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fic for TMR has been updated (for anyone interested) 

link on page!

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happy 24th birthday, will poulter!

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Chapter - 3

“Just now, she said this?” Will asked, clearly in shock.

Both he and Thomas had just driven onto the campus grounds, having used the condo as a starting point. And the two were close, the blonde made mental note of it the second he’d noticed–less than a five minute drive from his so coveted condominium. So she hadn’tbeen dishonest over that, at least. Thomas gave a nod–just then noticing what Will had asked of him, all the while distractedly searching for what he hoped were a main building of sorts among the lot. It wasn’t the largest of University campuses, …but of course, that was an assumption on his part. All he had to go off of were assumptions in this realm. What could he have possibly known about a secondary school at any rate? He’d never been.

“Not a minute before I rang you,” he answered finally, leaning and searching (with his neck craned at an uncomfortable angle) through the windshield.  

Will was gawking at him, stupefied to the point of a gaping mouth, “And a year she’s been dragging you on with this!”

“Just about. Right,” Thomas answered.

“Fuck, man!” Will shook his head, letting his outrage ring out, while Thomas’ own remained honed in and channeled into focus, into planning, “And you’re ju–lookit you, man! I’m more upset than you are! What the fuck’s that about!”

William still was lowly verbalizing his umbrage, but now he did it to the view that passed by his windowside, with Thomas tossing a glance his way before spurting out a raspberry of his laughing.

“What d'you want me to do, Will!? I put this all together a half-minute before I told you! Then I had to ride my bike over to yours, now I have to drive this bloody thing ‘round when I don’t know where I’m going–I’m not gonna veer and kill us both over it just to… display a state of mourning that pleases you!” He was still giggling to himself, seeing Will shaking his head and trying to conceal his own amusement before Thomas started up at him again.

“–Are you gonna help?! I brought you along to lend a hand, not to live out my feelings for me, you idiot–”

“Oh, sorry!” Will jumped erect, now no longer disguising his own chuckles as he joined Tom’s peering through the front window, staring to the buildings before them, as well as the ones passing by, “Sorry, mate! Sorry, sorry, what do you need me to do?”

“I need to find the… central building, er– whatever it is 'round here,” Thomas answered, cursing lowly to himself when he nearly ran a red light, but continuing to search with the same blatant look of obliviousness covering his face, “What’s the main part of a University?”

“You’re asking me!?” Will asked, his head whisking to the driver, and a laugh of disbelief being snorted out of him, “I’m the one that’s supposed to know?”

“W–you’re the younger of us!” Tom stammered, failing to lay out his logic as convincingly as it had been presented in his mind. It had made sense when it was still a thought, but aloud… admittedly, it fell short.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean for your plan?”

“You mean to tell me you haven’t been to uni before?” The blonde asked. Will watched as Thomas’ gaze darted between both him and the road while he continued to drive, and he spread a scattered gesture of his hands to their surroundings.

“Not this one!” he answered honestly.

“Well, Christ–!” The car lurched to a stop, bringing them to a harsh and sudden halt just underneath a yellow light. Now they were both equally as blank on ideas, “What did I bloody bring you along for, then, if you’re gonna be useless, Will!”

“Oh, come on, don’t turn into a dick over this,” Will tossed a flippant wrist, though they both knew perfectly well that they were on the verge of bursting into laughter yet again, “Nelson and Clarke could bloody navigate, we could do the same.”

“…I don’t think those were their names–”

“Pull over to this bloke, here,” Will neverminded whatever it was Thomas had begun to say, seeing (who he hoped was) a student, a bit further up the street from them. Once the light were green again, they pulled up to his side, coming to a much easier stop, which caught the boy’s attention.

“Hey, there! Mate,” Will called out, rolling down his window and hanging out of it as comfortably as he could by the arm, “…where would we go about getting our guest badges for the day, we’re a touch lost here.”

“You mean The Welcome Center?” The boy asked, pointing ahead of them when he was given a nod from the gingerheaded actor, “Right up there; pass the next two lights; it’ll take you to three buildings, right? One in the middle’s the one.”

