What A Feeling

by InfiniteMinds

Thomas may or may not have a crush on a certain blond boy who works at a diner that he may or may not visit everyday after school.

"Why don't you just ask him out?"

Thomas jumped, startled, banging his head on the door of his opened locker. Track practice had just ended and he had bent down to untie his shoes. His best friend, Minho, was leaning against his own locker, eyebrows raised, waiting.

"Well?", he said impatiently.

Thomas shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, "I don't know who you're talking about." He continued untying his track shoes to avoid eye contact with the Asian boy.

He scoffed, "Oh, so you dragging me everyday to Corner Diner isn't because you like to stare at that blond kid?"

"I thought it was because Teresa worked there," he finally faced his friend, a wicked gleam in his brown eyes.

Minho rolled his eyes, "Whatever. That's partly why we go. But only a small part. I'm not stupid. Just ask him out."

"He doesn't even know me. I don't even know him." Except that he's basically perfection personified. With his perfect accent and his perfect hair and his perfect eyes and -

Minho interrupted his thoughts, "I dare you then."

Thomas raised an eyebrow, confused. "Dare me?", he repeated. "We're not in elementary school, Min." He swung a towel of his shoulder and headed towards the showers.

"Says the dumb stalker shank!", called Minho after him.

Thomas and Minho slid into their usual booth and each picked up a menu, despite ordering the same meal everyday. Teresa, a waitress and Thomas' neighbor for as long as he can remember, walked up to them, smiling brightly. She was already carrying 2 Cokes.

"Hey, Tom. Minho," she acknowledged, a slight blush appearing on her cheeks when she addressed the Asian boy.

Minho grinned, "Hey, Teresa. Busy day?"

She shrugged, "Pretty boring, actually. Luckily, I have you 2 coming in everyday to liven things up around here."

"Lucky us too," he answered her, his grin widening when she giggled and blushed.

Thomas rolled his eyes at their flirty banter. He glanced around him, looking for a certain someone. Minho and Teresa were oblivious to him. They seemed to be in their own little world. He couldn't help but sit up a bit straighter when he finally spotted him.

Newt was his name. He was a little taller than Thomas' 5'9 but he wasn't as built as the runner. He was skinny but not too skinny. He had floppy blond hair that always fell in front of his piercing brown eyes. He was a year older than Thomas but he was homeschooled, hence the reason why Thomas had to come to the diner to see him. When he walked, there was a slight limp in his steps but Thomas hardly noticed, or cared. It's what made him unique and special.

Newt was getting drinks for some customers of his, completely unaware of Thomas' staring. He usually was. The only time the 2 of them actually spoke was when Thomas asked him for a refill on his soda. Minho always poked fun at him for that day but Thomas didn't care. It was the best day of his life.

"You're pathetic," observed Minho, pulling him out of this thoughts once again. He hadn't noticed Teresa had already left and there was a plate of fries in front of him.

Thomas grumbled, plucking a fry from its basket, "Shut up."

It was pouring rain the next day, forcing their track coach to cancel practice. Thomas and Minho went to the diner as usual, a full 2 hours early than their normal time. Teresa wasn't working yet, much to Minho's disappointment.

Thomas laughed, "And you call me pathetic."

Minho rolled his eyes at him, "Shut up, you piece of klunk. At least Teresa actually knows who I am," he smirked.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. At least-."

A voice suddenly interrupted him and Thomas was sure it was an angel speaking. "Hello, boys. Can I get you anything to drink?", the angel, Newt, said, smiling at the both of them.

Thomas was sure his heart was going to burst out of his chest it was thudding so hard. His palms were sweating and he had difficulties trying not to smile like a complete idiot.

Minho rolled his eyes again and spoke, "2 Cokes would be great, thanks." Newt nodded and left and he continued, "Well done, Thomas. You're officially the stupidest shuckface on this planet."

Thomas ignored what he said and answered dreamily, "I think I died and went to heaven."

"You're still here so if anything, we're in hell."

"Shut up, Minho. This is huge for me! I'm actually going to have a conversation with him. I've dreamed about this for a long time now. Don't ruin it for me."

