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newtmassangsters · 7 years ago

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Flowers & morning jogs - Newtmas AU

Newtmas OneShot - available on Ao3

Thomas never missed his morning jog, for two reasons. First, he liked to keep his body fit and healthy, and second, because it felt good following closely the same routine each day, it helped him keep his mind clear. Right, maybe there was a third motivation to his morning jogs. Or, at least, to why he chose to run in a neighbourhood that was at the other end of the city, extending his course by at least a mile. His friends would laugh at him for being so soft and choose a route only because it passed along a very pretty balcony covered with flowers.

But he couldn’t help himself the first time he saw it, still sweaty from the run he had just performed. The balcony was worth all the greenhouses he ever visited in his life. Not that Thomas was an expert in gardening, and probably the flowers growing by the window weren’t this exceptional, but Thomas could tell just by looking at it from down the street, how much the person who was taking care of the plants loved it. The whole balcony radiated love and care, and Thomas simply fell in love with that feeling. Every morning, he would wonder who could throw so much love and attention in gardening. Sometimes he imagined an old lady, watering each and every one of her plants in slow but experienced movements. Some other days, it was a little girl in his mind, learning about gardening and loving every moment of it. And, yes, when he felt bold and liked to dream crazy scenarios, he was picturing a boy, around his age, picking at every flower in such a handsome yet caring way.

And one day, about three months before he first spotted the garden, he saw him, the man from the balcony. He was a dirty-blond boy around Thomas’ age, just like the runner had ever dreamed, yet prettier than he could ever have imagined. Every morning, he would kneel by his plants, taking care of his garden with such attention, that Thomas could only watch in awe at how adorable he looked. He immediately fell for the blond, admiring his every movement. After his jog, on his way back, he would stop by the house, and observe the boy gardening on his balcony. Oh, how Thomas wished someone could care about him the way the boy cared about his flowers. But of course, the blond never noticed him, he was so focused on his garden, he never turned to see what happened in the street, where Thomas was.

In a way, Thomas was grateful the gardener never noticed him because he was terrified to ever talk to him. He felt like the blond was so much better than him, at everything. He was better-looking, looked more mature, smarter and the list could go on and on. Not that Thomas had such a low self-esteem, but he spent too much time looking up to the mysterious boy – both figuratively and literally- to ever be able to compare himself to the blond. He found his name on the letter box one day – Newt. A bit unusual, but original, Thomas thought. He decided he liked it, because that suited the man pretty well.

Part of him was dying to be able to talk to Newt, but another part was perfectly fine with just looking at him every morning, in fear of making a fool of himself if they ever met.

He had tried to learn more about gardening, however. At the bookshop he worked at, he had purchased almost every book they had on plants, flowers, and gardening. Teresa, his co-worker, had made so much fun when she realized that he spent his nights trying to remember periods of plantation for different species and other useless informations when one didn’t own a garden. She had even bought him a shrub of petunias, as to make him at least apply what he was learning. The flowers died in less in a month. Thomas had had yet to read the chapter on pot flowers, in his defence. Not that it would have helped so much anyway. He had to admit, he wasn’t a gardener, he was more of a runner, a man of action. He loved books, indeed, but he spent the rest of his free doing sports, staying fit, and going on adventurous trips, most of the time with Teresa.

His next move, however, had been Teresa’s idea. She was tired of hearing him rambling about “the blond angel with a pretty name and his heavenly garden”, and because Thomas wouldn’t take a step forward and go talk to him, she decided to make him do something in between. Something that could also make him use all his new acquired knowledge on plants and gardening. Every morning, on his way back from his jog, as he passed the balcony for the second time, he would drop some flower seeds, or a gardening tool that he had noticed Newt needed, by his door. The blond could never see him, as he knew that at that time he was focused on his plants on the balcony. It was a wonderful idea from Teresa. Thomas felt as sharing a very special something as he watched the boy growing the seeds he had given him, using the clippers he had dropped a few days ago by his door. It was like he could play a little part in whatever sacred task Newt was accomplishing in his garden, and that made him happy.

Some days, when he felt bold, he would leave a note with his package, a few words wishing Newt a good day, giving further instructions regarding the present, or complimenting him on his garden. He always signed with “Tommy”, because no one ever called him that, so there was even less chance for Newt to ever find him, yet not impossible. A little clue he left of his presence, every morning, another special tie between them.

It was only eight thirty on the morning when Newt woke up, but the sun was already shining through the curtains of his bedroom window, and he had always been a morning person. As every morning, he went first to the kitchen and fixed himself a large cup of tea. Typical breakfast British tea, of course. Stretching himself, he walked up to his balcony, where he kept most of his plants, and started his gardening routine.

The boy was quite proud of it. He had bought the flat mainly for this reason, despite it being slightly over his initial budget. He just wanted a large balcony, somewhere he could take care of all his plants, grow his favourite flowers and sit down on the makeshift sofa between them, feeling good and safe. This was his own version of a Safe Haven, and he wouldn’t change it for anything. When the weather allowed it, he would bring his computer there, and spend the day working on his novel, surrounded by his plants.

To sum it up, Newt was crazy about tea, books and flowers.

Newt kneeled next to a shrub of hyacinths that critically needed his attention. April’s sun was unusually too strong for them, and Newt had tried everything to protect them, changing their spot on the balcony every now and then, trying to shadow them as best as he could. With expert eyes, he looked at the flowers, inspecting their petals, stems, every part of them, only to come to the conclusion that those bulbs were simply having a bad year, so all he had left to do was cutting off the foliage from the stem if he ever wanted them to grow bulbs for next year. With a sigh, Newt got up to grab his clippers from the kitchen. He felt sad to do so, even though he knew cutting the flowers wasn’t killing the plant at all, quite the opposite actually, as it allowed it to grow better looking flowers the following season. But those hyacinths were the first gift he received from his mysterious admirer, whoever he was. To Newt, they were a witness to the special connection he felt with that person.

The first time he had received a gift, he wasn’t even the one to pick it up. Minho, Newt’s best friend, had come to give him a visit early in the morning, and showed him the parcel that had been left before his door. On top of it was a yellow note, with “I hope you can make them grow into beautiful flowers, just like every plant you ever touch – Tommy”. They had spent the morning with Minho trying to figure out who could be “Tommy” and why he would ever want to see him grow hyacinths in his garden. He had even asked his neighbour, thinking that maybe the package had been delivered at the wrong address. In vain. And then, every morning, the packages kept coming, with various gifts inside. Sometimes flower seeds, sometimes actual roots, other times garden tools he was precisely lacking. It was like that mysterious Tommy knew him and could read in his mind. But, of course, they had never been able to match the name with a face, and as of this day, Newt was as clueless as Day 1. He eventually started using the gifts, planting the seeds he was offered, making use of the tools he received, and pinning every note on the fridge door, hoping to meet the guy one day, if only to thank him.