“Appreciate that; Very kind of you, really. Thanks, man. Thank you, so much,” Will continued, seeing quite clearly the growing discomfort in the stranger’s grins and nods to him with each gesture of his gratitude, “You’re a life saver, truly. Thousand times, thank you,” Those words were muffled, and eventually cut off as Thomas rolled the window up on him, and the the elder of the two rolled his eyes heavily at Will’s cackling as he drove off.

“Idiot,” Tom smirked. He guiltily sped, to avoid stopping at any other lights and flagging down any other students. Quite intentional.

“…this is it?” he asked once their direction of the street ended.

“He clearly said the one in the middle–you didn’t even pay attention to the man!”

Again, Thomas ignored Will, and fought the grin he wore, pulling to the nearest parking space that he could, and looking to his passenger while he turned off the engine, all with an air of impatient expectancy.

There was a shared silence when that look was only mirrored back to him, thus leaving the entire car in a thick stillness while they both glared the other down.

“Oh. Right, yeah, you’re the one going in,” Thomas finally broke the stalemate, pointing toward the building, “Sorry, I thought you’d assumed by now, that… you were doing that.”

“Are you serious!” Will shot up straight, his eyes widened, and yet again, he was reduced to gesturing wildly, cluelessly around them, “Y–Tom, you’re my mate, yeah, I mean, we’re buds and everything but–you have got to be the worst planner… strategist, whatever it is. The worst that’s ever inhabited the earth. At very least the worst in England. But, I mean–legitimately, I would wager the full planet on this.”

“I think I’m doing rather well, actually,” Tom cut him off, “I mean, I got us here,” he began to count off on his fingers, but was thoroughly cut off in his tracks before getting any further word out.

“I got us here, I’m the one who–Googled, firstly,–then asked and got directions, and list-ened to them.”

“None of that matters, I was driving,” Thomas brushed off the other. But soon after, he reached into the backseat, being clear in the matter of changing the subject, “Do you want my helmet, I brought it along in case.”

Will had turned toward the backseat the moment he’d seen him reaching, but even Tom’s asking didn’t work to effectively stave the confusion, “…what would I do with that?”

“You would wear it, obviously…” Thomas shrugged, maintaining his frown and stoic face, “It’s for if you don’t wanna be recognized. We need to be quick, y'know. I wanna get this done before Jo has the chance to drag out this rubbish any further.”

“I don’t need your helmet, you git,” Will answered, his eyes rolling and his hand on the doorhandle, “What am I getting in here, her schedule? What’s the girl’s name?”

“No, that’s what you’re getting,” Tom said, “We’re getting her name.”

Yet again, another silence enveloped them both, Will staring to Thomas in complete incredulation, and his hand slipping down from where he’d gotten ready to exit the car.

“And how d'you suggest I do that…” he asked.

“You go in there,” Thomas spoke slowly on purpose, like he knew he was in the presence of an inferior mind, “and ask… whoever it is they’ve got working, for a directory er whatever it is they use.”

“A student directory,” Will said after him.

“You got it. I believe in you, man, go bring it in.”

By then, Thomas had reached over Will’s lap, opening the door for him, as well as doing him the courtesy of unlatching his safety belt. He could hear the mutterings under the other’s breath as he stood and shut the door, but waited patiently as Will climbed the extensive stairs and entered the place. He awaited even more patiently for him to return with whatever apparatus would hold their student logs and information as time lapsed.

But the minutes multiplied with him sitting alone, and after too much time for his liking had passed, Thomas reached for his phone. It was in impeccable timing, too, with the thing having just started buzzing the minute it were in his hands. It was an incoming call. One from Will Poulter.

“What is holding you up?” He answered.

“Can’t bring it out of the building, my dear. Campus rules,” Will answered, “Go ahead and lock on your pea-head helmet; you’re gonna have to come in here. I’ve got no idea what the girl looks like.”

That drew out a groan. But Tom was quick to act, bringing his helmet with him, and hurrying his way up the steps to join his friend inside the building.

The moment he pulled open the glass door, Thomas slipped to where he’d seen Will, avoiding the opportunity for any greeting to come to him that would delay the task at hand any further. He noticed the freckled, younger actor sitting off against the wall of the place, situated in the middle of a small row of seats that were placed in adequate sunlight through the windows of the building’s front.

