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“Yoko?” Newt asked, surprised by the comment.
“Yeah.” He nodded, “Yoko. Y’know, like the Beatles. The girl who broke up the band?”
Suddenly, it clicked into place in Newt’s mind. Teresa. He meant Teresa. Tommy was with Teresa again, and that was fine, Newt had absolutely no right to be upset about that in any capacity, but it was good to know Minho was as annoyed with Thomas’ random abandonment of their little gang as Newt was. Newt could pretend, then, that they were annoyed by it for the same reasons, which he was pretty sure wasn’t true.
“Oh, he’s with her again?” Newt asked, unable to help the small smile pulling at his face.
Maybe they were being assholes about this. In fact, Newt was certain they were being assholes about this. But there was context to it. Things that needed understanding.
For instance, Newt, Thomas and Minho had been a collective since they were five years old. Earlier, even, considering they’d all gone to the same daycare in infancy. They had been inseparable since any of them could remember. Best friends, even in the moments where it had been hard. The year Newt was taken back to London, his parents concerned he and Lizzy would lose their accents and their culture, where he went to school there. They still wrote to him constantly, and when Newt returned, his spot was right there where he’d left it, like he was never gone. The summer Minho got sent to some military style camp and wasn’t allowed to contact either of them. The year that Thomas got a track scholarship to a fancy school, and Minho and Newt went to their regular school without him.
Things weren’t always easy, exactly. Minho and Thomas tended to fight more when Newt wasn’t around. They got in trouble more too. Minho and Newt tended to recede into themselves more without Thomas, spending all their time in Minho’s basement playing Guitar Hero and ordering shitty greasy food. And Tommy and Newt… well, Newt always ended up flaking, and he knew it. He found it too hard to be alone with Thomas without falling into traps, without being terrified he’d make some mistake and push Tommy away. They needed each other. It was meant to be these three.
But then Teresa happened. They were in their first year of college, the three of them each having different roommates, none of them together, but only a few doors apart. And while Newt got on very well with Alby, and Minho got on very well with Frypan (it couldn’t be his real name, but Newt had never been able to get a real name out of him, so he usually stuck with Fry), Tommy didn’t exactly get along well with Gally. Which, honestly, led to their current problem. Newt would hang out with Alby, Minho would hang out with Fry, and Tommy would go running off to find something else to do. But then he found Teresa, and all of a sudden, even when Newt and Minho tried, he was never around. And by third year, that was getting worse, not better.
It was his business, his choice, and yet… it felt wrong.
“‘Course he is.” Minho grumbled as they walked side by side, “He’s always with her now. I’m sure we’ll be getting save-the-dates any day now.”
The thought made Newt’s stomach twist, but he wasn’t going to tell Minho that. As it was, Newt was having enough trouble dealing with his feelings, Minho didn’t need that problem too. And he was pretty sure that Minho wouldn’t be thrilled about the dynamic of their very successful trio changing. Still, Newt forced out a laugh, tried to seem casual about it.
“Don’t think she likes me very much.” Newt managed. “Literally any time I go near the two of them, she gets all weird and acts like she needs to leave before I murder her or somethin’. Bloody annoying.”
Actually, Newt would like to be friends with her. Sure, if she and Tommy really were dating, that would suck for him, but if Tommy really liked her, then Newt was sure he could find it in him to be happy for them both. He was sure he would like her too. Newt had never hated any of Tommy’s friends up until now. In fact, he even got along with Gally, though he and Tommy did nothing but poke at each other till one of them wound up screaming.
Newt thought maybe they were still sort of secretly friends, in a weird, dysfunctional way.
Minho scoffed, “Don’t worry about it, dude.” He said, clapping Newt on the shoulder, “Her loss.” It was kind of him, and it reminded him of why they had all been friends for so long. They were true ride or die best friends. Bottom of the barrel, nobody else on the bench, come out fighting, kicking and screaming, best friends. Their lives weren’t always so dramatic, but they’d had their moments.
When Newt was in the fifth grade, an older boy had started harassing him. Newt had always been sort of baby faced, but never more than around early puberty, when others were sprouting up and Newt, though not short, still sort of looked like a child in the face. The blonde curls hadn’t helped him much, but it had led to a fair bit of bullying. Both Minho and Tommy had gotten suspended for fighting. They had both wound up with black eyes, and they had both refused to accept Newt’s concern and fawning. But that was Newt’s role. If they were brawn, he was nurture. He was the calm one, the sensitive one. He was the one who looked after other people. They looked after him too, but generally more physically than anything else. At some point, Newt had outgrown them both, tall and confident and calm for the most part, and then it hadn’t mattered so much.
When they found out Tommy’s father was a bad person, a really bad person, Newt and Minho had thrown themselves into the middle of it, and the three of them had proudly sported their bruised skin and inflated egos when they’d turned up to the first day of their final year of high school the following morning.
And when Newt had shattered his leg in three places, Minho and Tommy pretended not to know what really happened. They sat at his bedside whilst he was treated, the three of them playing uno and talking about nothing at all. They had barely left his side for as much as they could avoid it. It was the closest Newt had ever come to thinking maybe Tommy might see him even close to how he saw Tommy. He remembered the way he’d looked at him. He remembered how he’d held his hand.
He remembered realising he was having himself on.
“So… bowling on our own then?” Newt asked, honestly a little annoyed at having to suggest it at all.
“We could text Alby, Fry, Gally, Brenda… see if they want to come?”
