#slept like a brick right after yesterday is a hAZE

[hwajin]

y'all woke up from a sleep that felt like a coma i downed 2 bottles of soju on an empty stomach yesterday like no thank you never again 😹😹😹

[a-aexotic]

𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡, chapter 4

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ! 4.9k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 !

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"Y/N! Wake up right now!"

You stirred in your bed before you heard your mother's voice ring out again, except this time she was closer. She came into your room and she opened the blinds, making you let out a loud groan.

Yesterday was the most eventful day yet. You found your best friend's boyfriend (who you've been in love with since the 9th grade) slept with your other best friend the same night he told you he loved you. It sounds worse than it is, you swear.

You were also very hungover, considering you had... you're actually not sure how many vodka redbulls you had last night, but they were way more than you should've.

As your mother's voice echoed in your ears, you groaned and buried your head deeper into your pillow, the events of the previous night flooding back to your memory. The room spun slightly as you tried to sit up, your head throbbing with each movement.

You rubbed your eyes, the morning sunlight searing into your brain like a hot poker. "Mom, can you please close the blinds? I'm dying here."

Your mother ignored your plea, her expression stern as she crossed her arms over her chest. "We have brunch in two hours. Remember, the Bass' annual brunch?"

You groaned again, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow. "Mom, I can't do this today," you muttered, your voice muffled by the fabric of your pillow.

But your mother was having none of it. She pulled the covers off you, leaving you exposed to the chilly morning air. "I don't care what you can or can't do, Y/N. You need to get up and face the day. Now."

"Mom!"

"Your father wants you there, okay? Get up and take a shower, for the love of god." Your mother's voice cut through your haze, firm and unwavering.

You looked up at your mom, confusion on your expression as you sat up. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"I'm not going, I have a meeting." Your mother replied, her tone softened slightly. "But you need to go. And you need to make an effort, especially after last night."

You blinked, the events of the previous night flooding back to you in a rush. The party, Nate, Serena... It all felt like a bad dream. But the reality of it hit you like a ton of bricks as you groaned inwardly. "Can I come with you, please? I can be a great secretary."

Your mother gave you a pointed look as you rolled your eyes. You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your tousled hair. "Fine," you muttered, pushing yourself out of bed with a resigned sigh. "But I'm not wearing heels."

"You are going to wear what I picked, sweetheart." She wiggled her eyebrows playfully as you swung your legs out of the bed.

You grumbled under your breath, knowing it was futile to argue with your mother when she had her mind set. As you heard her footsteps fade down the hallway, you flopped back onto your bed with a defeated groan. Today was shaping up to be even more of a nightmare than yesterday.

"Out of the bed, Y/N!"

With a resigned shrug, you trudged towards the bathroom to start getting ready for the day ahead.

──౨ৎ──

You walked into the Palace, heels clicking as you walked next to your family. You were wearing a deep frown as your father walked hand-in-hand with Josie, Charlene walking next to you.

The elegant decor and the clinking of glasses only served to remind you of the facade of perfection that often overshadowed the reality of life in the Upper East Side. But you plastered on a polite smile, burying your turmoil beneath a facade of composure. After all, in the world of Manhattan's elite, appearances were everything. And you were determined not to let the cracks show.

"Charlene is going to follow in my footsteps, she will be attending Harvard." Your father looked at Charlene, a proud grin plastered on his face as you felt slight resentment building in your stomach.

Harvard, prestigious and exciting, had always been a dream for you. Yet here you were, overshadowed by Charlene, forced to the sidelines of your father's attention.

It irked you that Charlene, who wasn't even his biological daughter, was being showered with praise while you felt overlooked and underappreciated. The unfairness of it all left a bitter taste in your mouth, threatening to sour the already strained atmosphere.

You fought to keep your own smile in place, masking the bitterness that threatened to consume you. It wasn't Charlene's fault, after all. She was just a pawn in your father's game of appearances, a tool to bolster his image of prestige.

You felt a tap on your shoulder, turning to meet Blair's eyes. You couldn't help but let out a relieved sigh as she greeted your parents. "You won't mind if I steal Y/N for a moment?"

"Of course not, dear. She's all yours." Josie spoke with a grin as Blair grabbed your arm, pulling you away from your 'family.'

"Thank you, B." You let out a big exhale, earning a soft chuckle from Blair.

"I heard what your father was saying about your step sister. That was cold, I mean... really cold." Blair gave you a sympathetic nod as you let out a bitter scoff. Harvard has been your dream since you were a kid, basically.

And now he just passes the dream off to Charlene like it meant absolutely nothing. "It's not fair."

Blair's expression softened with understanding as she listened to your frustration. "I can't imagine how mad that must feel, Y/N. Harvard has been your dream for as long as I've known you."

"It doesn't matter anymore." You muttered as you reached the drinks, pouring yourself a glass of scotch.

Blair gave you an amused look. "It's barely noon, Y/N. Scotch?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, taking a sip of the scotch and relishing in the burn as it slid down your throat. "Why not? It's been that kind of morning."

Blair chuckled, shaking her head as she reached for a glass of champagne. "Well, if we're indulging, might as well make it a proper brunch, right?"

You smirked, raising your glass in agreement. "Cheers to that, sister."

One glass of scotch turned into three, and now you were seated next to Chuck Bass laughing at every word that came out of his mouth.

"So, Y/N," Chuck drawled, a glint in his eyes as he leaned closer. "Any scandalous gossip to share with your old pal?"

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing on your lips. "If I told you, Bass, it wouldn't be scandalous anymore, would it?"

Chuck chuckled, his laughter infectious. "Touché, my dear. But a little birdie told me you're the one with all the juicy secrets."

You feigned innocence, batting your eyelashes in mock surprise. "Oh, I'm just a humble observer of the Upper East Side drama, Chuck. But who knows? Maybe I'll let you in on a secret or two."

Blair, who was sitting across from you, rolled her eyes playfully at Chuck's smooth talk. "Don't encourage him, Y/N. You know what happens when you do."

You let out a very loud laugh, making Blair snort as you shook your head. You heard the chair next to you drag and you looked up to meet Nate's blue eyes. You rolled your eyes, not hiding your annoyance as he took a seat next to Chuck, separating you two.

"Looks like the gang's all here," Chuck remarked, a knowing smirk on his lips before he continued. "Oh, except Serena."

Chuck's mention of Serena brought a sudden stillness to the table, the jovial atmosphere tempered by her absence. You glanced around, noting the subtle shift in mood as everyone exchanged uneasy looks.

Blair rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her mimosa. "You really know how to ruin the mood, Chuck."

Chuck chuckled, unfazed by Blair's remark. "Just keeping things interesting, Blair. Wouldn't want our brunch to be too dull now, would we?"

Nate cleared his throat, breaking the tension with a forced smile. "So, what's on the agenda for today, aside from the gossip and bottomless mimosas?"

Blair shot Nate a pointed look, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Well, considering you're here, I'd say we have all the ingredients for a classic Upper East Side drama."

You couldn't help but laugh at Blair's dry humor, grateful for the brief respite from the tension. "Ah, the joys of being back in Manhattan."

"Actually we're missing one key ingredient." Chuck smirked as his gaze fell on the previously mentioned blonde with the same guy she was with the night before, on the other side of the venue. "Looks like she decided to come by."

Blair's gaze fell on Serena, a bitter laugh falling out of her lips. "You've gotta be kidding me."

You got up from the table, grabbing your glass as you tried to walk away. Instead, you tripped, causing Nate to hold on your arm to stabilize you. "How many drinks have you had?"

"Why do you care, Nate?" You spoke as you ripped your arm from his grip, excusing yourself to go get yourself another drink.

Nate watched you go with a troubled expression, his eyes following your retreating figure with concern. He knew you were hurting, and seeing you in this state only added to his guilt.

As you made your way to the bar, the room seemed to spin slightly around you, the weight of the previous night's events pressing down on your shoulders. You reached the bar and poured another drink, the cool liquid providing a temporary comfort from the problems in your life right now.