“What the hell are those?” He asked, coming to a stop before him, and seeing three massive volumes at his side. Will’s brows lifted, nearly in an 'I-told-you-so’ expression before he answered at all.

“What can I tell you, luv, they have quite a student body here,” he finally did, patting the two that weren’t in his lap to recruit Thomas’ assistance. Groaning in irritation, Tom sat at his side, picking up the top binder and placing it in his lap.

“See if they have a section for foreign students,” he added quickly, scanning through the tiny pictures laid before him on the pages, “She isn’t from England; surely they have these things categorized.”

“–you don’t know what year she is?” Will asked. The both of them spoke in hushed voices, not wanting any attention drawn to them.

“It didn’t come up in conversation, Will, the woman was trying to take my house from me. We weren’t exactly pleasant with each other. Just look and see if they have a page for–”

“U.S. students,” Will read. Thomas shut the book in his own lap, turning his discriminating attention to the register at the other’s. Will awaited in silence, watching Thomas closely scour the entire first page, before flipping it at the shake of his head. “What’s she look like, I’ll check this half.”

“Dark everything,” Thomas answered, “Heavy hair, brown eyes…” his gaze lifted a moment in a squint, in an attempt to bring her up in his memory again for further detail.

“Beauty mark on her throat?” Will asked. And it instantly sparked a lightbulb in the other.

“Yeah. Let’s see,” He asked. Seeing the finger he pointed at the small picture, Thomas peered more closely, and took up the extra logs they’d collected.

“That’s her.”

Will nodded, and watched as Thomas secured his helmet after reading her name. He could figure that his cue was to stay put until the other was out of the building, and once he’d exchanged some words with the girl at the desk, Thomas shared a glance Will’s way before making his exit.

Even then, he waited a clear five minutes before standing, and gathering the printed directories again, returning them to the front and thanking the attendant politely.

He grinned at the snappiness in Tom’s face (now visible, with his motorcycle helmet removed), discernible even from outside of the car as he descended the steps. He were even expecting some sort of sharp-tongued nagging to meet him as he rejoined the blond in his car again. “So? What’d'you do?”

“What d'you mean?” Thomas asked, deadpan, starting the engine, “I’m her coworker. The girl’s car’s being towed, so I needed to know which class she were in. So I can give her a ride to pick up her vehicle.”

“Clever bastard.” Will held out his hand as they pulled out, and Thomas readily slapped it with his own–their own manner of congratulating, before they headed off for some other, unspecified area of the grounds. ___

“The number’s are getting close here,” Will said, his voice muted with all the concentration he devoted to spotting their target.

“…yeah…” Thomas agreed–remembering the building’s address he’d been told, and still with his neck craned, his frown deepened from both his searching as well we the sun in his eyes, “You figure we’d be better off parking or no?”

Will waited a moment, checking his watch while he took the moment to contemplate, “We might. The hour’s coming up. They should be letting out, I suppose. You don’t wanna burst in there–helmet or otherwise.”

That much made sense. He would cause a scene if he interrupted a class. And that was an exact event to avoid with what they were doing. So, around a corner, they decided to park at the correct building–a few stories high, and no doubt holding several classrooms within. But a few minutes after the hour, Will nudged him, and the front door of the building opened to a string of students exiting.

“Alright,” Thomas undid his seatbelt, narrowing his eyes to look closer, “Now you can be really useful, Will.”

“Right. Because I haven’t been this whole time I mean–” Will shrugged, sarcastic, and with his seat almost entirely leaned back with the sudden urge for a midday rest..

“Keep your eye on me.” Thomas said, but faltered soon after, “Nah, no, keep your eye on yourphone actually. I’m going out t'wait for her. I’ll buzz you when I need you to get out.”

“Get out and do what?” Will asked, seeing Thomas leaving the driver’s side. He’d heard Will’s question, however, and leaned back into the window by his elbows, giving him as brief an answer as possible.

“I’ll need you to draw attention.”

