oneshots // newtmas

For A Moment He Was Sixteen Again

this is like SAD sad because I had a bad night listening to sad music and my brain produced this so be ready for this legit random au that makes no sense :)

"What's wrong?" The dark haired girl asked as she looked at her friend carefully.

Thomas could barely breathe, his chest was tight and his mouth was dry. "I-I uh-."

"Woah, Tom are you okay?" the girl asked as she gently grabbed his arm.

Thomas flinched hard at the touch, like he'd been hit. "I-I-" his voice shook as he stumbled back a little.

"Tom you're freaking me out."

A strangled sound released from his throat as he gripped the edge of the wooden desk. "Turn it off- please, please-"

"Okay, okay," Teresa said quickly as she scrambled for the remote and clicked off the small TV. "Off, okay see? It's off."

Thomas slid down to the ground, feeling the burning sensation behind his eyelids. "I knew him," he said in a shaky voice.

"Like personally?" Teresa asked, disbelief dripping from her voice.

Thomas nodded, choking back a sob. "I loved him."

"You're bloody slow!" The blonde boy laughed as he stopped, he put his hands on his knees and panted slightly.

"No, you just weigh about a hundred pounds less than me!" Thomas huffed out as he skidded to a stop. He breathed just as heavily.

The boy stood up, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. "That has nothing to do with it."

"It has everything to do with it!" Thomas exclaimed.

"Or, you're just mad that you lost so you're making up shitty excuses."

Thomas felt himself smiling as he reached out and hooked his arm around the boy's waist. "You know you're kinda a little shit."

The smile the blonde gave him made his chest tight. "But you like me that way."

"That I do," Thomas said softly as he leaned closer to him.

"Who said you could kiss me?" the boy asked softly.

"Who said I was trying to kiss you?"

The blonde boy kissed him first and his lips were soft like they always were. He smiled against his lips as he felt the smaller boy fist the front of his shirt to pull him closer.

Yeah Thomas may have been sixteen, but he was so fucking in love.

"Minho?" Thomas spoke softly into the receiver.

"Thomas? Woah, no way, is that actually you?"

"Yeah," Thomas breathed out as he felt Teresa's hand on his back. He was wrapped in a blanket on her couch, his knuckles turning white around the phone he was clutching.

"You're calling me, that means it's something bad right?"

"You could say that."

There was a silent pause on the other end of the line.

"Thomas. Is this what I think this is about?"

"Yeah."

"I saw it this morning...I wasn't sure if you-"