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oftenderweapons · 3 years

Text

Apple of My Pie — Jin

A Small Town Swoons story

Chapter 1.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Buttercup)

Wordcount: 3.5k words

Genre: non-idol!AU, Baker/Café owner!Seokjin, University student!reader Flatmates!AU, Friends To Lovers, Fluff, slightest angst.

Rating: suggested 18+ (there are brief apparitions of dirty thoughts, also future episodes will contain NSFW material)

A/N: Hello my sweet poppies! Welcome to the Small Town Swoon Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: Jin and Buttercup met when she was nothing but a scared, homesick first year student. Four years later, the two share an apartment close to her university and his bakery and café, and are the best of friends, sharing the house, several meals and, most importantly a sacred breakfast ritual. However, as far as sharing goes, Seokjin’s heart has belonged exclusively to Buttercup for four years. Exhausted, Jin finally decides to let go of his unrequited feelings, or at least try.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Oh, this is chill. Light swearing, heavy infraction of The Silent Roommate Code (aka don’t do the nasty with your bf when your roommate is sleeping in the bed at the other end of the room. Especially if she’s a virgin, first year and very homesick). Also, there is a quick flash image of breast worship, sorry.

Remember to vote for next prompt (check the link in my bio) and in case you need it, here’s my masterlist 💜

In case you need it, here is the music companion

Enjoy! ✨💜

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

It was a slow morning at Jin’s café, only a pair of clients sitting at the small table in the corner, two girls who always met there on Sunday morning, at an illegal hour for the weekend. They had outdoor equipment with them, and probably it was just a stop for a quick breakfast before going skiing or trekking, which was strange considering the disastrous downpour outside, but who was he to debate.

Plus the usual early birds were late too, probably because of the university bonfire the night before.

Seokjin yawned and silently cried over his lost hours of sleep. He was ready to sit down, tip the back of his head against the wall and sleep — actually, rest his eyes —, when the bell at the front door dinged, announcing a new customer.

He inhaled and wore his best smile, standing up. “Good morn— Oh my god, sweetie are you alright?” He asked, seeing a drenched young girl stand at the door.

“I might use a friend.”

That girl was you, running away from your roommate and her boyfriend fucking in your dorm room. Right in the bed beside yours. With you there. And they didn’t even bother keeping quiet.

Seokjin was awestruck. You were soaked like a stray kitten left out in the rain, your hair sticking to your face, your eyes wide and your lip trembling, speaking of several degrees of trauma. “Poor thing.” He murmured, “wait, I should have a blanket back here.”

He dashed for the small cot he had in his office, in the back of the shop, gripping the fleece blanket and bringing it back to the counter, jogging around it and opening the blanket wide as he stared at you. “It’s better if you take off your robe. It’s dripping wet.” He said discreetly.

The girls at the front stared at the scene, a bit worried about you but mostly endeared at the cute barista taking care of you.

“May I use the restroom? The shirt underneath is, uh, thin... Oh, god this is so embarrassing.” You hid your face in your hands.

“Of course,” Jin blushed to his ears, offering you the blanket. “Would you like some coffee? Tea? Cocoa?”

Your lip wobbled, eyes watering and not for the rain. “Cocoa?”

“Yes, sweetie. Go get changed, the restroom is over there.” He pointed at the door.

“Thank you so much.” You said, placing the blanket in front of your chest.

Seokjin rushed behind the counter, grabbing a rag to dry up the wet patches you had left on the floor before someone slipped. Next he got your cocoa ready.

In the quiet morning, through the background music and the gentle chatting of the other two clients, he could hear you using the hand dryer, glad that it was set on hot air so that you could hopefully warm yourself in the process. He even thought of bringing you in the actual bakery, where he had a small traditional stove operated by firewood, other than the big oven working for croissants and banana bread and brownies and pies.

You emerged from the bathroom a little more composed, bundled up in his blanket.

It smelled good. Like raw sugar, butter and apples. A tinge of raisins.

It smelled domestic, like your granny.

You missed your granny.

You missed home.

Your lip wobbled again.

“Come sit”, he said, pointing at a chair in a private corner of the room, somewhere you would be a bit protected from the rest of the shop. It was also conveniently close to the counter, so he could check on you and ask you if you wanted to talk about what had happened. His first thought was that you were a teenage runaway with very bad planning skills, considering that you had run out in your pyjamas and a jacket, your shoes definitely inappropriate for the weather outside, holding only a pair of keys and your wallet in your hands, placing them on the counter once you sat.

“I’m Seokjin.” He said kindly, offering you his hand.

You caught his hand and introduced yourself.

“So, what brings you here with this devil weather so early on a Sunday morning.”

“Running away from my roommate and her boyfriend.” You said, hugging the blanket tighter around you.

“What hap— Nevermind, I think I got it.” Seokjin said, blinking repeatedly. Goodness, people were nasty. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, placing the cup of cocoa in front of you. “Cream? Cocoa powder? Cinnamon? Chocolate sauce? Marshmallows?” He asked.