Before you could drink it, you felt someone grip your arm. You looked to meet your father's disappointed gaze. "That's your third glass, Y/N. Put it down."

You narrowed your eyes as you let out a bitter scoff. "Since when do you care? How about you check on your sweet Charlene."

"So this is what this is about? You're jealous I'm giving Charlene some attention. Come on, Y/N, you're acting like a child." Your father whispered as he looked around, making sure no one is watching too hard.

You clenched your jaw, the bitterness of your own words lingering on your tongue as you glared at your father. "I'm not jealous, Dad. I'm just angry that you just threw away me and Mom for a brand new, shiny family. How do you think I feel?"

Your father's eyes widened in surprise at your words, the weight of your accusation hitting him like a blow. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words seemed to catch in his throat as he struggled to reply.

You glared at him, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "That's what I thought." With that, you shrugged off his grip and stormed away, the weight of your resentment heavy on your shoulders.

As you walked away, you left the room and began walking through the Palace. You were so overwhelmed, you didn't even know what to do anymore. You couldn't run away from it anymore, you had to face it.

You were walking before you ran into Serena and Nate, talking. They both saw you and Serena immediately began walking toward you, Nate following the both of you.

"I need to talk to you." Serena spoke with urgency, her eyes pleading for your attention.

You crossed your arms over your chest, a defensive barrier between you and the two people who had caused you so much turmoil. "I don't think there's anything left to say, Serena."

"You told her too?" Serena sent a glare toward Nate, causing you to scoff.

"I didn't, it was Blair." Nate's gaze was on you as he spoke, guilt in his expression.

Your eyes stayed on Serena. "Why does it matter? I know now."

Serena's expression softened, her voice filled with remorse. "Y/N, I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen."

"Can we all just talk please? Not here, though." Nate spoke as his gaze flickered between you and Serena. "Meet me in Chuck's suite in 10, okay?"

You hesitated for a second as Serena took the key from him as he walked away. You looked up at the taller blonde, your heart heavy with conflicting emotions. "Fine."

You and Serena made your way to Chuck's suite in tense silence before she broke the silence. "Look, I know hurt Blair. And I know you're trying to protect her but... I don't like Nate, you have to believe me. I was drunk and-and hurt, Y/N."

Your steps slowed as Serena's words sank in, the tension in the air thickening with each passing moment. Despite the anger and betrayal swirling inside you, you couldn't deny the honesty in Serena's voice.

"I get that you were hurt, Serena," you began, your tone softer than before. "But that doesn't change the fact that what you did... it hurt Blair. And me too."

Serena's eyes pleaded with you for understanding. "I know, Y/N. And I'm sorry. But I can't have both of my best friends angry at me, I don't know how I'd manage."

You sighed, feeling the weight of Serena's words. "I know. I get it. I'm not mad at you but that doesn't mean I'm taking your side in this whole mess, I'll do my best to get Blair to relax."

Serena's shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, a faint smile touching her lips. "Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot to me."

You returned her smile with a nod, knowing that resolving the tension between Serena and Blair wouldn't be easy, but feeling determined to try. "Let's just take it one step at a time, okay? We'll figure things out."

You got to Chuck's suite and waited inside. And as you heard the door swing open, your eyebrows furrowed as you saw Blair and Nate kissing before he slowly pulls her off. "Wait, this is Chuck's suite."

"Nate." Serena spoke as she watched the scene in front of her.

Blair's eyes flickered in between you and Serena, anger clear in her expression. "What is she doing here?"

"Meeting Nate," Serena replied honestly as you let out an exhale.

"Me and Y/N just wanted to talk her, I swear." Nate's voice was rushed as he tried to explain, as he glanced between you, Blair, and Serena, his expression caught between guilt and irritation.

"You said you'd never speak to her again." Blair's voice sounded hurt as she glared back at Nate, her voice sharp with accusation.

"You said that?" You muttered as you rolled your eyes. How the hell did you get mixed up in all this? This is what happens when you give people the benefit of the doubt.

"Why would you say that?" Serena's voice was laced with disbelief as she glared back at Blair.

Blair's gaze hardened as she turned to face you. "Why are you even here, Y/N? Are you taking her side now? She can't be trusted, I thought I told you."

"It's not Serena's fault." You and Nate spoke in union, earning a scoff from Blair.

"I asked her to come." Nate continued as his eyes flickered to yours.

"Oh! Oh, so you wanted to talk." Blair's voice boomed as she glared back at Nate, her voice laced with betrayal.

"Yes, to explain why we... aren't talking." Nate continued, his voice faltering slightly under Blair's intense gaze.

"Fine. Maybe I'll leave you guys to finish this fancistaniating conversation." Blair's jaw tensed, her frustration evident as she glanced between you, Nate, and Serena as she began walking away.

"Oh, no, no I'll go. I'll let you two get back to your quickie." Serena's voice dripped with sarcasm as she walked up to Blair, her tone biting with resentment.

Blair shot Serena a scathing look, her eyes flashing with anger. "It wasn't a quickie. Sex is actually kind of a big deal to some of us!"

"Enough, both of you," you said firmly, your voice cutting through the silence. "We're not going to accomplish anything by arguing like this."

Blair's jaw clenched as she shot you a sharp look, her frustration evident. "You don't understand, Y/N. Serena is the reason for all of this mess."

Serena glared back at Blair, scoffing bitterly as she ignored your words. "Losing your v-card in Chuck's bed, real romantic. Classy too."

"Oh, like you?" Blair let out a bitter laugh as she looked in between you two before backing up slowly. "I bet your new friend Dan would love to hear all about how classy you are."

"Blair!" You shouted as Blair ran out of the suite, running after her. You lost her quickly, looking everywhere to go find her. You didn't even know why you cared so much, you didn't want to be involved in this mess anymore.

Blair found Dan quickly, going up to him with a big grin. "Dan! Hi. I'm Blair Waldorf, Serena's friend." She shook his hand, his expression confused.

"Oh, yeah. Hey, do you, uh know where she is?" Dan asked, his brows furrowing in concern as he met Blair's gaze.

"As a matter of fact, I do!" Blair's smile didn't falter as she began to speak before getting interuppted.

"Blair." You spoke as you glared at her. Serena and Nate followed behind you, crowding in the middle as Blair turned back to Dan.

"Serena, there you are. Uh, where were you?" Dan looked uncomfortable as everyone crowded him, the tension palpable.

"She was waiting in a hotel room for my boyfriend. To talk." Blair gave Serena a fake smile as your jaw dropped at her words.

"About why we weren't talking." Nate interjected as Blair glares at him.

"That doesn't sound any smarter the second time." Blair retorted, her tone sharp with frustration.

"I was there too." You spoke, giving Blair a glare. "If that helps." You gave Dan a sympathetic smile.

Dan's expression shifted from confusion to annoyance as he glanced between Serena and Blair, his brow furrowing deeper. "Why weren't you talking?"

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Chuck's smooth voice cut through the tension, his smirk widening as he surveyed the group. "Looks like we've stumbled upon quite the scandal."

"Oh, exactly what this situation needs, Chuck." Dan spoke, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Now what's going on here?"

"We were just getting to that." Blair turned to face Dan, a bitter smile etched on her lips.

"Blair, please. Don't do this." Serena pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation as she glanced between Blair and Dan.

"Sorry. You wanna tell him?" Blair's voice was laced with feign concern as she spoke.

You rolled your eyes, sighing. "This is pathetic. Oh my god." You muttered before Chuck spoke.

"I'll tell him." He spoke proudly as everyone shot him a look.

"You know?" They all (except Dan, of course) spoke with shocked looks.

"I know everything." Chuck's smirk widened as he sauntered forward, reveling in the attention.

Dan sighed, his frustration evident in his tone as he looked around at the group, his brows furrowed in confusion. "And apparently, I know nothing."

"Look, Dan. It-it was a long time ago and I regret it." Serena began to explain before Chuck interrupted.