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                                   Chapter 3 || 7:00pm CST

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A slowburn Thomas Sangster fic

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Dylan O’Brien attends The Maze Runner panel for Nerd HQ 2013

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Chapter - 2

The moment he heard the Starbucks door 'ding', closing off the air conditioning behind him, Thomas had known he made mistake not getting his coffee iced. Normally, he could gauge the odds of his being stopped outside of any place he happened to enter--and in turn, he could further decipher if it were more beneficial to order his coffee hot or cold. The more people who would want to stop him, the less logical it would be to waste money over heat that would be lost by the time he had a moment to himself to pay attention to his drink. 

But, in his current mindset, Thomas’ radar was muddled. So, by the time he'd given his hugs and taken his selfies, and graciously said his 'thank you's to the compliments that showered him, he was left to a lukewarm cup. It was befitting, though-- completely harmonious to his attitude as he whipped out his phone again and searched through his contacts. By the time the line began ringing in his ear, he was already grimacing at the taste of cold caramel. "Thomas!" The voice at the other end cheerily greeted, but rather than matching this enthusiasm, he 'humphed' a brief, unamused sort of chuckle to himself.

"Hello, Joanna."

"Ooh, what's this..." the woman's tone changed at the dullness of his greeting. Evidently, she'd sensed the dissatisfaction in him, and therefore, she quickly shifted her gears to remedy this, "You hardly sound as chipper as you should, love!" 

"Oh? And how d'you figure," he asked, keeping his questions as deadpan as his statements, "Have I missed something?"

"Looks like it, yeah! You're about a signature away from owning your place, ...most would mark that a joyous occasion!" She said again. By the sound of things, she was expecting Thomas to be jumping at this declaration. He wasn't.

"Mm," he hummed around another unpleasant, near coagulated sip of his cappuccino, "I swear I've heard this from you once before... some time before New Year, that I recall--"

"No--but I mean it now."

"You 'mean it now'," he echoed her, now dubious as he searched his pockets for his cigarettes, "Oh! Well, then, that’s my mistake, innit? I keep forgetting I’m new to this real estate... buying... situation. You’ll forgive me, won’t you--I was under some naive assumption that you’d meant it the first time."

"Oh, don’t do this, Thomas, darling. You’ve misunderstood me," Now she was tutting at him, feigning hurt at him even saying such a thing, of accusing her (however indirectly) of dishonesty, "Of course I meant it before. I just hadn't known the bidding would go this far."

"Mhmm... but it has," he filled in this part for her, sparing his agent her professional pride, but driving to his point nonetheless, "So, what's it that has you so positive I've got it, then...--out of the blue?"

"Oh, the other buyer does!"

Thomas' brows popped at that. This couldn't have been feasible, from any angle he looked at it. And yet, oddly enough, Joanna sounded peculiarly sure of herself, ...a fact which lit his suspicions even more than she'd managed to previously.

"...does she..?"

"Absolutely! There is no - possible - way she could go any higher than this last offer, you have my word; you are as good as settled in, my dear."

"Well. That  c e r t a i n l y  wasn't the impression she gave this Saturday last," Thomas said, his lips tight from speaking whilst lighting a ciggy between them, "In fact, she were somewhat vehement to the contrary."

"--You ran across her?"

"I did," he answered... far more coolly than how she had squealed the question at him, "Just after you'd left, actually."

"Ah..." Joanna said. She paused with it, lending the moment to contemplation, seemingly, "Fiery git, ey?"

"Positively combustible," he agreed, tapping ashes away, "But I didn't exactly give her the warmest of greetings..." He had to acknowledge that much. But, he was digressing. "Anyway--"

"Yes. Anyway," she interrupted, " Whatever impression she gave, it was a bluff, I can assure you."

He frowned a bit at that, "How is that?"

"I have it from a source," She answered, and he could hear her smiling over it.

"Source?" He repeated after her a second time. His face scrunched with more, growing perplexity, "Fucksake, you sound like a gossip columnist."

"I simply meant I know the agency she's looking through, and I've heard from someone more than reliable."

"Christ, Joanna,” he droned, scratching his thumb along his eyebrow while his cigarette idly burned, “don't pull me into your tittle-ing, I beg you." 