Thomas was leaning on the counter, silently reading a book in the bookshop he was working at, while Teresa was working, organizing shelves in the shop, and humming to the soft music that was being played by the speakers. It was a quiet day, in the middle of the week, and they didn’t have many customers.

Suddenly, the bell rang, and someone started making his way towards Thomas. He sighed and put his book to the side, looking up. He almost gasped: right before him stood Newt. Newt. His Newt. The boy he had been watching from afar for months, now standing just before him.

“N-Newt” Thomas stuttered, not believing his eyes. What was he doing here?

The blond turned to him, a very surprised look in his eyes. “Hi. You know my name?” he wondered as he approached the counter.

That’s when Thomas realized his mistake. And, of course, given his lack of brain activity in such awkward situations, he tried to make up for it in an even more stupid way.

“Your name?” he asked, rubbing his neck. “Huh, no. No, no, no. No idea what it could be. I was just telling Teresa how, in my opinion, newts are very cute lizards. I believe. Don’t you think?” He immediately shut himself, before he started rambling about newts and lizards and cuteness, which would drive him in a much too dangerous road.

“Okay, whatever.” the blond said as he gave him a strange look, looking around him, as if searching who and where that Teresa girl could be.

There was an awkward silence as Thomas was staring at Newt, in total admiration. It was one thing to observe him gardening from the street, but to be able to see him from this close was a totally different experience, and Thomas could not get enough of it. It was like the boy was absolutely flawless, which was a stupid thought, as Thomas knew perfectly well that nobody was. Still, he couldn’t make out anything wrong on that perfect skin which colour married so well with the dirty blond hair and pink lips, highlighting those wonderful, big, deep brown eyes, which were currently looking at him expectantly.

“Huh, sorry… Can I help you?” he suddenly said in his best customer voice, looking down, a bit ashamed to be caught staring.

“Actually, yes.” The blond chuckled and rolled his eyes at how cute and awkward the brunet in front of him was being. “Could you help me find these books?” He showed him a list of books about – how surprising! - gardening, and Thomas immediately went to grab them for him. He met Teresa on his way.

“He’s here!” he whispered as he walked behind her, panic written everywhere on his face.

“Who? Santa Claus?”

“No!” he answered, rolling his eyes, “that’s much worse! It’s Newt!”

“Oh. Can I see him?” Teresa asked. And Thomas knew that with that excited look in her eyes, there was no way she was going to do anything that could help him in this situation.

“No! But tell me what I should do?”

“Nothing! Since you don’t want to tell him. Just act naturally. And try not to make a fool of yourself, for once.”

“I’m afraid that last warning comes a little too late…”

She sighed, “Why am I not surprised?”. She then went back to her work, leaving Thomas to walk back to Newt with all his books.

“Here they are.” He tried to announce in the most normal voice he was capable of. “Would you like to buy them?”

“Yes, please” the blond answered as he searched his pockets for his wallet.

“So, you like gardening too?” Newt enquired, glancing at a book that Thomas was keeping on the counter, entitled Life in the garden, by Penelope Lively. The truth was, Thomas kept this book here because it was about to be Newt’s next present, that he had yet to wrap up. But, of course, explaining this to the blond wasn’t an option.

“Huh, Y-yes. I’m… I’m trying to grow one but- “he stuttered.

“But he is a pain when it comes to taking care of a plant, so they all die before he gets the chance to remember their name” a feminine voice announced from behind them. Teresa. Of course, she couldn’t keep it to herself and just had to come embarrass Thomas.

Newt just laughed and started packing his books.

“Thank you. I guess I’ll see you again some time… Thomas” he said with a wink, them left the shop.

“How… how does he even know my name?” the brunet asked, dumbfounded, his cheeks as red as the ladybug on the cover of the gardening book on the counter.

“Your name-tag, stupid.” Teresa laughed as she rolled her eyes, getting back to work.

Newt woke up at eight the next morning, as usual. He brought his cup of tea to the balcony, and once again started taking care of his plants, not noticing the brunet who had just left his present to the door and was now observing him from a bench in the street, still sweaty from his previous jog. Not that Thomas had left his mind once in the day. Somehow, Newt couldn’t help but feel like the boy was familiar to him, like he should recognize him from somewhere, but he had spent the night trying to remember and nothing would come to his mind. It didn’t help that Thomas was pretty cute, too, with his adorable dimples and pink fluttered cheeks when he was smiling or staring all awkwardly. Newt continued humming to himself while watering a patch of white roses next to the window, a wide smile stuck on his face, as he remembered once again the cute brunet who kept stuttering in the bookstore.

Half an hour later, as he finished his morning task, he got up to take a shower. As he walked beside his door, he opened it to pick up his usual gift from the mysterious admirer. “Tommy” usually left it at this time before his door, with or without a note. With that information, Newt could just open the door around that time to find out who the boy was. But to tell the truth, Newt wasn’t a curious person, and he preferred to keep his mysterious admirer, well, mysterious. After all, it was up to Tommy to reveal who he was. If the boy preferred to stay anonymous, then Newt didn’t want to push him, even though he was dying to meet him in person.

Newt finally opened the door and kneeled to take the small parcel waiting on the floor, carefully wrapped-up. He took it back to the kitchen, as he read the note. “Hope that it will be able to help you with those white roses by the window. It’d be a shame to let them die. Xxxx, Tommy.” Newt smiled. Whoever “Tommy” was, he really knew what he needed for his garden, and was always a great help. He opened the present. It was a book, Life in the garden, by Penelope Lively. Funny, he thought, I was just talking about it with -.

Newt got up from his chair, eyes fixed on the book. Thomas. I was just talking about it with Thomas. Tommy.

His guess was a bit crazy, given that he had just met the guy the day before, and there could be a thousand more Thomas in the town, but it somehow made sense. How many Thomas would there be, who would be in possession of the very book he would receive the next day and would know his own name even though they were total strangers. Or were they? Newt wasn’t so sure now. That would also explain that feeling of familiarity he had felt all day long when he thought of the brunet, and also why the boy had been so nervous.

It explained a lot of things, but Newt could still be wrong. He hoped he wasn’t though, the brunet was, indeed, really cute. Not to mention that the gesture was absolutely adorable, he thought, looking at the collection of yellow notes signed “Tommy” on his fridge.

He had spent the rest of the day pondering the situation. Should he go for it or should he wait for more hints? It awfully sounded like that 80s song by The Clash that his mother was obsessed with, and his head was threatening to burst any moment. When he mentioned his struggle to Minho, the Asian had just laughed like Newt was the most stupid human being on the planet, grabbed his jacket, and told him he would come back when the blond would come back to reason.

“But Minho! What am I supposed to do?”