Minho said, "First off, that's a little creepy. And second, you won't have a conversation with him if you continue to stare at him like a stupid little fish. Good that?"

Thomas nodded quickly, "You're right. I'll be cool." He heart started to race again when he spotted Newt coming their way, 2 glasses in his hands. He carefully set them on the table and wiped his hands on his apron.

"The usual for you two?"

Of course he would know their order. They always started off with 2 Cokes and then went onto 2 cheeseburgers, 2 chocolate shakes, and extra fries. They've been coming everyday here for the past year, ordering the exact same thing, nothing less and nothing more. Even some regular customers knew their order.

But that didn't stop Thomas from stupidly blurting out, "You know our order?" He mentally cursed himself as soon as the words left his mouth. Minho was biting his lip, trying not to laugh.

Newt, however, did laugh. But it wasn't in a mocking way. It was gentle and almost sweet. "I think everyone in this bloody city knows your order. Even Newbies know."

Thomas flushed in embarrassment, "Sorry, I don't know why I said that."

"No worries," he replied, smiling at him. "I'll go put your order in."

The next time they went in, they came in with a few of their friends. Alby, Gally, and Frypan were on the track team as well. Chuck was a freshman to their junior but they didn't care. He was still a good friend of theirs. Minho went over to talk to Teresa just as Newt approached their table.

He raised an eyebrow, surveying the group before his eyes rested on Thomas. "Quite a party you have here," he said, his British accent thicker than usual.

Thomas responded, thrilled his voice was calmer than he felt, "We're celebrating. We won our track meet today."

"Oh, congratulations then. To all of you," he nodded to the rest of the boys who voiced their thank you's. "Now what can I get you all to drink?"

When Thomas entered the diner the following day, he was alone. He sighed and slid into his booth, pressing his phone to his ear as he called Minho. He had always left half a dozen voicemails but the Asian boy wasn't answering him at all.

"Hey, Min," he said when he got the answering machine again.

"Where are you? You know the rules, even if we're sick, we still come here. Unless you're on your deathbed, get your stupid ass over here."

He hung up and tossed his phone on the table, closing his eyes and rubbing his face tiredly.

"A bit harsh, don't you think?"

Thomas opened his eyes to see Newt standing there, a towel and a tall glass of Coke in his hands. He was smiling crookedly at him. "Probably," he finally answered.

Newt laughed and walked closer to the table, setting the drink down. "I was a bit surprised when I saw you walk in alone. Is everything alright?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I'm sure he's fine. Thanks for asking though. And thanks for the drink," he took a long sip.

"No worries, let me know if you want me to put in your order."

He turned around to walk back behind the counter but Thomas suddenly blurted out, "Hey, do you want to sit down?" He bit his lip, swearing at his unfiltered mind. He always had a problem of his mouth moving faster than his mind. Usually he was in control of it, but whenever he was around Newt, he was everything but in control.

But when he saw Newt slide into the seat across from him, he mentally thanked the gods for his good luck and tried not to grin like a moron. Newt looked beautiful as usual, despite looking a little tired.

He ran his fingers through his blond hair, ruffling it up a bit. Thomas thought he never looked more like an angel. He cleared his throat and said, "I'm Thomas."

Newt smiled at him, "I know."

Thomas blinked, "Y-You know? How?"

"Don't look so shocked, Thomas," he laughed again. "I learned your name from Teresa and heard your friend call you that a couple times."

He fought the urge to smack himself. "Oh right," he said lamely. He said the first thing that popped into his mind, "I know your name." Very smooth, Thomas. Newt tilted his head and Thomas quickly elaborated, "I mean, uh, I've seen your name tag a few times." And I stalked you on Facebook but you don't need to know that.

"You're a very strange person, Thomas," Newt told him, smiling widely. Thomas wondered if he was always this cheerful and happy.

"Sorry, I'm probably freaking you out or something," he apologized.

"You can go if you want. Or I can go, I don't think my friend is coming." He stood up to rise from his seat but stopped when he felt a cool hand cover his own.

It was Newt's. He shook his head and said, "No, stay, I don't mind."

Thomas felt he as though he could fly.

