colionnoir Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas had stern words for his colleagues when the Court declined to hear a case challenging California’s handgun laws, saying that the jurists do not understand the importance of self-defense.
The case, supported by the National Rifle Association, involves San Diego resident Edward Peruta, who challenged his county’s refusal to grant him permission to carry a concealed firearm outside of his home. “For those of us who work in marbled halls, guarded constantly by a vigilant and dedicated police force, the guarantees of the Second Amendment might seem antiquated and superfluous,” Thomas wrote after most members of the court declined to hear the California case. “But the Framers made a clear choice: They reserved to all Americans the right to bear arms for self-defense. I do not think we should stand by idly while a State denies its citizens that right, particularly when their very lives may depend on it,” Thomas said.
,,,,if reader and sugar daddy!TJ were to hypothetically get married, how big would the hypothetical ring and hypothetical wedding be? Because I'm pretty sure that hypothetically, they would both be hypothetically high-key Extra Extravagant. Hypothetically.
for the reader, he gets her a three stone princess cut for the engagement ring and it’s beautiful because the center diamond is held by a french-set cushion halo.
as for the wedding, thomas wants to go big, but he’s waiting on you for confirmation. he’s very much involved. you don’t have to beg him to taste eight different cakes. he’s all on board.
the color scheme is purple and grey. your bouquet is made up of purple roses, hydrangeas, and baby’s breath.
you both like the idea of a wedding at a botanical garden. peggy would be your maid of honor. dolly would be a bridesmaid. james is thomas’ best man. he adds laf and herc to the party too. you try to include thomas’ family if you can. they’re nothing but sweet to you.
thomas tries to look at you before the wedding but peggy dragged him out of the room by his ear.
thomas’ niece is flower girl. your father walks you down the aisle, but if he’s not available, laf offers to do so for you. he kisses your cheek as he hands you off to thomas. he gives thomas a stern look, but the three of you are smiling. the first thing thomas tells you is how beautiful you look.
you write your own vows and recite them to each other. everyone cries. it’s beautiful. you kiss him and he dips you and you can’t help but smile.
you get a polaroid of you and thomas at the reception. he sticks it in his wallet along with any other pictures of you.
the food is amazing. your first dance is tender and sweet. peggy, dolly, and james toast to you and it’s funny and charming and sentimental.
you dance to “at last” by etta james. thomas hums as he holds you close to his chest. he sings the very last lines, “for you are mine, at last” with a sweet smile on his face. you go to hawaii for your honeymoon.
“They told me you got into a fight today at school.” Thomas stated. You brought your fork to your lips, shrugging slightly. Needless to say, you had gotten in a fight, but you weren’t in the mood to discuss it. Your father watched you with great intensity. It was only under a heavy gaze did he notice the slow-forming bruise under your cheek.
“Is that a bruise?” He asked. “Did that boy punch you?” You quickly placed a hand over it. Of course he had punched you! You had punched him first, after all. But that’s what you get when you talk shit about someone’s parent. You had been hoping it wouldn’t be visible under the powder placed over it.
Thomas rose from his seat. He approached you, taking your chin in his hand and examining the injury. Gently, he wiped the makeup away, finding that it was much worse than he thought. Though he did love purple, it was less beautiful when marking his child’s cheek.
“For heavens sake, come along, lets go.” You were too afraid to speak. Was he angry, or upset? Worse yet, was he disappointed? You couldn’t bear the thought of your father being angry with you. He led you to the wash room, taking great care when lifting you to the counter. He dabbed your face with a wet cloth, something that would usually be the maids job. You could barely hear his words over the blood pumping in your ears. Something along the lines of ‘did he hit you anywhere else?’
Gently slipping the sleeves of your dress from your shoulder, you showed him the bruises and cuts on your ribs and collar bone. He swore aloud at the sight.
“Do you know his name?” He finally asked. Fear flashed in your eyes. The worst thing he could possibly do was to interfere in your school life.
“No.” you lied. He could tell you were fibbing, however. Though the boy claimed that lying was your fathers profession, it was apparent you hadn’t picked up this skill. Thomas gave you a stern look. Fighting and lying all in one day, what would be next? Would you join a brothel?
