(takes place between Chapter 5 and 6)
The sun dropped low in the sky, leaving an inky, violet trail in its wake. According to Minho, it was the perfect time for fireworks. No one could identify the boys, but the fireworks looked vibrant against the black abyss.
"Here we are." Minho smirked. "Let's do this."
The Alternatives packed in around him. He held a bulging potato sack full of stolen fireworks, and with a determined hoot, ripped the bag open, letting the contents spill out onto the stiff grass.
"I got the matches!" someone yelled, to which Minho muttered, "Puff addict."
A stray matchbox was thrown at Minho, nipping his ear. "What the shuck? Ever heard of handin' it to me?"
"Sorry." the boy yelled meekly.
"Which one should we do first?" Minho hollered to the crowd.
"Cherry bomb." Newt suggested, picking up the pink, cherry-shaped firework.
"Alright. You light it." Minho handed Newt the matchbox. With a quick flick of his wrist, he lit the match and held it to the black "stem" of the firework.
"Back away!" Newt yelled and slammed the cherry bomb down to the ground.
A shower of sparks ignited in the dark of night, creating a glitter-like effect. The boys cheered and high-fived one another.
"First one of the night!"
"Shuck. That's wicked."
"Guys? My hand is bleeding."
Everyone turned towards Thomas, the Newbie. He clutched his hand in pain and groaned.
"I think... I think one of the embers landed on it."
"Suck it up, Greenie." Minho laughed, to be joined by the other Alternatives.
Except Newt.
Newt was genuinely concerned, and as Minho looked at him, ready to tease him about his empathy for Thomas, Newt stuttered uncertainly, "Next firework? Let's do a Flare."
"A Flare?" Minho fumbled on the ground, looking for a Flare, one of the most rare and expensive fireworks. Which also meant that it was one of the most dangerous.
"Gotcha." Minho held up the star-shaped firework and took the matchbox back from Newt. "Thomas, why don't you set this one off? As your shuck welcome to the group."
"Okay." Thomas walked up to Minho and uneasily took the firework and matchbox, almost dropping the two.
He lit the match, and holding the firework in two shaky hands, threw it down.
But a little too late.
Minho gasped. Thomas was still holding the firework as it exploded into a plume of fire. He finally tossed it down.
"What were you shuck thinking, you slinthead? Are you jacked in the head?"
Thomas yelled, a cry crammed with pure agony. His left hand was slick with blood. Lots of it. As he glanced at the crimson mess, Thomas fell to the ground.
"Suck it up. Suck it up." Minho whispered to himself, a mantra he had been repeating for years now. It had become the theme to his life. Whatever happened is in the past. Keep fighting towards the future.
Minho slowly brought himself out of his own thoughts and back into the real world. Thomas was dying, and it was his fault.
He wildly looked around for Newt to help him, to give him a confidence boost or plan.
Newt was gone.
"Where's Newt?" Minho shrieked.
"Slim it. We don't need any more noise right now then there already is. He went to the phone-booth by the convenience store. To call 911." Alby filled him in.
"Good that." Minho nodded, and he noticed Thomas, on the grass, now stained red. Drowning in a pool of his own blood, seeping from a deep wound in his hand.
Out of the corner of his eye, through all the confusion, Minho saw a flash of blonde hair. Newt was racing back to them, panting.
"They're bloody coming. Didn't believe me at first." he explained. "Now they're gonna catch us for the shuck fireworks."
"Shuck it. We needed to get someone." Minho reassured.
A few exasperatingly long, confusing minutes later, a few paramedics arrived and loaded Thomas onto a stretcher. A policewoman also neared the boys, and although she had a police uniform on, didn't seem to be arresting the boys for theft.
Newt looked at her and panicked.
"What's wrong with you?" Minho asked, but Newt didn't respond.
She looked at Thomas, in critical condition, and seemed to be whispering something to him. Minho, mouth agape, barged in.
"What do you think you're doing with this shank here? He's not a criminal." he spat.
"Then I'm guessing you just bought $1,000 worth of fireworks? That are only sold to people 21 and over?" the policewoman reported.
"Well, he's not a criminal. Just leave Thomas alone." Minho began to walk away, but the woman stopped him.
"Are you a good friend of his?"
"Yeah."
"Do you know Teresa Agnes by any chance?"
"Who?"
The policewoman waved him away. "That's what I was expecting."
YOU ARE READING
the alternatives ⇒ tmr trilogy & newtmas au ⇒ COMPLETED
Fanfiction"Do ya have a nickname? Tommy or somethin'?" "No, just Thomas." It's 1962 and gangs rule the streets. The Alternatives, a group of violent boys with horrible life experiences are one of the most feared. When they find a boy in an alleyway at nigh...
