Limp - Newmas High School!AU

Chapter 4 - Lessons in Deep Thought

Warnings: Cursing, also a little Thomresa, if that aint your cup of tea. Don't worry I swear this is Newmas give it time. //nods assuredly

Rating: PG - PG-13

A/N: I actually finished this chapter fuck yeah I'm not awful okay enjoy

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The week dragged on painfully slow, and Thomas' patience ran quicker than he did. It felt like someone had opened his head and flicked off his 'caring' switch, because he didn't do a lot of that. Class. Track. Dance prep. Home. Sleep. Repeat. Thomas was basically going through an existental crisis at 16. Everywhere around him, people enjoyed their lives, boys and girls, teachers, hell the janitor seemed more excited about new self-soaping sponges than Thomas was about his current situation. No date, no motivation. He wondered how he managed high school up to this point without rolling himself under his bed and never coming back out.

Thomas showed up on Thursday feeling like a wrung out towel, wanting to sink to the locker room floor so noone would see him. Minho however, always saw Thomas. Thomas sulked into the bench, resting his head against the cold metal lockers, groaning a groan of sheer annoyance.

"Did you pull a muscle or are you still upset about nothing?" Minho mused, sitting next to his friend. Thomas rolled his head towards him, before pulling his knees up to his chest.

"I'm upset because I don't have anything to be upset about." Thomas muttered through the denim of his jeans.

"I uh, yeah sure okay. That's unfortunate I suppose." Minho gave Thomas a hesitant pat on the back before sighing and trying to pull him back into the situation.

"You're upset because... you're bored?"

Thomas threw his arms up, before letting out an agitated moan and covered his face with his hands. Minho held his hands up defensively, as if we expected Thomas to pull a gun on him and monolouge about how important this mental journey was to him and why Minho was not to intervene. Instead, he just slid into the bench more.

"Yes Minho. To put it in...Minho terms- yes. I'm bored."

Minho furrowed his eyebrows, not sure whether or not he should be offended or not.

"Okay well, why don't you stop being bored and start being excited about something for once. Winter Formal is tomorrow, then it's winter break, which means no more track practice until the season starts, no more Coach Janson's bullcrap, and no more staying extra after school to play with ribbons and talk to limpy outcasts."

Limp.

Newt.

Thomas hadn't thought about Newt in days, almost too caught up in his own thoughts to even have the capacity to even think about thinking about him. It's not like he didn't want to, Newt sparked his interests somehow, but it seemed like the kid practically disappeared. He never saw him around campus, or heard his name. Occasionally, his car would appear in the mornings, dissapear at lunch, then show up again after track. Yet the owner of the car was never to be found.

Thomas snapped himself out of his foggy daydream, blinking his mind out of it. Minho cocked an eyebrow at him, before pulling him up to his feet.

"Okay, well, you still need a date. You're a Wicked High Glader and Wicked High Gladers get dates." Minho smiled.

Thomas couldn't help but crack a light grin at him, before leaning against the tile walls to begin his argument on why that was a really not accurate statement. Thomas didn't really want a date. Noone at the school really perked his interests, atleast not in the whole teenage hormones way. There were plenty of lovely girls, nice and funny, yet Thomas couldn't bring himself to have any feelings for any of them. It got so bad that in Sophmore year he started to think he was broken. It's not like he didn't like people, but he never found himself in a relationship where he felt like they were equals.

Minho bit his cheek, before opening his eyes in understanding.

"Just ask Teresa, just for Friday." Minho said with confidence, crossing his arms, like he had just achieved something really, really important.

Thomas frowned, before opening his mouth just to close it again.

"Ah? See? I'm full of really, really good ideas, Thomas." Minho lovingly sneered at Thomas.

Thomas let out a deep breath, as if he was dissapointed in Minho's answer.

"Teresa and I have known eachother for like... 10 years. It'd be super weird. Like taking my sister."

"You don't have a sister."

"I can't ask Teresa, that'd be super weird dude."

Thomas groaned as if this was the most obvious notion ever, like Minho was missing the most obvious hint ever. Yet, he couldn't help feeling like maybe he wasn't so wrong. There wasn't really anything 'bad' about asking Teresa, and if they were just going as friends, it's not as if there was going to be a bunch of drama about how heartthrob Thomas Dieson is officially off the market, or whatever stupid term they used. Fucking teenagers.

"Okay Minho. You win. I'll ask Teresa if she wants to go. If she doesn't already have a date."

Minho smiled brightly, before whacking Thomas on the back with high enthusiasm. "There you go buddy! No sense in letting your mid-life crisis pull you down."

Thomas rolled his eyes, something that he felt like he had been doing a lot lately. He allowed Minho to drag him out of the locker room to look for Teresa. He was mildly excited, Teresa was his best friend after all, behind the track team of course. Sure, they had their fare share of problems, but it's unhealthy if best friends don't.

But ever since Minho brought it up, Thomas couldn't get one thing out of his mind on their search for Teresa.

And that was the blonde English boy named Newt.