“Père, it doesn’t matter. I taught Philip not to-”
“Hamilton’s boy?” Thomas snarled. Well there goes that secret. You nodded slightly. “Wait until I get my hands on that brat! He is no better than his father.” You had never met Mr. Hamilton, nor did you ever intend to, but it seemed your father was not fond of him. You felt the same way about his son.
The next day at school, you did your very best to avoid Philip Hamilton. However, he did not do his best to avoid you. In fact, he waltzed right up to you to engage another fight.
You resisted, though. You didn’t want to be a disappointment to your father. You told him to be no such thing as well, but he didn’t like to listen. He didn’t enjoy advice, especially from girls. You now had a black eye to prove it.
That evening, you slammed the door much harder than anticipated. There were no consequences, though. Your father and Uncle James were in New York for the day, attending a cabinet meeting.
You refused to let the maids care for you. Once in the confines of your own room, you broke. Tears stained your face, your eyes red and nose sniffly. This was the one time you were happy to be alone.
“Darling, I’m home!” Your father called. You froze. If he saw you with another injury, you couldn’t handle the embarrassment (especially since you hadn’t fought back). From the sound of it, your Uncle was here as well. Placing some powder over the bruises, you made your way down stairs.
“Uncle James, Père, welcome back!” You cried with (false) joy. In all honesty, you were hoping they would be held up until at least tomorrow. The men both gave her a kiss on each cheek, a tradition she had learned in France, before returning to their discussion about dinner. It seemed James would be staying with you tonight.
Dandy, one more person to hide from.
They talked about politics and Hamilton at dinner, not giving you a glance or a word. In all honestly, you were surprised they hadn’t noticed your eye. It was swollen beyond belief, so much that you couldn’t properly see.
This became apparent when you almost placed a hand in the mashed potatoes.
“(Y/n), are you alright?” Thomas asked. After the little incident the other night, he was attempting to be watchful. Watchful he was, as he noticed that your eye was almost completely shut.
James let out a small “oh dear” and excused himself from the table. He knew things were about to get ugly, and quick. Whoever hurt Thomas’s little girl would not live to see tomorrow. Especially since this was the second time they had done it.
He could still hear the argument between him and Hamilton that had erupted at the meeting this morning.
'Ah, Thomas! Just the man I wanted to see.’ The room fell dead silent at his statement. Hamilton, wanting to see Jefferson? Impossible!
'Yeah, right. Listen, tell your little brat to keep his hands off my kid.’ Thomas snarled. Alexander merely laughed, giving Thomas a pat on the cheek.
'Would you like to hear the story of last night? Because from what I’ve been told, it’s your girl who can’t keep her hands to herself.’
'In his dreams. She was defending me!’
'Think long and hard about what you just said. You shouldn’t bring your kid into-’
'Then don’t force your opinion upon Philip.’ Alexander stood in shock. It was true he had mentioned his work at home, but he would never force his son to have an opinion he didn’t want! The man scoffed and returned to his seat.
'Francophile.’ He muttered.
He could hear the two arguing from upstairs. This would not be a pretty sight in the end
“I cannot believe the nerve of Hamilton-carbon copy.” Thomas muttered angrily as he examined your newest injury. You gently pushed his hand away, looking down in shame. He was disappointed in you FOR fighting, but now he was disappointed in you for not fighting. Next, would he be disappointed in you for breathing?
“Look at me.” You continued to stare at the tiled floor. “Lamb, look.at.me.” He lifted your chin ever-so-gently, only to find tears in your eyes. He softly kissed your head.
“I’m sorry, Père. I thought you’d be mad if I fought back.” You said through silent tears. He shook his head and put an arm around you.
“Me? Mad about defense? Never.” He promised. “Now, how about you and I settle this, once and for all?”
Thomas was silent as he saw the mess of his home, tables
over turned and lamps broken, shards of glass that had once held whiskey were
littered across the floor glistened in the sunlight that streaked through the
His eerie stillness was broken when he violently kicked the
wall and stormed out of the house and to the Garrison where he hopped to drink
himself into a level headed practicality. Once his brothers had caught up with
them they began to plan out what could have possibly happened to you.
