Chapter Eleven

Of course Teresa wasn't there when they arrived. When he texted to check she was still coming she didn't seem bothered by the fact that she'd promised she'd be there ages before them. She estimated she'd be fifteen minutes tops, only apologising when Newt pointed out he'd picked The Maze purely for her.

While Thomas was being served Newt led Minho down to a table near the window so that he'd be able to see her coming. He sipped on his Latte - Gingerbread, Thomas had suggested to him weeks before and despite his trepidation at putting anything in his coffee he'd totally fallen in love with it - as he slid into the seat next to the asian boy he was quickly deciding would be his friend.

He chatted with him with a barely contained grin, so sure and so hopeful that Teresa was going to waltz in and make Minho fall for her and reveal himself to be her soulmate and then they'd be so utterly adorable and-

He was struck full in the face implications of such a thing.

Teresa.

And Minho.

Together.

Could the world handle that amount of sass in one place? And more to the point, could he?
He had completely forgotten to think this through.

Oh dear Lord.

The ribbing he and Thomas would receive under the combined wickedness gave him pause. Minho may seem to prefer teasing Thomas over him, but Teresa…

Bloody Hell.

He looked out of the window when he saw the slight form, the flash of dark hair disappearing into the doorway. Aris had arrived bang on time, of course. Always the punctual Oboist.
Typical for the Flautist to be late to her own bloody blind coffee date. Not that she knew it was a date.

Whoops.

She was totally going to kill him if she didn't turn up looking perfect and ready to impress.
He had mentioned a new face though. Perhaps she'd be fussing over her appearance anyway.

Girls were so bloody complicated. Thank the gods he was gay.

Aris arrived at their table with glittering green eyes and his usual friendly grin just as Thomas was making his way over, and he nipped in and beat Thomas to the open seat on Newt's other side. He shot the brunette a playful look and Thomas rolled his eyes in return. Thomas dropped beside him, leaving the one empty seat between himself and Minho.

Minho looked vaguely suspicious but didn't comment, thankfully. Aris glanced around before shooting Newt a familiar smirk. He very deliberately avoided using her name.

"Take it she's late?"

Newt grinned, swallowing a mouthful of coffee before he replied.

"Ain't she always? Hey, how d'ya know when there's a Flautist at your door?"

Aris looked at him curiously, his eyes bright as he guessed where Newt was going with that line.

"Dunno. How do i?"

Newt sipped his coffee, feeling the taunt clear in his smile as he shot him a hooded glance.

"You don't. They never have the right Key, and never know when to make an entrance."

Aris laughed, commenting through his giggles that it was so Teresa. But Newt barely heard him, far, far too occupied watching Thomas spill coffee all over their table as he spluttered. His laugh was startled and warm, and as always it sent pleased shivers up Newt's spine to know that he'd caused it.

Thomas's laughter was heaven.

It was never the same twice, so many different breeds for every situation. This one was his favourite, by far. Aided by the coffee he'd been trying to drink despite it's temperature Thomas's laughter tangled and tumbled from him as though being dragged out, his face red as his eyes glittered. It was undignified, perhaps immature and utterly ridiculous and embarrassing, drawing the attention of other customers and it was glorious.

The others laughed at him, teasing him as he flushed scarlet and proceeded to grab at napkins to clean up the mess he'd made. Newt simply stared, committing the sight of him to memory.

He was utterly enthralled because the sight of Thomas looking caught out, flustered and ruffled was possibly the best thing he had ever seen in his life.

The familiar fondness was creeping around again as he offered his own napkins, giving Thomas an apologetic smile as he did so. Thomas's eyes met his shining with humour and Newt thanked any and every deity that had made it possible for him to know the boy who was sitting across the table from him, covered in splashes of hot coffee and trying to chase away the remainder of his own laughter by keeping a straight face.

"Now that's the Thomas i know." Minho commented.

He didn't seem put out in the slightest by the wounded look Thomas shot him, or the bottom lip that the boy stuck out as a back-up plan. He just laughed and drank his coffee, his twinkling blue eyes teasing Thomas even without words. Newt watched, the envy from the day before creeping into him again. It was clear to anyone that the two had a history and it made him wish he'd been part of it.

"Oh? I have noticed Tommy has a penchant for droppin' his coffee everywhere." he replied playfully, brightening at Minho's chuckle.

"Oh, not just coffee. This shank used to drop everything."

Minho spoke gleefully, sitting up straight at the chance to embarrass his life-long friend. Newt was eager to hear it, anything this boy could tell him would be precious to him, he was sure. There was a part of his brain that reminded him what a truly terrible idea it was to encourage his attachment to Thomas, his obsession to know the boy inside and out.

Because he was Thomas, Newt's friend.

Not Tommy, his Soulmate.

Minho seemed to slot himself right into their little group, completely unabashed and sure of himself. Aris warmed to him quickly. Minho seemed pleased every time he made Newt laugh, clapping his shoulder and thinking of everything he could think to tell him about who Thomas had been before Newt had met him. Thomas was a little uncomfortable under the attention but shrugged in his usual good-natured manner.

Minho had grinned wickedly, and launched into a half hour of entertaining examples, reminding Thomas of birthday parties and dropped cakes, of sandcastle disasters and broken trophies, and the time he'd been convinced there was a wolf outside their campsite which turned out to be the pet of their Camp Leader. And not even her dog. No no, it had been a cat. Apparently Thomas had devised a plan to sneak out one night and prove it, taking with him a pillowcase of meat he'd borrowed from the camp kitchens.

"On the bright side, he made a new friend that night, huh Tommo?"

Newt laughed, the thought of an eight-year old Thomas sneaking through the dark with his pillowcase full of steak and sausages being ambushed by a tabby cat completely precious. Thomas was picking at a damp patch on the tablecloth, his cheeks coated in what might be a permanent red blush as he hummed in response. Newt looked at him properly, wondering how long his friend had looked so despondent without him noticing.

Normally he kept a close eye on Thomas when the brunette was anywhere near him. Not because the younger boy's presence sent tingles up his spine. Of course not. But he had grown pretty good at scouting Thomas's mood, nipping in to brighten the slightest hint of despondency. But Thomas looked a little down now, and Newt felt bad. He felt guilty that he'd encouraged Newt to spill everything, remembering that Thomas wasn't truly as confident as he sometimes came across.

There was shy side he kept so well hidden people who didn't know him didn't see it and those who knew often forgot it was there.

"Sounds just like Tommy." he offered softly, his eyes watching Thomas's fingers move. "Even cats can't escape his friendship."

Minho chuckled, snorting in agreement, but Thomas flicked a brief glance his way, a look in his brown eyes that Newt recognised from the day before. In fact he recognised it from several moments during their afternoon of Monopoly and stories. Thomas had given him that look when he'd introduced Minho, and when Minho had wrestled the Water Works card from Newt's grasp after he'd refused to hand it over before he saw the money.

It was a strange and confusing look and didn't sit well in his usually warm eyes.

"Yo, shanks. Miss me?"

They turned to see Teresa, standing with her hand on her hip and her eyebrow raised as though expecting an answer. Newt and Aris shared a grin, relishing what was about to happen. Newt chuckled, resting his elbow on Minho's shoulder as he leaned against the broad-shouldered boy.

"Fifteen minutes my arse." he retorted, before shooting her a sly look. "Hey Teresa. Meet Minho."