You teared up. “Marshmallows.”

He poured an abundant amount of them as he pouted, noticing you had become even more upset.

“There you go, Buttercup.” He said, smiling at you so kindly.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice weak and your forehead creased as you desperately tried not to let your tears spill.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, delicately letting his hands move toward yours, moving slowly to see if you took it away. “May I?” He asked, his fingers hovering over yours.

You nodded. While your left hand held the blanket close to your chest, your right ended pressed between his warm palms, the one on top rubbing your knuckles.

“How old are you?” He asked, worried. He wore a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, you look very young, I’m just asking to see if I should call your parents or anyone adult.”

“I live at the dorms. I’m in college.” You said, frowning a little.

“As I said, you look very young. And there are some underage students here so...” He explained, his deep, dark eyes breaching through your bad mood.

“I’m a first year. Nineteen.” You said.

“Poor darling, that must be so hard on you.” He said softly, still patting your hand.

You nodded. “I miss my family. My granny.”

“Oh, buttercup.” He cooed.

If you were in a sane state of mind you would have snickered at yourself and at how miserable you looked.

Still, you were grateful for the kind and gentle Seokjin. And how easily he had brought you back home, with the scent of his café, the taste of the cocoa and the specific brand of marshmallow that your grandmother always got for you when you were little.

“It’s a three hour drive. And it’s tough here.” You said, hiding your face as you dried one tear.

“Do you have any friends here?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Not really.”

Seokjin smiled, his eyes becoming even kinder as his cheeks became round and puffy. “From today, I’m your friend.”

Seokjin, you are a strong-willed, honest man. You are a gentleman. You are a good human. He kept repeating in his brain.

You are a polite, friendly, reliable. You are her friend. He repeated as a mantra.

Still, his brain was completely drowned with thoughts of you in the shower.

The two of you had become flatmates in rushed circumstances after you found an apartment ten minutes away from your university, which allowed you to walk there without having to take the bus or end up in the decrepit dorms, sharing a room way too small with someone way too rude or too loud.

Seokjin still didn’t know what had convinced him to share an apartment with you. It was hell. And heaven too, when he didn’t keep reminding himself that you weren’t his girlfriend, that you would never see him like that, and that he shouldn’t be playing house with you.

It was torture and bliss. Bliss on your Sunday mornings, when you could have breakfast together, or random nights when you would have movie marathons together and you would fall asleep against his shoulder, when he would cook for you and you would have dinner together over a glass of wine, laughing and making jokes. The more he spent time with you like that, seeing you drink your morning cup of coffee while still half asleep, on those days when he had someone else doing the morning shift — which was extremely rare — the more he realised you were absolutely perfect for him.

And then torture.

In moments like this, while you were under the shower, when you got out of it and as usual you walked around the house clad in nothing but a towel, absolutely comfortable in your skin, or when you thought he wasn’t home and he could hear your breathy moans and little whimpers, and then again on those two or three nights you had taken somebody home — in those circumstances he felt like he was paying for an ancient crime he didn’t know he had committed.

You had convinced him to move in with you since the apartment — being close to the university — was also incredibly close to his shop, and once he saw your eyes glimmering, your pretty face begging him to accompany you to visit the apartment, he couldn’t really say no.

So, he had said yes.

And once he saw the building, and the warm, domestic ambience, he realised that even if he would never be your lover, the least he could allow himself was to live this small daydream with you.

A week later you and him had signed the papers to rent the place. And everything had escalated from there. You had become the closest of friends, trusting and leaning on each other in every moment, through every difficulty.

However, the more he got to know about the men you dated, the more he realised you would never be attracted to him.

They were all fancy preppy boys who very likely knew the entirety of the Oxford dictionary and could probably recite Shakespeare sonnets impromptu. One of them could easily have been grandson to a duchess or a marquise. And he was pretty sure the first boy you had dated — second year university — had even a trust fund.

It was basically unreal for you to look at him with anything but friendly appreciation.

In an attempt to silence his thoughts, he got out of bed and headed for the kitchen, starting the coffee machine and getting your breakfast ready.

Maybe you would have completely ignored it being January and you would have simply climbed the barstool by the counter wearing your bathrobe, your hair still wet, and the two of you could have had breakfast just like that, without any kind of embarrassment.

As soon as coffee started brewing, your nose appeared from the bathroom door, barely ajar as you slipped out in a soft-looking white t-shirt.

As he threw a glance in your direction he knew immediately that you had very likely stolen the undershirt from his freshly washed laundry.

You slithered out of the bathroom and with stealthy footsteps you occupied your regular spot in the kitchen, watching as he prepared all the necessary material for a respectable breakfast.

“Good morning.” He said as he saw you perched on your favourite seat.

“Morning.” You replied, your feet bare, your toes gripping the small bar connecting the two front legs of the chair. “I thought you were at the café.” You said, pushing your hair away from your face. They weren’t dripping, but they were still a bit damp, especially since you had stopped drying them as soon as the smell of hot coffee reached you in the bathroom.