James and Thomas are in line for the movies, Thomas talking a mile a minute about something Jame isn’t necessarily listening to, but he makes sure to nod his head every now and then as he glances up at the screen showing the movie times.
They have a tradition of one of them picking a movie to see each month and not telling the other person what it is, but no matter what, they have to see it. James month to pick happens to land on October, and the theater is showing old horror movies along with newer ones. James loves horror movies, and he can’t remember ever seeing one with Thomas, so it seems like the perfect idea.
“Can you tell me what we’re seeing?” Thomas asks, giving James his best pouty look which only makes James roll his eyes.
“No, you know the rules. I’m not telling you until I buy the tickets.”
They had made up that rule to keep the person not picking the movie from backing out. James had really regretted that rule after Thomas had made him sit through a marathon of all the marvel movies. They had been at the theater for hours.
“Fine.” Thomas says with one last attempt at a pout. “I’ll go buy the popcorn then.”
James nods and then steps forward to get two tickets for The Conjuring, making sure Thomas doesn’t hear the name of the movie as he walks over to the concessions. He grabs the tickets and then goes to stand next to Thomas as they wait for the popcorn.
“Can you tell me now?” Thomas asks as soon as James is next to him.
“The Conjuring?” Thomas asks, looking confused. “Is that like…magic tricks? Are you making me see a movie about magic tricks? That’s kind of lame.”
“You’ve never seen The Conjuring?” James asks with a laugh as Thomas shakes his head. “Good, that will make it even more fun for me.”
Thomas narrows his eyes suspiciously as they are handed their popcorn, and James just smiles at him as they start to walk over to the theater that the movie is being shown in. They take seats at the very back.
The movie begins, and James watches Thomas from the corner of his eye, excited to see how he’ll react to the movie; it’s one of James’s favorites. Thomas seems uninterested at first, chewing his popcorn loudly and rolling his eyes at some of the lines. But when one of the characters finds the boarded up room in the new house they moved into, James sees Thomas tense up slightly in his seat.
When one of the characters feels something pulling at her feet as she tries to sleep, Thomas snaps his head over to James, his eyes wide.
“Is this a horror movie?”
“Took you long enough to realize.” James whispers back, chuckling at Thomas’s shocked face. Thomas looks at him a moment longer, looking like he’s on the edge of saying something else, but then he turns back to the screen.
Thomas stays quiet for the next twenty minutes or so, only muttering out a “oh fuck no” when the family’s dog shows up dead, and jumping wildly when the ghost shows up for the first time, causing him to spill at least half of his popcorn.
James’s eyes are glued to the screen during the scene where one of the paranormal investigators sees all the ghosts that have been killed in the house. He turns to Thomas, wanting to see his reaction, and is slightly surprised to see him with his eyes closed, breathing heavily.
“Don’t talk to me.”
“I have to pee!” Thomas states loudly, making some people turn towards them with angry looks. “I’ll…I’ll be back. Or not. Who knows.” And then he stumbles out of his seat and basically sprints out of the theater, leaving James staring at his now empty seat.
James gives it a few minutes, but when it doesn’t seem like Thomas is coming back, he sighs and stands up, whispering his apologies as he steps in front of other people to exit the theater.
Once he’s out, he spots Thomas leaning against the wall outside of the bathroom, so he walks over to him.
“Thomas.” James’s voice makes Thomas look up. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” Thomas asks, his voice squeaky. “What makes you think something is wrong? I’m fine. Totally fine.”
When James gives him a stern look, Thomas sighs and lets his shoulders slump.
“Fine.” Thomas mutters. “I actually might kind of sort of really hate ghost movies.”
“I hate ghosts!” Thomas says a little louder, flailing his hands in the air. “They freak me out! A lot! I couldn’t even watch Casper when I was a kid, okay? I don’t like ghosts!”
James bites his lip in order to keep himself from laughing, but Thomas must notice because he scowls at James and shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Hey, okay, I’m sorry.” James steps forward and presses a kiss to Thomas’s cheek, which just makes him scowl more. “We’ve been together for three years, you never told me.”
