have a good time.
You're done and now you have a boyfriend.
Newt looked over his list with a smug grin, excuse him for being proud of himself. Look at him, what a matchmaker he was. He ignored the nagging in the back of his head telling him their relationship wouldn't work out, just like his short fling with Gally.
The Brit smoothed out Minho's number, before adding it to his contacts. Then, he took a deep breath and clicked the call button (really, why was he nervous?).
The phone rang a couple times before he picked up. "Hello?" Minho asked more than said.
"You're in luck." Newt said cryptically. He knew his accent would give it away, though.
"Newton! You're helping me!" Minho let out a couple whoops of joy.
"Would you stop calling me that, arsehole?"
"What do you want me to call you then, 'Isaac Newton'? It's your name and you call me 'Park.'"
"Fine, then I'll stop calling you 'Park' and start calling you 'Minho.' Just call me Newt like everybody else." He grumbled, regretting his decision of helping him already.
"Okay, Newt." Minho emphasized.
A shudder ran down Newt's spine, but Minho interrupted him yet again. "What's the deal? Are you going to help me or not?"
Newt read him the list out loud and told him he'd give it to him tomorrow at school.
"Also, go on a practice date with somebody. Just so you don't fuck everything up." He added on a second thought.
"And who would I ask? I don't like anybody besides Gally."
"Who cares, just let them know of the whole situation."
"But there's nobody I'd even want to go on a friendly-ish date with!"
"Stop whining, will you, Min? Just ask someone that's like Gally… How about Aris? He's flaming gay."
There was a pause. "I like it when you call me 'Min.'" He finally said and Newt's heart pounded.
The Brit shook his head. Oh no… He wasn't…? No. That was it.
"FUCK YOU!" Shouted Newt spastically into the phone before ending the call. He threw the phone off the bed and smooshed his face into his white pillow. His phone rang, vibrating against the wooden floor. Probably Minho, who was confused as hell. And for a good reason. Newt was confused, too.
"I hate feelings." Newt said, hoping he'd suffocate thanks to his pillow and never have to see Minho again.
x-x-x
"Go on a practice date with me."
"Go away, Park."
"Oh, come on! This is all because of you. And I thought you were calling me 'Minho.' Or 'Min,' I like that."
"Would you stop saying that? I'm trying to eat, will you just go away?"
"Not until you go on a date with me. Platonically, of course."
"That doesn't even make any bloody sense."
"Since when has anything I've ever said made any bloody sense?"
"You sound weird when you say 'bloody.'"
"And you sound hot when you say 'bloody.' Just go out with me!"
"Fine… Bloody prick."
"You're hot."
"I know. Now get away from me and go fuck Gally."
"Soon, Newt. Soon."
x-x-x
Newt looked at himself in the mirror, reminding himself that this was as Minho called it, a 'platonic date.' That fuckboy didn't actually like him…
But that didn't stop him from changing his clothes three different times. He finally settled for a dark blue and red polo with a gray sweater thrown over it and gray jeans. He had no idea where Minho was taking him (if anywhere), so he decided dressy casual was the way to go. He even went as far as to comb his hair so that it didn't look as messy as usual.
There was a ring of the doorbell from downstairs. Newt straightened himself up one last time before practically leaping down the stairs and answering the door.
Minho was wearing a black shirt that was opened slightly that went to his forearm with blue jeans. His hair was naturally spiky as usual, but there was a maroon beanie comfortably placed on it.
"You look… Nice." Minho started.
"Hello to you, too." Newt said before stepping outside and locking the door.
"I think a compliment is even better than a greeting."
"You're bonkers, then."
"Good that. You just noticed?"
"Your grammar is atrocious. It would've been, 'that's good.'"
"Thanks, English major. Come on, we're going to Disneyland." Minho said, heading to his car.
"Disneyland's in bloody California, Minho."
"Stop pissing on my pancakes. We're just going to a boring-ass carnival."
"I hardly find them boring."
"Good that."
"It's 'that's good!'" Newt said, raising his voice as he got into the Asian's car.
"You know I'm just annoying you so that you can keep talking, right?"
"Because of my 'hot' accent, is it?"
"That's not the only thing that's hot."
Newt cleared his throat nervously and his cheeks pinked slightly.
"I was talking about me. Not everything is about you, Newt. God." Minho said with a smirk as he started the car.
Newt slapped his shoulder and Minho started to drive.
x-x-x
Twenty five torturous minutes of Minho singing loudly to all the songs that were played on the radio passed and they were finally at the carnival.
"Have I ever told you how bad your singing is?" Newt asked him as they got out of the car.
"Yeah, about two hundred fifty times in the car."
"Oh. Then it'll be two hundred fifty one now. You suck at singing."
"Thanks." Minho said as they approached the ticket booth.
"Here, I brought some pounds. I mean, cash." Newt said, shaking his head at his mistake.
"Relax, Newt, I'm paying. This is a date, remember?" Minho smirked as he shoved some money at the cashier, who stared at him dazedly. Newt fought the urge to snarl at her that he wasn't interested.
"A fake one." Newt pointed out, remembering they were having a conversation.
"Sure, sure. Whatever floats your boat." Minho winked at him before taking his hand and walking them into the carnival. Newt looked down at their hands that were tangled in each other and tried to slow his breathing and his heartbeat. God, it was just Minho. Calm down.
