♫Talk Me Down by Troye Sivan.
~Sorry I didn't update yesterday but I was really busy so I didn't get a chance to write or upload anything. I got 6.5 hours of sleep last night so I was in bed until 12 today trying to sleep but failed then I had riding later in the afternoon.
Thomas's POV
Kissing Newt is different to what I though it'd be like. Don't get me wrong, it's great -insane- but somehow, it's better than I ever imagined. Feelings I've never experienced before radiate off my body and I'm positive Newt can feel it too.
His lips are warm, soft too, and move in sync with mine. I can feel slight hesitation in his movements but I encourage him to be more forward. I can feel his hands on my hips, holding me still and close. My thumb gently caresses his cheek as my fingers latch on to the side of his face.
It feels perfect. Everything is where it should be and the world is finally falling into place again.
I can't help but to crave more. As sweet as this is I also want to see what's underneath.
Surprisingly, it's Newt that pulls away before I do. He rests his forehead against mine and stares at his feet. The lack of breath finally catches up to us as we pant heavily. There are no words spoken- none need to be.
The silence wavers on one thin line, about to snap if neither of us speak.
"Newt? Are you okay?" I whisper with concern.
"It's overwhelming," he reply's. It's barely audible. "I don't know what I thought it'd be like but never bloody better than this."
A low chuckle sounds in my throat. I have to agree with him. Part of me thinks this is all just a dream. A fantasy. I'm dreading the pinch that awakes me from my slumber.
But it doesn't happen.
Because it's real. Newt's really here, in my arms.
"I really want this -us- Newt," I tell him honestly to which he looks up, "but I only want it if you do, too. I won't force you into it."
"Bloody hell, Tommy, I really want this too, but..."
"But what?"
"I'm scared. I'm terrified of the reality that faces us. We're both mentally ill- what if we destroy each other?"
I take in a sharp breath, knowing I'm about to be straightforward; "listen to me, Newt. We're not going to ruin or break each other. I've watched you from afar as you've shattered and crumbled. I pick you back up and I'm not going to stop now. You need trust yourself."
A single tear slips down his face which I kiss away.
"Then yes, I want you. I-I need you, Tommy."
Relief floods my body. I've waited too long for Newt and now I finally have him.
His kisses that shower my neck and jawline make me shudder. My whole body wants to fall lazily into his and stay there forever; two souls united alas.
"We should stop eventually," my breath hitches as I speak.
"Mmm, not now though, Tommy, I'm enjoying you too much," that damn British accent mutes any reply daring to escape my mouth.
And so we kiss,
and kiss,
and kiss,
and kiss,
and kiss,
Until our lips are bruised and too sore to carry on.
"It's mid-day, we should probably go greet everybody," I suggest.
"Agreed, but don't think this is over," Newt winks at me. I laugh at him before taking his hand in mine and leading him down the stairs.
As we enter the living room, all heads turn to us. There's a smile wider than the universe itself on Minho's face.
"I never thought this day would come," Minho's voice echo's through the room. "What took you two shuck-faces so long?"
Alby smirked before piping up a witty remark; "If you're talking about coming down here to help clean up then I'm guessing-"
"Alright, do you guys want some breakfast? Or lunch, should I say?" Gally butts in before Alby can finish his sentence. I have to bite my cheek to stop myself from laughing.
"Yeah, I'm starving," I manage to choke out.
"I second that," Newt also manages to maintain his normal, calm voice instead of a laugh.
I don't think I've seen him this lively in a long time.
I catch a look on Teresa's face. She smiles approvingly, showing her pearly white teeth in the process.
Then I know it's okay and always will be.
Everything is blissful.
Newt's POV
I play around with the food that sits on a plate before me. I'm hungry, yes, but there's an uneasy feeling in my stomach that stops me from eating. Thomas's worried glance burns on the side of my face. Everyone else is either talking amongst themselves or spectating us from the side.
"Can you stop looking at me," I say loud enough for Gally, Alby and Frypan to hear. "It's making me uncomfortable."
"Sorry dude, we don't mean to stare, really, but it's fascinating it took you so long to get together," Frypan says sincerely.
"Guys, can you give him some space?" Thomas pleads with the three of them. They nod their heads in sympathy and hurry out the kitchen.
"Thanks," I murmur.
"No problem," Thomas accepts the gratitude. "So I was thinking, are we going to be public about...?"
I chuckle to myself. Neither of us know what to call our relationship. Hell, I don't even know if we're actually dating. "I don't know, Tommy. Believe me when I say I really want to, but can we just hold hands when we're outside? Especially at school."
"Of course, we can," Thomas agrees, knowing I'm shy and absolutely hate attention.
"Are you going to tell your parents about us?" I ask. Thomas's dad isn't a very accepting person, but his mum is. He wants him to be the perfect son; straight A's and athletic, like every other parent wants their child to be. Unfortunately for Thomas, he's put under a huge amount of pressure, which causes his anxiety to spark.
I watch as his body stiffens and goes pale, "I don't know, Newt. My mom I'll probably tell, but not my dad-not yet, anyways."
I don't want to push him any further because I know he'll over think it and break. I nod my head and bite a slice of toast that's now gone cold. I swallow it with a drink of water and let silence fall over us.
Butterflies still swarm in my stomach; I don't know whether it's nerves or excitement that comes from the thought of being within an arms length of Thomas and being able to grab his hand at any moment.
"What are you grinning at?" He asks me.
"You," oh, the cliché burns. Neither of us can stop the uncontrollable laughter that fills the room. I don't remember the last time I laughed so much. My days are usually spent sulking in all black clothing and crying to myself about a variety of stupid little things.
While we're giggling, I take in Thomas's facial features and study them closely; his doe eyes light up when he's contented, his long lashes flutter softly when he blinks, his mouth hangs open wide when he's laughing.
It's a beautiful and rare sight I want to see more often. I need a light to guide me when my depression gets bad, and I want it to be this.
"You're adorable when you laugh," I say when we've calmed down enough for me to talk.
"Likewise," Thomas reply's, a smile vibrant on his lips.
"Shut up," I mumble, starting to feel heat arise on my cheeks. I'm not used to flattery so any compliment given to me is a reminder I'm cared about.
I cover my face with my hands, which I feel being pulled away moments later. "Don't hide your gorgeous face from me," Thomas whispers.
"Yes, Mr. Cliché, sir," I manage to retort before his soft lips are pressed against mine.
Perfection.
Complete and utter perfection.