“Lara is covering the morning shift. I’m doing tea time today. The ladies love me and Lara can’t stand them asking about her boyfriend. I can’t have her kiss and grind on her girlfriend in the middle of my distinguished bakery out of spite.” Jin placed some apple slices on your plate, together with a quite large piece of apple pie.

In a small bowl, he poured some dry fruit before placing it on the table.

“Petty, angsty thing she is.” You said, clicking your tongue. “A true hero.”

He snickered. “Not surprised you’re friends.”

“I am patience made person.” You said, playfully offended.

“Like that one time you smashed a plate on the floor because you had burnt yourself when taking it out of the oven.”

“It was an accident. I dropped it.”

“Like it’s hot.” Seokjin murmured under his breath, lightly swaying his hips as he finished aesthetically placing your food on the plate.

“What?” You asked, comically confused.

“Nothing.” He said, stopping altogether before pouring you some coffee, adding a spray of whipped cream and decorating it with caramel and crushed caramelised almonds.

Jin asked himself how many more times he’d be able to cook you breakfast; how long until he would have to teach someone else, until you would move out with another person and you start your day with crappy industrial food instead of homemade pies and organic apples and his grandmother’s dried hazelnuts and almonds and freshly toasted chestnuts when the season was right.

Whenever he was home, he spoiled you with homemade breakfast. It was the only way he truly allowed himself to show you how desperately in love with you he is. Anytime he cooked, love simply seemed to pour out of his body through the powerful way he kneaded biscuit and pie batter, and the delicate gestures he used to place each part of a dish to form beautiful works of art: crimson red wine risotto on white porcelain plates; juicy cuts of meat, perfectly cooked in that wondrous oven of his, with a deep brown layer on the outside and the most tender dark pink in the middle, laying on the freshest bed of lettuce with a thin dribble of balsamic vinegar and crushed green peppercorn on deep blue rectangular plates.

And every Sunday was sacred. Every Sunday morning he woke up like he had spent all Saturday night courting you and making love to you — minus the obvious relief and satisfaction that come from spending all night on a bed with the person who is your partner and your lover at the same time. Sunday morning was his favourite ritual. Waking you up with the smell of your favourite hot chocolate — the one you seemed to be addicted to, and that he used on you and against you very wisely — and then cake, a different one every week, and again fruit and sometimes, in summer he would go to the closest farm, buy the milk directly from the farmer, a friend of his grandmother, at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning, bring it home, pasteurise it so that it was ready for Sunday morning, when he would use it for the healthiest of smoothies.

He loves you. He has loved you for years. And after two years of living together, losing hope was a possibility.

A possibility a bit too vast at the moment. Actually — hopefully — reality.

Today would be like any other day if it weren’t for one small fact.

Two days ago it had been four years since he first realised he had fallen for you. And two days ago he had decided he would stop chasing after you.

Therefore, he had decided that from then on, he would let go of you, even if that meant losing a part of himself. And today he would actively start walking a new path.

Once the table was ready, he arranged both your and his plate there, without passing you your cup of coffee — as he usually did — and waiting for you to come to the table.

You moved your hair out of the way as you sat down, taking your fork, not even noticing Seokjin’s first sign of petty detachment. You immediately stabbed your fork inside the apple slice and bit into it.

“Do you have lessons today?”

“Romantic Philology in the afternoon.” You replied munching, pushing your hair behind your shoulders, accidentally exposing two wet patches on the front of your t-shirt.

Actually, Seokjin’s t-shirt, but you decided he didn’t need to know that: you had simply forgotten to carry your clothes to the bathroom and once you heard the bustle going on in the kitchen, you managed to find a pair of pyjama pants in the clean laundry, but not a shirt. And you had stolen one of Seokjin’s. Not like it was a big deal.

“Romantic as in love?” He asked.

“No, as in 1830s, German, English and Italian. We’re looking into Byron and Shelley. Sometimes it’s outright boring, but our professor is so hilarious, she sees right through all those pompous arses.” You said, getting started on your masterpiece of a coffee.

“Oh.” Seokjin said. One more point for the preppy kids.

“No, it’s just academic stuff. Nothing that is actually worth something in real life. Some days I just wish I could give up on Goethe and Scott and the Brontes so I could bake cookies without a care in the world.”

And every day he wished he could give you just that. Turn his bakery into your sanctuary, hold you there, half guest, half hostage.

He decided to halt his thoughts there. No more.

“So you have teatime. Do you want me to make dinner tonight?” You asked.

“Actually no.” He said casually.

You stopped munching on your food. “Oh. It’s not Tuesday, though. Are you out with the guys, random meet up? Is Namjoon in town?”

“No.” He glued his eyes to the plate. No, he had not noticed your hardened nipples, a vague halo of dusty pink appearing from underneath the thin, wet white cotton. No. He would not let his mind wander. No, he would smash the thought out of his mind.

Smash you.

No! The thought. His mind. Out.

