Limp - Newmas High School!AU

Chapter 3 - Coffee and Cigarettes

Warnings: Cursing, smoking

Rating: PG to PG-13

A/N: AnD NOW NEWT IS ACTUALLY IMPORTANT OH DAMN. Also, this chapter is a bit dodgy in terms of making sense, and it is FILLED with Punk!AU cliches for Newt so please don't kill me holy shit.

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Thomas' heart practically ripped a giant gash through his chest and climbed out into the street when he saw the stranger with the limp at the diner. He was sitting at the bar, flipping aimlessly through the pages of a textbook. (It looked like chemistry.) Minho hit Thomas on the shoulder and smiled at him. "Look at that, your limpy boyfriend's here." He snickered. Thomas ignored him and took a seat in the booth across from Minho. He couldn't help but glance over at the boy reading his textbook frequently, hoping Minho wouldn't notice.

Up close, he wasn't anything like what Thomas expected, and Thomas wasn't even sure what he expected in the first place. The boy had blonde hair, ashy and pale, yet the light made it look darker. It seemed like it didn't know whether it was curly or straight, because it seemed to think some parts of it were one, and vice versa. It was cut a little bit below his ears, flicking outwards in the back. His face was soft with its features, and his skin was pale and free from any sort of blemish or mark. He had orangey-yellow eyes, that almost seemed like a golden shade. They were focused on whatever lessons he was reading at that moment. Below his lips were two small black hoop piercings in each corner of his mouth. It seemed rather out of character, considering the only people Thomas had really seem with piercings were the lead singers of those death-metal scream bands that he had little knowledge of.

Awkwardly enough, Thomas thought he was pretty. It was a strange thought, honestly. But he couldn't deny that he thought the boy was pretty. In his gray hoodie and his dark jeans and his red high topped Converse-

He was pretty.

Minho looked at Thomas suspiciously, before finally catching him staring at the stranger.

"Dude, come on. What's the deal? You know him or something? Did he murder your family as a child and now you have to seek ultimate revenge?" Minho whispered sarcastically. Thomas poked nervously at his food, before looking up at the stranger at the bar again.

Thomas couldn't help but stare at him. It was like seeing a wild animal, something new and bizarre and confusing all at the same time. And yet, he didn't feel like he should get any closer than he was already. He had a strange irrational fear that he might bite. Thomas and Minho finished their food in near-awkward silence, with Minho giving up on trying to hold conversation after catching Thomas staring at the blonde for the 43rd time. It was almost as if Thomas was taking mental pictures of him, with every blink the shutter of a camera clicking, and his pupils being the aperture, winding every feature of the stranger.

Thomas found himself once again in a parking lot staring at a strange boy with a limp. The stranger was leaned up against the hood of his beat up car, smoking a cigarette puffing jets of smoke into the cold winter air. This time, however, Thomas was much, much closer to the him. Close enough to notice all of the little details that he missed the last encounters. Thomas climbed into the car, sighing as he slid down into the seat. Minho started the car again, and in a second the sound of Fall Out Boy was echoing through the car, much to Minho's distaste.

Somehow, this caught the attention of the stranger. He looked over at them, before smiling slightly. The car made a gross clanking sound before grinding against itself and stopping.

"Shit. Thomas, can you get out and pop the hood?" Minho asked, annoyance filling his voice. Thomas opened the door and strided out to the front of the car, lifting the silver hood in a cloud of smoke. Thomas fidgeted with the motor, coughing as he waved the smoke out of the air. He grabbed at the machinery, telling Minho to either start or stop the car several times

"Hey."

The voice made Thomas jump so quickly he smacked his head against the hood, rubbing the spot gingerly. He turned around to find the stranger with the limp standing barely and inch from his face. Thomas yelped and stumbled backwards into the car before steadying himself in from of the blonde boy.

"Jesus! Don't do that...!" Thomas gasped, furrowing his eyebrows at the boy. The taller male laughed, sliding his left hand into his pocket and flicking his cigarette with the other.

"I'm sorry." He smiled. Thomas noted his expression. He was definitely not sorry, and his smirk showed that he didn't plan on admitting it. His breath smelled like a mix of coffee and smoke. It was an odd smell, and Thomas wasn't sure if he disliked it or not.

Thomas cleared his throat, and turned back around to the motor. "Yeah well, it's fine. But I uh, yeah I'm a little occupied."

The stranger reached over Thomas and pulled at a wire before moving his hands into the motor. Thomas froze and glared at the blonde. "Hey! Look I-"

"Tell your friend to start the car." The stranger said. Thomas coughed and waved his hand up. Minho raised an eyebrow and punched the gas. The car revved up and Minho stared at them, eyes wide with confusion and shock.

"Wh-?" Thomas began, but the boy interrupted quickly.

"I like your music tastes. Patrick Stump. Great musician. Heard you playing it earlier."

Thomas stood there in awe, wondering who the hell this kid was and why he had never seen him in his life. The stranger smirked and laughed, taking another puff of smoke, before turning his head away from Thomas to exhale.

"Thanks...?" Thomas managed to stutter out. His face felt hot and his mind felt conflicted. He tried to convince himself that his red cheeks were from the cold and not from the pretty blonde standing a few inches away from his face. His eyes looked even more bright up close, almost as if Thomas lit them up-

What the hell was he thinking?

"What's your name?"

Thomas thought for a long second, like he had forgotten his name. The stranger didn't speak again until Thomas managed to cough out his own name.

"T-Thomas. Thomas Dieson."

The stranger smiled at him. He seemed to being smiling a lot during this little meeting, turning up the corners of his mouth where his little dark piercings shimmered slightly. He had a warm smile, like something that could make anyone feel like something was right.

"I'm Isaac Newton. But ah, don't call me that. I like Newt."

Thomas was a little put off, as if he was telling him this like they were going to ever talk or see each other again. Something that Thomas didn't really feel like thinking about. But he couldn't help being a little curious about the blonde, wondering all sorts of things and forming tons of different assumptions.

"Isaac Newton...? You were named after the scientist?" Thomas questioned. It was weird, the boy suddenly looked a little bit more like an Isaac, and even though it was weird, Thomas thought it was kinda cool. Newt laughed, closing his eyes and smirking yet again.

"Yeah. My dad's last name was Newton, and I guess no one in my family was ever very creative, so I got stuck with the obvious joke." Newt replied, not taking his eyes off of Thomas. Thomas noted several things about the kid. His defined jawline, his accent- oh yeah, he definitely had an accent. His expressions were disarming. They didn't seem threatening or friendly or even flirtatious. It was more a look of genuine interest in him, which made Thomas a little unnerved, but in a sort of charming way... if that's a thing.

"Yeah... yeah okay um... Thanks-Thanks for the help with the uh... car. I uh, I should go now." Thomas closed the hood and headed towards the door. Before he hopped in, he faced Newt and let out a nervous sigh. "Bye... uh... Newt."

Newt shrugged and smiled, dropping his cigarette lightly stepping it out on the asphalt. He turned around and starting heading back to his car. Minho looked expectantly at Thomas, waiting for him to give an explanation. Thomas couldn't focus however, just watching Newt head back to his car. The memories of what he said already seeming to fade out of his mind, but the smells of coffee and cigarettes still fresh in his head. He kept staring at him, only noticing one feature.

He really did have a limp.