No Better Version of Me Than When I'm With You

Chapter 8

Even after they left the restaurant and walked back to his apartment, hand in hand, exchanging banter and kisses, Newt found himself still feeling off about the conversation. In the two months since they'd been together, Newt kept no secrets from him about his marriage and the reasons for it. He'd watched Nick go from mildly confused about it, to understanding and unbothered, to growing ever more concerned and almost upset as the weeks went on. It worried him - he hoped Nick wouldn't break up with him over it. He didn't see it as that big of a deal, if he was honest. Tommy was a part of his life, and a big one at that, but it didn't mean he wanted Nick any less, nor that it should get in the way of them. He didn't know what else to do to reassure Nick that there was nothing between him and his husband aside from a mutually beneficial partnership with his best friend, but clung to the hope that as time passed his boyfriend would accept that it was just a part of dating him.

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Several days later, Thomas stood from the kitchen stool, gathering up his empty plate and cup to take them to the dishwasher. He glanced at the clock, making a mental note of the time. Newt was late, which was unusual for a Tuesday. He hadn't gotten home early, but early enough that he managed to make something suitable for dinner without making a disaster of it. Sure, he may have overcooked the spaghetti noodles a bit, and the tops of the garlic bread came out of the oven looking a tad toasty, but it wasn't bad. He hoped Newt wouldn't hate it - after all, garlic bread was one of his favorite side dishes. Whenever they had spaghetti, there was always garlic bread. The thick, Texas Toast kind covered in cheese and bursting with flavor.

He could feel his best friend's low mood the second he stepped in the door sometime later. From the couch, Thomas watched Newt drop his keys into the dish, hang his coat on the rack beside it with an emotionless expression. When he dropped onto the couch next to him heavily, he asked softly, "You okay?" He knew the answer, but had to ask anyway. He could read him well enough to know when he was falling into one of his depressive episodes. They'd been better lately, but they still came around.

Newt shook his head silently, slouching to lean on his shoulder. Thomas rested his chin on Newt's head, "Something happen at work?"

"That's the thing, nothing bloody happened. Nothing ever happens, they just come on out of nowhere and I feel like shit and I hate it, Tommy, I hate it."

"I know," Thomas replied softly, resting his hand on Newt's knee. "I made spaghetti for dinner, you want some? Then we can put on a movie or something."

"Not hungry."

"Not even a piece of garlic bread?" Thomas asked, hoping Newt's favorite part of the meal would entice him to eat something.

"Mm." The noise he made was noncommittal, but Thomas decided to take it as a yes. He gently extricated himself from Newt, and got up to reheat a couple slices of the toast. He may have already eaten, but he couldn't resist another piece of garlic bread.

A minute later he returned to the couch to see Newt absently scrolling through Netflix on the TV. "Finding anything good?" He asked by way of greeting, returning to his original position only for Newt to flop down onto his lap with a groan, nearly causing him to drop one of the plates holding their food. "Watch it -"

"Nothing sounds good. You pick something." Newt grabbed for one of the plates as Thomas leaned forward to set them on the coffee table, intentionally pushing against Newt, who grunted and let out a small laugh. "Stoppat!" He insisted, pushing at his chest with his palms.

"Sorry, your head was in the way of my leaning over." Thomas shrugged, grinning down at him as he leaned upright once again.

"I'm only here because you promised garlic bread." Newt replied, meeting his gaze momentarily before turning his head and reaching for a plate.