Like the colour didn’t remind him of fresh raspberry ice cream, like he hadn’t imagined dragging frozen raspberries against your oh-so-responsive buds, only to warm them with his mouth afterwards, pinch the small fruits between his fingers, crush them until tiny droplets of ruby juice landed on your lush breasts, his tongue lashing out to collect the liquid and lave your luscious curves.

But this time the thought did not enter his brain. This time he let it wither and dissolve into fine, sterile dust.

“Are you having dinner with your granny? And you didn’t invite me?” You said, pouting. “Her roast-beef is—” You stopped and swooned. “The definition of perfection.”

“I’m out on a date.” He said briefly and simply.

You frowned and quickly lifted your eyebrows, not letting the confusion show. “You sure you still know how those work?”

“It’s not like I’m celibate.” He said shrugging with his humongous shoulders. Lifting all those sacks of flour… And helping at the farm— You frowned again.

“Cinnamon?” He asked, knowing that the spice sometimes bothered you.

“No, no...”

“Do you need assistance, for your date? You sure you don’t mean the exotic, typically Egyptian fruit?”

“I mean I’m going out with a girl.” Seokjin started growing impatient.

“Who is it?” You asked, out of curiosity. In two years he had never brought a girl home. And in four years you had know each other, you had never seen him with a female friend or an actual girlfriend. You didn’t even know what is his type.

“Her name is Grace. She’s been a regular at the café for a few months now. She asked me out and I thought it would be rude to say no.”

Your interest poked, you placed down your fork. “Did she invite you?” You held your coffee in your hands, trying to keep yourself from gesticulating nervously.

“No. I did.” He said, finishing his pie and starting to eat all the hazelnuts in the small cup.

“I mean. Plenty of girls give you their phone number on a weekly basis. I literally find them everywhere. There’s around thirty on top of the washing machine alone, because I can’t do your laundry and have all those pieces of papers disintegrating and infesting our laundry and the drain. Why didn’t you ignore her like all the rest?” You asked, a bit upset.

“Because she seems a nice person,” who could love me back, which you don’t. He replied, leaving half the motivation silent in his brain.

“Cool.” You said, finishing your coffee before standing up and placing the cup in the sink.

“Cool,” he replied, neutral, watching as you left all the almonds and dried banana slices in the cup, the pie on your plate. “You’re not done with breakfast.”

“I’m late with my homework.” Which you weren’t, but you felt like your breakfast had been poisoned. Maybe that’s why you felt sick in your stomach.

Seokjin pouted and finished his food before placing your leftovers in small boxes. He knew you would come back hungry from uni and finish the food you had abandoned.

He didn’t read too much into your reaction. He was done trying to understand you.

Today he was finally done being stuck at a crossroad, and although your path in the woods felt and looked lovely and smelled even better, he opted for the safe, trodden and charted way that led out of the woods, into the uneventfulness of the ordinary.

———————————————————

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

#bangtanhq #thetruthuntoldnet #kim seokjin x reader #Jin x reader #kim seokjin #Baker!seokjin #bts fanfiction #bts blog #seokjin fluff #Seokjin flatmates!Au #Seokjin friends to lovers

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kakakakashi · 3 years

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I’ve never... watched Golden Girls, but I know I should lmao. So... I don’t think that he is maybe reacting that way, but my guess (I am on like 195 now lol so I’m not at all done but just spewing my own garbage rn) is that he is kind of “masking” to be what he thinks he has to be. I work in an office & I kinda do that so that everyone likes me. 😕 gonna word vomit in a 2nd request because I have a character limit lmaoooo 🍡🍡

Okay PT 2 of 🍡Rants lmao. Hawks is also the opposite of what I go for! Like I love a funny guy, but Aizawa in both looks & personality is exactly my type. My bf even has long dark messy hair, facial hair, is constantly grumpy, tired and pretty quiet lol. But I fckn love Hawks. I love the way he just... is such a dick to Endeavor. Like Endeavor is a douche and he is MAD SCARY. Like if I met him irl I’d cry frfr. Okay I think I am good now lol thanks for listening

Meh, you don’t have to watch it if you don’t want to. It’s a funny show, though! It’s one of my favorites ever.

Oh, you’re 100% right about Hawks, though, especially because of how the Commission groomed him to be their shiny little doll & nothing else. I think that that’s part of why some women relate to him so much. It reminds me of how the marvel fandom loves Bucky so much. It’s the same concept of being stripped of everything you know in order to be a perfect tool for others. Hawks then develops a dependency on his mask & uses it to hide, so he doesn’t hurt as much or rock the boat.

I feel that. Okay, so like… Hawks & Endeavor… *sigh* I’ll continue under the cut.

This is the one aspect of his character that makes me just… I don’t think I could ever truly respect Hawks in reality because of this. He’s canonically admired Endeavor since he was a wee little chick. I get that. That’s not what upsets me. What bothers me is that… as he grows up… and after he learns about Endeavor… he still admires and respects him… the same as when he was a kid…

Like, it’s canon that Hawks knows about Touya. It’s canon that he knows about Shoto. He probably knows about Rei. If he knows about Rei, he probably also has some idea of Natsuo and Fuyumi given certain circumstances. (I’ll leave it at that to keep this spoiler free for you.) However, Hawks still thinks Endeavor is just the coolest. It’s obvious he seeks his approval and desires to work with his own personal hero. Now, when I learned that the information had no impact on his pristine image of Enji, I was like “Alright, well we’re having chicken for dinner. Shoto, you want chicken with your cold soba? Never mind. Tastes like motherfuckin RAT!”