"I'm not! Thomas, you've asked me how I've come to be sure; Now I start to tell you and you piss and moan over it before I can even get out a single wo--"

"Alright, alright, then," he cut her off, holding up his hand now, as if to stop her, despite them being clear across the city from one another, "You've made your point. Go on."

There was a bracing sort of pause on her end, even after Thomas had given the go ahead, almost as if she suspected him to renig and hang up. But he was silent, and she eased her way into continuing to share.

"Well. This entire time, it turns out she's only ever had the original asking price-- all of the other additional funds she's been acquiring from dipping elsewhere," she giddily chattered, making Thomas' eyes roll, and making him feel a thorn of moral conflict suddenly being jabbed into his side, "Such a pity-- American student or some other... but your good luck comes in here: She's no more tuition money left to lend to her cause, and even if she had, seeing you would most assuredly frighten her off now, knowing your stock!"

She steadily carried on after that, but Tom had blocked her out by then. His frown deepened in contemplation, and his lungs drew in more of his nicotine while he looked off--caught in his own thinking. He wasn't sure what she’d been in the middle of saying by the time he’d fallen back into listening, but he had already decided to waste no more time with her rumor mongering.

"Yeah, thanks, Jo,” he rushed, “that's fantastic--I've got to run, now."

"Hold on, aren't you going to put in your final?"

"I'll get back to you with it." 

She didn't sound too very pleased when he hung up after that. Jo was still yammering on even as he disconnected the line, but Thomas remained unaffected. He had another phone call to make.

"...Back with an update already?" Will laughed as he answered, picking up without a 'hello', or any other conventional greeting.

"Yeah," Thomas' voice cracked a bit, catching the contagious chuckling before he said, "New developments; couldn't be helped... that, and there’s been a change of plans, so... we’ve a little work ahead of us."

"We?! Us?! Oh, look at this! Are you finally accepting my services, then, princess?" Will asked. Thomas rolled his eyes, chucking both his coffee and his cigarette butt.

"Shut up and tell me where you are, I need a number two on this."

Thomas had reached Will's home within the next twenty minutes, being met with the other awaiting (and looking) entirely too eagerly for him as he pulled up. The second Thomas let down his kickstand, he could see stern refusal tampering the face Will wore. It made Thomas snicker, and he removed his helmet in sync with the swing of his leg over to dismount his motorbike.

"What's this, luv!" He laughed out, "You look like you've seen a ghost...!"

"I won't,” Will responded immediately, “You aren't getting me on it."

"Oh, but darling..." Thomas taunted again, but Will spoke over whatever he'd been getting at. 

"Whatever jokes you want to bloody make, do it--but I’m driving. Wherever it is we're going. You aren’t getting me on one of those bloody things," Will greeted him with this, laughing at himself, but still eyeing the motorcycle in skepticism. He hadn’t needed the reiterating. Just the expression on him was enough to tell Thomas that he would not be riding it with him.

"We can take your car, but I'll need your hands free, mate. If you trust me," Thomas answered.  It didn’t look to matter either way to will; They made for the younger male's vehicle, Will unlocking it for the both of them and allowing Tom to take the driver's side. He could see Thomas' cell being held out to him once he closed the passenger door beside him, and looked up to the blond with a lifted brow.

"You can google and all that whatnot, yeah?" Tom asked. Will snorted, taking the phone from him.

"Yeah, of course, man. What d'you need?"

"Address to the condo’s in there," he said, starting the engine, and distractedly giving instruction as he pulled out of his friend's driveway and onto the road, "I need you to see if you can pull up the nearest Universities to it for me."

"There's..." Will stretched out the word, distracted as his thumb twiddled about the keys, "Yeah. Found it."

"You can get the directions as well?"

"Already done," Will answered again. The phone itself confirmed it, saying 'Calculating Route' in an automated, female voice not a half-second behind him, "Now. Mind telling me what's going on?"

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Thomas Brodie Sangster in an Interview not Really Caring

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Chapter- 1

"Whoa, whoa, hey..." Dylan finally plucked the cigarette from his mouth, wearing that same preteenish grin he always did when his humor was about to surface. It was a precursor they were all used to, and once the others' eyes all followed his, they were already snickering to themselves, seeing Thomas eyeing his phone while the majority of them took a smoke break.

