Chapter 19

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Scott's POV

I walked through the gates late that morning; the unfortunate results of not waking up to my alarm . . . well, my five alarms. In my defence, we had played an intense soccer match last night and my mind couldn't rest. All night I had kept replaying what I'd seen walking out of the locker room yesterday. I didn't know what to make of it all.

Had they been together long?

Were they even together?

Maybe Newt was just playing with Thomas.

Maybe he's trying to piss me off!

I growled, hatred forming deep down, but I didn't let it show, not wanting to attract the unwanted attention.

As I walked through the school entrance, my anger subsiding for the time being. I spotted Thomas stood by our usual spot chatting with Ben and Lydia. I quickly joined them, putting on a fake smile and laughing along to some comment that Ben made about the school meals.

I kept a close eye on Thomas as we were stood waiting for first lesson. He seemed unusually agitated, his eyes darting from person to person. He finally settled, his eyes resting in one place, and as I diverted my own gaze to the same direction I noticed none other than Newt.

The older boy's focus was on Thomas, his eyes warm and inviting, unlike I had ever seen before. The two held a hidden stare, somehow communicating with their eyes, until the bell rang, bringing both of them out of their trance.

"Hey, Tom, you coming?" Lydia laughed, lightly hitting Thomas on the shoulder as she began walking down the corridor towards our first lesson. English.

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3rd Person POV

Scott didn't sit in his normal seat, this time choosing to work with Ben. This meant that he was now sat only a few rows in front of Thomas and Newt, just within reach to hear the quiet whispers sent between the two boys (if he listened hard enough), rather than being on the other side of the room. No, he wasn't being creepy or stalkerish, he was curious.

And worried for Thomas.

"Ugh, what are we even supposed to be doing right now?" Thomas groaned, staring blankly at the sheet of work that had been placed on the desk in front of him. Newt laughed quietly, leaning forward to read the sheet.

"Umm . . . something about analysing?" he questioned.

"But analysing what!" Thomas complained, banging his head on the desk.

Newt laughed again, stealing the sheet from under Thomas' head.

"This?" he said, pointing at a small poem typed in the middle of the page.

"Do we have to . . . " Thomas dragged out, now resting his head on Newt's shoulder, closing his eyes as though he was asleep.

Newt smiled fondly down at Thomas, about to run his fingers through the soft, brown hair out of habit, before stopping himself, unwillingly shaking the younger boy off of him.

"Hey! I was comfortable there!" Thomas protested.

"Sorry, love, but you can't, remember?" Newt explained, his voice in a low whisper as he gestured towards the rest of the class.

Thomas just groaned in response, clearly tired and fed up. Whether it was due to his lack of sleep, or the amount of stress going on at school, he wasn't sure.

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