“Well, open the bloody door, obviously!” he answered in a mocked British accent before effectively leaving, rolling his eyes.

“As if that was this simple. It doesn’t even make sense.” Newt sighed as he went to his balcony, trying to calm his nerves.

But after a few minutes, he sat back down on his cough, eyes wide, only to realize that, yes, it was this simple. Tommy had spent months trying to approach him, maybe it was time for him to make a move. This situation is bloody bonkers, he thought for the millionth time this day.

Thomas woke up the next day as his alarm went off at exactly seven, just like every morning. He, however, was exhausted. He couldn’t sleep last night, as he was just replaying his encounter with Newt two days ago at the bookshop. He couldn’t get this deep voice and charming British accent out of his head. He was dying to meet the blond again, to be able to stare at his face from this close once again, to count all the faded freckles around his nose, barely noticeable, or admire the complexity of his deep brown eyes. This is unhealthy to be obsessed with a person like this, pure and simple, he thought again. But there was no point, he just couldn’t get the guy out of his mind. He felt stupid that he wasn’t able to approach him like any human being would, that he just had to admire him like he was a deity from under his balcony and drop packages every morning on his door as the only sign of his existence. In a way, meeting Newt at the bookshop had made this whole situation much more real to his eyes.

What a creep, he thought over and over again. He had been repeating this to himself all night long, but as much as he searched his mind for a solution, he couldn’t find one. Of course, he could always just knock on Newt’s door and explain everything, like Teresa had suggested about a thousand times already, but he refused to even consider this situation. He would just think I’m a creep, the biggest weirdo on Earth, who likes to spy on people and offer them creepy presents with creepy notes giving them creepy orders. What on earth was I thinking??? The thought of meeting Newt again, in that light, terrified him. As much as he wanted to meet the British boy again, he just couldn’t bare Newt to look at him for who he was.

He could also just stop everything, take another route for his morning jog, and try to move on. That was the reasonable solution, of course, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do so either. You don’t meet someone like that more than once in your life, he told himself. The blond was so caring, so beautiful, so considerate towards everything in his life. Thomas truly admired him, and he didn’t want to simply cut him out of his life, as much as he was starting to regret his choice of methods when it came to deal with crushes.

With another huge sigh, Thomas got up and made his way to the pile of clothes on his desk, next to a brown package with a sticky note. Until he could come up with a solution for this situation, he would just continue. Deep down, Thomas hoped that it could get him somewhere, somehow. There was this tiny chance that Newt could have figured things out, maybe, or that God had had pity on him and some miracle would happen, whatever it was. As much as the perspective of Newt understanding the situation on his own terrified him, at least that meant some change to a situation Thomas was now terrified with.

So, he changed into his sports clothes, grabbed the plant he had brought a week ago, and got out of the apartment.

Half an hour later, he arrived by Newt’s door, sweaty and extremely nervous. He quickly dropped the present on the floor, with the note attached to it. He felt stupid about the notes, now. Probably Newt didn’t even read them anymore. He would take the flowers because, as sweet as he was, he was not someone to let a plant die because he was upset, but the notes without a doubt went straight to the trash.

He was about to leave hastily, when something new caught his eye on the door. There, planted in the middle of the white wooden door, was a yellow sticky note, identical to the ones Thomas used for his presents. Identical to the one that was currently sitting on the package he had just dropped, same ink, same size, same colour. The writing was different, however, and it said “What about you try your chance and enter for once, Tommy? I promise I don’t bite. Xxxx Newt.”

That was a change in the situation, indeed. So, Thomas took his chance, and turned the doorknob with a sweaty palm, just before realizing that maybe he should have knocked beforehand.

As soon as the door opened, he was met by the sight of Newt, nonchalantly leaned against the counter of his kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, and smirk attached to his lips, apparently waiting for him.

Thomas was too stunned to notice that the smirk on the blond's lips was mixed with a genuine smile, as Newt was just happy to finally meet him, and that the mysterious “Tommy” ended up being indeed, the insanely cute and awkward employee of the bookshop he met two days ago.

“I swear I don’t bite, Tommy.” Newt finally said when Thomas would just stand by the door, staring at him in awe. “You can move closer, you know.” He added after a few seconds of silence.

Thomas finally got his senses together and gave a nervous chuckle. He walked to Newt, scratching the back of his neck. He felt so nervous that Newt might have initiated this just to tell him to stop, or to call him out as a stalker, or –

“Hell, I would never have thought you’d be this awkward, since you went out of your way for months just to– “

“Yeah, about that…” Thomas cut him off, not wanting to hear from that beautiful accent how much of a creep and a stalker he was. Newt raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Well I’m sorry if that made you feel embarrassed, I just thought you looked so caring and adorable on your balcony every morning and I wanted to do something nice for you, but it ended up being very awkward and creepy, and I’m just going to shut up now because you’re giving me a very strange look and I’m only embarrassing myself now.”

A small silence fell in the room. Thomas was probably so red he looked sick, while Newt was giving him the fondest look he was capable of.

“Don’t be a twat about it” he finally sighed. “I did enjoy the presents, you know?” Thomas didn’t dare look at him, even less answer that.

“Do you drink tea, Tommy?” Newt then asked, walking towards the sink.

“Hum, yes. Why?” Thomas couldn’t have looked more surprise by the change of subject.

“I guess we have a lot to talk about, don’t we? Also, because I get the feeling you really need to relax, love.” The nickname left his lips before he could even realize that he had been saying, but the adorable smile it brought on Thomas’ lips stopped him from regretting anything.

While Newt was infusing the kettle, Thomas looked around him, only to find the refrigerator covered with yellow sticky notes, filled with his writing, and organized in chronological order. He didn’t throw them away at all, he thought, amazed.

He turned to a slightly flustered Newt, a questioning look on his face. But the blond just winked at Thomas. “That’s for the kids, when they’ll ask how we met.”

“Isn’t that moving a bit fast?” The brunet asked in disbelief.

“I don’t know, Tommy, is it?” Newt shrugged and carried the two cups to the living room where Thomas followed him, both smiling like idiots.

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whiterubys · 7 years ago

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what up dudes. (im sorry im never doing another greeting again) over the past couple months/years I’ve been reading a HELL of a lot of Newtmas fanfiction, and I would like to recommend some of my favorites here!!

a lot of these are by friends of mine in tmr fandom who are all extremely talented writers and you guys should definitely check them out:) also, feel free to add on if you wish!

(my personal favorites are bolded)

*mature or higher rating **possible trigger warnings

Enchanting Your Heart by Ramennn_Noodles: Harry Potter au, written by my extremely talented best friend who is the best person and writer in the whole world ok go read this.

Recovery is an Ocean** by Tori_Scribbles: a post tdc fic (Newt lives!) which is heartbreaking yet very beautiful (also includes some Sonya/Harriet)

literally anything by Tattered_Dreams. such an incredible writer. honestly she’s one of my top 2 fanfic writers. my favorite of hers is Shared Spaces*.