"Look, Serena, stop trying to pretend you're a good girl. So you slept with your best friend's boyfriend, I kinda admire you for it." Chuck's words hung in the air, a heavy silence descending upon the room as everyone processed his callous remark.

Serena's expression hardened, her jaw clenched with anger as she shot Chuck a scathing glare. Her eyes began to well up as your head fell back in utter irritation.

"Chuck, that's enough," you interjected, your voice firm as you shot him a warning glance. "This isn't helping anyone."

"Is that true?" Dan spoke, hurt evident in his voice.

"Well, then she ran away and lied about it. I just thought you should know before you fall head over heels for your perfect girl and her perfect world, and then get left alone with no one but your cabbage-patch kid." Blair spoke, amusement in her voice as everyone watched her. Dan's expression darkened as he processed her words, the hurt evident in his eyes.

"Cabbage patch?" You and Nate both said in union, your gaze flickering on each other before Blair continued.

"Did you talk to my sister?" Dan's voice was strained as he addressed Blair, his eyes searching hers for answers.

"Ah, yes little Jenny. I do believe me and her have some unfinished business." Chuck's voice interjected, his tone dripping with mischief as he stepped forward, his gaze locked on Dan.

"Chuck, what the hell? Isn't she a freshman?" You looked confused as you looked around the group, looking for answers but no one to give them to you.

"You stay away from her." Dan got close to Chuck as she spoke, anger evident in his expression.

"Poor Daniel. So little time, so many sluts to defend." Chuck smirked, obviously trying to get a rise out of Dan before he shoved him harshly into a table, glasses breaking as he fell to the ground.

Everyone in the room exchanged glances, shocked and amused ones. The room fell into a stunned silence as Dan's shove sent Chuck crashing into the table, the sound of breaking glass echoing in the room. Chuck regained his footing, his expression a mixture of surprise and irritation as he straightened himself.

Dan let out a big exhale as he looked at everyone in the room, regret seeping into his expression. "It's fine, it's fine, everyone can stop looking. He's a jerk. But it's-it's my fault and I'm leaving."

"I'll go with you." Serena spoke up, her voice soft as she turned to face Dan as he walked away.

"Actually, I'd prefer if you didn't." Dan replied, his tone firm and tinged with anger. He glanced at Serena with a mixture of disappointment and hurt before turning to leave the room.

As Dan walked away, leaving the room in a cloud of tension and unresolved emotions, you felt a surge of frustration and anger building up inside you. The chaos and drama that had unfolded before your eyes had reached its breaking point, and you couldn't hold back any longer.

"Seriously?" you exclaimed, your voice cutting through the quiet like a knife. "This is ridiculous! We're all acting like children, pointing fingers and placing blame, but what does that solve? Nothing!"

Blair opened her mouth to retort, but you didn't give her the chance to speak.

"And you," you continued as you glared at Blair, your voice cutting. "You can't keep dragging everyone down with your drama. You're so focused on your own vendettas and insecurities that you're willing to hurt everyone around you, including your own friends!"

Your gaze swept over the group, your frustration evident in your expression. "Nate, you can't just sit by and watch this happen when it all started with you. And Chuck, for once in your life, could you please just keep your mouth shut?"

Chuck's smirk faltered, his expression shifting from amusement to surprise as he regarded you with a raised eyebrow.

"You all need to grow up. You think this is some kind of game, but you're hurting people in the process. That poor guy, what was his name... Dan didn't deserve that. And even though Serena did some bad things, she doesn't deserve this, and I sure as hell don't deserve to be dragged into your mess." You spoke quietly as your words hung in the air, the tension in the room palpable as everyone processed your outburst.

You sighed before shaking your head, walking out of the room and out of the Palace. This was exactly why you didn't want to come to the brunch and why you didn't wanna come back to Manhattan. It was all drama, drama, drama. No logical thinking or empathy, just grudge-holding and gossip. It made you feel suffocated and you hated being dragged along in drama you didn't ask to be in.

But you knew that you didn't have a choice, that was just the life you were born into. Only a brunch in Manhattan can be this dramatic.

──౨ৎ──

You sat on your bedroom floor, going through the tens of albums of photos you have with Serena and Blair. It made you feel nostalgic and bittersweet. Each photograph captured a moment frozen in time, a memory of happier days before the drama and tension had consumed your friendship.

As you traced your fingers over the pictures, memories flooded back, reminding you of the moments you had cherished together. From late-night conversations to adventures, you had experienced so much together, and it was hard to believe how much had changed.

But now, everything felt different. The trust had been broken, and the rift between you seemed impossible to mend. You longed for the simplicity of those days, when your friendship was uncomplicated and unwavering.

As you lingered on each photo, you couldn't help but wonder if things would ever be the same again. Could you repair the damage that had been done? Could you rebuild the trust that had been shattered? Or was this the end of an era, the inevitable conclusion of a friendship that had once meant everything to you and the girls you'd once called your sisters.

As you flipped through the album, you stumbled across a photo of you and Nate. You were transported back in time, when you and Nate would spend every waking moment together. There were no secrets and no hidden feelings, it was pure friendship. But as you stared at the photo, focused on the way Nate stared at you, you wondered if you were naive to think that was all it ever was.

You couldn't help but wonder if you had been blind to the signs, oblivious to the undercurrents of attraction that may have existed beneath the surface of your friendship. Had you missed the subtle hints and longing glances, too caught up in the comfort of familiarity to see what was right in front of you?

As you continued to study the photo, a sense of longing washed over you, mingled with a twinge of regret. Regret for not exploring those feelings when you had the chance, for letting fear hold you back from taking that leap of faith.

You were quickly jolted out of your head as you felt your phone buzz on your bed. You got up from the floor and picked it up, reading the caller ID. The picture of Blair flashed on your phone screen, accompanied by her name. You hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not to answer.

With a resigned sigh, you swiped to answer the call, bringing the phone to your ear. "Hey, Blair," you greeted, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Hey." Blair's voice came through the line, a hint of hesitation in her tone. "I, um... I wanted to talk."

You swallowed hard, steeling yourself for whatever conversation was about to unfold. "Okay, go ahead."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Blair spoke again, her voice soft. "Today, at brunch. I should've never got you involved like that and if I wanted to screw Serena over, I should've waited for a better time. I... I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright," you replied, your own voice softening with understanding. "I shouldn't have went up to the suite with Serena, especially knowing that Nate was gonna meet up with us. I just want everyone to get along."

"You're sweet for thinking that and that's why I love you so much." Blair paused as she tried to find the right words. "Serena just isn't... she isn't good for us."

"Blair, I know you think you're trying to help me and I-I appreciate the sentiment but... I don't know. We've all been close for so long, I don't wanna choose a side. Serena messed up really bad but everyone deserves a second chance, right?" You rambled, not really knowing what to say.

Blair paused for a moment. "I don't think she deserves a second chance." Her voice was bitter and you could sense the hurt even from the phone. "But I can't expect you to choose a side. The one thing I ask is that we have to stay close, I can't lose two of my best friends."

That's exactly what Serena had said earlier and you wanted to tell Blair but it just didn't seem right. You wanted to tell Blair that shouldn't be so stubborn and cold, especially to her best friend but you couldn't find it in you.

You didn't blame Blair, either. You couldn't even imagine how betrayed you'd feel if Serena had done that to you - or anyone, for that matter. But at the same time, Blair shouldn't be acting like a child and making it her life mission to ruin Serena's life.

But it's not that simple, it never is.

"It's okay, B. I love you." You spoke, your voice exhausted.

Blair's silence hung heavy on the line for a moment before she spoke again, her voice softer this time. "I love you too, Y/N."

[lokidiabolus]

Last Resort - Chapter 2

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Pairing: Thomas x Newt

Warnings: ex boyfriends, AU

Summary: Three years after breaking up with Thomas, Newt finally thought the past of hating each other was behind them, until Thomas asked him for a favour - pretend they got back together for a week while staying at his parents’ home. Because it was an absolutely dumb idea, Newt was inclined to refuse, but then found himself in the house he used to visit when he was in love and happy and the bitter reality of only pretending for people he always liked made him miserable. But it was nothing against dealing with Thomas himself for a week straight and trying not to fall back in love that hurt them both.

