Chapter Text
"Coffee, then?" Thomas catches the tail-end of Teresa's conversation with Minho and Newt, and looks up slowly, blinking. He quickly nods his head in agreement when Teresa raises her eyebrows questioningly and gently nudges her shoulder against his. He tries to keep his eyes from wandering back to Newt, but somehow his pulse still accelerates ridiculously as he feels Newt's hand brush gently against his. And then he looks up, and realises that Newt had actually been pushed playfully towards Thomas by Minho.
Thomas sees the smirk on Minho's face and tries not to think about what it could possibly mean.
(Nothing bad, he hopes, but judging by the gleam in Minho's eyes, he can't be too sure.)
Teresa grins then, and grabs Thomas' and Minho's wrists, pulling them along as she urges Newt forward, too. "I know the perfect place." And Thomas can't help but roll his eyes when he hears this, because he knows Teresa's perfect place actually means that she'll bring them to the cheap coffee shop just a few blocks away from campus -- but it's her favourite, and Thomas doesn't particularly hate it either, not with it's worn, polished wooden flooring, muted, comfortably dim lighting, and warm interior, so he doesn't object. (And it also may or may not be the exact same coffee shop that he and Newt had met in.)
He swallows, and avoids looking at Newt as they near and stop in front of the coffee shop's faded exterior.
Teresa drags them into the coffee shop, and Thomas chances a quick glance at Newt.
Newt's eyes are wide as he looks around the coffee shop, and his eyes flit to Thomas' when he realises just where Teresa had brought them. And then he avoids Thomas' eyes, too.
Teresa seats them down, and takes their orders before heading towards the counter, choosing 'out of the generousity of her own heart,' to purchase all their drinks for them. "Your turn next time, Tom." She calls as she walks away from them, and Thomas laughs, throwing a napkin at her in retaliation.
And then-- and then he sees Newt cringe from the corner of his eye.
Thomas looks away.
(And maybe he feels something awful ache in his chest too, but it's ignored, as usual.)
-
His heart is racing and it kinda hurts, but he can't stop staring, or feeling, or heck, even listening.
(Because Thomas' laugh is so happy, and his smile is so bloody pretty, Newt doesn't think he can breathe with all the 'No's and 'Don'ts' that are weighing down on his heart as he stares at Thomas.)
He lets his eyes drift -- as surreptitiously as possible, of course, -- over long eyelashes and high cheekbones, beautiful, but-- but Newt can't let it go any further, let this carry on any longer.
And it hurts, yeah, a little bit (though it actually feels like someone stabbing his chest, but that's irrelevant), but he's got no choice but to do it. It's the only way, no?
He can't fall any further, not when the ground is looming so close,
So close.
--
Thomas smiles weakly as Teresa approaches with four steaming drinks, all placed haphazardly on the tray, and Teresa, being the oh-so-perceptive friend she was, squeezes his arm gently when she sets down the drinks. But Thomas feels that even simple comforts from a friend, ones that used to soothe all of his problems before, just wasn't enough to extinguish the painful burn in his chest this time.
He wonders why he's so affected by this all, and comes up with no answer other than --
yeah, maybe love at first sight does happen, after all.
But it's so hard to believe, especially when Newt seems to reject every little thing he does, and Thomas -- he might not understand why, but he'll keep trying, either way.
When Teresa leaves to return the tray in her hands, Thomas chooses to hand out the drinks, first collecting his own, then passing a cup to Minho, and placing Teresa's in front of her seat. And then he looks at the last cup hesitantly, but takes it too, eyes almost pleading as he hands it to Newt, and Newt--
--
Newt takes the cup gently, and smiles awkwardly at Thomas because he really, really doesn't want Thomas to do something terrible like frown or look hurt, not when he looks so painfully hopeful it's comparable to a child on the first day of Christmas.
And then Thomas beams brightly, and Newt feels the warmth in his chest spreading to his fingertips, and absently thinks that, yes, this is how it feels to fall in love.
And Newt wants to cry because this, this, was exactly what he'd tried to protect himself from.
(But maybe it's too late, what with the way his heart rate picks up whenever he looks at Thomas, the way he feels the sting of jealousy in his chest when Thomas grins at Teresa, so lovely it should've been a smile reserved for him, and the way he itches to kiss every inch of Thomas' skin.)
It's too late.
But Newt can't seem to find a speck of horror within him anyway.
--
He does feel fear though, he thinks, later on when Thomas keeps on shooting wide smiles and happy glances his way, all just because he had smiled at Thomas that one time.
And it's bloody adorable, really.
But he really can't let himself do this anymore, let himself smile and open himself up to Thomas just because he had amazingly convincing puppy eyes and charisma that melted Newt's heart when it was properly used.
Because, of all things, Thomas might not even feel the same. And it would be rather fucking stupid to surrender his heart to someone who didn't give two shits about it.
Teresa stands then, giving them a half-hearted wave as she rushes out of the coffee shop, hurriedly glancing at her watch as she does so, claiming that she had errands to run, things to do-- and Newt rolls his eyes because Teresa always seemed so busy. And barely five minutes later, Minho leaves too, this time with the excuse that he had to finish packing up to move out of his old apartment, and Newt knew that this was true, since he had helped Minho with a large majority of his moving-out just the week before, and he knew that Minho couldn't wait to get out of his shitty shoebox-sized apartment. He offers his help, but Minho turns him down with a sincere smile and a not-so-sincere eyebrow waggle, and Newt pretends to be confused, but suddenly the place where his knee is pressing against Thomas' feels burning-hot. Newt waves awkwardly as Minho exits the coffee shop, before turning to look down at his lukewarm coffee, letting relatively comfortable silence rest between him and Thomas.
It was just the two of them now, and Newt's stupid heart was still beating way too fast.
"Hey, Newt," Newt blinked and looked up curiously, meeting warm eyes, "You..." Thomas took in a deep breath and smiled brilliantly. "You wanna go for a coffee again, tomorrow? Here, in this same coffee shop, at um, two o'clock tomorrow. After our classes. Just the two of us."
And, Newt-- he-- just the two of them?
(He thinks that it could quite possibly be a date, and--)
His throat goes dry and he's just staring, a bit, his tongue feeling heavy and like sandpaper in his mouth.
There's a short pause, and then--
"No. But thank you." Newt states curtly and much, much, colder than he expected it to sound.
And because he's a coward, (such a bloody stupid coward,) and he can't face reality for any longer anymore, he stands, he turns, and he stalks off.
--and he tries, he tries so hard, to blink back the tears prickling behind his eyelids, but they still fall anyway and everything hurts.
--
Thomas stares wordlessly at Newt's retreating figure, and as he looks down, he thinks he feels the shattered shards of his heart slip through his fingers and fall against the wood-tiled floor of the silent coffee shop.
(He wonders, he wonders how they'll ever fix this mess they made.)
--