"He touched me, Minho! He physically reached over and touched my hand!" Thomas was excitedly recounting his conversation with Newt the next day. Newt was in the back of the diner so he wasn't too worried about the blond overhearing him.

Minho rolled his eyes, "Dude, you are so weird. You seriously sound like an obsessed person now."

"I know but we talked. We had a legitimate conversation. God, you have no idea how glad I was that you weren't there," he said earnestly.

"Gee, thanks. So when are you going to ask for his number? This pining is getting ridiculous."

He shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. Maybe I'll do it today."

Thomas grinned with newfound confidence, "I'll ask him today. I would say we're friends, right?" Before Minho could answer, Newt approached their tables, with 2 glasses in his hands as usual.

However, Thomas opened his mouth and blurted out before their blond waiter could ask them anything, "Can I have your number?"

There was a moment of silence before Newt burst out laughing. "You just couldn't wait to get that out, could ya, Thomas?", he teased.

Thomas fought the urge to smack himself for his idiocy but forced himself to remain calm. He tried to smile at him but he was sure it came out sort of a grimace. "Sorry. I don't know what came over me. I sometimes just say things that come to mind. Especially when I'm around you." Shit! This time he did smack himself on the forehead and apologized once again, "Sorry! I'm just really nervous and -."

The blond interrupted his rambling, "Relax, Thomas. You really have got to stop apologizing for everything. I don't mind. Besides, I didn't say no, did I?" He reached in the pocket of his apron and took out a pen. He quick scribbled down his number and handed it to Thomas. "I hope you text better than you talk," he teased again before leaving.

Minho cracked up laughing at Thomas' open mouthed expression. He actually wiped away a few tears and cackled, "You're an idiot!"

Thomas stared at his phone, his thumb hovering over the send button. He had typed and re-typed a message an hour ago but he was too nervous to send it. You can do this, Thomas. He took a deep breath and pressed it, his body suddenly freezing when it sent.

Hey, it's Thomas. From the diner. Thanks for giving me your number.

Thomas kept staring at the message, realizing, with a sinking heart, how stupid it sounded. He should've added an exclamation point or smiley face or something to make it sound less formal and awkward. He glanced back down at it when it dinged, indicating a reply.

hey, Thomas :) thanks for asking...what's up? ~ N

Just playing video games.

and you're stopping to text me? i'm honored ~ N

Always.

you're so cute ~ N

Thomas bit his lip to contain himself from screaming like an idiot. Newt just called me cute, he thought, falling back on his pillows, clutching his phone to his chest. Newt called me cute.

So what are you doing?

i just got back from work so nothing...i'm bloody bored though ~ N

Do you wanna come over? I have pizza and new video games.

Thomas had typed the first thing that came to his mind and held his breath as he awaited a reply.

you had me at pizza ~ N

The next hour found Thomas and Newt in a very heated discussion regarding Harry Potter. Empty pizza boxes and lonely videos games were scattered on the floor.

"But how can you not like Ron and Hermione together?", protested Thomas, running his fingers agitatedly through his hair. "I don't get it!"

Newt tried to look serious but failed. "I still think Draco and Hermione should be together. And I know I'm not the only one."

He exclaimed, "But they hate each other!"

"I know!", Newt couldn't help but laugh at the perplexed expression on Thomas' face.

"Wait, you've never seen The Lion King?", Newt demanded, leaning on his arm to stare incredulously at the boy sprawled out on the bed next to him. "That's like saying you've never seen Aladdin?" At Thomas' meek expression, he pulled himself up, jaw dropped. "You're joking!You've never seen Aladdin?", he inquired in disbelief.

Thomas held up his hands in mock surrender. "I didn't watch a lot of movies when I was little. Minho just recently introduced me to Finding Nemo."

Newt fell back beside him and groaned, "I don't think we can be friends anymore, Thomas. I can't believe you've never seen those movies."

"Hey, Newt?", whispered Thomas. It was almost 10pm and the only source of light in the room was from the moon shining through the window.

Newt replied tiredly, "Hmm?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

He laughed softly, "I believe you just did, but yes."

"It's personal."

"That's okay."

"Are you sure?"