I literally felt so betrayed, I wrote a whole angsty Dabi x Reader x Hawks thing that was just basically me calling the both of them out for their shit despite loving the both of them because nobody talks about how they have some p sucky traits.

I just can’t excuse that from Hawks. Like, knowing what I do about Hawks, I would never trust him as a hero. I can’t be sure if he’d save me if/when I needed him, but that’s a whole other rant about how I think he’d dismiss me. My point is that Hawks is the character he’s supposed to be, a “false hero” who Stain would hate, even under his mask. Also, it is an accurate portrayal of how heroes who are supposed to protect people don’t always protect you like they’re supposed to, and it’s a lot more common than most people realize. You know?

Also, tag yourself. I’d see Endeavor, call him a bitch to his face, call him every name in the book, punch him in the face, spit on him, and tell him to get out of my face & go to hell. (Although, I do love AUs where he’s a good dad & not a piece of shit who frequently beats his family. Also, he’s beefy & the thirst is real.) (He still canonically a shitstain, tho.) Also, the “Endeavor redemption arc” bullshit is stupid, and it shouldn’t be a thing. He’s not actually trying to do better to make up for what he did, he’s trying to do better for his own personal gain. He’s still using certain abuse tactics & it makes me so angry.

I’m always here for canon Endeavor hate.

Also AU Endeavor love.

Anyway, rant over. Golden Girls is a good show.

#cherry chats with friends #🍡 anon #gonna go sluuurp some soba with Shoto & shit talk our dads now.#also gonna go talk to ***** about stuff that you'll get to later.#I see Enji's canon vs. AU character similar to how I see canon vs. fanon Jiraiya #Anonymous

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lokidiabolus · 6 years

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Hey, Misha! Needless to say, I absolutely adore your writing 💓 I've always loved Childhood Friends!AU and I was wondering if you're keen on writing a prompt (or more prompts, it's not like I would be complaining haha!) about Newtmas as childhood friends? It would be so cool!

To be completely honest, childhood friends!AU is one of my favourite tropes ever. I had several ideas in my head for it, but this one occured to me y-day after p browsing internet, finding a picture of unrequired love kind of thing. I'll probably return to the childhood friends!au with different ideas, but I just had to get this one out ^^

Ao3 Version.

Newt was born in England, Brighton, but when hewas five, his family decided to move to America and settle down in a house witha white fence and a dog, living the American dream. Newt hated it there – he hated how peoplespoke, he hated how they laughed, how they behaved, how nothing was like he wasused to. He missed his friends and their little house near the coast, the airand the beaches.

After a year he got used to his new life to adegree where he didn’t whine to his parents anymore, but secretly remainedbitter about people around him, until the first day of the first grade where hemet Thomas in his class.

Thomas was a kid of the same age; with bigbrown eyes and really adorable way of pronouncing “squirrel” (that was also whyNewt remembered him so well right the first day). He didn’t live too far fromNewt’s house, just few blocks actually, and he was the friendliest person Newtmet in America so far. They became friends very fast and 11 years later Newt consideredhim his best friend he could tell everything to.

Well, almost everything.

He started crushing on him when he was aboutfifteen, but if he really wanted to be honest, he probably somehow fell in lovewith Thomas’ adorableness right in the first grade and it stuck to him like aglue. He tried to get rid of the feeling at first, because hey, two guys andThomas being straighter than an arrow didn’t really offer anything but trouble,but he failed miserably, so he just decided to ignore the problem until it wouldeventually go away.

He was 17 now and it was still there. Newt wouldeven say worse than before, especially when Thomas started to date his highschool sweetheart Teresa and Newt had no idea what to do with himself. He wasstill the best friend, still the main person Thomas turned to and telleverything (sadly definitely everything)but how the creeping desperation inside of him progressed, Newt started to hatehimself with passion and the fear of not fulfilling the expectation of the TheBest FriendTM was eating him up alive.

“You’re awfully quiet today.”

Newt jolted and almost spilled his drink he wasabsentmindedly holding all this time, while sitting in Thomas’ bedroom,completely ignoring the TV that was playing. He didn’t even know why he cameover in the end, but it probably involved Teresa not being present. Spendingalone time with Thomas had been rather difficult lately, but Newt thought itwas better, since it would give him less chances to screw up.

“Sorry,” he put the glass with drink on thetable, wiping his hand to his trousers. “Just thinkin’.”

“’bout?” Thomas’ voice was full of curiosityand Newt sometimes thought he should work harder on pretending everything wasfine before Thomas would put one and one together.