“Did you… invite Tommy and Yoko?” He asked.
“Yeah. He said they had plans together.” Newt frowned, but nodded.
“May as well ask the others then.” He agreed with a frown.
The others agreed to come, and it was a good night. There was a lot of laughter, and a lot of joking. At one point, Alby pretended to use Newt as a ball, and Newt went along with it, laughing loudly the whole time (and trying to tuck himself into a ball as effectively as possible). At another, Brenda and Minho had a direct competition, throwing their bowling balls down the same lane at the same time (they were told if they did that again, they’d be banned from the establishment). Gally, at one point, downed a whole beer (he was absolutely not of age, and no one was really sure how he even got it). There was so much laughter and fun and running around that Newt almost didn’t notice the gaping, Tommy shaped hole in the evening.
Almost.
*
“Beach day!” Minho jumped a little off Newt’s shoulders and ran past him, all energy and excitement.
Newt had his towel slung over his pale shoulders, fully aware that he was a burned man before he even walked out there. He had practically bathed in sunblock, but it was just what always happened with him.
Still, he could live with that, so long as he and his best friends got to spend this day on the beach.
It had become tradition a long time ago. Newt always wound up making the picnic, because Newt was always the mother of their group, but Minho drove and Tommy usually contributed little more than his sparkling personality and gas money.
They’d been doing this since they were fifteen. Every year on the same day, they’d go out to the beach. They’d even done it in the rain one year, but it was what they did.
Every year, they debated inviting others. Lizzy and her best friends, Aris and Harriet, or their roommates. They had extended friends, but when it came down it, everyone knew what it all boiled down to. There was everyone else, and then there were these three. They were the friends who went to college together to stay together. They were the kids who’d once gotten arrested together for sneaking into an amusement park after hours. They were the kids notorious for picking fights on each others’ behalf. They were a package deal.
So when Newt and Minho received the text from Tommy telling them he was ‘too sick’, they both thought he must have a leg hanging off or something to be missing Beach Day. They decided to go anyway, because they were both in swimmers and because Newt had $50 worth of sunscreen on his back, but they also decided they’d drop him off the picnic they’d made, stop by and check he was okay at least.
When they got to his dorm (and they had to go all the way back up, swimmers and all), and knocked, it was Teresa who answered the door.
“Oh, hey, boys.” She greeted, friendly enough. Newt wondered if it was obvious how their faces dropped, because he could feel all the energy sap from them both.
“Hey, Agnes.” Minho said, barely bothering to hide his annoyance. “So, what’s our boy sick with? Or is he just too chicken shit to tell us he was bailing again ?” It was harsh; but this was about the fifth time in a row, and Beach Day was a big tradition.
“He’s asleep.” Teresa answered, but she went from friendly to cordial quickly. “He had a migraine this morning. He called me to bring him a cold pack for his head.”
Newt and Minho exchanged a glance. “We both live within a one minute walk of him. Why didn’t he call either of us?” Newt asked, speaking up for the first time.
“Don’t know.” She said with a shrug, “I’m not his keeper. He called me.” She looked at them, swimmers and all, looked at the basket Newt carried and frowned. She moved out into the hall, pulling the door behind herself. “Look, I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t know he was bailing on a big thing today. He’s just been… I don’t know, maybe he just needs some space.”
Minho frowned, and looked genuinely hurt. “Okay, Yoko. Noted.”
He turned to walk away, all fire and brimstone, as he so often was when not joking around, and when Newt turned to follow, Teresa grabbed his wrist.
“Hey! He, uh, really loves you guys.” She told him, and he got the feeling she was trying to convey something he didn’t understand. For some reason, it annoyed him. He got that they were bestest buds now, or dating or whatever, but it felt weird for someone who’d known him a year to tell people who’d known him all his life how he felt.
“Um… thanks.” He said slowly, holding the basket out. “Here. We make a picnic every year for beach day. Don’t think we’re going to need it now. You guys should have it.”
“Oh… that’s really nice, but I…”
“Just take it.” He cut in. “Please?”
She nodded, and Newt handed it and turned away before she could say any more.
*
Tommy : Are we still on for tonight?
Noot Noot : Yeah, absolutely. Haven’t seen you in like a million years mate
Minhoe : Thank fuck. I was so sure you were going to bail again
Tommy : Bail? Me? Never. Is it ok if I bring Teresa though?
Noot Noot : …
Minhoe : oh my god. Are you actually attached to Yoko by the hip at this point?
Tommy : Yoko? Seriously?
Minhoe : when was the last time we three hung out? Just us?
Tommy : Since when did we become a clique? I thought it was the more the merrier.
Minhoe : dude.
Tommy : Dude yourself. I’m allowed other friends.
Minhoe : I didn’t say you weren’t.
Tommy : Newt?
Noot Noot has left the chat.
Maybe he was being a child about it all. In fact, he was definitely being a child about it all. He hadn’t left the chat to make a point or anything though, he had just left because… well, because he couldn’t take the fighting. Newt was the middle ground. He was the reasonable one, he was the one who usually got in the middle if ever there were embers burning between Minho and Tommy, ready to turn into a fight. He was their glue.
When he got a text from just Minho, he wasn’t exactly surprised.
Love of my Life : you ok man?
The name had been a joke, initially, maybe a way to make himself feel better about the fact that he was pretty sure one of his best friends actually was the love of his life, but it would feel wrong to change it now, when that had been Minho’s name in his phone for half a decade.
Newt : i’m fine -- just hate it when you guys fight
Love of my Life : was I out of line?
