"And then she totally beat me! Who knew Theresa was so good at Mario Kart?"
Newt nodded vaguely, a small uh-huh escaping. He was only half-heartedly listening to Thomas ramble about his date with Theresa. It was Minho that he was focused on. Minho sat opposite me at the table and picked at his sandwich. He wasn't a picky eater but he was assaulting his sandwich, slowly peeling off chunks of the crust and dropping them back in the baggie, without eating. This was the guy Newt had seen consume two entire Big Macs on a dare. If he was barely touching his food, something must be up. He was talking even less than when they'd first met and Newt had hardly realized that he wasn't just a sculpture.
"Newt?" Thomas was staring at him expectantly, his fork pointed at Newt accusingly.
"Yeah, of course," Newt answered, expecting Thomas to just go back to his monologue if he agreed.
"Are you sure?" he asked, but it barely registered.
"Uh-huh,"
Minho finally ripped off the last piece of crust and dropped it with a long sigh. He set down the sandwich and rested his chin on the table.
"Thanks, buddy," Thomas smirked.
"Wha-?" Maybe he had noticed Newt's lack of attentiveness.
"You just volunteered to babysit my brother this Friday absolutely free,"
"Ughh," Newt complained, but it was really his fault for not listening.
Thomas slapped him on the shoulder, "What a great guy, eh Min?"
Minho looked up, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "Yeah,"
As soon as he thought they weren't looking, though, the smile slid off of his face and down into the wreckage of his lunch.
That solidified it for Newt. Something was upsetting his boyfriend, and hell if he wasn't going to find out what it was and punch it in the face.