𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 | newtmas au

𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 | i love him, i'm sorry

"HEY," Minho greeted, completely shifting his focus from his phone to Newt as the blond walked through the doors of the gym.

"Hey." Newt smiled, watching as Minho shoved his phone into his pocket.

"Apparently," Minho started, lifting his finger to point towards the whiteboard attached to the wall. There was writing written over it in an erasable marker. "We have a free period today—no running, or anything. So, you and I are going to have a little chat."

Newt stared at him for a second, before breaking off into a light chuckle. "A chat? Okay, I assumed that's what we'd be doing today, anyway."

Minho laughed. "Yeah. So, c'mon, sit." He dropped to the gym floor, then gestured for Newt to do the same.

Newt rolled his eyes, then bent over and sat beside Minho in the little corner of the room. "Alright, what's this about, then?"

Minho made a face. "You know damn well what this is about—Newt, we need to talk about Thomas."

"There's not much else needed to be said." Newt glanced down at the ground, shaking his head. "I—I like the guy, and that's that."

"Newt, oh my gosh." Minho shifted his body more towards the left, facing Newt directly. "You need to elaborate, you know. Get your feelings out, or something. Plus, we have to talk about your confession."

"My confession—Min, that's thinking quite a bit ahead of ourselves, don't you think?"

"Nonsense," Minho advised. "Thomas is so in love with you already, you've got nothing to worry about."

Newt's head swiftly tipped back upwards, allowing his eyes to meet Minho's. "For as far as we know, he's straight."

"Newt, have you seen that man? He can swing your way, for sure." Minho let out a laugh, throwing his head back. "You guys can't just keep on relying on the invisible red string that's tying you two together, and bringing you back to each other; you need to make a move. It's senior year, Newt."

Newt groaned. "The chance of him returning my feelings is incredibly slim."

"Have you not been listening to a word I've been saying?" Minho asked. "Like I said earlier, the man is in love with you."

Newt just shook his head once more. "I'll do it when the time is right."

⭒⤜☼☽⤛⭒

"How's it coming?" Newt leaned over Thomas's shoulder, glancing down at Thomas's painting.

"Better than I expected, actually." Thomas lifted his brush, which had just been freshly dipped into the blue from his paint palette.

Newt smiled, turning his head to the left to meet Thomas's side. "I agree. I am still failing to see how this connects to love, though."

Thomas then flipped his own head around, facing Newt. Their faces were much closer than they had realized, just inches away from each other. "I already told you: you'll have to wait until the gallery walk, when you will read my description."

Newt clicked his tongue. "Well, you better hurry up, since this is the last class day Ms. Chambers is giving us to work on the projects."

Thomas's eyes shifted towards his right, and down at Newt's own art. He made a face, before nudging the blond lightly with his elbow. "You cannot be talking—you're only halfway through."

Newt glanced down at his arm, then back up at Thomas. "Okay, yes, but I just have to do the shadows and stuff with colored pencils. At least I'm further along than you are."