Newt : don’t know.
Newt : nah. Didn’t say anything I didn’t want to say too.
Newt : You should tell him we’re fine with teresa coming though.
Love of my Life : Already done. He’s worried you’re upset.
Newt : I’m fine.
Minho didn’t respond again, but Newt thought it was probably clear to everyone involved that Newt was upset. He had no right to be, not really, but he was. It didn’t matter. He would go and he would play nice because he was the friendly one and this was what he did.
He took out his phone and texted Thomas, just for good measure.
Newt : Don’t stress. we’re all good.
Tommy : i’m sorry, newtie.
Using the nickname was a dirty move, but it worked. It always worked, because it was what Tommy had always called him as children. And though they had always been the three musketeers, there was more than that too. Nights where it was just Newt and Tommy. Running around the park playing tag.
Then there was that other thing. They were seventeen when it happened, and it hadn’t happened in the three years since.
They had both been drunk. Really, really drunk. It was a house party, and the host, Winston, was ready with tubs of beer they definitely shouldn’t have had.
Minho had been dragged home early by his Mom, and Newt and Tommy had gone running off alone, looking for a tree to climb. It was stupid and pointless, and Newt wasn’t much for climbing with his leg, but they were drunk and excitable. Even without the alcohol, he had been drunk on Tommy. On the casual way Tommy grabbed his hands when they ran. On the way he was looking at Newt like he mattered. Tommy was all bright smiles and freckles and moles and eyelashes and Newt had thought he could live happily in the moment forever. When they had finally gotten into the tree, it had been snowing and blowing a gale. They were too drunk to be aware that they were freezing (though they both knew it when they got sick immediately after) but Newt could see how flakes of snow coated Tommy’s long lashes and settled in his dark hair. He was the most beautiful thing Newt had ever seen and he had no idea how he was meant to pretend anything else.
They had been giggling in the snow about something, Newt honestly couldn’t remember what. Probably fish or something equally benign, knowing them. But then, out of nowhere, and with no explanation, Tommy had kissed him. It was clumsy and awkward, especially from perched in a tree, and it was over far too soon. And Newt wanted to believe it meant something, but when Tommy told him the next day how embarrassing he’d been and how he wanted to forget the whole night ever happened, Newt took that as the dismissal he needed. So he didn’t mention it. Not to Minho, not to Alby, not to anyone.
Newt : really, tom. it’s fine.
Tommy : How could you demote me to tom? i’m gutted
It was hours later when the group met up again. They were going to have a bonfire. Originally, it was just meant to be Newt, Thomas and Minho, but once Thomas invited Teresa along, Alby, Fry, Gally and Brenda were invited along too. Then, it seemed weird not to invite Lizzy, Harriet and Aris, so they were coming along too. Not it was more like a gathering, and they sat out at the beach bonfire, toes in the sand, all chatting in smaller pairs or groupings.
Teresa and Thomas sat across from Newt on the other side of the fire, and Minho and Gally flanked him, the three of them chatting away, Minho’s arm draped casually around Newt, as though he knew that Newt needed the support. He usually did. Minho got Newt in a way most didn't.
“Don’t look now, but Yoko’s trying to pull a classic Christmas song out of him.” It was a joke, obviously, and both Gally and Newt laughed, but Newt wondered if he was being too harsh. Maybe he should try harder to befriend Teresa. Maybe they were always all going to drift anyways. Maybe Newt wasn’t being upset about the prospect of losing a friend, but heartbroken at the prospect of losing any hope of ever having Tommy. It was petty, and childish, and Newt knew he had to be better than that.
He walked down to the water, hoping to relax and calm down, staring out at the black waves as the wind whipped his painfully fluffy hair around his face. The waves always calmed him, a sense of peace in a troubling world.
“Hey, Blondie.” Teresa approached, arms folding. Newt wrinkled his nose at the nickname, doubtful they were at that point of… friendship? Were they friends?
“Hey, Yoko.” Newt answered, without even thinking. Her brows raised at him, and for a second he thought she was going to get upset, but then she simply laughed, as if she’d never heard anything funnier.
“Yoko. Right. Tom told me you called me that, I forgot.”
“Of course he did.” Newt grumbled.
“Look, for what it’s worth, I’m not actually trying to steal Tom away from you guys. He calls me. He asks me to come hang out. He asks me to come to these things. I… wish I knew you better. You seem like cool guys, but I get that you don’t like me.”
Newt felt a pang of guilt. How petty had he become? Calling a girl Yoko to her face? “Sorry.” He said finally. “Always thought you hated me though.”
“Nah.” She shook her head quickly, “Not at all. I really wanted to meet you guys more. Get to know you. But Tommy…” She frowned, “I think he just felt a bit left out.”
Newt blinked, confused. “Left out? In our… group of friends? How?”
“What are you guys talking about?” Tommy cut them off, dropping down beside Newt in the sand and draping an arm around his shoulders casually. It was easy enough for Newt to not react, since his instinct at being touched was generally to go totally still just in case. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d always been a bit awkward with social contact, particularly with people he didn’t know well. He knew Tommy though.
“Yoko--shit, Teresa and I were just getting to know each other.” He glanced over at her again, “Sorry, force of habit.” Because, really, it was petty, and she had been nice enough to him. So the least he could do was try to break the habit.
“Oh?” Tommy raised his brows, looking around Newt to Teresa, who flashed a sarcastic smile in his direction. He sort of felt like he was third wheeling something now, which was unusual for him, since he spent most of his time in a group of three regardless.