Or: Prompt ch. 192 with added spice. Or something. I just needed to write for a while :’)

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: I think I never did so much rewriting like I did with this chapter. I'm still not satisfied with it, but I swear my brain just can't come up with anything else. Scrapped like 6 pages asdfjslfjslfjsdl. Now it's short :c

Anyway, guess I just wanted a bit of Thomas' insight for it. He's complicated lol. Or maybe not really, just trying to keep up. Don't we all though lol.

Oh and @izzymultifan (actually remembered)

Unbetad!

EDIT: (17. 5. 2021) I edited the ending with a lil continuation of the scene I previously deleted, because I thought it was unnecessary, but then I returned to it after few days and thought it should stay. It's not very long but I guess it's kinda important.

***

Thomas woke up disoriented, thirsty and definitely not rested enough, like when his alarm goes off on a workday and he only slept for four hours. But here was no alarm, no work, just him waking up with a flinch and realizing he wasn’t in his flat, and he wasn’t alone either.

The blond hair right in his face immediately pushed him into realization he was holding onto Newt like he was his lifeline, one hand under the shirt on his belly, other on his chest clutching the fabric, and an unmistakable morning hello tenting his pants, digging right into Newt’s backside. In retrospect there wasn’t much worse Thomas could have done to him, except maybe having a hand down his pants (which admittedly he used to do sometimes when they were together, but then again, that situation definitely didn’t scream murder like it would now).

In a sleepy confusion that hazed his just-woken-up-brain he searched the foggy memory on how this situation came to be, no matter how familiar it felt to him. Newt made himself pretty clear about sleeping together, so the sudden closeness – well, more like an absolute merge, unless he’d slip in – no, no dirty thoughts, bad Thomas, bad – didn’t make much sense.

The night came back to him embarrassingly slow – he got drunk because for some reason his dad decided to decimate his super precious whiskey, even though normally he hoarded it like a dragon his gold. He could only think of Newt being the incentive, drinking the whiskey so fast in his dad’s eyes, while Thomas downed it all to save him from barfing (Newt’s alcohol tolerance never existed in the first place, he disliked about any kind of it, and as far as Thomas remembered he got drunk only once with vodka mixed with orange juice on Aris’ wedding, because he could barely taste the vodka in it until it was too late). Then the world started spinning, Newt dragged him to his room somehow… which sounded farfetched, so maybe dad helped, he drew blank around that area honestly, probably because he stood up and all the alcohol began circulating faster. Then they talked… probably, and then Thomas fell asleep, since that’s all he could recall.

And now his hard-on was trying to get some, and he held Newt against himself with sheer ferocity of an obsessive hugger off his meds and the realization dawned on him like tons of bricks. Was he going to wake him up if he let go? Newt always woke up at the slightest noise before, there was no way of going to pee at night without getting back to the blond blinking owlishly at him, asking what happened. Was this Newt he barely knew anymore still the same? Still twitchy and light sleeper and grumpy and slow to rise when getting up?

Thomas didn’t have much choice anyway, did he. He just had to let go either way, and preferably remove his hips from Newt’s back and act like it was no biggie to be hard when in bed with his ex. He slowly untangled his hand from the front of Newt’s shirt and retreated from under the shirt as well with the other hand and managed to roll onto his back without Newt visibly stirring, which was a success. Unless he pretended to be asleep to avoid talking to Thomas about pushing into him like a horny teenager, which also worked.

Not like he hadn’t been doing that in the last month of their relationship anyway, just... ignoring the problem until it went away (a problem named Thomas) and well, ultimately it succeeded. It would work now too, and Thomas refused to poke the wasp nest this early in the morning – judging from the clock at 8:04 – and just went with the flow.

Need coffee, he thought unhappily when the headache set in. And water. Maybe some alone time in a bathroom first.

Newt didn’t stir until Thomas slinked out of the bedroom, which was a complete lie.

***

“Dad, just drop it,” Thomas repeated for fourth time when his dad couldn’t stop haggling him about his childlike alcohol tolerance the moment he appeared in the kitchen, asking for black coffee. He couldn’t tell him he drank Newt’s portions and without that argument nothing would sound plausible anyway, so he just dodged it with an increasing headache. Newt got up about half an hour later and didn’t speak a word to him – Thomas would even say he avoided his eyes several times, which meant he was absolutely awake in the morning to witness all of Thomas’ struggle to even exist around him peacefully. Which he couldn’t for years, really, so this only proved it.

It was fine. Thomas learned how to deal with it, despite taking him two years to come in terms of being hated by a person he loved since he was 17. Well, everything around the breakup took a lot from him, but he dealt with all eventually, right? He could finally look Newt in the eye without having all the incoherent anger and frustration pile up and he could talk to him fine as well unless they breached one of the thousand forbidden topics. Like them. Like family. Like love. Like sleeping. Like breathing, existing and fucking just trying to live.

Anyway. All dealt with, of course. No hard feelings.

(Lots of them.)

“You dealt with the drunkard just fine, right Newt?” his dad chattered towards the blond, patting him on his back and Newt forced a smile and a nod. Thomas saw this particular expression too often to not recognize it and huffed while sitting down at the counter with his own coffee.

He was used to being a bad guy anyway, no matter how much of the blame he genuinely deserved. They both knew he didn’t get drunk because he wanted to get wasted enough to drop unconscious on a spot and Newt would be a hypocrite to badmouth him when he was pouring all his whiskey to Thomas’ glass with thankful expression yesterday. But then again, not even he could tell Thomas’ dad about it, so they just had to have this unspoken oh yes, Thomas is a real piece of work as always.

Which sort of sucked. But Thomas couldn’t care less what his dad thought about his alcohol tolerance, it wasn’t like he threw up everywhere or broke mum’s precious bowls set (again). Not that he expected Newt to defend him anyhow, but he could at least say nooo, he was fine, he just fell asleep or something. Not that it surprised him he didn’t, but…

“He used to drink majority of guys from my work under the table and now look at him,” his dad delivered his fifth Thomas can’t drink for shit jab. He sure loved to milk that. “At least he has you to look after him, huh.”

Thomas stared at Newt’s back with mild annoyance the more the blond refused to elaborate on anything, just smiling at his dad while making himself a cup of coffee, and then Thomas’s eyes suddenly fell on the nape of Newt’s neck with a vicious, red mark near the hairline, and his whole body seized up like he got paralyzed.

A hickey? Since when? From who? What? Wait, was Newt already dating somebody else?

Saying already like three years were short amount of time… Thomas mentally scolded himself and his body raised up on its own volition, like being pulled in by some invisible force towards the blond. He had no clue if it were a twisted need for revenge or vindication or just him being unable to come in terms of not being told or warned, or maybe all of it together, he just couldn’t stop and plastered himself all over Newt’s back, trapping him between his body and the counter, circling his thin waist like a vine (he got thinner for sure).

“Of course I have you, don’t I,” he purred into Newt’s ear, loud enough for his dad to hear perfectly, and felt how Newt’s whole body froze, his hand mid-stir of the coffee. Thomas could see how his Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped. “Looking after me when I get hammered into unconsciousness.”

“Yeah.” Newt’s voice sounded small, and Thomas wanted to bite down at that red, angry place on his nape like an animal. His dad probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but his ego sure would. He let his hands slide lower, to Newt’s hips, grabbing a handful, and the habitual movement made him restless. He did it zillion times during the time they were together. He did less, he did more, naked, clothed, lying, standing up, in whatever situation, touching Newt was his privilege.

And some fucking horny prick just took it?

Just marked his boyfriend – ex-boyfriend, Thomas, ex-boyfriend for three years, pull yourself together, you’re not 17 anymore – like a property and he didn’t even fucking notice?

Newt’s breath hitched and the spoon he was holding dropped into the coffee, splashing the black liquid around it, dribbling down the drawers under, making the blond curse under his breath.