“How lame your hair is today,” he shot back,glancing at his friend with a perfectly faked smirk, and Thomas sputtered.

“Noooo…”

“You look like an idiot,” he insisted, becausehey, Thomas really did look strange with the hair being all up and ready to runaway, judging from the weird angles it had. He kind of guessed it was Teresa’sinfluence or something, but it didn’t mean it looked good. Thomas groaned andslid down his bed and onto the floor like sack of potatoes.

“Fuck, I really hate it too,” he heard himsaying. “But I tried; therefore no one should criticize me.”

“Go wash it,” Newt nudged him and Thomascrawled away, whining all the way to the bathroom, and then some more frominside. He was dating Teresa for about four months now and Newt was alreadyspotting her touch on all kind of things – the hair, some clothes, even musictaste. All things were screaming no toNewt, but he couldn’t really say much about it, unless he wanted to upsetThomas marginally (unless it was really bad, like the hair today). They weremeeting up less too, gaming together felt like impossible task and all the freetime got usurped with deadly accuracy, as if on purpose. But Newt was braveenough to say it couldn’t be Teresa’s aim, because he was really trying hisbest to pretend, and nobody found out yet. Thomas even preferred her most ofthe time and Newt wasn’t the one to complain, it was usually other Thomas’friends who did.

Or was it because he wasn’t loud enough?Because he acted so reconciled with the fact Thomas was in love with somebodyelse?

No, he thought. Can’t be it. Would be weirder if I whined about it.

“Phew, that’s better,” Thomas emerged back fromthe bathroom, towel around his shoulders and his hair wetly plastered on hishead. “That’s for me believing what a girl is saying.”

“Feels bad, man,” Newt commented with a smile andThomas sat next to him on the floor with a sigh. The TV played some randomdrama and Thomas seemed too interested in it, which meant something wasbothering him but he tried to pretend everything was fine.

Newt tilted his head to the side and nudged himagain.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly and Thomasmade a face at the TV. Newt wasn’t sure if it the scene was that bad, since hebarely paid attention, or if it meant he didn’t want to talk about any problemthat could be occurring.

“Think I’m a shitty bf,” Thomas said with hiseyes still fixated on the screen. Newt stared back at him with no idea what thehell to say, until Thomas finally glanced towards him with embarrassedexpression.

“What,” Newt managed, his mind reeling. True,it was kind of strange Thomas wasn’t with Teresa as he always did, or at leaston the phone texting her, but he didn’t really think much of it until now. “Why?”

“Cuz she’s not happy,” Thomas answered withsurprising calm.

“Not happy?” Newt repeated incredulously. Whatelse she wanted from Thomas than what he was already giving her? They werebasically always together lately too. “She told you or something?”

“She didn’t need to,” Thomas shrugged, but itlooked rather weak. “She’s not happy cuz I’m not happy.”

Then break up withher, Newt greedyside wanted to say, but he forced himself to stop. Under no circumstances hewould say something like that, ever. Hewas going to support Thomas because he was his best friend, even though herepeated it in his head like mantra too many times so it would still be true.

“Did something happen between you?” he askedinstead, carefully, like walking over broken glass, and Thomas shook his head. “Youtalked about it with her?” Thomas nodded. “And?”

“I guess it’s kinda over?” Came a reply andNewt’s heart almost stopped. They broke up? Broke up for real?

Nonono, stop thinkingabout it!

“’m sorry to hear that, man,” Newt forced outas apologetically as he could and patted Thomas on his back. “Can I do anythingfor you to feel better?”

Because of course his stupid, greedy self wouldsay that. Like oh great, you broke up,let’s spend more time together again, so I can get my dose like a junkie beforeit’s too late!

“You being here is already doing a lot,” Thomassmiled at him gratefully and Newt kind of wanted to cry. This was not fair andyet it absolutely was, and in the end it changed nothing and it never would.Teresa might have been out of picture, but there were going to be other girls,other dates and relationships and Newt was stagnating on one spot, unable tomove forward, the best friend watching from side lines.

“Anytime, man,” he said anyway and when Thomasrested his head on Newt’s shoulder like a content overgrown cat, Newt waspretty sure he was soon going to burn in hell.

***

“Man, I’m so jelly of that guy.”

“Huh?” Newt raised his head from the notes whenWinston was staring into his phone like somebody sent him a death threat.

“I wanted to buy a ticket for today’s B-Clubperformance, but they are all sold out already,” Winston whined, uselesslyclicking on order while getting errormessages.

“That rubbish band?” Newt raised an eyebrow andWinston made a face at him.

“They may be rubbish, but it’s full of prettyladies, sue me,” he commented with pursed lips and Newt shook his head with achuckle. “And that bastard Thomas already have a ticket!”

“What?” that made Newt alert again, this timewith confused undertone. Thomas never listened to the band, quite frankly nevereven paid them much attention, despite the fact it was full of young girls, andsuddenly had a ticket for the show? Why?

“That chick Brenda got him one,” Winston letout a sigh. “Seriously. Lucky bastard, scoring a date and ogling at one night.”