“Oh yeah,” Teresa said, raising her brows challengingly, her blue eyes locked on Thomas. “I was just telling him all the secrets I’ve accrued over the past year.”
Tommy snorted, “Pssht, hard pressed to find any secrets about me Newtie here doesn’t already know.” He clapped Newt on the shoulder like it was nothing, and Newt glanced back, trying to catch anybody’s eyes. Preferably Minho, but at this point, he would take anyone. “I’d be more concerned about what he might tell you.”
He did catch the raven haired boy’s eyes, but Minho just raised a beer at him and then went back to his conversation with Brenda, leaving Newt to fend for himself.
So apparently he had no friends left.
“Did you know that Tommy’s middle name is Elbert?” Newt cut in, just trying to find a way to make the conversation less awkward for him, caught in the middle of it all.
They both focused their eyes on him, and Newt glanced between Teresa’s overjoyed expression and Thomas’ look of extreme betrayal. But then Teresa’s laughter bubbled up and Tommy slapped him playful upside the head, leaving Newt laughing along with her.
“Oh, I love him.” Teresa decided, nodding, “Why do you always keep me away from your friends?” She asked, a teasing element to her tone. Though, really, Newt would have the same question if he wasn’t too busy choking on his own discomfort at sitting between them the way he was.
“I don’t-- I don’t keep you from my friends.” He seemed awkward, and rubbed the back of his neck. Newt wished Tommy wasn’t as awkward about it, because Newt was plenty awkward enough for the both of them. For the three of them, though Teresa seemed like she was enjoying it somehow. He could respect that, though he didn’t understand why and wished he had the same energy. “Pfft, you’re here right now. With my friends.” He pointed out, nodding his head at Newt between them.
“Maybe we should call Minho, have a… y’know, gang reunion.” He glanced back again, “Minho!” He called, but Minho just held up a finger like he was busy. “Minho!” Newt called again, but Minho shushed him, returning to his conversation. “I have no friends here.” Newt grumbled out loud, and the two on either side of him laughed.
“So.” Teresa began, “Tell me how you guys met.”
Newt looked over at Thomas, raising his brows. He’d brought her along, so he could deal with the fallout of whatever this was.
“Um, yeah, okay. Well, Minho and Newt knew each other first, I think. We were all like, five. Six, maybe.” He glanced at Newt, as if to double check he was getting the information first. “I guess I must’a been jealous, because I spent ages trying to make friends with them. But I wasn’t very good at it and I kept trying to challenge them to get them to be my friends.”
She laughed, nodding, “Sounds like you, for sure.”
“Yeah, so… Newt was like this tiny, adorable little thing. I don’t know how else to explain it. He had massive doe eyes and curly hair and he just always looked super young for his age.” He explained, ruffling Newt’s hair. Newt wasn’t sure whether to be flattered and flustered about the excessive descriptions of his childhood cuteness or whether to be kind of offended. He settled on both, glaring at Thomas as succinctly as he could, despite knowing his cheeks were absolutely a little flushed. Damn his face and its constant desire to turn into an actual tomato. “Anyway, one day during nap time, the two of them were asleep in their own little area, because they kept getting in trouble and couldn’t be with the other kids. I, uh, broke into the little room they were in and insisted on sleeping between them. Not really how we met, but how I… forced my way into their friendship.”
Honestly, Newt had forgotten a ton of that. He remembered Tommy laying between them and grinning at them both all bright and stupid, just sort of ignoring any protests either of them might have. He didn’t really remember them ever meeting before that, and he couldn’t really recall Tommy trying and failing to make friends with them before that. He was surprised that Thomas did.
“Aw, so you always third-wheeled them.” Teresa teased, leaning over to poke Thomas’ arm casually.
“Third-wheeling us…?” Newt asked, still trying to figure out what the subtext of all of this was-- it wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned Thomas feeling left out, but Newt had no idea how that could possibly be.
“Wait a second,” Teresa interrupted, though it was her that kept bringing this back to Newt’s attention. “How was Newt being adorable relevant to that story at all?”
“Oh, it wasn’t.” Tommy grinned, nudging Newt, “I just felt like you needed that context.”
“Thank you,” She said, laughing, and Newt was struck with that same feeling. Why the fuck was he here at all?
“Speaking of third-wheeling,” Newt cleared his throat and pulled himself out from under Thomas’ arm, getting to his feet and moving before anyone could say anything. Tommy could catch him if he really tried, but he hoped he’d get the hint and not do so. A moment later, he was standing with Alby and Gally, blessedly free of the uncomfortable moment.
“So… Are they trying to get you to guest star on Yoko’s next album?” Alby asked when Newt finally let out a breath. He laughed along, feeling maybe a little guilty for the jokes, but unable to shake the feeling that something about that whole interaction had felt off . He and Tommy had been best friends since, as Thomas had put it, he was tiny and curly haired. Normally, they could chat under any circumstances -- and had -- but it had felt weird and stilted, and Newt hated it. Was that what Thomas dating Teresa was?
It wasn’t like they hadn’t all had bad partners at some point or another. Minho had dated a girl once, Gen, who had absolutely hated both Thomas and Newt. She had tried, really tried, to convince Minho that they were bad influences on him and that he should distance himself from them if he ever wanted to be successful. For a month there, it sort of worked. He wasn’t consciously avoiding them, but he wasn’t really seeing them either.