There was a small groan. "Just ask the bloody question."

"Right, sorry." He paused before asking timidly, "Are you...are you gay?"

Newt rolled on his side to face him, propping himself up on his elbow. Thomas tried not to notice how incredibly beautiful he looked in the moonlight. He frowned, "Why do you ask?"

Thomas closed his eyes and rubbed his face. "I don't know," he finally answered, even though he knew very much why he asked. "I was just wondering. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

Newt stared at him for a couple of seconds, his brown eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Yes.", he replied, settling back onto the bed. "I am gay."

"Oh," was all Thomas said. He bit his lip, trying not to grin like a mad fool. He felt like screaming his lungs out and kissing Newt senseless but luckily, for both of their sakes, he stayed still. A couple minutes passed before he whispered, "Newt?"

The blond boy beside him sighed but said quietly, "Yes, Thomas?"

"I'm gay too."

There was a moment of silence before Newt silently reached over and squeezed Thomas' hand.

They continued asking each other questions all throughout the night. What's your favorite movie? Your favorite food? Your favorite song? Sometimes they would ask each other deeper, more thought provoking questions.

Thomas asked quietly, "Why do you limp? Was it a car accident? Were you born with it?"

"I tried to kill myself." It wasn't what Newt said that shocked Thomas, causing him to sit up in bed and stare at him. It was the way he said. So bluntly and calmly, as if he was stating his favorite kind of ice cream. Which Thomas already knew the answer to. Mint chocolate chip.

"W-Why?", he stuttered. "What happened? Why would you-?" He couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"Kill myself?", supplied Newt. He, too, was sitting up in bed. "I was depressed. Worse than depressed. I was constantly bullied and I didn't have any friends. My mum and dad worked a lot so they were hardly around. There wasn't anyone I could talk to. To confide in. I was alone. So one day, I decided, why not? What's the point of living when all you do is wait for the day to end? Why live a minute longer when there isn't anyone who would miss you?" He took a deep breath and continued, his voice a little shaky, "So I jumped off the roof of my house. As I jumped, I remember feeling as though as weight has been lifted off of me. I knew once I hit the ground, I wouldn't suffer anymore. I was free."

When he stopped, Thomas whispered, swallowing harshly, "What happened?"

He sent him a grim smile, "I blacked out. Thought I succeeded," he laughed though by there wasn't an ounce of humor in it. "My neighbor found me and I went to the hospital. I had only injured my leg but it never properly healed right. They sent me to the Psych ward and I was sent home with antidepressants."

"How did you-I mean, did you ever recover?"

"I went to a lot of therapy classes. I sometimes still go. I bloody hated it at first though. It was awful. But, with time, I started to open up and talk to him. Having someone to listen to your problems was all I needed."

Thomas confessed, "I would have never guessed that you were depressed. You always seemed so happy and carefree."

Newt smiled at that. "When I moved here, I felt as though I could be a new person. People were actually nice for a change and I didn't feel like I was alone anymore. I felt like life was worth living again. And it's a nice feeling."

They lay side by side in silence after that. It wasn't awkward at all. At least for Thomas. His mind was still processing what Newt had just told him. He had a hard time believing the boy he gawked and pined after had once tried to end his life. The thought of there no longer having Newt in the world made his insides freeze up.

"Newt?", he questioned softly, hoping the older boy was still awake. Luckily he was.

He replied just as quietly, "Yes, Thomas?"

"I'm really glad you didn't kill yourself."

Thomas awoke a couple hours later to his alarm blaring shrilly and Newt's grumbling in annoyance.

"Turn that bloody thing off!"

The brunet rolled his eyes, reaching over the sleepy Brit to his the snooze, when he noticed the time on the clock. His eyes widened. "Holy shit!", he exclaimed, scrambling off the bed. "It's 8'o clock! I'm late for school!" He yanked a few items of clothing from his closet and hurried into his bathroom. He started to brush his teeth as he stripped out of his pajamas.

Newt was sitting up in bed, his blond hair ruffled slightly, and yawned tiredly. He was watching Thomas run about with an amused smile on his face. "This is why I love being homeschooled," he yawned again.