“Sorry,” he immediately said towards Thomas’ dad who was handing him a cloth to wipe it with, and started squirming. “Thomas, leggo. Can’t reach.”

“Don’t wanna,” Thomas refused, squeezing Newt even tighter. “I’m hangover and miserable and you’re supposed to take care of me.”

Thomas’ dad snorted but took the hint and retreated while calling at his wife the boys are being rowdy again, Anna! And the kitchen fell back into silence, except of their breathing, with Thomas plastered against Newt’s back like he wanted to topple him over (he sort of did).

“Do you enjoy being a bloody prick?” Newt finally broke the spell, pawing at Thomas’ hands to get them off, his voice an angry whisper. “What’s your deal, for fuck’s sake!”

“Hangover,” Thomas huffed, not letting go and to be completely honest, Newt wasn’t really trying as much, just slapping his hands half-heartedly. “Could’ve at least said I didn’t give you any trouble, I covered for you the whole night.”

“You gave me loads of it!” Newt started wiggling, and Thomas had to fight the urge to just bite down, mark any piece of skin available, to make the restlessness go away. “You were heavy as fuck, I had to carry you all the way to your room!”

“Yeah, and?” Thomas grabbed him lower, and Newt pinched his hand in revenge, which finally made him let go with sharp breath.

“Fuck you,” the blond barked at him with fiery eyes. “I don’t know what you are trying to prove but groping me is not on the bloody table, get it?!”

“Mhm,” Thomas rubbed the place Newt pinched him at. “Sure. No fun allowed, got it.”

“Fuck off!”

Thomas hated how Newt turned away and the hickey was so visible it made his insides churn. He used to talk about his problems a lot these past few years, so he could finally let go of whatever was holding him in place, unable to forget, and he thought he reached that point, that he was free.

Looking at Newt marked by another man… no. He was not. Still stuck, still the same.

Still angry and miserable.

Still… there.

***

The fact Newt refused to talk to him completely was an understatement. Thomas blamed his unsteady approach on the alcohol, because what else he could blame it on – his own feelings? He sodealt with those already, there was nothing that would make him see red.

Except of a hickey on his ex-boyfriend’s neck, that would do it. Apparently.

But still – it was the hangover that made him stupid, right. If he’d be completely sober and not aching anywhere and his mind clear, he would just… shrug at it. It was Newt’s business who he slept with or not, or who he let bite his nape like a dog (some young fucking idiot who thought hickeys are still sexy? Stupid shit).

Not Thomas’. Not anymore.

The more he tried to push it away from his mind, the more his mind pushed back, just pointing it out loudly every time he glanced towards the blond sitting on the couch in the living room, bundled in a fluffy blanket, fiddling with his phone.

He was fiddling with his phone a lot actually. Texting somebody?

The guy who left the mark?

Thomas felt the irrational anger seep into his consciousness again and he forced it back down with a frown. He knew asking Newt to help him to get his parents off his back wasn’t exactly a great idea (asking ex to be your bf again for a show just screamed trouble), but at the same time asking anybody else just felt… wrong.

Thomas had to admit he’d be able to go along with this only with Minho, probably. Because Minho was a born actor, he’d be able to breeze though this with ease and Thomas’ parents would like him for sure, because, well, everybody liked Minho, honestly.

Asking Teresa or Brenda was just… desperate. Because other than them it would be Newt and getting back together with Newt… well. Thomas could tell from the moment he saw him getting into his car in front of Newt’s workplace it was going to be tough for both of them.

Not much of a surprise so far climbing Mt. Everest would be easier than keeping his chaotic feelings under control.

“You need some fresh air,” his vision of Newt got obstructed by his mum in a frilly apron she wore unironically and he looked up to her with half-lidded eyes.

“I think I need chicken soup, actually,” he offered in response, because dragging himself through the snow outside now sounded like a death penalty.

“Air first,” she insisted, adamant, and turned towards Newt like an executioner. “Right, Newt? A walk would do him good.”

Newt looked at Thomas and Thomas just knew. He was doomed. Newt was going to betray him like Scar did with Mufasa and he’d enjoy it, he could see the glint in his eyes, just shining there, spelling revenge in big, neon letters.

Please, he mouthed at the blond in desperation and Newt tilted his head to the side and then his mouth curled up.

“Sure, that’s a great idea, Anna,” he signed the death certificate without an ounce of shame and relished in it.

Fuck you, Thomas mouthed again, and Newt sent him a condescending smile. Fuck him especially.

***

“You’re unusually quiet,” his mum casually pointed out like she didn’t just drag him out to cold ass weather while holding a knife (butter one, but that’s what made it scarier), despite his very vocal (or vocal sort of, too loud and his brain wanted out of his skull) protests.

“Hungover,” he reminded her bitterly. The snow under their feet crunched sharply and the noise was tearing his brain to pieces, like walking on a broken glass and he had no idea how much longer he’d be able to act like it wasn’t killing him.

“Well, it was nice of you to cover for him,” Anna shrugged like she didn’t just blew their cover with a killer one liner and Thomas probably shouldn’t have been as surprised. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink.”

“That’s cuz he can’t drink for shit,” he mumbled with a frown. “Did dad notice?”

“No,” she shook her head. “He was too busy boasting about the partnership. It’s been some time since I’ve seen him so happy, you know how he hoards the whiskey otherwise.”

“Yeah, cheapskate,” Thomas snorted, and the noise sliced his brain painfully, like an instant karma.

“Think he was happy about Newt being back too,” she hit the nail on the head a bit too close to home and Thomas hated how his stomach lurched at it. “Well, you know him.”

“Sure is happy for not getting any grandkids,” he just grumbled and Anna patted him on his back.

“We still have Hannah,” she reminded him sweetly. “Maybe one day she’ll feel like having kids and force you to babysit for her two times a week.”

“Me? You’re going to be the grandparents, it’s your obligation to babysit!” The idea of taking care of Hannah’s kids made him scared for life, and they didn’t even exist yet.

“Pretty sure Newt wouldn’t mind,” she chirped happily, and Thomas loathed how right she probably was. Newt never really showed any kind of real interest in having kids or anything, but he never minded babysit for his own sister, and generally all the kids liked him.

Not that thinking about that had any merit anyway, since they split up with a point of no return. Maybe Newt already planned kids with the new person who left the distasteful hickey on his nape, or the person who he kept texting, and the more Thomas thought about it, the more his chest burned.

“Cherish him a bit more, would you,” she poked his arm. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you have some beef between you. Had an argument before coming here?”

Why the fuck is she so perceptive?

“A bit,” he answered quietly. “No biggie.”

“Set things right,” she plainly ordered him like he was ten again and had do her bidding. “I don’t want another sad Christmas.”

There isn’t going to be any Christmas for us, he wanted to tell her, but kept his mouth shut. At this rate, there wasn’t going to be anything for them, at all.

I really need some sleep.

***

Not very often did the morning come so peacefully, like a gentle spring washing over tired soul, leaving it invigorated. Thomas basked in the pleasantness of it, a quiet, warm and relaxed moment where he slowly woke up from a dream into reality still welcoming and soft like he never left the fantasy realm.

He took a deep breath, stretching, slowly coming to realize of contours of another body pressed into him, and under his hands and around his legs and under his chin. The soft blond hair came to view when he opened his eyes, with Newt draped around him needily, and his heart melted.

The first night in their flat. Their home. A place that only belonged to them, these walls and floors, and small kitchen and big windows, for them together. It came true, finally, inevitably, for Thomas to have Newt all for himself, to share his mornings, his evenings, his life with him. Nothing else could make him happier.

“You already up?” came a sleepy rumble from Newt’s chest, the hands holding Thomas’ waist slowly moved up, to his back, pushing them even closer together.

“Just woke up,” Thomas kissed the top of the blond strands, his own hands traveling over Newt’s back, right onto his butt, kneading it.

“Mmmm.” Approving sound doubled his endeavour and then Newt was slowly grinding to him, lazily, his lips stretched in a smile, reaching to pamper Thomas’ neck with small kisses. “This sure is nice, huh.”