Where You Lead by KathSilver: a sort of tdc fix it fic?? hard to explain. read it to find out!! absolutely fantastic. part of a rapidly-updating ongoing series:)

The Glade Airport Boys by Tisaniere: sosoosososo underrated. just discovered this one and its probably my favorite tmr fic ever. the Gladers live in an abandoned airport, where they have to raid the town of Maze to survive. incredible read.

Talk Me Home by comebacknow: a 6-month gap fic, ongoing, and literally the purest ever. Thomas loves Them Muscles™

your lips, my lips; apocalypse by zapfinoo: another 6-month gap fic (I am just full of surprises), unfinished but ongoing and I think there’s an aesthetic moodboard around here somewhere based off of it? anyway. newtmas pureness with a sprinkle of angst.

Strings by lokidiabolus: a classic newtmas fic. most people have read this one (if you havent go do it, and if you have, reread it:)). modern newtmas au, Minho and Teresa hook Thomas up with an anonymous stranger and,,, well. you’ll see:)

Killing Me To Love You** by Ky_Bentley: a much heavier fic, deals with depression and other heavy topics. however, if that kind of thing wont trigger you, I would definitely say you should give this a read! Ky is a great greeeeat writer, and very very creative.

(I need to stop gushing about my friends and do this list Anne FOCUS)

The Brightside by Ky_Bentley: a genderfluid Newt! he can basically transform himself into a girl, Newelle, and back to Newt at will, and the concept for this is amazing and based on how much we’ve talked on Discord ab it, you guys are gonna wanna be here for this one!!

If the Glove Fits by Oynx_of_Octavia: newtmas cinderella au. nuff said.

Therapy Dogs and Comic Books by newtedison: the cutest shit ive ever seen. literally. its so adorable and pure. their pining is on Jim and Pam’s level BUT the payoff is so worth it. plus, Newt has a cute ass dog.

Online by lokidiabolus: another classic. Thomas and Newt are gamers that meet online through a game called TERA, and its honestly adorable. lots of involvement of the other Gladers too.

Ink, Skin and Flower Crowns by Miss_Psychotic: a tattoo shop/flower shop au and generally precious. check it out.

First in Love Loses by lokidiabolus: (real talk had NO IDEA how much i read this author until I made this) I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH. fake marriage au. hilarious. adorable. perfect. anything you could ever dream of ever.

something to talk about** by tarantism and thominewt: yet another classic. really really sad and really heavy, but definitely a must read. Newt dies and Thomas learns to cope with the loss. modern au.

i'll meet you where the page proclaims the end by zapfinoo: another fix it oneshot. immediately after tdc, Newt lives, Newtmas in Safe Haven goodness.

The Gamer and Vlogger by PaintAPicture: havent read this one yet but it was recommended to me by a friend! Thomas is a vlogger, and Newt is a gamer. youtube goodness.

Videos on the Internet* by StarNightingle: another one i havent read (im running out of fics ok), but it involves stripper Newt!! explicit!!

what’s real we have to squint to see by sungyeowl: Thomas works at a museum, and Newt is a snobby intern. give this one a read!!

imagine it’s a warning sign by nowayout: hurt/comfort oneshot that takes place during that beautifully gay deleted scene from tst. adorable. lots of handholding. but kinda sad.

meet me where the starts collide by nowayout: another cute oneshot. newtmas!!!!! slow!!!! dancing!!!!!!!

thanks for coming to my newtmas talk:)) if you would like to add onto this, go for it!!

authors: if you’d like any of your fics removed from this list, please let me know.

#otp: thanks tommy #anne speaks #newtmas fanfic #newtmas fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #newtmas fic recs #thank you Lina and Des for helping me out with this!!#tmr newt #tmr thomas #the maze runner #the scorch trials #tdc #the death cure #fic recs #tmr fam

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illuminateandrelate · 7 years ago

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Fallen: A Newtmas AU Chapter 1

"What's your name?" "Newt" "That's a weird name for an angel," The boy glared up at him from his spot on the ground, eyes narrowing sharply. "Well what's your name then?" He asked. "Thomas" "Angel dust," He... cursed? "That's bloody normal ain't it?"

"And look Thomas," a gentle hand guided his pointed finger upward. "That's Ursa Major," a lead to the left "And that's Ursa Minor."

"I don't get it," A boy with chubby cheeks and a mark of youth in the form of a fading strawberry birthmark in his hairline pouted, flinging out his arms on the blanket he and his mother lay on.

His mother chuckled, "think of them as big spoons made of stars. Gargantuan cereal spoons for giants big enough to swallow the earth. Now see if you can find them"

Thomas squinted into the galaxies, spoons, spoons, find the spoons. How could he see a spoon when all he saw was a wild spatter of stars? Each time he thought he could focus on one twinkling diamond another one seemed to penetrate his field of vision creating an impossible set of probable focal points. His temples ached as he strained for the image. It was like looking at a solid wall of paint and expecting a picture to appear. A dull pain pounded behind his eyes and he groaned, closing his eyes and rubbing them vigorously with the pads of his fingers. "I don't get it."

She sighed, "Here Thomas, open your eyes," her voice was smooth and warm as she took his little hand in hers once again. He sighed and opened them to meet the vast blackness of the overhead sky, so much bigger and filled here than at home. "This line here" she dragged his finger along a pathway of stars, "and this-"

"Mommy did you see that!" Thomas jerked his head to the side; Any mention of big spoons forgotten as he gripped her wrist excitedly pointing to the end of what had been a silvery arch of light across the atmosphere just before it winked out.

She beamed at him from where she lay, grabbing his shoulders and holding him. Her eyes now twinkling just like the stars above, "It was a shooting star. Make a wish, and quickly now before the light fades!"

He beamed back at her infectious smile, lips stretched thinly across a mouth full of loose teeth, the ache in his temples long since forgotten as any before pain seeped out. Like it had run away as his veins rushed with the joy of surprise. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought quick and hard while trying to fight the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "I wish-"

"Shhh" she shushed him, "don't tell me or it won't come true."

He popped open his eyes and his grin turned sheepish, "Oops."

She smiled, "it's alright, you didn't say it now did you? It'll still happen," she kissed his cheek, "I'm sure of it."

Thomas awoke with a screaming bladder. He silently sighed, knowing he'd have to leave the warm comfort of his sleeping bag. Wriggling slowly out, the hairs on his arms immediately rising as they greeted the unforgiving night chill. He shivered violently, gritting his teeth together against the sharp temperature that seemingly sapped every bit of heat and warmth from his body at once.