Thomas finally emerged from his bathroom. "God, I can't believe I slept through my alarm clock! Why didn't you wake me up?", he accused the other boy.

Newt lifted his hands up and grinned, "Don't blame me. I don't go to school." He slid out of bed and stood up, groaning and stretching. "Ah, that felt good. Do you need a ride, Tommy?"

He dropped the backpack that was in his hands, not paying any attention to the loud thump as it hit his floor. "What?", he asked dumbly.

"I said, do you need-?"

Thomas interrupted quickly, "No, I heard that! It's just...you called me Tommy. You've never done that before." No one has since he was a little boy.

Newt's cheeks turned a faint color of pink as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Sorry," he apologized. "It must've just slipped out. If you don't like it, I won't-."

"No!", he interrupted again, a bit loudly. It was his turn to blush when the other boy raised an eyebrow. "I mean," he explained, "I don't mind that you call me that."

He grinned, dropping his hand. "Well than, Tommy," he exaggerated the nickname, "let's get you to school, shall we?"

By the time they reached Thomas' school, his first period was half way done. Newt expertly pulled up to the curb and unlocked the door.

"Have a good day at school, darling," he teased, grinning.

Thomas rolled his eyes and climbed out of the car. "Shut up," he replied, his voice devoid of any real annoyance. He waved as the blond sped away and headed towards his first class.

Luckily, his teacher didn't seem to mind his lateness and continued to drone on and on about poetry. Minho, however, was staring at him, confusion written all over his face.

"Dude, where were you? I called you a bunch of times", he whispered.

Thomas started rummaging through his backpack, trying to look for his cell phone. "I don't even know where my phone is right now. I can't believe I was late. I slept in," he explained.

"I figured. You look like klunk," he replied in typical Minho fashion.

He rolled his eyes, "Thanks. I only got a few hours of sleep."

Minho, being the good friend he was, was instantly concerned. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Thomas waved away his concern, "I'm okay. I was just up all night with Newt?"

A sly smile appeared on the Asian boy's face, "Say no more, Tom. I understand perfectly. Good for you, shank."

He rolled his eyes and shoved him, "It was nothing like that. We were just talking."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Whatever you say."

"I'm not lying. We just-"

Their teacher interrupted them in his usual, boring, monotone voice. "Boys, I'm trying to teach here. Please be quiet."

"You're going to tell me everything," Minho mouthed at Thomas.

Later that day, at the diner, Thomas spilled everything that went on the previous night, only excluding the part about Newt's past. He felt as though that wasn't his story to tell. He was getting to the part where Newt offered to drop him off, when the blond boy himself appeared at the head of their table.

"Good afternoon. Minho," he dropped a polite nod in the direction of the Asian boy. "Tommy," he said, a wide smile appearing on his face. "Good to see you again."

Thomas grinned back, "You too. How was your day?"

He shrugged, "Uneventful as usual. I'm sure yours was much more exciting."

"Definitely," he replied sarcastically. "I can't decide if reading about World War 1 or watching an almost 2 hour documentary on plants was more thrilling."

"The documentary on plants, I bet," Newt joked, laughing. "By a long shot. Anyways, shall I put in the usual for you two?"

"You already know the answer to that."

"Just makin' sure," he winked at Thomas and left their table, greeting an elderly couple who just walked in.

"Wow," Minho said, "I'm impressed. You didn't stutter or sound like a complete shuckface. I'm proud." He pretended to wipe away a tear, "They grown up so fast."

Thomas laughed at him and threw his napkin at his face, "Shut up!"

The next couple days found Thomas, not sitting at the diner with Minho, but laying in bed, wrapped up tightly in his blankets. He was re-watching Criminal Minds and clutching a box of tissues. He coughed heavily into a tissue, wincing when his throat stung harshly.

Minho had dropped by earlier with some medicine and tea. They chatted for awhile, Minho doing most of the talking while Thomas coughed and sneezed.

He was just about to pop in the next disc when he heard a faint knock on his front door. Groaning, he miserably dragged himself out of his warm, comfortable bed and padded barefoot across the cold hardwood floor.

Blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, he opened the door, not bothering to look into the peephole, "Hello?" He stopped short and stared at the person in front of him. "Newt?"

Newt smiled warmly at him. He was holding a brown paper bag in his arm. "Hi, Tommy. Minho stopped by and told me you were sick so I brought you some food."

Thomas' heart fluttered frantically inside his chest. "Thank you, but you didn't have to."

He shrugged, "I wanted to. Mind if I come in?"

"Sorry! Please come in." He stepped aside and the blond boy entered the house, giving him another small smile as he brushed past him. "What did you bring?"

Newt placed the bag on the dining room table, "Soup and a sandwich. I was going to bring you your usual, but I wasn't sure if you could stomach it. I'm going to heat this up so you should get back to bed. I'll be there in a minute."

"Okay," Thomas replied dazedly. He turned and shuffled back down the hall, settling comfortably into his bed once again. He coughed harshly again, feeling as though he was going to throw up one of his lungs.

"Bloody hell, you sound horrible," remarked Newt from the doorway, a plate and bowl in his hands.

"Thanks, buddy," he answered sarcastically. He scooted over on the bed a bit to give the blond some room. Newt sent him an appreciative glance and sat gently on bed.

He said, passing him the container of soup, "I hope you like tomato soup. It was all we had. I can go to the store if you don't like it."

"No no, I love tomato soup. Thank you." He sniffed at it before gingerly taking a sip. The warm liquid immediately soothed his strained throat and he sighed gratefully. "I so needed this."

Thomas had quickly finished the rest of his meal, his stomach grumbling appreciatively. They spent the next few hours watching episode after episode of Criminal Minds, occasionally making small talk. Thomas felt a little better although his throat was still sore.

Suddenly, they heard the front door swing open and Thomas' mom called out, "I'm home, sweetie!"

Thomas' cheeks colored in embarrassment as he saw Newt fighting back a laugh. He called back, "I'm in my room, mom."

"I bought some more tea for you. I didn't know what you'd like so I bought a couple flavors. Just let me know what you don't like and I'll-." She stopped talking once she saw her son wasn't alone in his room. She quickly recovered and smiled, "Hi, there."

Newt stood up and extended a hand, "Hello, I'm Newt. One of Thomas' friends. It's lovely to meet you."

"Aren't you a polite little thing? I'm Ella, Tom's mom. It's very nice meeting you, Newt. Tom has told me a lot about you."

"Mom!", Thomas whined from his bed, his cheeks an even brighter red. "Stop!"

She smiled apologetically, "Sorry, baby, I'll leave you two alone. It's really nice meeting you, Newt. I hope you can stay for dinner. Although I'm not sure how much Tom will eat with his sensitive tummy and all."

"Mom! Leave! Now!"

"Right, of course, sorry!" She closed the door behind her and Thomas sank back into his pillows, groaning loudly.

"I am so so so sorry. She's embarrassing, I know. Oh my god I can't believe she said that."

Newt was laughing, clearly entertained by her. "It's fine, really," he giggled. "She's charming."

He shook his head, "No, no she's not. And you don't have to stay. I mean, if you don't want to. I mean, you can, y'know, if you want to, but you don't have to. I mean, I'm not forcing you to, unless, y'know, you want -."

"Tommy?", the blond interrupted calmly, fighting back another laugh.

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"Sorry."

Dinner went by smoothly and quickly, much to Thomas' relief. He was also extremely grateful his mom didn't embarrass him again in front of Newt. He mostly stayed quiet, listening to the pair chat while occasionally coughing and sneezing.

Thomas and his mother had a moment to themselves when Newt excused himself to use the bathroom. Ella stood up and retrieved their empty plates, walking into the kitchen. Thomas followed, carrying the rest of the dishes.

"Newt's very polite and sweet," she remarked, rinsing a plate and placing it into the dishwasher. "How long have you known him."

About a year, he thought to himself. Instead he said, "A few weeks now, I think. He works at the diner I go to after school with Minho."

"Oh, I see," she replied, realization dawning on her, "And here I thought you went there for their fabulous food. Everything makes sense now."

Thomas blushed a bright red. "Mom," he moaned, "stop. You were doing so well at dinner."

