Chapter Thirty Six
That night Newt pushed open Thomas's bedroom door to find both him and Tomás sprawled across the floor, controllers in hand as they battled in what looked to be some dinosaur/bug crossover game. Newt couldn't remember the last time he and Thomas had played video games, because Newt himself was pretty rubbish at them and Thomas always won.
It made him feel an uncomfortably acidic feeling in his lower chest, and Newt was appalled at himself to recognise it as jealousy, pure and simple. He swallowed, pushing the door closed behind himself, and wandered over. He was about to sit by Thomas's other side, but just as he stepped up the brunette moved over, widening the space between the two boys and flicking Newt a half-glance.
"Heyy, Newt."
Newt felt better instantly, his grin wide and easy as he stepped over his friend to settle cross-legged between them.
"Hey, Tommy."
As he had expected, Tomás grinned.
"Bonjour, Newton."
The blonde rolled his eyes as Thomas sniggered.
"I told you, it's Newt. Not Newton." he mimicked, over-exaggerating the sing-song quality of the french boy's voice just a little.
His friends merely gave him matching grins in response. Newt sighed, rifling through his rucksack for his workbook to hide the way his face wanted to laugh.
"You two are terrible together. You'll be the doom of all mankind."
"Dramatic." responded Tomás, sounding entirely non-plussed.
"Indeed." Thomas agreed, in a bad mimicry of Newt's own accent, earning a musical giggle from Tomás.
Newt said nothing, but shifted his knee into the brunette's side purely by accident. Or at least the wide-eyed look he gave him said accident. The smirk prowling behind his lips said otherwise.
While they battled and muttered and yelled and yowled insults and complaints about unfair three-combo whatevers, Newt worked on his homework, letting the welcoming atmosphere seep into his skin. Despite the way he often felt awkward and uncomfortable around either of the two, Newt had to admit that it was worth putting up with for their friendship.
Tomás had wound his way into their group with the same dexterity of Minho, as though there had always been a space there, waiting for him. He was charming and funny and a little shy, and Newt had to grudgingly admit that they were compatible in many ways. It had become difficult to dislike him, and was now near impossible, and Newt felt absolutely wretch about it because he was beginning to worry that his heart would soon truly be in a dilemma.
Aris had backed off after their conversation, although Newt couldn't help but notice the way the younger boy watched them sometimes, wistfully, and he seemed utterly incapable of hiding his grin whenever Tomás or Newt himself did anything the Oboist could even remotely construe as flirtatious. It still drove him crazy, but at least now Aris did attempt to his his squealing fanboy madness. Sometimes.
Teresa seemed determined to keep a distance between herself and their newest friend, not at all cold or cutting (the way Newt knew she could be,) but aloof enough that they hadn't yet made that step towards… What? True friendship? Newt tried to shake it all from his brain. It was giving him another headache and he just wished it were simpler.
Tomás seemed to like Newt, or at least could be argued to. Teresa murmured quietly to Newt about it sometimes and rather than taunt him she seemed determined to fix this fr him. Which was nice and all, but on the other hand Newt could see how much Tomás was trying to win her friendship, and he could see that Teresa actually wanted to give him it.
It was all far too confusing and Newt just wished he could approach Tomás about it, but that would mean giving over the secret of the name under his wristband, and whenever he considered it he quailed at the thought and changed his mind. He'd shown Teresa and Aris and that was more than enough to get him into the deepest trouble he could possibly ever be in, short of murdering someone. Or putting chewing gum in Teresa's hair.
The crux of the whole matter was that Newt simply didn't know.
He didn't know the name on Tomás's wrist.
He didn't know if he was the Tommy he was supposed to fall in love with.
He didn't know what to do about the beginning stages of attraction he could feel taking hold.
He didn't know how to go about finding out.
He didn't know how to just accept it.
He didn't know what on Earth he was expected to do, because it wasn't like he could just ask his parents, and, more importantly,
He didn't have the first clue as to how to go about removing Thomas from his heart.
Because such a thing seemed monstrously difficult, and felt impossible. All it took was a single glance in Thomas's direction, for those caramel eyes to turn his way and that stupid, at times infuriating, fucking gorgeous cocky smirk to cross the younger boy's mouth and Newt was a goner all over again.