Reaching out to snatch the cold metal flashlight beside where he slept. Quietly, he padded over to the tent flap and slipped on his tennis shoes before slowly unzipping the tent, cringing at the loud ripping noise of the zipper. He quickly glanced back over to where his mother snored softly, strands of hair strewn about her face as she slept. Thankfully she hadn't woken. Thomas stepped out quietly into the woods, wearily rubbing his eyes as he trekked over to the port-a-potties. The pine needle-littered ground crunching beneath his feet with every step, he hurried along. His breath like little clouds in front of his face with every puff of the air, as he approached the dumpy blue plastic bathrooms.

Moments later he emerged, the heavy door swinging shut with a loud clatter behind him felt like the jump start of a gun at a race, a sudden and violent sound at which he flinched. The campground felt a lot larger at night, Thomas noted with unease. The large trees no longer felt like a comforting wall but rather an impeding prison. The dark shadows cast on the bushes from trees like black holes just waiting to suck him up, or rather like the dark caverns from which the monsters in his comics emerged. He swung his flashlight around frantically on each dark place nearby. Just to comfort himself, he knew the monsters weren't real, deep down he knew. But what about wolves? Or bears? Bears lived in the forest, his quick pace begun again as he sprinted over to the tent across the grounds. Little footsteps thundering back with little concern as to the possible foliage nearby. The sharp chill in his lungs was piercing, and nearly painful but he kept focus on the orange tent. Thirty feet, twenty feet, ten fee- bam! Thomas grunted loudly as his whole body impacted the ground at maximum force. The loose pine needles slipped back atop the ground beneath his foot and sent him violently sprawling with a loud thump. Thomas winced at the sudden pain as he lay on the dirt, a sharp pain atop his nose causing his eyes to water. He'd gone from bolt upright running to board flat in a pathetic number of seconds. The sharp needles poked into his hands that had unexpectedly flown out in an attempt to save his face as he stared at the ground beneath him with wide eyes. He groaned, rolling over onto his back before sitting upright and gently touching his fingers to the tip of his stinging nose.

"Ugh-" he muttered in his recovery, shivering at a mixture of the feel of his scraped up skin and the breeze that drifted through the air. It hadn't hurt that bad, not really, but the feel of his broken skin sent an off feeling through him he couldn't quite explain. He had moved on from his nose and was inspecting the soft palms of his hands for damage levels gently when a loud snap sounded from somewhere in the bushes nearby.

Thomas froze; eyes widened as suddenly all the memories of the bears in the forest came flashing back. Bears. Wolves to tear him apart with sharp teeth dripping with their previous kills blood. Thomas's lower lip began to quiver, he felt himself slowly tuck his legs up into a little ball. Unable to get up like one of those fancy ice sculptures his mother always fawned over at the few parties she'd toted him to. The pain in his nose and hands had dissipated by now, the feeling replaced with a sharp urge to run, to hide, for his mommy. But no matter how badly he wanted to move it seemed as if he couldn't, his muscles protested his brain, so taut and tense he was sure they'd cramp. A sob threatened to break in his throat and he only just managed to swallow it down before the loud cry could give him away to whatever thing lie waiting. His muscles had begun to shake, probably his brain egging them on to move. In the blackness, he held his breath, eyes wide expression animalistic. His imagination working overtime apparently, for no thought occurred to him that it could possibly be a rabbit or a deer. No. A bear, a wolf, a murderer? Absolutely.

From the bushes where the sound had emitted, it sounded once more. Sending the already shaking Thomas into full-on tremors his heart and mind like blowing train horns in his head screaming at him to run. For all the good the warning did he remained stationary upon the ground. The snapping had now heightened in volume, this time accompanied by a low groan and dull fluttering.

Thomas lifted a brow, staring wide eyes for a different reason now. Puzzled at the oddly humanistic noise, was there a person? He forced his cramped up muscles to move despite their protests. His brain's before screaming quieted to a low roar. Subdued, like the dull thud of rain on a closed window. He took a deep breath, oxygen-starved lungs relaxing from their earlier pain as he stared determinedly at the bush. Gently he came up from his earlier fetal position on the ground, slowly, as of reluctant to break from the protective surface.

The groaned sounded again, this time more like a cry of pain. Thomas stood; he needed to know what was in that bush. Soundlessly, he picked up his flashlight, the metal now chilled from exposure. Eyes now set on the dark blob he began to approach slowly, heel to toe to be quiet just like his mother taught him. He inched forward, now just a few feet from the bush ignoring the earlier (embarrassing) urge to run. Something was alive in the bushes, yes, but that something was clearly not in the best shape.

He was so close now he could feel the tickle of the plant's slick leaves brush against his cheek. It was now or never. Soundlessly and all in one fluid motion he swung the flashlight in front of him and clicked it on. The golden beam shot out like a spotlight as he jammed it through the shrubbery and stuck his head in. Suddenly it was hard to breathe for an entirely different reason.

There in the bushes lying looking straight into his eyes was a boy. Around his age, he supposed, though it was hard to tell in the dark the one light only illuminating his face. Soft strands of golden blonde hair swept across his forehead delicately. His eyes a deep brown, piercing to what Thomas felt was his gut. It was almost like being dipped in ice water, shocking and unbelievably sharp. Thomas's eyes widened as the other boy blinked back fearfully. Unexpectedly he heard himself speak first

"Why are you in a bush?"

The other boy appeared momentarily lost like he wasn't quite sure why either. Then his eyes cleared and widened. He lifted his hands; fingertips pink from the cold and looked at them slowly as if he weren't quite sure they were real. Then he huffed, a large cloud of mist like dragons breath clouding into the air. At the release of air, he winced and let out a sharp cry; followed by that same odd fluttering noise Thomas had heard earlier.

"What is that?" Thomas gibbered leaning forward further, "are you hurt? Do you know where your mommy or daddy is?" his gaze examined the rest of what was visible of the boy. Nothing seemed to be damaged. He took a large step forward into the shrubbery, feet tangling up into the sharp twigs and branches as they scraped against his ankles sharply. "Wait, I'm coming in." The other boy was still oddly silent and Thomas was lost wondering what could possibly be the matter when he caught sight of the dark crimson soaked on his shirt. "Oh my god! You're bleeding, you're bleeding a lot actually," he exclaimed voice rising in pitch as he began shining the flashlight rapidly around looking for the source of the blood. "Its okay, its okay" he seemed to be calming himself more than the other boy now fingers dancing around the boy's skin for a wound. "Don't worry I'm going to get my mo-" Thomas's fingers froze where they were.