She laughed, "I'm just teasing, baby. How long have you had a crush on him?"

"Mom! I'm not talking about New to you. He's just a friend."

He turned around, ready to walk back down the hall, when she called after him, still laughing, "For now!"

Thomas groaned in exasperation, flinging himself on his bed. He felt the bed dip again and asked, "Is it possible to die from embarrassment?"

Newt chuckled and replied, "Probably. What's got you so embarrassed, Tommy?"

He rolled onto his side, "My mom. I swear, she's doing this on purpose. She's usually not like this. At all."

"Eh, she's a mum. I suppose they're all like that." The blond stood up and stretched. "Well, Tommy, I hate to say this, but I think I should head home."

Thomas scrambled to sit up on his bed, "Are you sure? You don't have to." He tried to keep the whining out his voice but he wasn't sure he succeeded.

Newt laughed, "I'm flattered you don't want me to leave, but I have an early day tomorrow. Plus, you should get some rest. You're still sick."

"Don't remind me," he groaned. "I hate being sick. I actually miss school. That's how much I hate being sick."

"Just get some rest, Tommy. And call me if you need anything. I'll see you later, hopefully." Then he did something that rendered Thomas speechless. He leaned down a pressed a soft, gentle kiss to his temple. "Goodbye." Then he was gone.

Thomas lightly touched his forehead with his fingertip. "What the hell just happened?", he asked himself.

It only took Thomas another week to recover and soon he was back running around the track with his friends. He had forgotten how fun running was and how much he missed it and his friends.

"Hey! Look who's back!", exclaimed Alby, jogging backwards to greet Thomas.

Thomas grinned back, "Hey. It took 2 weeks, but I'm back."

"Thank god," Frypan chimed in, "we missed you, buddy."

Minho grinned at him mischievously, "Hey, Tom, a little birdie told me a certain blond came and nurses you back to health."

Alby and Frypan stared at the Asian incredulously before simultaneously putting their attention on Thomas. They exclaimed in unison, "What?"

Thomas rolled his eyes at his best friend, "Teresa's such a gossip. I have no idea why you're with her." To his other 2 friends, he said, "It was nothing. Newt just came over and brought food."

"Newt?", questioned Frypan, confused, just as Alby said, "Who?"

Minho laughed at loud, "Boys, boys, Thomas didn't tell you? Our boy, Tom, has gotten himself a boyfriend. Ain't that right, shank?"

"Shut up, Min. He's not my boyfriend. He's just a," he hesitated, not really sure what to call Newt. "He's a friend," he finished lamely.

Alby grinned and slapped him on the back, "Sure, he is. And Frypan here isn't a virgin."

Thomas' groan drowned out Frypan's squawk of indignation.

Thomas stood in front of a tall, narrow white door, fiddling nervously with his car keys his mom generously gave him for the night. You can do this, he told himself confidently. Just ask Newt out on a date. You plucked up the courage to ask Teresa his address so you can do this. Just ring the doorbell.

His hand shot out and pressed the small button and he froze. What the hell did I just do, he thought to himself, his mind going blank. What the hell did I just do? What the hell -?

The porch was suddenly engulfed in a bright white light and the door swung wide open, revealing a very tall, and very intimidating older man. Thomas was instantly confused. He was sure Newt lived alone.

The man asked gruffly, his British accent thick and noticeable, "Can I help you, lad?"

Thomas stuttered, "I-I don't know anymore. I thought I was at the right house by I'm not sure. But I checked a couple of times so I think I know where I am. I'm just -."

"Bloody hell. Just spit it out," the man said impatiently.

He finally said, "Is Newt here?"

The man narrowed his eyes and stared at him for a few seconds before calling over his shoulder, "Newt. It's for you."

Newt suddenly appeared behind the man and Thomas nearly wept in relief. "Thanks, dad," the blond smiled, "I've got this." He stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. "Sorry, for that, Tommy, my dad can be quite scary when he wants to be."

"No, it's fine," he quickly reassured him, even though he was terrified of the man. "I just wasn't expecting to see him. I thought you lived alone."

