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F R I D A Y
Thomas is awoken by a pillow walloping him in the face, and he grabs it and chucks it at whoever pelted it at him. He's rewarded with a thumping sound and a fit of giggles afterwards. He somehow recognises it as Newts, and he blinks away the sleep in his eyes to be greeted with the sight of the blonde boy doubled over in laughter.
It's sweet, really.
Newt scampers from the room then, and Thomas is left in his clothes from yesterday, feeling gross and all sluggish. His jeans are uncomfortable and he's hot and itchy and irritated.
It's then he realises that, fuck, he has no clothes.
Literally, nothing.
Shit. Shit, shit shit.
What the hell is he supposed to wear? He's got nothing but what he has on him. His schoolbag is useless as fuck, and it'll sound absolutely ridiculous if he tries to explain another bullshit story about how he happened to forget to pack.
Rubbing at his face tiredly, Thomas stifles a yawn as he paces the room. He glances curiously at the large china bowl placed on the window sill, a jug sat nicely on it. That wasn't there the night before — what is it?
Just then, Newt comes barging in again. He's got this old fashioned cap on that suits him, oddly wordless as he throws a flannel, towel, and pile of clothing at Thomas. He still has that cheeky twinkle in his eyes and Thomas wonders how much he really knows.
"Gotcha' some stuff. Knew you didn't have nothin' in that luggage of yours. What's it doing bringing a tiny bag like that? You're really quite peculiar, you know."
Damn. That's a mouthful.
Scoffing, Thomas rolls his eyes. "Thanks for that," he ditches the clothes and turns to gesture at the jug. "What's this for?"
Newt shakes his head. "You didn't answer my question, you berk."
Thomas doesn't know what kind of fucking insult that is, but he pretends to be offended anyways for the sake of it. "Excuse me? Maybe I don't wanna answer your stupid question. For your information — not that it's any of your business — I didn't exactly have an ideal time to pack. So no, I don't have a lot of shit with me. Boo fuckin' hoo."
Newt looks a little taken aback, and frowns a bit. Once again, Thomas' bad attitude has taken over.
However, the Londoner doesn't seem to back down. "Alright, mate. Don't get snippy. I'm just pointing out facts."