When they broke up, it was bad. Breaking into Minho’s dorm and burning some of his clothes bad. They shouldn’t have laughed, but Thomas and Newt had (once they were sure Minho was okay).
Newt had once dated a boy who had become so jealous of Thomas specifically that he had blocked Thomas from all of Newt’s social media and texted him from Newt’s phone that they shouldn’t be friends anymore. It was a few days before they figured out what had happened, but that had been pretty resolutely the end of that.
Thomas had probably dated the least of the three of them, but he wasn’t immune to it either. People could be threatened by their relationships, and, if he was honest, Thomas and Newt’s especially. They were a package deal, all three of them, but Tommy and Newt had always been different. More affectionate, more teasing. Maybe sometimes they flirted, but it never really meant anything. Not to Thomas anyway. That much was clear.
“Don’t know.” Newt admitted, stealing Gally’s beer and taking a long swig from it. “Super weird dynamic, gotta tell ya, mate.”
“Yeah, well, Greenie’s a super weird dude.” Gally responded, shrugging his shoulders like it was obvious.
He glanced back to where Teresa and Thomas were still sitting, having shifted closer once Newt left, still facing out to the water. It was so sweet that Newt sort of wanted to vomit. He reminded himself that he had no right to feel anything like that, that he wanted Thomas to be happy, no matter what that meant.
Hours passed and everyone got gradually drunker, gathered back around the fire and chatting happily away. It wasn’t the Beach Day the three of them usually did, but it was something at least, and Tommy was there.
By one in the morning, the beach was completely quiet except for them, and they had music playing loudly through their speakers. Only Minho was brave enough to break the sitting and drinking atmosphere, getting to his feet when ‘Line Without A Hook’ started playing and holding a hand out to Newt, over-the-top in the bow he did. Newt grinned at him, happily buzzed and glad for some sense of normalcy, even if it was only with Minho. Ordinarily, the three of them would do something like this together, but Thomas’ eyes were fixed on Teresa, engaged in a conversation, so the two of them moved a little further out onto the sand, dancing together, both their hands linked. Neither had any particular rhythm, particularly not drunk and barefoot in the sand, but they twirled and spun, sung too loudly. Jumped in certain places and by halfway through the song, others had joined them. Brenda and Gally spun around, both laughing, both trying too hard to lead. Harriet and Aris swung around dramatically, both toppling over several times. Lizzy had Alby in tow, and they were doing very exaggerated jumping movements and then feigning slow motion in a weird cycle. Teresa and Thomas stayed together, barely seeming to notice anyone else, so Newt made a point not to look at them either, at least not obviously.
Instead, they shouted lyrics to song after song, found ways to continue singing and dancing. Only when ‘Mr Brightside’ started did Newt and Minho exchange a look, then look back over at Thomas and Teresa. Tommy was looking at them. It was Newt who broke the moment, waving Thomas over.
He glanced at Teresa, who patted his arm, before he got to his feet and ran towards them. Normally, it would annoy Newt that he seemed to have asked for permission, but then he joined them, and the three of them wound up arm in arm like some kind of football huddle, jumping around in clumsy and destructive circles. At one point, he was sure they nearly knocked Alby and Lizzy into the sand, but they didn’t care. They just shouted the lyrics in each others’ faces, as they had at every gathering or party or event since they were kids. Newt couldn’t count on both hands how many times they’d done this. How many school dances or wedding anniversaries or birthday parties.
For a bit, for the 3 minutes and 47 seconds the song lasted, everything was totally back to normal. Newt could allow himself to get even more intoxicated in the moment. In Tommy’s dimples and his laughter and his eyelashes and the way it felt for all three of them to be together again, the best friends they always had been.
*
“You’re not even gonna ask?”
“No, man, it doesn’t feel good getting rejected. Even if it is platonic rejection.” Minho scoffed, as if this was obvious and if Newt were paying any attention at all, he would know as much. He did, actually, but he figured it was different for him for… obvious reasons.
“Yeah.” He agreed quietly, “Dunno, just feels wrong.”
There was a knock at the door, and Minho went to answer it. Thomas stood there, smiling and holding up a six pack and a few packets of crisps. “Okay, so I’ve been a shit lately,” He said, not waiting to be invited in, “But I figured I could make it up to you both.” He set his bags down, before dropping down beside Newt on the couch, as if nothing had changed. Newt supposed nothing really had, at least not from the outside. He was just busy now, and he had every right to be busy now.
“How’d you know we were both here?” Newt asked casually, feeling a little guilty that no one had told him in the first place. Then again, it had been him who was trying to convince Minho that they should.
“You’re always together,” Tommy said with a scoff, and though the words didn’t mean anything, Newt almost felt like there was some… implication to it.
“Yeah, well, you’re always with Yoko.” Minho said casually, as if it was the obvious answer. He didn’t even say it in a mean spirited way, more than he was trying to explain why no one else had been invited.
“Dude, stop calling her that.” Tommy groaned, “I get it, okay? Broke up the band, blah blah blah, but like, it sucks third wheeling all the time .”
Newt and Minho exchanged a look. “What the bloody hell are you talking about, mate? Teresa said the same thing last night, and neither of us has a bloody clue what it means.”
Thomas rolled his eyes, “Look, I… didn’t want to let on that I knew until you guys were ready to tell me.”
If Newt wasn’t confused before, he sure as fuck was now. Brows raised, and he looked at Minho, who just shrugged at him, looking equally perplexed by the situation.
“I… know you’re together.”