“Well it’s not exactly something I share with people. They always say ‘Oh Thomas, but ghosts aren’t real’ and expect that to fix everything.”
“Well, I mean, they aren’t r-”
“DO YOU KNOW THAT?” Thomas interrupts, causing people to turn and stare at them again. “The title for that movie said based on a true story so don’t try to tell me ghosts aren’t real!”
“Okay, okay!” James holds his hand up in surrender, but there’s a smile on his face that makes Thomas’s scowl deepen. “How about we just go home? You can pick a movie for us to watch there.”
They start to walk back to the car, and James can’t help but laugh softly when the loud noise of someone closing their car door makes Thomas jump. James takes his hand in his.
“So…” He says, smiling again. “Not even Casper, huh? That little guy really freaked you out?”
“Shut up.” Thomas mutters, glaring at James. “My house was haunted when I was a kid. It was! Stuff fell down all the time, footsteps were heard, I swear I even saw the ghost one time.”
“Poor thing.” James coos, making Thomas roll his eyes. “Don’t worry babe, I’m here to protect you now.”
Thomas mutters something under his breath but he gives James’s hand a tiny squeeze. They continue to walk, searching the parking lot for their car, and James just can’t resist what he does next; he turns his head so his mouth is hovering over Thomas’s ear, and then takes a deep breath.
Thomas screams, profanities spilling from his mouth and James starts to laugh, doubling over and putting a hand to his chest as Thomas continues to swear, pulling his hand from James’s and walking quickly ahead of him.
James knows he’s going to get shit for it later, but Thomas’s face was so worth it.
“Minho’s the only shank who can talk to me like that without getting his but kicked off the Cliff” - Alby
His sarcasm. Nuff said.
He’s Keeper of the Runners
Minho didn’t even know Thomas for a good 2 seconds before completely messing with Thomas’ head when they first met.
The dedicated, mysterious, confident aura he had in the film.
He was one of the first Gladers which means he helped cement the Glader ranks.
“Thomas was having the hardest time figuring out if he liked Minho or not– his personality seemed to change every minute”
“El presidente, Admiral Alby, General Alby” Minho
He found the dead griever that started the whole move forward to get out of the maze. .
“Don’t look back!” - movie!Minho
Thomas’ detailed description of Minho’s muscular arms.
“Minho’s too smart to get lost.” - Chuck
Minho dragged Alby all the way back to the opening of the maze after he was stung.
“We’re already dead.” movie!Minho
“You’ve got a lot to learn.” Minho to Thomas.
“Minho glanced up at him with a look that said he was dumber than cow klunk.” Minho to Thomas
Minho’s stern, strict, realistic point of view.
“He couldn’t tell if Minho was being serious.” - Thomas
“You don’t understand, shuck-face! You don’t know anything, and you’re just making it worse by trying to have hope! We’re dead, you hear me? Dead!” - Minho
He can admit his fears. “I’ve never been this scared before, dude. Not like this.” - Minho
Minho saved Thomas from the grievers chasing after him.
He’s smart, focused, and concise with what he knows even in times of duress. “Minho seemed to know exactly what he was doing, where he was going; he never paused to think about which way they should run.” - Thomas
Quick thinking. “I just saw … the dive move you did … back there … gave me an idea … we only have to last … a little while longer.” - Minho
He is one of the first Gladers to make it in the maze after dark.
In 12 words he riled up the whole Glade Council. “Minho looked at Thomas. “I nominate this shank to replace me as Keeper of the Runners.”” - Minho
Thomas can’t ever figure Minho out. He’s always kept guessing
He’s not afraid to fight for what he thinks he’s right whether verbally or physically. “I swear, Gally,” Minho said with a sneer, “don’t ever threaten me again. Don’t ever speak to me again. Ever. If you do, I’ll break your shuck neck, right after I’m done with your arms and legs.” - Minho
Minho’s confidence in Thomas led for almost all the council to agree into making him a runner.
“Minho faked an evil grin. “Worked, didn’t it? Aim high, hit low. Thank me later.”” - Minho
“These bad boys’re what we call Runnie-undies. Keeps you, um, nice and comfy.” - Minho
He’s a good leader and trainer to the runners as the Keeper.