“Love it,” Thomas agreed with the sentiment while grabbing Newt’s thigh and hiking it up over his hip. The blond softly moaned at the contact and Thomas pushed more into it, completely awake and needy and allowed. There was nobody that could hear them, scold them or gasp in shock like a puritan at them making out – just them, two lovers in their home, free to make love any time they wanted.

And Thomas wanted too much.

***

He never stopped wanting.

He woke to his room bathing in shadows, with the blanket twisted between his legs, his headache still present, even though in weaker state than in the morning, and his body wasn’t any less sluggish. The walk with his mum didn’t help him much, just added to his misery with freezing cold and nagging reality he couldn’t play this game any longer, which made him feel empty and unhappy.

He didn’t feel this unhappy in a while, it usually only came back when he heard of Newt about a year after the breakup. Every time his ex came back to his life, even when somebody only mentioned him in a passing conversation, Thomas’ chest set off that painful pang in it, like a trigger just waiting to be pressed, and he fell back into hollow kind of depression.

He got rid of it, somehow. He built walls around himself, he locked all of his twisted personality traits and pushiness and hateful behaviour away, he spent years searching for more he could fix, for all that made Newt unhappy with him, what made him leave Thomas after seven years without really talking about it.

He thought he managed to become a better person. He believed he could change the way he acted. He hoped if he ever talked to Newt again, at any point of their lives, he would be at least able to show him he wasn’t that ungrateful, lousy boyfriend anymore, that they could at least be friends. Somehow. Just talk normally. Just… exist in the same room without… Newt making that anguished face, like it hurt him still.

Thomas tried. But failed. Maybe it was just recurring theme of his life – to touch something wonderful, to taste true happiness, just to fuck it all up and lose it.

Maybe he was just obsessive. Suffocating.

Maybe making mistakes were rooted too deep in him to get rid of.

Maybe… it was simply impossible.

***

Newt was playing games with Hannah in the living room when Thomas came back down. Hannah made fun of him for sleeping all day like an old guy and his mum said something about hoping he didn’t catch a cold and gave him a bowl of chicken soup.

The strange, unattached feeling stayed with him since he woke up, and only doubled when he saw Newt’s neck marked by some fucker on display. His stomach churned at the implication there was this unknown guy waiting for Newt to come back home, who kept impatiently sending him texts that made Newt frown and smile in turns, like he just slowly sunk back into the problem they never resolved. Thomas felt disgusted with himself, and angry, and, when it came to it, immensely tired.

“Oh, you have the whole week free?” his mum asked suddenly, breaking Thomas’ bubble of trying to eat the soup like a mental case of lobotomy, and he realized there had been a conversation going in meantime and he didn’t catch any of it. Newt wasn’t playing the game anymore, though Hannah still furiously pressed buttons on her controller, and instead of it sat on the couch, turned towards Thomas’ mum at the table.

“Yeah, thought getting out of the city might do me good,” he answered her with a soft smile and the idea of another week like this sent Thomas into desperate mode. Even though it was him who forced Newt to take whole week off, because… he only had bad ideas, obviously.

“But there’s bit of a rush now, right?” he entered the conversation impulsively and Newt glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “At work. Christmas and all that being close.”

“Yeah, it’s… a bit hectic,” the blond admitted, making Thomas’ mum go aww. “There’s lots of people taking vacations they didn’t spend yet, so we usually work crunch time.”

“Yeah, kind of same,” Thomas added. It wasn’t really a lie. But not the truth either. “And I know I said a week, but I’ve got some texts from work already, thought of going back tomorrow instead.”

Newt stared at him with an evident confusion, but Thomas knew at this rate they were going to crash and burn again if they stayed, and he didn’t want that. He couldn’t even trust himself to keep it civil when his blood boiled like in a bull taunted with red flag.

Except the red flag was an unknown nobody on the other side of the line of Newt’s phone.

And bed.

“Uh,” came from the blond. “No, wait. What? You…”

“We can visit again during Christmas,” Thomas offered a big fat lie, he almost bit his tongue at it. Christmas were a taboo, he knew mentioning it were already risky, but it gave him an out with his mum, so that worked at least. “When it’s calmer.”

“When is what calmer?” Newt still stared, Thomas said almost disbelieving, and he just prayed for him to play along and not act like he knew nothing about it.

“Work,” he answered stiffly. Too stiffly, he realized, since Newt’s eyes narrowed.

“Uh oh,” he heard Hannah interject, which meant he already failed in the mission to make this believable. Fuck.

“I need a smoke,” the blond announced instead of reacting and stood up sharply. Then shot Thomas a badly masked glare. “Keep me company?”

He wanted to say no but couldn’t when his whole family watched them like during tennis match. So he just nodded and followed Newt outside of the house while feeling like slapping himself.

***

“Care to explain or am I supposed to guess.”

The cigarette was lit, its fiery tip shone bright in the darkness of the porch once the automatic light shut itself because they weren’t moving like they rooted in the wooden floor. Newt was wearing his coat and Thomas only stood there in the long-sleeved shirt, which in retrospect was probably a mistake.

“I did explain,” Thomas said. “Just thought about work-,”

“No, you didn’t,” Newt stopped him immediately while crossing one of his arms on his chest while other held the cigarette like a weapon. “You said a week, so I took a week off. I’m not bloody leaving now. It’s my vacation.”

“I also said three days would probably be enough,” Thomas asserted. “And they are. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Why?” the blond demanded. “It’s not like I suffer here. I like this place. What’s your problem?”

That kind of question had no easy answer and Thomas held Newt’s eyes only for few seconds, before looking away.

“Am I the problem?” came another question, even sharper. “You just can’t stand me anymore, so you want to leave?”

“You know that’s bullshit,” Thomas scoffed. “Since when did I ever-,”

“No, I don’t know!” Newt interrupted him with raised voice and Thomas flinched. “I don’t bloody know anything about you anymore! You brought me here and expected what? War? Did you want us to fail?”

“Why would I want us to fail?” Thomas’ eyes widened in a shock. “What kind of fucked up logic would that be?!”

“I don’t know!” Newt barked. The cigarette he was holding was slowly fading away, the ash falling everywhere how he moved his hand. “But something’s up since this morning, so obviously you’re lying about work and I want to know why!”

Well, finding out his ex-boyfriend had a lover, or a sex friend or whatever the other person was definitely served as a wake-up call. Thomas couldn’t overlook it – he thought he’d be fine with anything, it had been years, but one fucking hickey and some fleeting texts and he just had the rising urge to tear the walls he built down and get angry and make Newt inevitably miserable, which he despised.

He fucking loathed it. And himself. And everything around him.

“Why did you even agree to come here?” he couldn’t help but demand. “Why did you even bother playing this stupid game when you have somebody home? You trying to make him jealous or it’s just your thing?”

Accusing – stupid Thomas, fucking idiot, just talk normally, what’s wrong with you – as always.

“What?” Newt’s eyes shot up, wide in honest surprise. His cheeks were red from the cold, or maybe embarrassment, Thomas didn’t know. “What are you talking about?”

“About that hickey on your neck?” Thomas pointed towards the incriminated spot and Newt’s whole body went rigid.

“A hickey…?” Newt’s free hand was touching the place now, his voice shocked. “You… ugh.”

“Look, it’s not my business, clearly,” Thomas rubbed his eyes tiredly, desperately trying to make an excuse for his own consciousness why he couldn’t look at Newt. “But obviously it’s causing you trouble with him, so. As I said. Three days are fine, we can leave now. Go back home. Forget about this.”

And forget about me trying to corner you, and me getting hard in the bed with you this morning, and me sounding jealous and lame, and me… just for being me.

“Are you fucking with me?” Newt’s voice sounded disbelieving. “Are you bloody serious right now? A hickey from some random guy appeared over night here? That’s what you’re saying?”

Overnight…?

“Overnight?” he asked a little dumbly, which forced him to look Newt in the eyes, where he saw hell unleashed. It made his throat squeeze almost hard enough to suffocate him.

