The Boy In The Box (Newtmas au)

Chapter 7

Newt's POV

From Green Day and 5 Seconds of Summer to Arctic Monkeys and Blink-182 to One Direction and Ed Sheeran. So many different kinds of music are under Tommy's choice of 'good music'. After we drank our coffee, he took us to my apartment where he made me listen to countless songs, telling me the meaning of the lyrics and saying things about the bands or artists.

He even told me he used to play in a band himself, but he didn't tell me why they split up. No bloody surprise in that, of course.

Nonetheless, I really do not mind this music education I'm getting, because it brings me to know more about the man named Thomas Greene. It seems like every word he says triggers something in me, and I love the feeling of it.

This music education thing gives me more time with Tommy, and I just don't want him to go yet. But he says: "That's it. I guess I should go now."

He stands up, but I stop him: "No! Please stay. We could, uh, watch a movie or something?" I hope I don't sound to desperate, but apparently not since he smiles and sits down again. I grin. Good job, Newt. Good job.

Tommy walks over to my DVD's and picks one out and shows it to me. It's some action comedy with Jackie Chan that I've probably seen seven times, but I shrug and simply say: "Good that."

Thomas puts the disc in and the movie starts to play. I sit next to him on the couch.

About half an hour in the movie, I'm not really following anymore. I can still hear the actors talk in the background, but my attention is fully on Tommy. I watch the features of his face in the dim light of the room, the lights of the TV flashing on it. I can see every tiny detail of his face, which is so beautiful when you look at it like this.

I see how he gasps when a cool stunt is done, or how his eyes crinkle when he laughs at a funny part. I can see all of it. For one of the first times, I can see a bit of light in his eyes. Real light. As if life actually has a meaning in this moment. I hope it doesn't fade.

My eyes must have been on him for a while, because he suddenly says, his eyes still on the screen: "Newt, why are you staring at me?" Oh shuck. I got caught. I need to say something, quick.

"Uh... I wasn't staring... I swear..." I stammer. Tommy laughs: "Yes. Yes you were." His laugh dies out when he looks at me.

My eyes look back and forth between his eyes and his lips. How much I want to look at those beautiful eyes, his lips keep getting my attention. I see Tommy do the same and before I know it, he starts to lean in to me.

Oh my god.

What am I doing? This isn't happening. What? What do I do? Oh shuck. Is he actually going to kiss me?

Just as our lips are about to touch, he pulls away again. My face falls. I wanted to kiss him so badly. Why did he pull away? He quickly says: "Uh, sorry. I need to go. I'll see you later maybe. I'm leaving." I can hardly process his words and he has already put on his jacket and walked to the door. I run after him but he is already gone.

What was I even thinking? He would never like me like that. I should have known it. But why did he lean in to me? It was probably just to embarrass me. I crawl in bed. Just let this day be over.

...

Thomas's POV

I fucked up. I literally fucked up now. What was I even thinking when I leaned in to kiss him? Newt would never want to kiss me. He doesn't like me like that. Hell, do I even like him like that? I'm not even sure. Anyway, I feel terrible for running out like that. He doesn't deserve this. He is too good for this. For me. That's all I can make out of this. He is too good, too pure for me. He could never like a person like me. He's such a good person and I am not. I could only dream of being like him, but I won't ever be.

I really fucked up my only chance. Now he probably never wants to see me again. He might even be disgusted by me. I bet he's laughing at my stupidity right now. So many hatred for myself flies through my head. Pain and confusion is consuming me, and I desperately want it to end. So I do the first thing that comes to my mind, something only bad people like me do: I drive to the closest bar.

I walk in a dance club where sweating people are already sticking against each other, couples almost having sex in the middle of the dance floor. I don't want to see any of that shit, so I head straight for the bar and ask for the strongest alcoholic drink I can get. I want to get drunk as fast as possible, in order to have the pain end.

I have to admit, I haven't really been drinking in months. I only drink when I feel bad, and honestly, I haven't felt this terrible in a long time. All I want is to forget. So I drink.

One drink comes as the other goes down. And they keep coming. After a few, I can't even count them anymore. I don't remember walking in here, but I do remember the things I am trying to forget.

At a certain point, the man behind the counter says: "I think you've had enough now. You better go home." I think about that for a moment. Home. I don't even have a home. I can't go to Teresa's place like this. The girls won't let me in when I'm drunk. I promised them to not drink anymore.

I can't go to my friends. I don't even know if they still are my friends.

I definitely can't go to Newt's. That's the last place I need to be. I mean, I want to be there. I want to be close to Newt, but I can't.

However, I stand up from my seat, careful not to fall and I slowly stumble forward, outside. I manage to walk a few meters before falling. But I quickly crawl back up and go forward again. After a few more of these actions, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Sir, I take you in custody for being drunk in public." Fuck. I look up at the police officer. Or officers. I don't really know if there are two of them. I see two people anyway, but I believe my senses aren't really trustworthy right now.

"You can stay a night in the cell." I shrug and mumble: "Okay. At least I have a roof above my head then." The police man picks me up and brings me to his car. Wow he's strong. I bet Newt is strong too. Newt. Newtie the cutie. He's so cute. And sexy as hell. Shut up you're drunk, the small piece of right in my mind says. But it's the truth, my drunken mind argues. It is the truth.

When we arrive at the police station, the strong man says: "You can make one phone call if you want. If you don't find someone to get you out of here, you stay until you're sober." I nod, even though I only understand half of his words. I go over the list of people I could call in my head. I have to skip every person. Except for one. And that's the one I decide to call.