The material beneath his fingers had gone from a rough, dirtied fabric to an unbelievably soft-feathered sort of plush. A soft gasp of awe escaped in the form of a misty breath as his fingers caressed the silky substance. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt; the temperature was neither warm nor cold but rather a temperature less structure. The soft down was interlaced with more strong yet still incredibly delicate formations of the same type. He was feeling them a bit more when a voice projected unexpectedly,

"Oi stop touching my wings would you?" Thomas whipped his head around looking for the voice, seemingly lost to where the sound came from before realizing the boy had finally spoken. Too surprised by the speech itself and the sassy tone to pay attention to the absurdity of the words. He quickly sputtered,

"Oh- s- sorry, I was just looking for..." he trailed off, "wait, your what?" he jerked back snatching up the flashlight from where he'd dropped it and pointing it quickly to where he'd just been feeling. Immediately he could see what the darkness had hidden beneath its cast before.

Wings, more beautiful than any birds Thomas had even seen protruded from the other boys back just atop his shoulder blades. The shimmering gossamer feathers Thomas had felt earlier were an odd sort of rose-petal white. Upon first glance like freshly fallen snow, though when he looked closer they seemed to shimmer pastel rainbow hues almost like they couldn't decide what color it was they wanted to be. The light danced off of them in sparkling winks blinking at Thomas in a hypnotizing manner. He stared, entranced at the slight curve of the magical feathers fighting the urge to squint, almost as if the wings themselves were too bright for him. He squinted forward. Trying to gather their exact shape that seemed to narrow as the feathers elongated sharply at the bottom when the boy moaned once more.

Thomas blinked harshly and looked at the boy's face once more. He looked back, lids half closed this time, eyes watering profusely. Thomas swallowed, a cold sweat erupting on the back of his neck. His hands felt shaky, his palms clammy. Nervously he rubbed his hands together and blew a cloud of hot air to thaw his fingers. "I'm sorry," he spoke, a mixture of fear and embarrassment creeping into his voice, "I'm going to be right back, I'll get my mommy. She'll know what to do." He turned to leave then pause, "what's your name?"

He mumbled, barely conscious, "Newt. I'm an angel"

"That's a weird name for an angel,"

The boy glared up at him from his spot on the ground, eyes narrowing sharply.

"Well, what's your name then?" He asked.

"Thomas"

"Angel dust," He... cursed? "That's bloody normal ain't it?" Then his eyes rolled up into his head, lids sliding shut as Thomas scampered away to his tent his lungs burning from the icy night, a cold wet panic settled in his chest.

Welcome to Fallen. Be sure to like if you enjoyed and comment!!! Also, follow me on my AO3 (Illuminateandrelate) and my Wattpad - franiecraze.

Read chapter 2 here! http://illuminateandrelate.tumblr.com/post/170324575374/fallen-a-newtmas-au-chapter-2

#newtmas #thedeathcure #themazerunner #thescorch trials #Fandoms #newtmas fanfic #slash fiction #minho #newt #thomas #thomasbrodiesangster #dylanobrien #ki hong lee #tmr #tdc #page 250

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newtmassangsters · 7 years ago

Text

A million dreams - Newtmas AU (oneshot)

Also available on Ao3

Newt had been playing the piano for ten years now, taking lessons at the Conservatoire with Abigail since he was eight years old. Although he wasn’t her best student, he was the oldest one, and her favourite. The weekly hour they spent together always included at least fifteen minutes of gossips, when they shared everything from their thoughts on music to their personal life. Newt was quite a shy person, but he knew he could trust Abigail on anything, they had known each other for ten years and he felt like she knew him almost as good as his parents did, and definitely better than himself.

Abigail was a 30-year-old woman, with dark, long, hair that fell on her shoulders with elegance. She was very talented, but was nothing like the classic, serious pianist type. She was an eccentric person, took samba dancing lessons, listened to Michael Jackson as well as Rachmaninov, wore long skirts and peace-and-love homemade necklaces, yet had graduated from a musicology and pianist degree at the best school in the country, and knew how to play seven instruments. Because she carried such an unlikely background, she believed in each and every one of her students. When Newt first entered her classroom, he didn’t even know who Mozart was. Now, ten years later, he was able to play Mozart, of course, but also Beethoven, Handel, Bach or any composer she asked him too.

Newt was currently sitting behind the piano, practising a piece for the Conservatoire’s Annual Concert in a month. Each teacher had to choose five of his best students to play at the town’s theatre. The piece Abigail had chosen was a perfect fit for the boy: it was one of Rachmaninov’s Preludes, an elaborate piece, fast but gentle and delicate, that was often left over and unnoticed by famous musicians, yet it could be so deep and meaningful if played right.

At the moment, Newt was struggling with the metronome, trying, and failing, to speed up on the keyboard while not messing up the rhythm at the same time.

“You have to straighten up your hand, love, if you want to get passed 100 beats.” She finally helped him, realizing he was not figuring it by himself. He looked up at her, then stopped everything and sighed in defeat.

“I’ve been trying for half an hour now, Abigail, I’ll never be able to do it!”

“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes. “Stop being a drama queen and try harder, Newt. That might save us some time.”

“I just want to give a good performance this time, that’s all.” He admitted with a slightly panicked expression on his face. She didn’t seem to get how much he was afraid of failing.

“Stop worrying, Newt, I know you’ll do good. Thomas will be impressed, I promise.” She leaned on the piano as she winked at him.

The boy looked at her with wide eyes and red cheeks. “W-what do y-you… I… I d-don’t…”

“Oh, come on, buddy, I know you like Thomas! It’s so obvious that I still don’t understand why nothing happened between you two yet. Although they do say that love makes you blind…” she laughed at his embarrassment, but that only made Newt blush even more.

Thomas was another one of Abigail’s student, although piano was not his main instrument. He was the son of the double bass teacher, and at first, he had learnt how to play that instrument, but he soon moved to the saxophone, which was now his main. Three years ago, he had decided to start the piano, in order to be an “accomplished jazz man” as he had told his mom, joking. Because he was a very fast learner, and a known figure in the Conservatoire, most of the first years looked up to him, and everybody knew his name.

“Hey, love, it’s totally fine, I’m not judging. Why do you think I put his class right after yours? You two are adorable blushing and stuttering and eyeing each other every week…” Abigail tried to comfort Newt, coming to sit beside him.

Newt had always admired Thomas, of course, and had had a crush on him for years now. They were in the same music theory class, but Newt was so shy that they never really had an actual conversation, except for the stupid jokes Thomas whispered to him to make the lesson go faster. Thomas was funny, but he was also talented, and kind, and really cute; he was the only one to actually stand up to their terrible music theory teacher when she would pick on Newt. Newt admired the boy so much, he often daydreamed that they could become a thing one day, but he was too afraid to ever admit anything to him, not even that he was into boys. He just dreamed, and hope a miracle would happen someday.