A date?

Newt hated how his stomach clenched at that,like somebody was kicking him repeatedly. It had been two weeks since the break-upwith Teresa and Thomas fell back into his let’shang out every day routine with Newt. They usually had at least dinnertogether, either at Newt’s or Thomas’ home, and their parents were like: oh, glad to see you coming here again [name]!It was almost like they were kids once more, playing videogames or justtalking, even helping each other with assignments. Thomas never mentioned anyBrenda during the talks, and Newt was perfectly sure if there was a dating possibility,he would tell Newt as the first person. And Newt would smile and congratulatehim, as he always did, and the meetings would diminish, as they always did, andeverything would be the same once more.

But now he didn’t know about anything thatmight have even resemble Thomas wanting to date, and unless he met her justtoday and she immediately gave him a ticket for a rubbish show, it just fellout of the learned way of Thomas’ behaviour pattern.

He despised himself the moment he grabbed hisphone and sent Thomas a message about tonight’s dinner, because his masochisticside of wanting to suffer just couldn’t be repressed, apparently. Surely Thomaswould tell him about dating. Surely Winston just heard wrong?

Thomas – 14:21 – Sorrymy man, can’t tonight! Call it for tomorrow though, ayyy!

Newt sent something neutral back, he knew that,it was a well learned move, and then the rest of the day somehow passed as ablur.

***

“Chinese food.”

“Your favourite,” Thomas responded proudlywhile presenting the kitchen table full of white, neat boxes. The food in themsmelled fantastic and there was too much for just two of them, and Newt bit histongue in order to keep any questions about yesterday inside. Thomas waspractically glowing and he knew that kind of state – falling in love, beingobsessed, overdosed with endorphins. Newt had no bloody right to pry into it ifThomas didn’t want to tell him, and maybe it was easier with the blissedoblivion for a little longer.

“You’re too nice,” he said instead withpracticed smile, and no, he was happy for him, he was glad Thomas was in goodmood and in great place right now. He was still his best friend, and bestfriends were basically family. He was (bitterly) happy for him. “What’s theoccasion?”

“You looking like an advertisement for Twiggyfashion?” Thomas joked and pulled a chair away, gesturing for Newt to sit down.

Oh no, Newt thought. He’s going to drop something huge. He’s never this super nice without areason.

“Thomas,” he eyed him warily, but the brunetjust grinned and gestured towards the chair again, so Newt sat down and hopedfor the best. “You’re creeping me out now.”

“Oh no, this soon?” Thomas faked a shock andNewt wanted to groan. “What are you going to say after the candles and themarching band I ordered to play your favourite song?”

“I’d just rather die already,” Newt buried hisface in his hands and Thomas laughed in honest amusement and patted his back.

“Oh c’mon, Newtie, you know you love it anyway,”he had the nerve to wink at him and when he finally sat down on the other chairand handed Newt one of the boxes without pulling a bouquet of roses out of hisass, Newt could relax a little.

“So, I had been thinking,” Thomas started and Newtbraced for the inevitable as casually as he could. It was fine, a good friendordering his favourite food while telling him something insane, like thatwhoever Brenda had been was now pregnant and Thomas was dropping out of schoolto marry her to have a nice house at the beach, a golden retriever and a whitefence.

Good grief, I hopenot, for his own sake.

“I hope it didn’t hurt,” Newt piped withoutlooking at him when Thomas grew quiet. “You rarely use your brain, don’t strainit too much in one go.”

“Oi, I use it when it counts!” Thomas retortedback with a smile in his voice and Newt’s mouth curled up in a smile too,almost involuntarily. He kept his eyes on the food though, just to be sure.

“So?” he asked matter-of-factly and Thomassighed.

“Are you not going to look at me at all tonight?”

Newt blinked and glanced up, spotting Thomas’sour expression aimed at him.

“Huh?” he let out stupidly. “Uh, sorry. Lookingat you now.”

The sour expression stayed and Newt cleared histhroat and put the box back on the table.

“Sorry,” he repeated. “What’s yours I had been thinking thing then?”

“Eh, never mind, the mood is gone,” the brunetshrugged and reached for his food as well. “My bad.”

He didn’t elaborate even when Newt was glaringat him for a full minute after and then half of the first episode of Scrubs.

***

It came as no surprise when Thomas couldn’tcome for dinner the next day or the day after. It gave Newt the right message,and quite frankly he was a little glad he managed not to hear Thomas out theother day, because even when he could imagine what Thomas had to say, it wouldstill take too much effort to keep straight face during it. So he was nowcontent with the Schrodinger relationship that kept Thomas busy and justwallowed in his own self-pity for a change.

Was it going to be like this forever? Was hegoing to pin after him until he would be old and wrinkly and Thomas would havea wife, and kids and grandkids and occasionally invite Newt over for the good old-timesake while sporting his wife’s favoured brand of clothes and hairstyle?

Am I going to bebitter and alone forever because I just can’t give up?

He took his phone, his eyes fixated on Thomas’name in the chat log, and the last message was a lil busy this week, I will make it up to you.