Under normal circumstances, Newt was sure that both he and Minho would’ve been rolling around on the ground laughing, but they were both too stunned to do anything at all, besides just stare at him.
“I saw you together, and it’s fine, I don’t mind at all, but I don't want to be the thing getting in the way, so I just… stepped back, y’know? And Teresa, she doesn’t mind helping me out, being like, a buffer for you guys or something.” He waved his hand vaguely, as if that explained everything.
Newt and Minho looked at each for a third time, both of their eyes blown wide with surprise, then back at Tommy, who was beginning to look genuinely annoyed.
“Come on, don’t.” He said with a frown, “I already know, don’t just shut me out or whatever.”
He looked between them, and they looked at each other. Minho and Newt stared at each other, totally unmoving for a moment, then they both broke out into fits of giggles, laughing until there were tears coming from their eyes. Minho, who had been standing, dropped to the floor at one point, legs folded like a child paying attention in class, his head tipped into his hands, where he kept laughing.
Newt had dropped his head down onto Thomas’ shoulder, too confused to think about why it was so funny at all. It wasn’t like there was anything wrong with Minho, and neither of them were straight, but their relationship had always been so aggressively platonic they may as well have been.
“Come on, dickheads, this isn’t funny.” Thomas’ said above their laughter, which, to be fair, was probably bordering on having gone on for an insultingly long time. It wasn’t even that it was that funny, he thought maybe they had both gotten to the phase that they were laughing more at their own laughter than at the original comment, but Thomas wasn’t joining in, so Newt forced himself to stop.
He had to wipe tears from his eyes when he sat up, forcing himself to stop. “Mate, no offence, but where the hell did you get that idea?”
“I saw you. About two months ago, you were holding hands out front of our usually coffee shop. I saw-- you were clearly on a date. And then when we went swimming a month or so ago, you were hanging off Minho’s back for half the time. And-- And the other night, at the bonfire, the two of you dancing together. And--and Minho's saved as 'Love of my Life' in your phone, Newt. And he had his arm around you the other day at the bonfire and--”
They looked at each other again, and both burst back into laughter. The thing was, Newt knew exactly what they were talking about. When they had been ‘clearly on a date’. He also knew that a lot of the stuff Thomas took as them being a couple was actually Minho trying to comfort Newt because Newt was upset about it all.
When they pulled themselves together enough to talk again (and it took less long this time, though he thought they were both bordering on hysterical from all the laughter, at the point of laughing at nothing), Minho shook his head. “Carla, dude. You remember that girl that followed me around all last Spring? She saw us in the coffee shop and started on her usual shit, so Newt and I pretended to be dating until she left.” He explained, “I’d do the same thing for you. Have done, matter of fact.”
Newt giggled again, unable to stop himself. When Teresa had mentioned Tommy feeling like a third wheel, Newt had thought it was something really serious, he had no idea Thomas had somehow gotten it into his head that they were dating. Of all the stupid fucking things to cause a rift in their friendship. Honestly, Newt wasn’t even sure why that would cause a rift in their friendship. It wasn’t like they hadn’t gone through phases where they were close in different ways. It wasn’t like Tommy and Newt didn’t hang out on their own pretty regularly, when Minho had training or just because they wanted to talk just the two of them.
“And I just really wanted a piggyback.” Newt shrugged. “I’d have piggybacked you, but you were talking to Teresa the entire time and she seemed to go quiet any time I went near the two of you, so I figured I wasn’t wanted there.”
“The other night, I pulled Newt up to dance because he seemed like a sad little Newtie and you were all distracted with your girlfriend.” Minho filled in, and though the laughter had ceased, he still had mirth in his voice and in his expression, as if this was the funniest joke he’d heard in a long time. Obviously it wasn’t the best that it had caused any kind of rift, but they’d had worse, and it was frankly sort of funny that Thomas had just decided they were dating rather than asking either of them. Especially when, as Minho had pointed out, they’d done shit like this together a bunch of times. To get couples discounts, to hide each other from exes, as an excuse to get out of things.
Thomas blinked, “Why would you think-- she’s not my girlfriend.” He answered, blinking a few more times, rapidly, as if his mind was running a mile a minute.
“Oh.” A pause, then Minho glanced at Newt, looking like he was trying to riddle something out. “Well, man, people who assume relationships can’t throw stones about… others assuming relationships. Y’fucking know what I’m trying to say.” He waved it off, obviously realising the sentence hadn’t come out as smooth as intended.
“As if you two aren’t dating,” Newt cut in, eyeing Thomas, who was looking a little embarrassed and uncomfortable during this whole (admittedly very weird) conversation. “The vibe was so weird when I tried to talk to you guys last night. I’ve never felt more like an awkward third wheel in my life.”
“And what about--” Minho cut himself off, and then something switched on his face, as if he’d pieced something together. He burst out laughing again, but this time Newt wasn’t in on the joke anymore than Thomas was, and neither of them responded or moved, waiting for Minho to explain whatever had just occurred to him. “I get it. I’m going to go to the gym.” He said abruptly, grabbing his keys off the little table in the dorm.
“Wait, what? Dude, we’re in your apartment!” Thomas called after him as he began striding towards the door. “You’re not even wearing gym clothes. You’re wearing ugg boots.”
“Gym!” Minho called back, and the door closed behind him.
An uncomfortable silence settled over the room, and Newt and Tommy both sort of shifted so that they were facing forward, staring at tv in front of them, not looking at each other, despite their sides being pressed together on the narrow lounge.