Abigail sighed at the sight of Newt’s face, all sad and desperate. Newt was so much more than what he saw himself as. The blond was so focused on what was around him, Thomas, and the others, he spent so much time daydreaming about what could happen that he didn’t see how important he was to everyone. He wouldn’t notice how the little kids also looked up to him, because he was the oldest student in here, and one of the best. First years kept telling her that they wanted to play “exactly like the blond lizard boy when they grew up”. He was also an important figure of the Conservatoire, always a part of every concert; arriving an hour or so in advance to help fix everything. And, of course, he failed to notice that the brunet was obviously in love with Newt, just as he himself was obsessed with Thomas. They were both hopelessly lovesick and oblivious and had been for years.

“So, will you help me with that bar line, or?” Newt tried to casually change the subject, his cheeks still pink. Abigail rolled her eyes but turned the metronome back on and went on with the lesson.

Thomas closed the front door of his house in a rushed movement and hurried down the street in the direction of the Theatre. He was late for the concert, as always, and if his mom noticed, she would murder him. He had promised her he would come and help fix the stage for once but got caught up in his show and didn’t notice the time until he was half an hour late already. He felt bad for letting her down once again, not to mention that he knew Newt was also helping with the stage and they could’ve done it together. He couldn’t help the little smile on his lips at the thought of spending time with the blond, even if it was carrying chairs and heavy instruments on a stage. Maybe, maybe, this time they would’ve been able to hold an actual conversation, but it was too late now. Plus, he was really looking forward to hearing Newt play. He had already, technically, since their lessons were following each other, but they had never performed the same concerts before, and everyone showed a different side of themselves on stage. He admired Newt’s talent as a pianist, and he wanted to be able to watch him play, also maybe talk to him about it, laugh with him backstage. Thomas really loved to make him laugh.

By the time he finally arrived at the Theatre, and entered by the stage door, he was sweating and out of breath. The first person to notice him was his mother, who immediately sent him a death glare. So much for trying to be unnoticed, he thought bitterly. She sent him to watch over the kids who were waiting backstage and preparing their instruments. As much as Thomas hated it, he went upstairs without arguing.

As soon as he entered the room, he was met by a sight worse than his sister’s room when she invited her friends for a sleepover. Instrument’s cases were left open all over the room, mostly on the floor, with or without the instruments inside. Some kids were playing tag and running over the room, occasionally tripping over the instruments. A group of girls were braiding each other’s hair in a corner, gossiping loudly, another was standing by the open window throwing objects to people on the street, and one boy was crying in a corner because his violin chord was broken. Thomas cursed under his breath for being late, before taking a step into the mess that was the room and getting to work. After fifteen minutes, all girls were decently braided, the majority of the kids had been sent to the courtyard to play whatever game they wanted to that involved running, thus significantly reducing the noise, and the violin chord had been replaced. But Thomas himself was exhausted and sweating ten times more than he had been already. He was just about to allow himself a little rest when he heard someone walking in the direction of the room.

“This is far too quiet. What bloody happen-” Newt suddenly entered the room with a frown on his face, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed Thomas leaning by the window. The latter straightened as soon as he saw the blond and offered him a shy smile.

“Oh, hey Tommy, I didn’t know you were there.” Newt said very quietly, not meeting his eyes.

“Yeah, Mom sent me to calm down the kids. That was not easy.” Thomas chuckled, trying to break the awkward silence between them. His eyes brightened as he saw Newt smile at his comment.

“Yeah, I know, I used to have a sister.” Newt said as he fully entered the room and looked around. “I’ll help you clean up the rest of the room if you want.”

“Thanks.” Thomas smiled as he realized he did get to spend time with Newt before the concert. “And I’m sorry for your sister.”

Newt frowned again, that cute frown he seemed to carry everywhere, until he finally understood what Thomas had meant. “Oh, no! Nothing actually happened to her! My sister, I mean. She’s just… I meant I do still have a sister but what I meant was that she’s grown, now, so I don’t need to watch over anymore.” He tried to hide his embarrassment by bending over to the closest item to clean the place, blood rushing to his face.

Thomas giggled at his stuttering and looked at him with a fond smile. He stared as the blond kept on randomly moving objects in the room, not really caring about ordering it but trying hard to make his blush go away. He could go on studying him all day, and he almost forgot about the kids all around them, lost as he was in the sight of the boy in front of him.

Almost. Because after thirty seconds of him staring all adoringly at Newt, a little girl tugged at his leg and asked with a high-pitched voice, loud and clear: “Hey, mister Thomas, are you in love with mister Newt? Why are you looking at him and smiling like my Mommy and my Daddy look at each other after they say I love you?”

It was Thomas’ turn to blush furiously as he sent a furious glare to the little girl, while Newt turned to him with wide eyes. He opened his mouth in an attempt to justify himself but was cut short by another boy in the room.

“Pfff, that’s not possible, Julie! Two boys can’t be in love, it’s so weird!”

“Yes, it does!” Julie shrieked, clearly upset by the boy’s comment. “My sister says she likes a girl and I even saw them kiss once! And she told me that boys could do that too! So, you don’t talk if you don’t know what you are talking about because if you say mean things like that, then I will tell my sister, and she will ground you!” Thomas looked up at Newt, who was now smiling at the girl, amused by her outburst.

“Puah, your sister, she’s all wrong and bad,” Another boy intervened. “my father, he says it’s very, very bad if you’re a girl and you want to kiss a girl and also if you’re a boy and you want to kiss a boy, and on the lips. And I think Newt is a very cool boy and I want to be just like him when I grow up, so I don’t want him to be a homosexual person because that’s wrong. Also, my father, he is never wrong, so now I don’t like your sister.” Julie turned to him with a furious expression. She was all red and her eyes were almost spilling tears.

Thomas caught her in his arms just as she was about to jump on the boy, and he thought the incident would end there, as he sent the kids away. But Newt quickly turned to the boy and spoke in a very angry and slightly hurt voice.

“Well, I’m very sorry to break the news to you, buddy, but your father might be wrong on that one. At least I know that you are, because I am definitely gay, which means that I do want to kiss boys on the lips even though I am a boy myself. And there is nothing wrong with it, you hear me? I don’t care what bullshit your father wants to say but -“ He was cut off by Thomas’ calming hand on his shoulder. He turned to the brunet who was still holding Julie and looking at him with wide eyes. The sight calmed Newt right away, and he took a deep breath before turning back to the boy, who remained completely silent before Newt.

“It’s alright. You are allowed to be wrong sometimes. But I still want you to apologize to Julie there, for calling her sister a bad person.” The boy nodded and went to Julie to apologize. Newt turned to Thomas again, who was now staring at him with what looked like a proud smile. The blond smiled back, slightly blushing when he realized he had just come out to Thomas and half of the kids of the Conservatoire without even meaning to.

“So, Mister, are you a gay person like my sister and Newt, too? Is that why you are looking at him again?” Julie turned back to Thomas after she had ended her conversation with the other kid.

