"So..how do you guys feel about him," Athe started off as they sat on the train. "About dead shank? He's cool, quiet but cool," Minho said. They all chorus out agreements and started talking about the gossip that happened over the summer.
"Gally got a girlfriend," Teresa said, laughing right afterwards. "From which mental hospital?" Minho went back.
Thomas wasn't really listening to their gossiping, he was actually thinking about Newt. The kid seemed like he put on a mask for all of them. 'He definitely has a past, and I want to know it,' the voice in his head spoke.
***
The humongous brick building lurked above him. Even though he's lived her for his whole life, it still intimidated him. He walled into the lobby and went up the stairs. The long hallway on the fourth floor was so familiar that he didn't look up from his phone while walking. The keys jangled on his belt loop as unlocked the door to his appartment. "Hey Chuckie, you home?" He called out as he took off his shoes. "Yeah, I'm right here," the younger called out. He was sitting on the couch, algebra homework sprawled out on the coffee table. The boy had a huge curly mess of hair and chubby, rosie cheeks. With a pencil shoved into his mouth, he stared the work down as if it would dissipate of he tried hard enough.
Thomas went and ruffled his hair, earning a smack from Chuck. "Stop, stop! I have to concentrate," Chuck yelled as he staired intently at the papers. He chuckled before walking into his room.
When Thomas was younger, he thought it was a good idea to paint his walls dark green. Not the pretty kind of green, the one that looks like it could pass as brown, and not green. After that, he decided to cover every wall in anything to cover the awful green. Movie tickets, posters, poems, lyrics, albums, polaroids, stupid notes him and Minho would pass around; anything. His walls looked like an episode of Hoarders, and that's how he liked it.
Chucking his bag on the floor, he pulled out his cracked phone from his pocket. He landed on his bed with a thump and sat there for a moment before getting back up. His record player was calling to him, begging for the noise the flow out of it.
He shuffled through his collection before picking up one of his favorites: i stayed up until sunrise but got to fall asleep to the sounds of birds singing by Flatsound.
The lyrics to 'The Night You Drifted Passed' sang from the machine. It was roaring, making the walls slightly shake by the volume. Banging on the walls interrupted the music, with Chuck yelling at him to turn it down. Once it was at a socially acceptable volume, Thomas grabbed his bag.
He pulled out his box and rolled a smoke. He didn't like to call it an addiction, more like an infatuation. Okay, that may be the same thing but he swears he isn't addicted. He likes the was the cannabis puts his mind to rest, which he can't do himself.
The window croaked when Thomas pushed it. He blew the chemical cloud out into the atmosphere. 'Calm, calm, calm,' the words repeated like a prayer before he leaned over and grabbed his phone. He called the first person that came to mind, Teresa.
"Hey Tom, what's up," her voice rasped through the phone. She was obviously smoking, just like he was. "T, do you want to come over?" He asked her, his voice speed out the words like they would be forgotten if he didn't.
"Yeah sure, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm just thinking a lot."
"Alright, be there in ten."
"Thanks, T," he said before he hung up.
***
"Hey Tom, what's up," Teresa said as she entered through the fire escape. Her black jeans had rips in them and she wore a zip-up black sweater. Her eyeliner had been fixed and her hair was still a huge curly mess. Thomas always thought she was pretty, but only thought of her as a sister. Someone he could talk about shit with. She lived a couple stories up from him and they did this all the time. "Nothing much, you wanna hit?" he asked, handing over the blunt.
She gladly took it and sat on the window seal. The building had a no smoking policy but they never really enforced it. The old lady, Mrs. Higgins, that lived at the bottom floor of the building came up once to smoke with them.
"Whatcha thinking about," she said while taking a drag. Thomas looked up at her before talking. "Remember that kid from earlier? The one Min called dead shank?" He asked. "Yeah, Newt was it?" she asked him before continuing. "He was cool. Why're you thinking about him?" she asked, interested. "I saw him crying," he said bluntly. "Really, when?" "When we all walked away from the bleachers. He went the other way than all of us and I looked back. He was stopped in front of the door and a tear slipped," Thomas inhaled the smoke. "I don't know why he would cry, I wonder if we said something?" she said, trying to make sense of Newt's tears.
"I don't think so, he seemed to be in thought. He also seems like the type of guy to tell you when he doesn't like something; not the kind to wait then cry," Thomas turned to face her, one leg dangling into his bedroom. She shrugged before she looked at him. She wanted to do the thing.
He laughed at her before he inhaled more smoke and handed it to her, she did the same. They turned towards the street and blew out, the smoke dancing together in the shape of 'O's. She laughed loudly and Thomas tried to wave the bit that came back into his face.
They sat there on the window seal before they heard a woman yelling.
"Hey you! Are you smoking up there! Come down here right now, there is a no smoking policy!" her voice made their ears bleed. The woman had her hands on her hips, her weird maxi skirt didn't match her top and her blue eyeshadow was smudged awkwardly. Teresa got up and ran up the fire escape. "See you tomorrow!" she said while entering her window.
Thomas hopped back into his room with ease. The record was still playing while he sat on his bed. After unlocking his phone, he opened up Instagram. 'I wonder if Newt's on here,' he said while typing his name in. A bunch of names popped up but Thomas found it quickly.
He scrolled through the page, not many photos were on the account. But almost every had a blonde haired girl in it. They looked very similar but different. One was him and her on the train, another one was them in the park with a dark skinned girl with braids. There was only one that didn't, the most recent one. The photo was looking out on the top of a ledge, a storm raged through the village of trees.
May 17, 2017 - 12:56 am
i'll see you soon.
It was posted a couple months ago but it scared the hell out of Thomas.
''See you soon', what the hell is that supposed to mean?'
a/n
i'm having WAY to much fun writing this. can you tell i have a lot of free time?
Yay! we got Thomas and non-bitch Teresa!! And woah, Thomas is already curious about Newt.
Anyway, I KNOW THE YEAR IS SCARY BUT I DIDN'T WANT TO WRITE AROUND COVID AND I WANTED IT TO WORK AROUND MITCH'S ALBUMS SO SHE'S GONNA VIBE IN 2017!
much love,
-autumn
1310 words
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flatsound || newtmas
Fanficwho knew music could hold two broken people together? NEWT was hanging on by a thread, a singular note. music was the only thing that was holding him together and made him feel less alone; especially when he moves to another country. that was until...