Newt had barely noticed it before, but now that all the drama had died down, he was conscious of how close they were. Conscious that Thomas smelled like the same peaches and coconuts conditioner he had since he was about sixteen. Conscious that he was breathing heavier than usual, presumably from the awkward confrontation they’d all just witnessed together. Conscious of the way Tommy wrung his hands out, as though he was nervous of saying or doing something. Newt didn’t really understand why things were so awkward now that the air had been cleared.
Unless Thomas realised the obvious. That Newt had been jealous, that his grumpiness around Teresa had come predominantly from that place. He cleared his throat, a little awkwardly, trying to find a place to start.
“So I--”
“About what--”
They both stopped, realising they had spoken over each other. Newt gestured to Thomas, telling him to go on ahead, to say whatever he needed to say.
“About what Minho said before,” He cleared his throat, “I’m not dating Teresa. Never was.”
“Oh.” Newt wasn’t sure what to take from that. It didn’t change anything for him, not really. Maybe it wasn’t Teresa, but one day, there would be someone, and it still wouldn’t be Newt.
“Yeah, um, I see her more the way you see Lizzy.” He explained, and Newt nodded his recognition. He and his sister had always been very close. Matter of fact, she was the only person in the world, besides Newt’s stepfather, who knew how he felt about Thomas.
“Sorry for callin’ her Yoko.” He said finally, “Guess we thought we were losin’ you. Gonna happen one day, I guess, but not yet.” He wasn’t ready for it yet. He wasn’t ready to see Thomas look at someone else the way Newt looked at Thomas. “Also, I really did think she hated me.”
There was a long, uncomfortable moment of silence.
“I didn’t want her to talk to you.”
It hit Newt like ice in his heart. Had he done something to earn that? Was Newt too embarrassing for his new friend? Did Thomas really think Newt would be mean to her? Okay, so maybe he hadn’t been the nicest, but she hadn’t been to him either. He felt set up suddenly, like he was supposed to hate her or something.
“Oh.” Newt repeated awkwardly, unsure what else to say. He was sort of offended, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know why Thomas was trying to cut his new friends off from Newt. Newt specifically, from the sounds of it.
“I thought she might… tell you. Try to fix things for me.” Thomas elaborated slowly, and Newt was even more confused.
“Fix what, mate? I feel like I’m getting dumped or something.” He let out a nervous laugh, “I’d really rather you just rip the bandaid off. It’s okay, we can see other people.”
The silence ran longer and colder this time, and Newt really couldn’t figure out what he had said that Thomas had found so distasteful after everything else.
“I thought she might tell you how I felt.”
“I feel like you’re fucking with me.”
Thomas took a deep breath, and glanced over at Newt. Newt found it hard to maintain eye contact, especially during a conversation like this. It felt like staring into the sun, and Newt didn’t know how to handle it.
“Teresa and I, we were friends before. Before I thought you and Minho were…” He cut himself off, chuckling and shaking his head. “So stupid. Anyway, I told her once, while I was drunk, that I, uh, had been like… stupidly in love with my best friend for years.” He wasn’t looking at Newt anymore, staring off awkwardly into the distance, like he was afraid to see any hint of a reaction on Newt’s face. Newt, for his part, had no idea what his face was doing. It was some sort of joke, surely. There was no universe in which Newt had spent his entire life pining for the same boy who had been pining for him. It made no sense. They weren’t that stupid, were they? “And so when I… saw you and Minho together, when I thought you were a couple. I guess it sort of… hit me wrong.” He admitted, swallowing. “I went to her about it, and she offered to give me a… buffer. An excuse not to be around you guys. An excuse to have someone else to distract me if things got… shitty.”
Newt was blinking. Could a person go into shock over something like this? If they could, Newt was pretty sure he was doing that. Nothing was clicking right in his head, and he felt like he must be dreaming. Or mishearing. Did he have a concussion of some kind? He was sort of hungover, but not enough to be hallucinating.
“Before I…” His voice came out croaky, his throat dry, “Before I answer that,” He tried again, clearing his throat, “Do you mean me or Minho?” A stupid question, maybe, but it seemed like one he needed to ask. Somehow, even despite the obvious context, it seemed like something he would almost certainly be wrong about; which would only well and truly ruin everything the three of them had built.
Thomas glanced over at him, Newt could feel the weight of his gaze. He could picture him. Picture his toffee coloured eyes, how they’d be narrowed with concern, or something else maybe. He could picture his brows and how they would pinch together in the middle. The little moles on his face (Newt’s favourite one was the one on his left cheek, near his mouth, that sometimes hid in his dimple). (Was it weird that he had a favourite? Probably). He could picture all of it, which only made it harder to force himself to meet Thomas’ eyes.
“You, stupid.”
Thomas’ eyes fluttered closed and he leaned in, giving Newt a moment to react positively or negatively. Newt knew there was something his body was meant to do naturally. He was meant to like, close his eyes or part his lips or something, surely. Meant to do something. He’d done this before. Multiple times. Why now, when it mattered, was his brain suddenly going into full panic mode?
“Wait, wait, wait.” Newt leaned back, taking a deep breath, and Thomas looked stricken.
“Shit, I’m so sorry. That’s-- shit, I’m… I shouldn’t have--” He began, and Newt rushed to stop him, pressing his hand over Thomas’ mouth.
“Just… shh.” He managed, and Thomas obeyed, remaining still under Newt’s hand, his eyes wide with obvious concern and embarrassment.