The question took Thomas by surprise again, and he wished for the second time that she would learn to give people privacy, or at least start speaking quietly. He contemplated not answering, but when he looked up, everyone was staring at him expectantly, including Newt.

“Hum, huh… Yeah, I am. Well, not exactly, more like I like boys and girls both, but… Yeah, that’s the idea.” He avoided looking at the blond at all costs as he struggled explaining his sexuality to the nine-year-old. Exactly how I had dreamed to come out to Newt, he thought.

She opened her mouth to ask another question - and very probably embarrass him more when Abigail barged into the room.

“There you are!” she exclaimed looking at Newt and Thomas both. “I should’ve guessed you two would be all blushing somewhere together. Well, come on then, the concert starts in ten minutes, and I want everyone downstairs in five!”

Newt let his fingers move by themselves in the pattern he knew by heart now. His eyes went from the music sheet to the keynote, checking his movements, although he didn’t really need to read the sheet anymore. He knew it by heart, but it wasn’t elegant to keep his eyes fixed on his hands, and it helped his focus to read the notes as he played. He was so nervous, knowing that Thomas was in the building somewhere, listening to him play. But as soon as his fingers had started moving, he got lost in the music, as he was now. A large grin grew on his face as he played the last chord and he realized he hadn’t made one single mistake. He looked up to Abigail behind the curtains, who was applauding furiously, like everyone else in the Hall. He got up to bow to the public, then gathered his sheets and walked back behind the stage. As soon as he was out of the public sight, behind the curtains, someone ran into him, almost knocking him over, holding him in a tight embrace. His eyes widened when he realized it was Thomas.

“Newt! You were amazing!” the brunet exclaimed as he pulled back, his smile almost as big as Newt’s.

“Boys, keep quiet, will you?” Abigail whispered at them, winking at Newt at the same time. And he didn’t know if she meant it for his performance or for the unexpected hug he just received.

“Let’s get out” Thomas offered as he grabbed Newt’s hand to lead him away. He didn’t know why he felt so bold and touchy suddenly, if it was because of their forced coming-out from earlier, or the fact that they were both tired, but none of them complained.

“Thomas, you’re in in twenty minutes, so don’t get too far!” Abigail reminded them before turning her attention back to duet of clarinets playing on stage.

Newt followed Thomas to a flight of hidden stairs that lead to the upper circle of seats, next to the control room. They had the floor to themselves, as almost no one knew how to get there.

“I found that place years ago when my Mom used to bring me with her at her concerts and I would get so bored that I started exploring the building. Now I go there all the time because there is no one to bother me here and I have a very good view.” Thomas explained as he lead them to seat by the balustrade, still holding hands.

Newt simply nodded and turned his attention to the jazz quartet that was now playing. There was a pianist, a double bass, a saxophone and drums. They were all playing with true passion and it showed in the way the instruments interacted. They responded perfectly to one another, in perfect harmony, yet each one was able to portray its own emotion and added its own version to the story they were writing together. It truly was beautiful, and everyone in the theatre seemed to be caught on their music.

“They’re very good.” Thomas said, stating the obvious. They were sitting side by side, their shoulders touching. Newt had his elbows resting on the balustrade, and his face resting on his arms, looking as if he were sleeping when he had never been more aware of his surroundings, the wonderful music in his ears and before his eyes, Thomas’ shoulder on his, his presence by his side. Thomas was sitting cross-legged, his chest leaning forward and his arms balancing above the void. His eyes were fixed on Newt’s adorable position, but his ears didn’t miss a single note the quartet was playing.

The atmosphere had changed from cheerful to a more serious, nostalgic one. The musicians were playing There Will Never Be Another You, and the saxophone was currently pouring all his feelings in a heart-breaking solo.

Newt finally turned to Thomas, looking at him in the eyes, his head still fixed on his arms. “They are. But I like it better when you are playing.” He was being serious, and Thomas smiled kindly at his answer.

“Thanks.”

They went back to the music. The piece was so known that both of them, even though Newt wasn’t into jazz, could sing the lyrics. It talked about impossible dreams of being with someone that might have left forever.

“Do you have dreams, Tommy?” the blond asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Some. I don’t know. Do you?”

“Yes.” Newt smiled at him. “But they’re always different. Sometimes I have my all life all planned, each second of it, and some other days I have no clue where to go. I can’t make up my mind.” He sighed, thinking about how life always seemed to ignore his wishes and had left so many of his dreams disregarded. He didn’t really know why he was sharing all of it tonight. He didn’t even know why he was feeling so nostalgic and serious all of a sudden. It could have been the music, or the intensity of Thomas’ brown eyes staring right into his. He might not know, but he felt comfortable sharing all of it with him, because the other was listening, and Newt felt like he could trust him. Both of them could somehow feel the thin connection that was linking them together on that night. It was fragile, but they just needed to make it grow stronger, like a seed that had the potential to grow into a beautiful flower if one put enough affection and dedication in the effort.

“So what is this dream about, tonight?” Thomas asked.

“Tonight, I want to be a good musician, a real pianist.”

“You already are.” The brunet cut him off. Newt just smiled.

“A better one, then. A professional. I want to play good music all over the country, all over the world even, I’d be good, but it wouldn’t matter, because it would be all about the music.” He said all of it in a quiet voice, his gaze fixed on the painted ceiling. He didn’t really know where he was going with it, he was making everything up as he said it, letting the music guide his thoughts.

Thomas had leant closer, mirroring Newt’s position resting on the balustrade, his own face now inches from the blond’s one. It was now or never. They might never have another night like this one, just the two of them at the top of the theatre, on the top of the world, looking down on a stage where four men sang about lost love and missed opportunities. Thomas did not want Newt to be an opportunity he missed, he wanted him to be the love he could be proud of, the one that grew strong and beautiful.

“Am I in this dream, Newt?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah” the other whispered, locking their eyes together. “Tonight, I imagine you would be by my side, always. We would be playing together. Just the two of us, together.” The last sentence was so quiet, it was hard to hear it over the bass’ solo.

“And tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. Ask me tomorrow.” They both smiled, not breaking eye contact, Thomas leaning just a little bit closer. They listened together to the music, again. It was about time moving too fast, but they felt like they could ever be able to leave the moment they were lost in.

“I really like you, Tommy.” Newt suddenly confessed, as if it was so evident that he didn’t even need to say it. And it was. It felt so clear, unmistakable, obvious as they were sitting here, on the highest row of the theatre, staring so intently at each other. And he knew how Thomas felt it too.

“I really like you too.” The brunet smiled even bigger, and finally closed the gap that was between their bodies.

There will be other lips that I may kiss, but they won’t thrill me like yours used to do. Yes, I may dream a million dreams, but how can they come true, if there will never ever be another you? The song went on, but lost in their own kiss, thrilled by the feeling of their own lips against the other, the boys didn’t need to be dreaming a million dreams to know that this one was true.

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