Practically living in each other's pockets wasn't helping at all, but regardless of how adamantly Newt decided he would sleep in his own house on his own, by the time it came to the end of the night, habit and his worn-out defences won out, and he would end up back where he started, head-over-heels for the sunny brunette and wishing guiltily that Tomás had never stepped into his life.
Which was a shucking harsh thing to wish for, and only made him feel like more of a crank than he could handle.
"Either that's a really thrilling question-sheet, or your brain's switched off again." came an amused murmur from his side, and when Newt blinked and turned it was to see Thomas grinning at him, a handful of popcorn half-way to his mouth and his eyes gleaming with that I caught you daydreaming look that always made Newt squirm just a little.
Because he so often read implications into it that couldn't possibly be there, like Thomas knowing Newt certainly was daydreaming, and about him. Newt scowled and stuck his tongue out, but it only made Thomas laugh. Newt glanced hopelessly to the other side in a vain attempt for back up, but found the spot empty. He twisted around in surprise to survey the room.
"He's gone home." Thomas informed him, the amusement still lacing his tone. "He did try to say goodbye but you've been switched off in Robot-Newt-Mode for about twenty minutes."
Newt could feel the heat rising in his face at the taunt and didn't respond to it, instead returning to find his place in his homework.
"Piss off." he said, when Thomas only grinned smugly and snorted as though he'd been proven right.
"You don't mean that." Thomas replied, lifting a remote from the floor beside him and pressing what Newt guessed to be the Play button, considering it made the TV spring to life and a familiar opening theme begin to play.
He must have completely zoned out, because Thomas had cleared away the game cases and controllers and put a DVD in the slot instead, without the blonde even noticing. Whoops.
"And I know you don't mean it because you'd miss me too much if I did indeed piss off."
Newt shook his head at Thomas's crap British accent, and unwound from his cross-legged bowed position, scraping one knee along Thomas's side completely on purpose. The brunette chucked a handful of popcorn at him and squirmed away with a laugh. It seemed Newt's touch tickled more than it hurt. Newt stretched out, popping the joints in his shoulders and doing something to loosen the tension in his muscles.
He didn't catch the way Thomas's gaze travelled over him, following the stretch as it rolled from toe to knee to back to neck, so he missed the emotion Thomas couldn't keep from his eyes, and he missed the way the brunette swallowed, the almost-sorrow that hid in the shadows at the corners of his mouth.
When he did look back at Thomas his friend was smirking, his eyes bright and gleaming as Newt rolled his eyes at his antics.
"Maybe I'd enjoy the peace and quiet." he responded, dragging pillows from the bed and propping himself up against the frame, his legs stretched out on the carpet underneath him.
Thomas laughed and moved his own nest of blanket and pillow, leaning heavily against Newt's side as their movie started. Newt reached up to press down the lamp switch, casting the room in shadow save for the flickering screen. Thomas was a welcome weight against his side, warm and familiar, and his arm dipped around the brunette's shoulders.
"I don't think so." Thomas replied, dropping his head onto Newt's shoulder. "I still think you'd miss my company more."
Newt huffed out a breath as his fingers took a trip to Thomas's hair without asking for permission, easily slipping into the gentle drag-through rhythm he knew Thomas loved as much as he did.
"I dunno, Tommy," he answered softly, quiet now in the embrace of the dark. "the peace and quiet sounds tempting."
Thomas hummed as their mutual favourite character walked onto the screen, the crunch of popcorn his response for the time being. Newt assumed that was it, a small smile crossing his face at winning, but it was short-lived.
"Tempting, maybe," Thomas yawned, almost to himself, pressing closer in a motion that could only be described as cuddling, "but I know you love me too much to really want me to piss off."
Newt swallowed, listening to the TV even though he wasn't currently capable of taking his eyes from the brunette under his arm. He watched the pale flash of his fingers as he trailed them through Thomas's hair, undeniable affection obvious in the motion. He didn't say anything in response, because how could he, truthfully?
He was screwed and he knew it, and his chest was tight and heavy with the knowledge of how much he loved his best friend. There was a flicker, like that of a candle beside the roar of a fire, of almost-fear that Thomas knew it too.