if you have read the last page of crank palace you will get the reference :'))

modern au

it's short and just has references of quotes yk (mostly from tdc, 1 or 2 from crank palace)

but idk i read crank palace and thought of this???

Newt tossed his head back, gulping down another beer. He had, quite simply, had enough of all his friends stupid bickering and irritating / pissed off remarks.

He drank the first beer to get away from Minho.

He drank a second beer to get away from Sonya.

He drank a third beer to get away from Alby.

He lost count of how many when he thought about Tommy.

Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.

He loved the stupid boy.

Newt wanted to hug Thomas, kiss him, take him on stupid dates, scream at the screen in the back of the cinema and giggle like a couple of toddlers when they got kicked out. He wanted to love him. Pepper him with kisses on his jaw, buy him the smallest things he likes.

But he couldn't.

Not because Newt was too much of a scaredy-cat to grow a pair and ask Thomas out. God, no. Everyone who wasn't an idiot knew Newt liked Thomas. Including Thomas himself.

But life isn't that simple. It never had been for Newt. He had a bloody limp that he had to live with for the rest of his life, his mother died when he was younger, his sister, Sonya, always gets pissed with him for being so 'irresponsible' and 'stupid'.

And with Thomas?

With Tommy, everything was 100x worse. He had a girlfriend. Newt couldn't just go up to him and ask him out, because that'd be plain rude. 

Newt let out a sigh, closing his eyes. Where even was he? He attempted to recall the events of the night. It must have been around 1am.

Newt scribbled something down on a piece of paper frantically, as if he was running out of time. 

Oh. 

He lived with Thomas. That was also a massive issue.

He was presumably trying to write something down before the brunet came back so he could leave quickly.

What was he trying to write? Newt had absolutely no clue. He didn't have the slightest clue, and he wished he did. It was probably something curt and unsympathetic because he had turned into a monster. 

A monster.

That's what he thought himself as.

Going insane with things running through his brain. 

"Newt?" He could hear the voice. It was definitely Tommy. "Thank fuck! You had us all so fucking worried, Newt. What are you doing?" 

Newt turned around too quickly, muttering a 'fuck' under his breath at the sudden pain in his forehead that it gave him. "Tommy," His voice was slurred and he could tell that himself. "What are you doing here?" 

Thomas' figure loomed over him, hands supporting him on the shoulders. "Newt. I asked you a question first. Why are you getting yourself drunk?" His voice wasn't stern or demanding, instead it was quiet and it gave Newt safety. 

Thomas was home to Newt.

"Because my life is shit." He muttered. He knew it was pathetic and depressing. He hated it. He hated being so weak. He hated being so vulnerable. Hell, he hated everything.

The hands on his shoulders disappeared, and they moved to his hips. Newt licked his lips nervously at the touch, hating the effect Tommy had on him. "It's not shit, Newt." His voice was too nice, and it pissed the blond off. "Please. Come home." 

Home.

"I don't have a home, Tommy." 

Thomas' hands disappeared once more, and Newt could barely see Thomas' actual face through something. It must have been tears? He couldn't tell. 

But, he could just see the face looking up at him from beside the stool. Thomas had to have been kneeling down - there was no way he shrunk like that over the course of a few hours. "Newt, of course you have a home." He brought his hands up to cup Newt's face cautiously. "We live together. We have for ages." 

Something snapped in Newt. He smacked Thomas' hands away, standing up and knocking the bar stool over whilst doing so. "That's exactly it! We live together but we do nothing together! It's always Teresa, Teresa, Teresa. You know I fucking love you, and yet you still brag on about her. It's like your trying to hurt me or something!" He shook his head, exasperated by his sudden enraged period. His voice lowered to a whisper and he could now properly feel tears running down his face. "Just leave me alone." 

"No," Thomas shook his head, seemingly not bothered by the shouting one bit. "No." He repeated, with more force this time. "I'm not leaving you here, Newt." 

Newt tried to muster up all the sanity and soberness he had left, and put it into three words. 

"Please, Tommy. Please.." 

There was a choked out sob, and silence. Thomas backed up slightly, a shaky breath escaping his slightly parted lips. 

And with his heart falling into a black abyss, he muttered a single word and left. "Okay."

Newt had another beer.

As he felt the cold glass against his fingers, he could only think one thing.

Tommy, Newt brought the cup to his mouth. Tommy will understand.