"Something's up, here. Wha--does no one see this?" The brunet said again, cracking up a little himself before Thomas' gaze finally lifted, looking about to all of them in confusion that grew on his innocent frowning.

"What?"

"This is the most I've ever seen you look at your phone. I mean like, ever, dude. Just in these last, what--couple seconds," they had all erupted into laughter by then, making Thomas smile begrudgingly, letting his cell drop out of his sight, "That's more than you've looked at your phone since I've known you."

"Yeah, yeah, alright, man," he laughed along, pressing his thumb into the screen to blacken it, and shaking his head as all of them began to nosily ask what it was he was so eager over, "It's nothing! Honestly, I'm just...it's my realtor, 's all."

As he lifted his eyebrows, silently adding a 'really, that's all', to his statement, his castmates all glanced to eachother again, hurriedly bursting into another bout of laughter at the blond's expense. 

"It's your realtor. Really," Kaya snorted before dragging again, still grinning hard enough to bring her sparkling blues to a squint.

"Okay, now...! That’s what’s up! Who's your realtor, Tbs?" Dexter asked. And he didn't do it in pure intention. By now, Thomas had caught on to what it was they were all rotating their mob-like teasing toward.

"I'm not with my realtor," he spaced out the words, attempting somewhat to insert seriousness into them, despite his bursting into laughter anyway, "Seriously, I mean it! I'm tryin' to get this condo! I've been trying to get it. For over a year, now."

"Bro, the same house?" Ki Hong interceded, "Why? In the world!?"

"What's holdin' it up?" Dylan asked right after him.

"I really want it. Like I've wanted it since I turned--what--twenty-six," Thomas nodded with his words to Ki Hong, toying with the bridge of his nose, then using the same hand to toy through his hair, "I waited ages for one in the building to become vacant--first off, ...then afterward they rebuilt and renovated and, then, fine'lly, after all that, I put an offer on it, but every bloody time I do, someone bids over me," he said, looking somewhat wistfully to his phone screen again, as though he were waiting for a message that was not coming, "The same bastard. Every time."

"And you seriously can't just look somewhere else," Dylan asked again. Though, Thomas seemed pretty adamant over what he wanted, so it was more of a final check to make, before Dylan offered his advice at a different angle, "Well then just shell it out; why don't you just overblow the bidding?"

"Nah, I don't want to throw money around like that," Thomas shook his head, answering honestly, "...I hate the bastard, but I want to be fair... just raise it sensibly 'til I can win out. He just won't give the fuck in." He shed harsh words toward his faceless adversary, but did so with good humor, not meaning any true malice toward whoever they were, "We're already about to end up paying more than the property value on it even is, at this rate."

"You want us to go with you to a walk-through or something?" Ki Hong asked, too excited, and grinning, "So we can like--BOO-YAH whoever it is, y'know, once they see who they're up against?"

"No," Thomas chuckled again, "I don't want to 'boo-yah' anyone. I've got it handled, don't worry about it."

Just then, his screen lit up to life, and Thomas immediately unlocked it to read what had come in. They all--now personally invested--stood in a matching anticipation, and when his head lulled back, they sighed out their condolences for him.

"Did it again, yeah?" Will asked, patting Thomas on the arm.

"I'm gonna be middle-aged, time this goes through..." Thomas groaned, throwing out his smoke and snubbing it on the ground.

"Thomas?"

His head whipped around, hearing his name, along with the subtle clicking of heels on the open floor. He'd been standing there for at least half an hour, staring out of the lower balcony, and the artificial turf and lush plants they'd gotten onto this high rise. He hummed his acknowledgement at being called, rubbing over his jaw with a single hand as the other was wrapped around his chest, holding himself loosely at the curve of his ribcage.

"I've gotta run; got a meeting," the redheaded real estate agent said to him, looking at her watch, rather than to her client as she hurried to the door, "Listen, stay as long as you like, just turn everything off whenever you're ready to go, yes? You remember where the key is?"

