Under the Streetlight - Newtmas

N i n e

Newt:
Soft pink light entered through the window, directly to my eyes, I shut them close, it burned. I turned around and hugged something on my side, whatever it was supposed to be, it was warm and firm. My head was laying on something even softer, even though the room was freezing cold, next to it felt like heaven. Conveniently, I got closer and heard its heartbeat, I wished my brain could function properly to determine what the bloody hell that was, or my eyes could open to see it, but I had a horrible time waking up. I sharpened my ear, which was the only thing I could trust at this moment, and heard its slow breathing, a few minutes passed, and I could finally rub my eyes and open them with much difficulty.

I waited a few seconds to get accustomed to the dim light, I automatically realized the sun wasn't even half out yet, and then I glanced over the warm shape, resulting to be Tommy, I smiled, that was lovely. His face was next to mine, we were both laying on his own arm, the other one was thrown over me, sort of embracing my back.

He shifted, pressing his eyes closed, and finally squinted at me, blinking a few times. He smiled very subtly, his face puffy from sleep; I wondered if mine looked the same. Then my consciousness fell on me like a bucket of ice-cold water... Tommy. I was laying on my best friend's mate, in school. I shot my body backwards and moved a few feet away from him, he frowned, barely reacting. 

"Fuck me," I pressed my eyelids shut, getting dizzy for getting up too quickly. I ran my cold hand through my forehead, trying to cool it, which, thankfully, worked.

"It's okay," he mumbled, letting out a raspy breath. I opened my eyes, frowning, and looked at Thomas, still laying on the carpet, he hadn't moved a bone. "What it's not okay is that I'm freezing now, can you come back? You're warm," he drawled in an extremely attractive groggy morning voice. If there's something I had learned about Tommy, is that saying no, wasn't an option, so I resigned to my fate, and crawled next to him curling up against his chest, he wrapped me in his arms and closed his eyes. 

Even though he wanted me close for convenience, my heart beat increased regardless, I felt the quick pumping of my blood in my ears, in my eyes, everywhere. I heard it so loud inside me, that I thought Thomas could hear it too, if he did, though, he didn't show any signs of it. I tried to calm myself down glancing at his — very much flawless — face, I followed the bridge of his nose as if it was a slide, I toured each one of his adorable moles and stopped on his lips; his mouth was slightly open, his lips were plump, thicker from sleep. I wanted to kiss him so badly, it, actually, physically hurt.

There it went, then, my first official statement.

My eyebrows shifted to an annoyed expression, getting pissy for not being able to touch someone wasn't in my plans for the year. His face, was so pretty, it angered me. Apparently, Thomas had felt my infuriating gaze perched on his features, because he squinted at me, looking as annoyed as I felt. "Why are you looking at me like that?" He scowled.

I twisted my mouth, oh, if you'd like to know. "I'm starin' at your face, it's disgraceful, I can't believe you're this ugly," I teased, though my voice was pretty much neutral, so it seemed like more of a complaint.

"Speak for yourself, parrot-face," he frowned, with his eyes still closed, and he turned to the right, giving me his back. I laid flat, staring at the ceiling and silently chuckled, people's answers when they were half asleep were something worth studying.

About ten or so minutes later, the rosy, dull light turned into a bright yellow one, from muscle memory, I knew it would be around six a.m, so I decided to wake Thomas up. I nudged his shoulder gently. "Time to wake up," I smiled, but he didn't move at all. I tried again, with a bit more strength, but he didn't react. This time I grabbed him and shook him with strength. "Wake the bloody hell up!" I blasted.