unlucky (newtmas)

7

I hadn't been planning on going to the contest, but I had implied to Newt that I would, and so now I was.

It was past eight-thirty in the evening and the winners were about to be announced. Newt's blond head had yet to be spotted (not that I was looking for him) and I was stuffed from all the desserts that had been laid out as free samples. Honestly, I was just a bit annoyed I hadn't found Newt, as he was the one who forced me here to begin with.

My mom didn't end up winning, and neither did Newt. A french woman from down the street had produced an amazing custard pie and ultimately received the grand prize. By the time the evening had reached conclusion, I was decidedly ticked off and ready to go home.

"Hey stranger," Newt suddenly (finally) appeared beside me. There was flour in his hair and on his face but he looked completely at ease, happy despite the fact that he hadn't won.

All of my agitation seemed to fade no matter how desperately I tried to cling onto it. Newt was holding his little brother's hand and the sight was so brotherly and domestic it made my heart skip a beat (no it didn't).

"You look like you got into a fight with a bag of flour and lost," I greeted.

Newt laughed lightly. "What, is white not my color?"

I scrunched up my nose. "It makes you look peaky."

"Peaky? That's all? I was hoping for ghostly," he said. He looked down as Dean moved to hide behind his pant leg. My attention, however, was aimed at the three figures steadily moving closer to where Newt and I stood.

Finn and his two stupid cronies seemed to part the crowd when they reached us. It seemed like the entire room went silent when in reality no one had noticed a thing; and yet all of my attention, my every nerve and muscle was aimed directly at the wicked smiles of the three teenage boys. They looked leeringly down on Dean and out of instinct I stepped between them, chest to chest with Finn.

Finn ignored me, however, as if I was an annoying obstacle in the way. Spitting over my shoulder at a now fully aware and seemingly unconcerned Newt, he said, "I know you like white stuff on your face, Newt, but in public? That's really just indecent. More indecent than usual, I mean."

"He's probably just tryna hide his ugly mug," snarled the boy to his right. Even his voice sounded dumb.

My fists had already clenched, but then I felt a soft, calming hand on my elbow. I automatically untensed in confusion, looking back slightly to find Newt with a soft glow in his eyes. For once, he wasn't smiling.

"I was trying a new look. Shame you three don't like it--I was hoping maybe it was a turn-on," Newt said. There was an edge to his voice I hadn't heard before, or maybe hadn't noticed before. He was usually so soft and adorable and kind, but there was a very distinguished iciness as he spoke now.

"There is absolutely nothing about you that could ever be a turn-on for anyone," Finn replied. He narrowed his brown eyes, then glanced at me as if seeing me for the first time. "Actually, Thomas here is pretty open to sleeping with anyone, ain't that right, Tommy?"

My hands twitched instinctively to lash out, but Newt's grip only tightened on my arm. I could feel the tension radiating off of him in cool waves, but I didn't dare move my eyes anywhere but from Finn's ugly face.

"Why are you here?" I said, low and far more angrily than I intended. It was all but a growl.

Finn's horrible grin widened even more. His eyes slid from mine to Newt's again, holding his gaze as he said, "Just wanted to say hello to Newt." Newt didn't say anything, just stood quietly behind me. Finn's eyes flashed, and there was a sickening triumphant glory in his eyes as he continued, "How's your mom doin' Newt?"

Tense silence. It seemed to enclose the six of us in a small bubble, circling our throats, clamping down on our mouths, holding our tongues. I risked a glance at Newt only to see his honey brown eyes had darkened considerably and were leveled dangerously, warningly on Finn.

"She's fine," Newt choked.

"She still fucked in the head?" Finn asked, almost conversationally--

And then several bad things seemed to happen at once.

No one would have been able to say who lunged for Finn first--me or, believe it or not, Newt. Our badly aimed limbs seemed to collide into each other in midair, and someone's fist--maybe even mine--went hurling into my eye. I was knocked off balance and went flying backwards, grabbing at shoulders of random strangers to keep myself on my feet. As I stumbled, Finn's cronies attacked Newt, through sickening punches as they ganged up, two-on-one--

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Dean turn and make a run for it, but in his haste to wind through legs much taller than him he ended up tripping himself up and--oh no--

At precisely the wrong moment, the french baker who had made her esteemed custard pie came parading past with a large bowl of freshly made custard in her arms. She tripped on Dean, a scattered scream piercing through her perfectly pursed lips--

The bowl went tumbling forward and out of her arms and somehow, miraculously, ended up splattered across Finn's chest.

Everyone stopped then, even Finn's friends. We all stopped and stared at the slowly reddening face of Finn Johnson, whose eyes were closed and mouth was open in disbelief. Everything fell completely still, the final moment of peace before the war broke loose.

"White stuff all over your chest, Finn?" Came the quavering voice of Newt, quite courageously through the silence. "Bit indecent of you, don't you think?"

Finn's eyes snapped to Newt with a furious fire burning in their depths.

"You'll die for this one, Lahey," Finn spat lowly and dangerously. Then he turned and angrily disappeared through the doorway.