"Erm, yeah. Outside outlet," he nodded, thanking her before she bade him goodnight and let the door click heavily to a close at his back. She'd hardly broken him out of his reverie, even with that much, and he was sunken fully into it yet again the moment she exited.

Thomas hadn't known exactly how long after that, that he'd stood there; he’d just known that it were enough to have seen the sky darken from a glowing orange to a now luminescent indigo. For a moment, he had trouble deciphering whether or not it were later the same evening, or early the next morning. But his senses snapped erect at last for him to check his phone and find out... and to his relief. It had been only a few hours. That willed down his initial (albeit slight) panic. For then.

But it was reignited again, the moment he heard some minor commotion at the door. It made him turn, made his arms drop to his side as the sounds of a key turning rang out. Soon after, the noise was followed by the full opening of the door.

"...excuse me," Thomas called out, making the young woman jump at him just as he had at her. His face was frowning, as it always did, but now there was an affronted quality to it. And apparently that same quality had filtered into his voice as he looked at her, "This isn't an open house."

"I’m aware of that...  doesn't look like it stopped you," she immediately responded, having the same level of offense in her own voice, "Why are you in here--who are you?"

"I'm the buyer." he answered, hearing smugness dignifying his accent. She didn't seem too convinced of that however, not from what he could tell of her expression.

"The b--,” she cut herself off, looking him from toe to head with her eyes in slits, “look... go home, kid. Now. I don’t know what you’re playing with in here, or why you’re sneaking around in this building, or any of that--and I don’t care, either. It’s not funny, I’m not laughing. So go on. Or I’m gonna call your parents. Or the cops. You're like sixteen."

"--I'm twenty-seven," he spoke over her. And it were oddly enough that he did in such a manner. That misconception--while usually flattering to him--now, brought his eyes to roll, and an extreme annoyance to well inside him, "Now, what are you doing in here. You know, this is trespassing under English law."

"Not to the buyer of the property it isn't."

Thomas's eyes narrowed at her, both in incredulation as well as irritation--both of which were unmatched in him, up to this very moment, "Yes. The buyer of the property. Which, as I stated before, is me."

"I heard you the first time you told that lie!" she retorted again, "I just put in my offer for this condo, I have been for months. I'm the buyer."

"You w--" Thomas froze then, feeling his heartbeat lurch, and begin to pound adrenaline into him. And he kept that way for a while, his fingers now up and pressing into his temples, and his head subtly shaking as he released snobbish, disbelieving snorts of laughter, "You what?" He finally said again, as though in those long seconds, he'd relived the disappointment... and the fury he'd been dragged through the past year... all just in that very moment, "You're the one who's been keeping me out of my house for a bloody year?"

"Your house?! ...oh my motherf--" she trailed, biting her lips and letting her nostrils flare, apparently feeling the same burning frustration that her component were, "Oh my God, it's you. You’re him... You son of a bitch," she said. But now there was something of a smirk on her face. Not a friendly one, but more of one that someone would wear in the satisfaction of finally being face to face with something she'd intended to destroy. It was oddly cinematic, if he were honest. But Thomas hadn't the time to really mull on this, with is own rage blaring.

They both stood there in these matching states, unable to come to the belief that the person before them had been the one keeping them from their dream home, and driving them out of both their money and minds alike. But it were Thomas that finally spoke up first, lifting his palm upward to gesture at her in skepticism before huffing. 

"You're American!" He said, having the volume of his attitude reverberate back down to them from the second floor of the condominium. 

"You're a little fucking kid!" She answered back, having taken extreme offense at what he'd said.

"Will you stop that--! I'm likely older than you are, first things," Thomas briefly swept the same hand again, this time palm down, in a gesture that told of his refusal to touch on the subject of his age again, "Secondly: why on earth would you want this condo?"

"I'm a student; it's close to my school. Not that that is any of your business. Why do you want it!?"

"I wanted the security of a high-rise and doorman, if you must know."

"Why, are you playing hide-n-seek?" She asked, dripping in sarcasm, "You don't wanna get tagged so you thought you’d buy a condominium?"

