Happy what?

2.1K 33 37
                                    

Newt woke up pressed in between his boyfriends. He smiled, mentally replaying the events of the night before. He looked at the clock, which read 3 am. Newt didn't know why he was up, but he got a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with the loves of his life. He looked to Minho, who was softly snoring on his left, and then to Thomas, whose head was laid on his bare chest. Newt watched the boy until he dozed off, laying his head back on the pillow.

-Time Skip-

"Newt! Newt! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" Newt heard. He opened his eyes to see Thomas leaning over him; a huge smile plastered on his face.

"Well, someone's an eager beaver today, aren't we, Tommy?" Newt replied. Thomas nodded and bounced up and down, causing the bed to shake.

"Come on! Come on! Come on!" he shouted impatiently. Newt slid out of bed and stood. Thomas grabbed Newt's hand and started to drag him toward the door, but Newt pulled back.

"Jeez, Tommy. Let me get some bloody clothes on first," Newt said, unsure of why the boy was so happy. Newt searched for something to wear as Thomas waited impatiently by the bedroom door.

"Newt! Hurry up! You're going at a snail's pace!" Thomas whined as Newt pulled on a fresh pair of boxers.

"What is going on? Why are you so bloody impatient today, Tommy?" Newt asked as he walked toward the boy. Thomas met him halfway across the room.

"I've been waiting since four thirty to wake you up! I couldn't wait a full hour, so I didn't!" Thomas gushed. Newt checked the clock: 5:07. Judging by Thomas's reaction, Newt guessed the sixteen year old had woken him up at 5.

"What is bloody going on? Why am up so bloody early?" Newt asked. Thomas sighed.

"Do you really not know what day it is?" he asked. Newt shook his head.

"Am I supposed to?"

"Newton!" Thomas scolded.

"What? Why won't you tell me what's bloody going on! And where's Minho?" Newt yelled, extremely confused.

"Can you really not think of what day it is?" Thomas pouted. Newt racked his brain; searching in the deepest confines of memory, but still came out blank. He shrugged.

"Don't know. Why don't you tell me the date," Newt suggested, wrapping his skinny arms arms around Thomas's shoulders.

"January 12th."

"Nope. Doesn't ring a bell."

"Newt," Thomas whined. "Seriously?"

"What? Tommy, what day is it?"

"It's the most important day of your life!"

"I still don't know what you're talking about," Newt answered.

"I-I've been freaking out about it all day. I-I thought you'd figure it out soon. B-but I didn't think you'd forget. I-I'm sorry. This is all my fault and-" Thomas was cut off by Newt smashing their lips together.

"It's alright, Tommy; I still love you," Newt said into the kiss.

"Thanks, Newt." They held the kiss until someone interrupted.

"Ahem. Would you two put on some fricken clothes, or are you planning on shucking again?" Their heads snapped to the door where Minho stood, a brown paper bag with handles in hand.

"You know you love it, Minho," Newt answered. Minho set the bag on the floor and walked over to his boyfriends. He leaned in to Newt's ear and kissed the space under his earlobe lightly.

Thominewt imaginesWhere stories live. Discover now