“I just… need one second.” Thomas nodded jerkily, but didn’t move away. He got the sense Thomas was trying to stay completely still. No sudden movements, maybe. “I’m… I’m trying to… I just need to… think for a second.”
Thomas stayed completely silent, and Newt didn’t move his hand.
“I… you…” He trailed off, then picked up again, “When I was about ten years old, I plopped down in front of my stepdad and I told him that life was horrible and cruel. When he asked me why, I told him it was because I was in love. I think, from memory, he laughed at me. But then he realised I wasn’t kidding and he started trying to give me advice. I told him all about this boy at school. This boy with shaggy hair, who tripped over just about everything, even his own feet. This boy who laughed so loud it sounded like a scream sometimes. This boy who brought me a cookie every Friday and had a freckle right beside his mouth.” Thomas’ eyes softened, but he still wasn’t making any indication of wanting to move or speak. “My stepdad told me… just keep being his friend. Just keep being his friend and one day, things will change. That either… either I’d meet someone else and totally get over the boy, or that… I’d win him over. I told him I wouldn’t ever meet anyone else, because this boy was the one, and I was sure of it.” Tommy’s eyes fluttered, and he looked almost emotional, which only made it harder for Newt to get out what he was trying to say. “I got older and… and things didn’t change. They just got worse, because… because there wasn’t really anyone else. I tried dating other people and… there wasn’t anyone else.” He cleared his throat, “And then he started avoiding me, and started hanging out with this girl all the time, and I thought--”
Finally, Tommy did move. Pushing Newt’s hand aside, he leaned in closer again, far quicker, leaving Newt far less time to panic. But then Thomas’ lips were on his with a clank of teeth, and they were both giggling into the kiss. Thomas’ hands twisted into Newt’s hair, holding him closer, leaning so far over into Newt’s space that he was basically pinned there. Not that he was complaining in any sense of the word. If he had been imagining this exact moment since pre-puberty, he was sure this wasn’t what he would’ve imagined. Hungover, rushed kisses in their friend’s dorm, barely stifled moans and desperate touches. He would’ve imagined sweet, he would’ve imagined candles and dinner and nice outfits. But no, they were both wearing their worst, most decrepit college clothes, both looking a little worse for wear.
It didn’t matter. It was perfect.
Tommy was still flopped down on top of him when he pulled away, and Newt took the moment to look at him. To really look, now that he was allowed, now that that was something he could admit to doing. He took the moment to run his thumb over Thomas’s lips, took the moment to examine his eyelashes, how long and dark they were. To run his eyes over the freckles he had been fondly taking note of for so many years. He looked happy, and tired, and maybe a little distracted.
“You meant me, right? Because it’s going to be awkward if you have another friend who gave you cookies every Friday. I thought that was our thing.” Thomas said softly, and Newt’s heart melted a little when Thomas rubbed their noses together. He’d always hated couples who did that, he could recall him and Thomas both throwing popcorn at Minho once when he’d done it with a girlfriend in a cinema. Technically, they shouldn’t have even been there, but they’d gone and hidden a few rows back. He supposed romantic stuff was always gross until it was your heart straining against your chest as though trying to pull you to your loved one.
“Bertha.”
“Bless you?”
Newt snorted, “No, your freckle.” He reached up, touching the one he had referred to earlier. “I used to call it Bertha. When we were kids. As a joke.”
Thomas grinned, and leaned back down to press another kiss against his lips. This one was softer and less toothy in its collision and Newt couldn’t help but grin up at him.
“This is why you didn’t just ask me about Minho? Because you were…?”
“Jealous.” Thomas agreed with a nod, not trying to hide his laugh, “God, so jealous. Embarrassingly jealous. I’ve never hated my own best friends so much.”
Newt couldn’t help but laugh at that, “Tommy, please, I called the girl I thought you were dating Yoko. For like, an embarrassingly long time. To her face. More than once.”
The door opened back up and Minho peeked his head in. When he saw their position, half sitting, half laying, with Thomas on top of Newt and one of Newt’s hands still buried in Thomas’ hair, he sighed with relief.
“Thank fucking jebus.” He said with a snort. “I was preparing to have an intervention.”
“How did you know?” Thomas asked, moving back up off Newt to sit properly, his tone accusatory. “When did you know? Why didn’t you tell one of us?”
“Gotta admit, only just figured it out.” Minho confessed, casually. “I mean, there’ve been times I suspected, and all. But then you both dated other people and whatever, so I sort of ruled it out. But then when you said you weren’t dating Teresa and you thought we were dating, it hit me. You weren’t just avoiding me, you’d been… hostile with me. Not responding to texts and shit. But not him.” He nodded at Newt, who had also taken to sitting back up properly. “You normally would’ve just assumed we were doing the bro thing. But suddenly you were all… weird about it. And I knew you weren’t into me, so…” He held his hands up, like he was proud. “Success.”
Minho moved to plop onto the couch with them, basically sitting on Newt’s lap to do so, since the couch was really too small for two people, let alone three.
“Though you didn’t want to third wheel?” Tommy asked, “The Yoko thing?”
“Oh, nah.” Minho shook his hands casually, like it was obvious. “That was only when you were dating someone else. I don’t care about ruining the mood for you two.”
There was a pause, and the three went fairly naturally back to their normal dynamic. But then, after a minute or two of chatting and deciding to get pizza and play videogames, Minho spoke up again.
“Maybe we should invite Yoko to play with us.”