“You think I just popped back home for a quickie, then back to your bed in the morning like a bloody Cinderella?” the blond seethed, the cigarette in his hand morphing into a protentional weapon of choice. “Where did that even came for, for fuck’s sake? You’d been seeing me for two days, never noticed anything, and then suddenly your Esmeralda syndrome got cured or what?”

“But-,”

“You bloody drunk fucker,” Newt took a step towards him and Thomas found himself hitting the entrance door with his back, when he automatically tried to back out. “Should have known your bird brain won’t remember anything.”

The realization hit Thomas like tons of bricks right in his face, able to cause heavy concussion if it were real.

“I did this?!”

“No, the bloody sucker behind you, who the fuck do you think?!” Newt’s voice was harsh, but Thomas could only hear the bare fact he made a hickey of size of Texas on his ex-boyfriend’s nape while spending the next day being jealous… of himself.

“What the fuck,” he breathed out with an ugly relief flooding his veins, which was all sorts of wrong. Being relieved over attacking his ex at night definitely did not count as a good point in anybody’s book. “What the fuck.”

“Calmer now?” Newt sighed in exasperation and Thomas couldn’t say he was. It just opened door to another set of bad he had to deal with.

“I attacked you when drunk?” he asked quietly, and Newt blinked in surprise.

“Attacked?” he repeated and then barked out a laugh. “No, you really didn’t. You were drunk out of your mind, for fuck’s sake.”

“I see.”

“Didn’t think it left anything,” the blond sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if in memory, which was kind of hot – no Thomas, it was not hot, but embarrassing, shut up -. “I mean you just munched on me a little, then fell back asleep. No harm done.”

“You made a fuss about us sleeping in one bed but it’s no biggie when I leave a hickey?” Thomas couldn’t help but laugh a little and Newt’s face showed signs of hesitation.

“Look…” he tried after a moment, the cigarette in his hand nearly gone. “I… don’t know, you were just sleeping while holding me, it doesn’t mean anything-,”

“And that’s fine with you?” It was Thomas’ turn to interrupt him, and Newt looked a little lost for a moment.

“I suppose that’s fine with me, yeah,” he admitted slowly.

Thomas looked at his shoes, taking in a deep breath. He couldn’t deny the knot forming in his belly over the day already started easing off, for purely selfish reasons he had, but at the same time his head became even a bigger mess than before.

“So what does it mean?” he asked after a while. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, I thought… you’d rather leave than stay with me longer, after today, but…”

“I want to stay,” Newt answered immediately. “Unless you really don’t want me here. Then no, of course. I had the same problem the first day, feeling all kinds of weird and jumpy. I guess I just sort of dealt with it. Stepped out of my comfort zone and all that.”

“Sorry you had to.”

It wasn’t like Thomas wanted Newt to change anyhow by doing this favour for him. But he’d also be a hypocrite if he didn’t admit he wished Newt to feel good here. With him. Selfishly, hopelessly. Like before, like they were okay. Like they still… liked each other. At least a little.

He knew that kind of hope was self-destructive and harmful, but he didn’t stop loving this man three years ago, after going through an immensely rough patch, so he wouldn’t stop loving him now for no reason either.

“No need to be sorry,” Newt interrupted his thoughts with much softer tone than Thomas expected. “I mean even despite it’s you, you didn’t really do anything bad yet.”

“Wow,” Thomas snorted. “Way to ruin the mood, boyfriend.”

“I try,” Newt grinned, and it seemed like the tense mood dissipated and they both relaxed enough to breathe easier. Thomas possibly wouldn’t even notice he had been so strung up until now, if the huge boulder of irrational fear of fucking up didn’t fall off his shoulders with a bang.

“And just for the record,” Newt added while finally inhaling the last puff from the already burned-out cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. “I noticed you digging into me in the morning.”

“Of course you did…” Thomas banged the back of his head against door in utter shame. “Because universe hates me, and you had to fucking wake up.”

“Yeah, well,” Newt let out a small shrug. “I got hard at night, if it makes you feel any better. Let’s call it even.”

“What.”

“Had a real nice dream,” the blond casually announced like he was ordering pie with no filling and Thomas was a stupefied cashier at Costa Cafe. “Woke up with you being handsy with me. Tried to scramble away, cue for you to make the hickey and fall back asleep.”

“Uh.”

“1:1, right?” The sly smile Newt’s mouth produced did things to Thomas’ underbelly and before he even caught himself, he automatically reached out and grabbed Newt’s side.

Fuck.

“Pretty lousy score,” he just said – bad Thomas, stop making a pass at your ex -, “That’s no match whatsoever.”

Newt glanced at his hand resting on his waist and then back to Thomas with a thoughtful hum.

“I’m not that good at sports,” he just said, looking back into Thomas’ eyes. “But you might be onto something.”

Thomas took a deep breath and risked the second hand grabbing other side of Newt’s waist, pulling him closer. The layers of clothing made him dissatisfied, no matter how cold it was and how his skin already felt like ice, he just wanted to get under the coat and the sweater and the shirt and make Newt react somehow. The blond just silently watched him, let him do whatever he wanted, and somehow it felt like a test and Thomas was scared of failing it.

“That’s it?” Newt broke the tense silence around them when Thomas just stood there, holding him.

“Thinking,” the brunet mumbled with a frown.

“About?”

“How to touch you without it being classified as groping,” he moved his hands a little lower as an experiment, getting no reaction. “Since it’s off the table.”

“Pfff.”

He hesitated, then gingerly let go of one side and reached for the zipper lodged under Newt’s chin, keeping the coat closed like a fortress. His hand barely cooperated with how frozen it was, but Newt still didn’t stop him and that encouraged him unfairly.

“Newt.”

“Yeah?” the blond’s voice was quiet and close to his face.

“What’s with all the texting?” He kept holding the zippier between his fingers like he couldn’t decide, and Newt made a soft huh? noise in the back of his throat.

“You were on your phone the whole day,” Thomas lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “Is there somebody…?”

A sigh. Thomas let go of the zipper.

“That’s Alby,” came a reply and if Thomas wasn’t already propped against the door, he’d take a step back. There was nowhere to run now, so he just let go of the blond completely, nodding.

“He’s my partner,” another string of words Thomas comprehended but wished he didn’t. “A bit demanding one.”

“Sounds like it,” he just commented, staring at his feet until Newt’s shoes came into view as well when he stepped closer.

Seriously testing me. That’s-

“A bit cruel,” he breathed out with a puff of white smoke and Newt pushed further and pressed his mouth against Thomas’. His cold lips lingered for a moment before parting, their breaths mingling, and Thomas’ heart fought really hard to get out of his chest and run away. The proximity was non-existent, Newt stood so close their chests were touching, and his eyes were so dark, and pupils blown wide Thomas got easily lost in them.

He always did. Nothing had changed.

“You look cold,” Newt whispered to his lips, hovering so close their mouths gently touched when they took a breath.

“Freezing,” Thomas answered in daze, holding back only by a miracle. He wanted to reach out and pull the blond man flush against him, to grind into him, to kiss him so deep his toes would curl, and he’d buck up, he just wanted so much it made him suffer.

“Alby’s my colleague,” Newt dropped quietly. “Funnily… you weren’t wrong about work being in a rush now. He’s struggling a little. Wanted to know my opinion.”

A colleague. And nothing else?

“Nothing else,” Newt answered like he could read his mind and then sagged against Thomas’ body like the energy just left him, resting his head on Thomas’ shoulder.

“I thought I can handle being this close to you,” he heard him mumbling into his shirt. “But the more I am, the less I can fight it.”

“I thought I can handle you dating somebody else,” Thomas added to it while letting his head fall back against the door with a dull thud. “But obviously not. It’s scary. I don’t want to fuck it up again.”

“Yeah,” Newt agreed with him. “Me neither.”

He wasn’t sure if this had been some sort of consensus they reached, or just a fling that happened because they were both lonely, but Thomas didn’t want to let go – even though he should have, logically, to protect them both. The pain they caused to each other three years ago was still there and festering under their skins, but the more Newt was pressed into him, breathing softly, the more Thomas noticed his reason slowly creeped away, like a thief in the night disappearing with loot.