"I do, but how do you know that?", the blond squinted at him, a little suspicious. He gestured to a small table with 2 chairs and they sat down.

Thomas admitted, "Teresa. I also asked her where you lived. She said you wouldn't mind. I mean, is this okay?"

Newt smiled at him, leaving him breathless, "Relax, Tommy. I was just curious." He brought both of his knees to his chest, "Much better. Now, why are you here?"

Thomas was suddenly speechless. He stared at Newt, noticing how the glow of the light made him even more beautiful. His hair was slightly damp, indicating he had just taken a shower. He was wearing an oversized sweater and a size too big sweatpants. Thomas swore he had never seen anyone look so beautiful in all his life.

He coughed slightly, pulling himself out of his reverie. "Uh, right. I'm here because I wanted to ask you something. I wanted to ask you this for awhile now, I just wasn't sure if I should do it or not. But I'm sure now."

Newt was looking at him, half smiling, amusement written across his face, obvious even in the darkness. "Go on," he urged him quietly.

You can do this, Tom, he told himself again. He straightened up and took a deep breath. "Will you go on a date with me?" He braced himself for the rejection he was sure to come next.

"About bloody time," Newt finally answered. Surprise and bliss flooded Thomas' body.

"When you asked me out on a date, I didn't think you meant at the place where I work."

Thomas wanted to bang his head repeatedly on the table. Of course the night he and Newt finally go on a date, every restaurant had an hour plus waiting time. The only place, however, that wasn't busy, was Corner Diner. He apologized miserably for the umpteenth time, "I am so sorry, Newt. I should've called ahead and made a reservation for that really nice Italian restaurant. It's Thursday night, why is it busy?" He smacked himself in the forehead, angry tears threatening to fall down his cheeks.

Newt reached across the table and took his hand. "Don't worry about it, Tommy," he soothed, rubbing his thumb lightly across the back of the distraught boy's hand. "I was just joking. I don't mind at all. Honestly."

"I just really wanted to impress you," he admitted, trying to look anywhere but at Newt. He caught Teresa's eye from across the diner and she looked concerned. He felt Newt lightly grab his chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. He was surprised to see him smiling sincerely at him.

"You don't need to impress me. We don't need a fancy date or fancy food. I don't care about that. You and I are here and that's all that bloody matters. I'm just honored to be your date tonight. Even if our date happens to be here," he gestured around him, laughing softly.

Thomas finally relaxed and smiled back. "Okay," he said, "what should we get?"

They laughed and chatted and flirted throughout their meal, Thomas feeling like he was on cloud nine. All of his worries about the night seemed to vanish. He still felt like an idiot for his mistakes but Newt's constant reassurances made him feel a lot better.

"I don't know about you," Newt said, as they left the diner hand in hand, "but that was the best date I've ever been on."

Thomas laughed but found himself agreeing. "Yeah, I think so too."

They reached his car and he opened the passenger door for Newt.

The blond grinned, "How chivalrous of you, Tommy." He waited until Thomas slid into the drover's seat before continuing earnestly, "I really did have a good time tonight. Italian restaurant or no Italian restaurant, this was the best day of my life."

Thomas couldn't help the warm feeling that spread across his chest. His heart was fluttering madly and his answered softly, "I'm glad." And, because he didn't have time to stop himself, he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Newt's lips. Warning bells went off inside his head but he didn't care. Because Newt was kissing him back.

He slipped his hand behind the other boy's neck and deepened the kiss, not wanting it to end. Kissing Newt was intoxicating, like he couldn't get enough it of. He felt as though he could kiss him forever.

Newt's lips were soft and delicate beneath his, like rose petals.

They broke apart after a few seconds, each boy panting heavily. Their lips were bruised and their hair was messy and they stayed like that, not saying a word.

"Well," Newt finally said, breaking into a nervous laugh. "That was...", his voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Amazing?", supplied Thomas. "Stupid and corny as that sounds, it was pretty amazing. I mean for me it was. I mean, for you too, maybe. But I don't know. I mean, I liked it, a lot, but did you -?"

"Thomas?", he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

"Sorry, yeah?"

"Just kiss me again."

Thomas didn't need to be told twice.