Dylmas/Newtmas One-Shots

Newtmas - Whatever You Want

I'm obsessed with this song at the moment and a burst of inspiration to write this one-shot hit me so here you go!

If you have time, I'd love for you to check out my Dylmas fic! It's called Acquainted (based off the one-shot previously written).

Based on: Whatever You Want by P!NK

3rd Person POV

"It's over." Thomas said, eyes downcast and voice barely louder than a whisper. Newt wanted to be sad, heartbroken in fact, but he'd seen this coming; this wasn't the first time that he and Thomas had broken up over the past two years. Their personalities just clashed a lot, that was all.

Newt nodded, eyes falling over Thomas' face (still focused on the toe of his sneakers kicking at a stray pebble on the doorstep to their shared home). Thomas looked tired, eyes sullen and skin an unhealthily pale yellow hue. His hair was unwashed – dirt and grime of the past week or two taking control of the usual soft brunet locks.

This was good for them. Newt would be okay and, hopefully, Thomas might be okay too.

"I'll get my stuff later." Newt voiced, trying to sound as unaffected as he could manage.

With a quick glance at Thomas, Newt turned around and walked down the small driveway before climbing into his car (a yellow mini). Starting up the engine, Newt reverse out of the driveway and into the quiet road of their street. He cast a final look towards Thomas, using the rear view mirror in front of him. Thomas still stood on the doorstep, shoulders slumped, but now watching as Newt drove away.

About a five minute drive away, there was a vintage-style diner. Newt's stomach rumbled as he thought about it, only just realising now that he hadn't eaten since 9am this morning (it was now late evening, the sky a deep navy blue and laced with twinkling stars).

Pulling into the car park, claiming an empting parking space not too far from the diner's entrance, Newt jumped out of his car. He shoved his keys into his jacket and glanced up at the building.

The exterior was a glossy cream with three red stripes that matched the sign hanging from the similarly painted roof. Inside, as Newt remembered from the countless times he'd visited this diner previously, lay an array of red and cream striped, worn leather booths with metallic tables and old-fashioned decorations. Local paintings hung on the walls, showcasing the town's rare talented civilians.

As Newt entered the diner, he tried not to think about how it was the same place in which Thomas had taken him for their first date. Nor did he think about the many other dates with Thomas that followed, most of which took place in this very diner.

Ordering a medium fries and a large strawberry milkshake, Newt instinctively slid into the booth three from the back wall on the left side, next to a window with a view of the car park.

This was the booth he and Thomas always sat in.

Meanwhile, Thomas remained frozen in his spot on the doorstep, the warm glow of light from the hallway behind him doing nothing to wash away the coldness that he felt. It was the wind, he'd say, the icy breeze of the evening that was causing him the shiver ever so slightly, standing there with no jacket on. Not the fact that Newt had left (once again) and it was partly his own fault.

In all fairness, the argument had been brewing up for a couple of weeks. It was bound to explode between the couple sooner or later, it always did. They could go months without so much as a disagreement but then suddenly they'd be shouting and screaming at each other over minor things.

People said that was normal, that it was what all couples did, but Thomas and Newt weren't happy when they argued. Thomas hadn't actually meant it, not really, when he said that it was over between them. Just like he hadn't meant it when he said that he wished Newt had never come back to him every other time they'd broken up.

But Newt wasn't to know that.

Newt wasn't to know that Thomas always wanted Newt to come back, always waits for him. Newt doesn't even know that he's still standing here, on this lonely doorstep, just willing the loveable blond haired boy to come back with a stupid grin on his face and apologise for everything.

Maybe that was the problem, Thomas suddenly realised.

Maybe, because Newt doesn't know, he won't come back. Not again. Not for a third time.

Maybe, it's Thomas' turn to go back to Newt. It was, after all, Thomas that broke it off this time.

Without wasting a further second, Thomas grabbed his house key from the hook by the door, slammed the front door shut and quickly locked it before setting off down the driveway at a brisk pace. It was late, though probably no later than 8pm, and Newt had gone in his car. He could have gone anywhere, logistically, and he could get there a lot quicker than Thomas would ever hope to.

But Thomas knew exactly where Newt would be (well, he hoped so).

Twenty minutes or so later, Thomas was pushing open the doors to the familiar diner built just on the outskirts of the town in which they lived. The mouth-watering scent of freshly cooked burgers, fried food and ice-cream hit Thomas nose and he took in a deep breath. His stomach gurgled unattractively, but he soon forgot his hunger as his eyes fell on a head of dirty blond hair peeking out from a booth on the left.

Their booth.

Thomas' heart wrenched at the sight, a mixture of guilt and relief flooding through his body as he stared over at Newt (who wasn't even aware of his presence).

Taking large steps, Thomas soon reached the booth and cleared his throat. Newt was sat, taking a sip of milkshake (probably strawberry, like usual) when Thomas spoke.

"Hey," he said, sliding into the seat opposite Newt – who was now staring over at him with wide eyes.

Newt blinked a couple times, a teary glaze covering his beautiful hazel eyes as he took Thomas sat before him – drenched in sweat from walking as quickly as he did (it was still summer, despite the cool breeze to the air), hair matted and eyes wet from silent tears.

Thomas bit down onto his lower lip, teeth wringing the skin dry with worry. It felt like an eternity passed before Newt finally spoke.

"Can we just pretend the past three hours never happened?" Newt asked, humour hidden in his question as he shot a smirk in Thomas' direction.

Thomas smiled, sinking back into the leather seat properly. It felt like a weight had just been lifted off his shoulders, the ropes had been untied from his breaking heart and he let out a long breath to signify this.

"Whatever you want." Thomas said, voice as warm as his smile as he reached a hand out and stole a handful of fries from Newt's plate with a cheeky laugh. Newt shook his head but joined Thomas in his laughter, throwing a couple stray fries at Thomas' face (his aim was terrible and he missed by a long shot, grimacing as they landed on the seat by Thomas' leg).

It was okay though because they were okay. Both boys were glad of that fact. And whilst the following years didn't get any particularly easy, they learnt to work their differences into their relationship rather than giving up every time they hit a hurdle. Because wasn't that was how all the best relationships worked?

Opinions?

If you have an idea you'd like to suggest I'd love to hear it! I'm also sorry for anyone that suggested something and it's not been written yet - I lost all my screenshots of ideas so I'm having to find them all again (I'm useless, I swear XD)

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Love you guys x