"Alright, where to first?" Minho asked Newt. "I bought full park passes so you won't have to worry about all the amount of money that we're spending going on rides."
Newt's eyes widened. "No, those were bloody expensive!"
"Hey, it was my decision. And I wanted to."
"You're an asshole." Grumbled Newt, shaking his head.
"Thanks. Now, where are we going?" Newt looked around.
"Whatever the hell that thing is." He pointed at the ride. It looked magical in the dying light of the sun. It was one of those rides where you sat in a chair and it spun you around as you sat and got a view of the whole place. Newt sighed dreamily. He had to paint that as soon as he got home.
"Definitely… Let's go." It seemed that Minho had been just as mesmerized as him.
Newt tugged on Minho's hand (at the same time remembering they were interlocked) as they walked to the ride, both in awe of everything.
They waited in line for about a minute before getting seats right next to each other. Soon, they were lifted up and circus music began to play. The sky was darker now and lights illuminated the entire park, taking Newt's breath away yet again.
He turned to look at Minho to see if he was enjoying the ride. Newt almost wished he hadn't, because if he couldn't breathe then, he sure as hell didn't know how he was alive now. The round bulbs above them hit Minho in the most heavenly way possible, turning his hair lighter and his eyes brighter as they looked around in curiosity and amazement.
At that moment, Newt knew he was absolutely shucked and had very, very strong feelings about the Asian fuckboy.
The said boy turned to him and smiled. Minho held out his hand to Newt, and he took it without a thought, bringing their chairs closer to another.
Shouts were heard from below, this was most certainly not allowed, but Newt couldn't give a single bloody fuck, because he learned something new about Minho. Minho was quite possibly the most romantic person ever.
Eventually, the ride started to slow and sink, so they let go of each other's hands. They nearly avoided getting reprimanded by the ride manager as the snuck off past the gates of the enclosure.
"That was fucking beautiful. I can't even…" Minho said, trailing off as he looked at the sky.
"Let's go on the ferris wheel, it'll be even prettier there."
"That's the best idea I've heard all day."
"That's because the majority of the day you've been by yourself."
Minho chuckled loudly, slinging an arm around Newt. "I'm going to miss hanging out with you tomorrow, Newt."
"Who says we'll be apart?" Newt asked, before wishing he hadn't said that.
"Hmm… Good point. I'll miss your company too much. This has been fun so far."
"Don't jinx it." Newt said. He allowed himself to lean marginally into Minho as the duo walked to their next ride.
They waited in another line for the ferris wheel (this one only a little bit longer, taking a couple of minutes), before stepping into one of the cages.
The ride let out a low moaning sound and it started to move, but Newt wasn't afraid. Hell, if this thing was going to drop out of the sky, he'd be happy that the last thing he saw was this view…
And Minho.
Speaking of him, Minho looked over at Newt gazing out the window. He smiled warmly and took Newt's hand carefully. "I highly doubt that I'd be able to jinx this." He murmured, bringing up their conversation before.
Newt turned to him, his cheeks a dusty rose color as his other hand drummed against his pants. "We could fall out of this bloody thing."
"That's alright, because I've already fallen for you." Minho said smoothly.
Newt laughed. "Yeah. Gally's going to love this." Was it just Minho, or did Newt's voice sound strained?
"Maybe this wasn't all for Gally." He said softly.
Minho leaned forward a little bit, about to close the space between their lips. Newt's eyelids fluttered shut as he leaned forward a miniscule.
Suddenly, something caught Minho's attention. Below them were two people he knew. It was none other than Thomas and Gally, who had presumably gone on a date together too. Why, you ask? All signs lead to them, who were making out like there was no tomorrow. That, thought Minho, wasn't part of the plan.
"That's not something you see every day." Said Newt, almost to himself.
"Well, now that I've seen those two, I guess it's confession time." Minho sighed.
"Wait… What's going on?" The Brit's voice sounded borderline hysteric.
"Don't worry! I mean, it's not that bad, I guess… Well, I've liked you for a while and Thomas has liked Gally. So we devised a plan to get both of us together. I told you that I wanted to hook up with Gally, knowing that you'd be smart enough as to think of a practice date. Thomas knew that Gally was bummed about breaking up with you, so he did the opposite: he asked Gally how to ask you out."
There was a pause as the Brit processed all the information he had just heard.
"You… You and Thomas made that whole elaborate plan up?"
Minho nodded, bracing himself for the amount of rage Newt was likely to throw at him.
"And it worked. Fuck. You're smarter than I thought. Him, too."
"It was mainly me. I had to explain the plan a couple times to him."
"That sounds more like Tommy." Newt sighed. "You did all that to go out with me? You're shucking incredible, Min." He said with a laugh.
He sat himself down in Minho's lap, much to his surprise. Newt took the Asian's head in his hands and connected their lips for the long-awaited kiss, sighing into his mouth.
Yeah, Minho was right. There was nothing anybody could've done to ruin this perfect night.
x-x-x
As promised (to himself), Newt painted that night. He was making out with Minho for the majority of the ferris wheel, so he just had to go off of what he remembered from the flying chairs.
The painting was of the two of them, sitting in chairs. Their hands were interlocked and they were looking into each other's eyes. The carnival was bright, the sky was navy. Their eyes, hazel meeting chocolate, stared electrifyingly at each other. Their eyes shined as brightly as the bulbs overhead.
But only when they looked at each other.