“Make it up to me,” he read out loud, the lightfrom the phone almost blinding him in the dark room where he was hidden underthe covers.

Newt – 20:11 – Hey, Ireally miss you. Hewrote, then his fingers stopped and got back to the delete button, erasing thewhole message.

Newt – 20:15 – I loveyou since the first grade and can’t stop thinking about you. He wrote again, his fingerstrembling, and it hurt inside. He left the text shine on the screen for awhile, reading it over and over again, but it didn’t make it a lie, it didn’terase the truth in the words. He deleted it again until there was only ablinking cursor staring back at him, mockingly challenging him to writesomething that wouldn’t completely destroy the friendship he clung to almosthis whole life.

Newt – 20:30 – Hey! Anyplans for tonight? :)

He hit sent and tossed the phone next to him onthe mattress, leaving it bounce several times before landing screen down,muting the light. He knew what answer to expect and didn’t want to read itanytime soon.

The sleep claimed him almost immediately.

***

“Newtie, you’re getting old,” said Thomas’voice in his dream. It was warm and friendly and Newt imagined him sitting onhis bed, gently stroking his hair while smiling down at him.

“Am I?” he asked back, basking in the raremoment of calmness, free of bitter reality and his own wicked thoughts abouthis best friend.

“Falling asleep so early,” Thomas was stillsmiling and his hand was warm on Newt’s cheek, caressing it. “Is there somethingon your mind?”

“You,” Newt responded back and it was so easyand liberating to say it. “It has always been you.”

The caressing stopped for a fraction of second,but then Thomas was leaning down, tilting Newt’s chin up, and his lips were alittle dry, but Newt loved the kiss anyway. It was soft and gentle, like sailingon waves of serenity and when Thomas started to pull away, he boldly chased hislips, stealing one more kiss before letting go, swiping his tongue over Thomas’lower lip in satisfaction.

“I know it’s a little overdue, but,” Thomas’voice was lower now, huskier, and Newt goddamn loved this kind of dream. He lethis best friend, his unfulfilled love, to sit over him like a knight waking upa princess and it was ridiculous to think about it that way, but it fitted sowell Newt just had to chuckle at the thought.

“What?” There was evident confusion in Thomas’eyes, but Newt wished it away – not here, not now. Thomas, his dream Thomas,understood his thoughts.

“A knight and a sleeping beauty,” he said witha smile and Thomas barked out a laugh.

“Can’t say it doesn’t fit,” he agreed, and Newtfelt more clarity now, more noises came to him. He must have started to wake upand the thought made him sad.

“What I meant to say,” Thomas started talkingagain and Newt started to feel thirsty, like after a night in a hot room, and alittle stuffy. Didn’t he turn off the heating before going to sleep? Damn, itwas already ruining the dream like an apocalypse. “Was that I had beenthinking-,”

“Déjà vu,“ Newt mumbled and then it hit him.

He wasn’t sleeping. This wasn’t a dream. Thomaswas in his room, sitting on his bed, talking to him. Kissing him.

“And you never let me finish,” Thomas sighed,fully in flesh and here and Newtstarted to panic. The terror was setting in his bones like lead and pinned himto the bed with deadly accuracy of somebody, whose sentence was to die in thevery bed, by shame and mortification and so, so much bitterness.

“What are you doing here?” Newt croaked out,his eyes wide, and Thomas didn’t move an inch from his current bent downposition above him. The living nightmare was too cruel now, too merciless.

“You asked me what plans I have, I answered youand you didn’t reply,” Thomas responded with eerie calm for somebody who justgot kissed by his best friend out of the blue. “So I stopped by, auntie saidyou’re in your room and then I found you here sleeping.”

“Oh no,” Newt croaked. “Oh god no.”

“Then I kissed you, you were fine and now you’refreaking out,” Thomas ended the elaboration and added an eyeroll for a goodmeasure. Newt hoped the bed would open and swallow him whole.

“You were a dream!” Newt whined in defence, butunfortunately knew already it wasn’t the case. Thomas was here, and had beenhere when the apparent dream started, and Newt told him things he shouldn’thave, and the world might have ended today and it would be just perfect.

“Nope, not really,” Thomas assured him. “Wait,do you mean you’d kiss only dream me but not real me? Where’s the equality?”

“Thomas, please-,”

“Newt, I know you’re a smart guy,” Thomas didn’tlet him finish. “I know you are. But this is slow even for a snail running dry,just realize it already.”

Newt never felt so scared in his life, sofragile upon hoping in impossible, of Thomas being here, telling him he likedhim back in his own way, and no, it couldn’t be true, it couldn’t be happening.Not after all these years and-

“So I had been thinking,” Thomas started once more,and it was so familiar now, and he even stopped, looked at Newt expectantlylike he was challenging him to interrupt him once more, but Newt remained quietas a mouse, drinking Thomas in. “I had been thinking that we should date.”

Newt was happy the world didn’t end just yet.

#prompts #newtmas #tmr #the maze runner #Anonymous

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