But he wanted. For fuck’s sake how he wanted to just hold him close and promise him love and eternal happiness, and the scary part was he couldn’t promise shit. His love was real, but not unconditional, happiness was fleeting and simply relying on both of them and the rest of the world deciding whatever to fuck them up or not.

But…

“I give up,” he mumbled, weary to the bone. At Newt’s soft hm? he just sighed. “It’s fucking cold.”

The blond barked out a laugh, but nodded and let go of him, immediately taking all the warmth away.

“Then shall we assure them we’re not breaking up again?” he nodded towards the door and without waiting for Thomas’ reply he already reached for the handle. “Or not leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” the brunet conceded. “Hannah’s going to be milking this for the rest of the week…”

“Serves you right,” Newt laughed quietly while opening the door and Thomas kept the answer to himself.

We’re not breaking up again rang in his head like a bell, deafening his reason even further. Newt didn’t protest when he reached for his hand on their way inside, and he wondered if his heart was ready for another trial.

He ignored the uncertainty and took a leap of faith.

[iwillnotburnmyjournals]

Days 10 & 11: Coming out from under the covers

I began today like a comic-book character – throwing up the covers around my head and saying out loud, “I’m hiding.” It was 11 am and I had been snoozing my alarm in 15-minute increments for over an hour. My schedule-keeping has been very intermittent the past five days, and I had slept in after going out last night to see my friend perform in a drag show and going out with friends afterwards (hence, my forgetting to write about yesterday and needing to piggyback onto today). The hit-and-miss schedule observance was making me dislike myself. But after I’d risen, had coffee, did yoga, and ate something, I was “back on track” when it occurred to me that, rather than maintain the schedule, I needed to break it. It became clear to me that I had somehow been avoiding myself through the very schedule I’d made to ensure I be creative and self-expressive.

It is easier than anyone could imagine to avoid the self through the very activities that are made and meant to investigate the self. I am the queen at utilizing self-help in order to “get closer,” all the while closing my eyes and holding my nose at my internal divine spark. This hit me like the methodical buildup of dropping brick after brick into a pit. It occurred to me that just making the time and doing the action does not grant that the spirit and the heart will accompany.

I happened to watch an interview with Jim Carrey – the of-late open-heart-surgery Jim who speaks about the universe and faith and being yourself instead of characters. A line that that made me think, “There’s no escaping or faking now, that chased me straight home” was this: “When you create yourself to make it, you’re going to have to either let that creation go and take a chance on being loved or hated for who you really are, or you’re going to have to kill who you really are and fall into your grave grasping onto a character that you never were.”

It is terrifying to be yourself and be vocal and audacious – because, for me, all I can think about are all of the people who are going to say I’m a poser or I’m crazy or I’m an idiot or I’m an embarrassment to myself or I’m wrong. Nobody wants to be wrong. I guess I’d be willing to say that most of our unhappiness comes from being afraid to do anything because we’re afraid it will be wrong. Each time I go out and interact with people, I’m newly aware of how terrified I am to be myself. And I am not practiced in being me. My entire life has been built around creating characters and personas that I think will make people like me because it will make them comfortable. Today, it really occurred to me that if I create from that perspective, nothing is going to be compelling.

So, I stepped away from my straight road and walked off into the brush. I asked myself a question my dear friend Joel suggested for the process of re-parenting and discovering who you are. The simple question to speak to your inner child, “What would be fun to do next?” A bath was what sounded nice. I sat in the bath and looked at parts of my body and how they interacted with the skin of the tub. Sleep kept coming for me, but I kept shaking myself back because a) I’m terrified of falling asleep in the bath and b) I knew that this was not the time for my subconscious to take over – I wanted to spend time with my conscious self, the me that I always am hiding from.

Jim said ego is writing a screenplay and the working title is “I’m not good enough.” When I was sitting in the bath, I thought about how, when I pull away from myself because of that fear that I’m actually worthless, not only my brain goes hazed but also my vision. I only see the outlines of things, not their filling, which is a reason for my poor memory of events or surroundings. I was trying to see the filling of both my brain and my eyes in the bath. At one point, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that one of my hairs was experiencing a phenomena of a water droplet gathering at the top of the hair, then traveling down the hair, slowly. Right at the tipping point, when the hair could no longer support the drop, the hair bent suddenly and deposited the drop onto my shoulder.

I kept thinking, “I don’t want my thoughts to be taken up with anybody else but me.” This sounds selfish, but it’s not. My attention has been divided and scattered all over by trying to dictate myself to please other people’s whims. This is not efficient and it serves nobody because it is not actually me. It’s like offering a rag doll to people in place of myself. I said to the universe today, “I want to act, I want to sing, I want my thoughts to be mine, I do not want to give up my brain to anyone else’s world.”

Today’s reality kept sinking in that it is simply a fact that some people will love you and some people will hate you. I have lived under a delusion these 29 years that I can make everybody like me – that if someone doesn’t like me, I’m either doing something wrong or they are. I think it comes from the Christian conception I was raised with that there are those outside of the fold and those inside the fold. You’re either in or out, good or bad, saved or unsaved. This black-and-white philosophy had split my world to a degree where I thought I was either wrong or someone else was. There had been no both/and. And when there’s no both/and, it’s not OK to live in a world where it’s just a fact that people will hate you.

These were my thoughts. Which merged sort of unexpectedly and sweetly with thoughts about singing that have been coursing through my mind the past two days. The concept of singing from the diaphragm has always confused me and has come and gone in my habit of singing. When I watched people explain that you should sing from your gut and that, when you sing, your throat should be totally relaxed, I thought, “HOW. Is that what they actually mean?” Because, to me, technique meant that you constricted or manipulated your throat. Even when I feel like I am singing capably and well, there always is a part of me that feels like I’m missing something.

For me, being able to have a higher registered chest voice and figure out how to smooth the break between head and chest has been a long-standing desire. It definitely has improved over this year of intent practice and Stevie Mackey’s singing course. But right when I thought I’d figured out that issue and gained enough technique to be somewhat happy about my voice, I discovered Cheryl Porter – trained opera singer, YouTube sensation, and regarded as one of the world’s number one vocal coaches. The way she approaches singing with her Cheryl Porter Method is to outright say that it is a physical workout – she does all of her vocal exercise videos and lessons with specialty Cheryl Porter boxing gloves. All throughout the warmups, she says, “All of the burn should be in your abs, never in your throat.” And because she said that, my throat would immediately constrict. It was like the more she talked about how your throat shouldn’t be tight, the only way I knew how to sing suddenly was by straining my voice.

Today, after watching numerous vocal coaches on YouTube explaining how to sing from the diaphragm and implement the abdominal muscles, and finding a Cheryl Porter exercise particularly for diaphragm support, it clicked. When I was doing the exercises and focusing entirely on my diaphragm, I felt the burn. Never before had I understood the burn fully and I never was practicing consistently where I felt the burn. But today I understood that the entirety of singing comes from the abdomen. The technique and the vocal fry and the runs – that all comes from the abdominal muscles. I always thought that I had to implement a grating of the vocal chords by constricting my throat and that the only way I would be able to hit a high note was to focus on my throat handling it. Wrong. Visualization and putting your attention on the correct part of the body is everything – and I’d been putting it elsewhere for a long time. When I tried singing Carole King’s “Natural Woman” focusing solely on my abdomen, I sounded totally different AND I was able to do runs and riffs I wouldn’t have even thought of or been able to just swing into before. Relaxing and letting go while paying attention made so much difference. So, I immediately went and bought Cheryl Porter’s class.

The lesson of singing is similar to the lesson of self-love – to be aware of where you are putting your attention and energy. My goal now is to be aware of how often I speak and act out of fear and compromise, and to STOP. My life will be nothing if I do not make a tireless practice of relaxing, letting go, and following myself and my capabilities.

Stop hiding under the covers.

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