"I am a twenty-seven year old ad-ult," Thomas said again, his voice still matching hers in being loud enough to bounce from the walls and high ceiling, "And I am an actor. I can't afford someone with dangerous intentions finding out where I live without adequate security."

"You are not an actor."

"I am--...Christ, are you bloody serious," he asked lowly--half to her, half to himself for keeping up this argument as he ran a hand up his forehead and into his hair.

"Denzel Washington is an actor."

"I'm not Denzel Washington."

"You aren't an actor, either," she quipped, "If you were, you'd just go buy a house somewhere--a mansion. And have your own security."

"And if you were a student, you'd be off living on campus or with friends, so I guess you're just a big a liar as I am."

"A liar living in this condo," she said, folding her arms indignantly at him. He huffed another laugh, nodding an 'oh really?' as he matched her posture.

"Counting on that, are you?" He asked. She cocked an eyebrow at him, silently giving her affirmation, and he snickered, "Because I rather doubt it."

"Do you 'rotha' dowte eh'?" She mimicked him and his accent, sneering and rolling her eyes.

"I'd say so, yeah," he laughed again, "If you're a still a student at this age, and just moving here, from the sounds of it," he said, gesturing to her again, "You've no doubt got piling American student loan debts from your college years in the States. So even if you were to win out over me, I doubt by the time you graduate, you'd be able to afford staying here much further past a year--especially given how much you've driven up the asking price of this place. That is, unless they're paying you to get your education over there nowadays. Or are your parents here helping you out..?"

Her face dropped after he said this, and subsequently, Thomas felt an instant guilt pang sharply in his chest. It was meant merely as another jab, not as a death blow. But he'd apparently stricken a few chords within all of that, and the second she grabbed her purse from the floor, he felt worse.

"Look, just tell me why it is you want this place," he called out once her back was turned to him, and receding toward the door, “Out of all places.”

"Go fuck yourself, actor," She said deadpan. 

"Hey, I'm sorry, okay?" He called out again, feeling too stubborn to chase after the girl, but not too deep off in his pride to keep from expressing regrets if he'd honestly hurt her feelings, "Christ, you haven't exactly charming to me from the second you barged in here, have you. And you've been blocking me from buying the home I've wanted for about three years for ages, now. Be fair, at least."

"It's the closest place both to the school, and the fucking airport at the same time, in case I get overwhelmed and wanna go home. What the hell kinda friends do you think I have here, I just moved--like you said. So what--! I wanna live somewhere nice! And I don't wanna be around all those people in a dorm, all in someone's space, anyway, I'd rather be as by myself as possible. And I wanna live somewhere nice as long as I'm by my freakin' self!"

He waited for the ringing of her yells to die down, his arms still folded, but the fire in his disposition having waned now, for truce's sake.

"And the two extra bedrooms?" He asked, brows elevated further.

"I wanted them for my mom. And my best friend. They're both still back home."

He sighed, letting his arms fall by his sides, and at last shrugging. "...was that so hard?" he asked again, throwing some aggravation into the words, but still more calm than he'd been, "...And I don't see the point in running out and buying a mansion and my own security or any of those things unless I have a family who needs it. And I don't. So it's just... pretentious. I just need a doorman. And some extra rooms in case I wanted a few people over as well. I'm not exactly the most extroverted of people. I like my own space," he said, "And it's more convenient for me to be closer to the airport as well, to be honest. I travel a lot."

"Whatever," she sighed, turning to the door again.

"Does that mean you're backing off, then," he asked to her back.

"It means kiss my ass."

The door clicked again behind her, and Thomas groaned to himself, hearing her replace the key in the outside outlet clip.

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Just an idea I had, that I will start fairly soon. This is an invite to anyone else who adores this guy as much as I do to come and have a read!

I was going to put this on instagram, but I am faaaarrr too long winded as a writer for it to work, so it would just flow easier if I were to write and update on tumblr for now. I Hope to see you guys soon! I plan on posting the first chapter around 7:00pm Central time. And I want this to be a long, slow burn as a work, so get comfortable with me! lol

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Either, a) this is the hottest picture of tbs to have ever existed b) there is a hotter picture I haven’t seen yet Or c) you’re wrong.

HE’S SO HOT.

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