He pays close attention to things, places, and people. ““I rely … mostly on memory,” the Keeper huffed, his voice finally showing a hint of strain.” - Minho answering before Thomas asks.
Minho makes running the maze everyday sound easy. “Minho did make it sound easy” - Thomas
Minho’s still conscious of his job even with strange things happening in the Glade
Minho can distinguish a pattern (3) “We’ve seen it three times now. Something’s up.” - Minho after the griever goes into the griever hole.
Newt and ALby rely on Minho and vice versa
Minho’s bravery. “”We can’t freaking ask people to go out there and die, Minho! Who’d volunteer for that?” “Me,” Minho said. “And Thomas.” “ - Alby to Minho.
Minho ran into the maze after Grievers, alone, to make sure their theory of the Griever Hole was right.
Minho can sort out his priorities. “Minho’s forehead creased in anger. “Our Map Room was set on fire and you ran off to talk to your shuck girlfriend? What’s wrong with you?”” - Minho.
movie! Minho was the key to to code so they could get out of the maze.
He watches out for his runners even when they’re stretched thin. “ Even though he was nervous and scared, he told Minho he could take one of the sections himself, but the Keeper refused. They had eight experienced Runners to do that. Thomas was to go with him.” - Thomas to Minho
Minho is dedicated and never gives up. “It worried him—if Minho gave up, they were all in big trouble.” - Thomas
“Minho still hasn’t shown up,” he said as they walked down the stairs to the basement. “Sometimes he turns into a buggin’ hothead.” - Newt
Minho trusts Thomas so much, he didn’t even blink at his confession of working with the creators. ““Whatever,” Minho said, “who gives a klunk about all that—just get on with the escape already.”” - Minho
While everyone’s nervous about going into the maze, Minho still has his sense of humor. ““Amen, sister,” Minho said.” - Minho to Teresa
Minho’s pep talk. “Minho nodded and faced the crowd. “Be careful,” he said dryly. “Don’t die.”” - Minho
With everyone’s lives on his shoulders, he lead them through the maze heading into battle first. “Minho nodded once, a steel look of resolve hardening his features.” - Minho
He’s hurt badly, but still keeps moving until the end. “You know what?” Minho said, standing up a little taller. “Half might’ve died, but half of us shucking lived. And nobody got stung—just like Thomas thought. We’ve gotta get out of here.” - Minho
“Minho said it best on entering their new world: “I’ve been shucked and gone to heaven.” - Minho
Hey there, kiddos! Here’s the next part in my Jamilton Series! Did you miss the first two installments? No worries! Just go to this link and read away! :D
Two Days Ago–– Campus Library
“Alex?” Jefferson drawled. His boyfriend didn’t react. “Alexander,” he said, a bit sharper this time.
Alex’s head snapped up from his math textbook. He wiped at the drool that had gathered at the corner of his mouth. Jefferson smiled at him. Alexander was so cute when he was overtired. And Jefferson only thought that because Alex was always overtired. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the boy after a full night’s rest.
“You fell asleep on your homework?” Jefferson prompted.
Alex looked down at his textbook, wiping up a little spit with his shirt sleeve, then up at his boyfriend again, a silly grin spreading across his face.
“Oops,” he said with a tiny shrug. He picked up his pencil again and looked back down at the textbook.
Thomas kept watching him, sighing when he saw his eyelids begin to droop shut again. “Alex, beddy-bye time,” he singsonged.
“It’s only…” Alex glanced at his watch. “It’s only just after ten,” Alex murmured.
“Doesn’t matter. You can’t even stay awake long enough to have a conversation with me.”
“Math is boring,” Alex said, pushing the textbook away as he tried to blink his eyes open. “I’ll just go grab a coffee––”
“Alex, NO.” Thomas had to be stern. That was the only way to get Alex to listen at times.
Alexander sighed. “Fine. You win. Happy?” he muttered as he slammed his textbook shut and shoved it in his backpack.
“Actually, yes, I am,” Jefferson said with a sly grin. “Hey, did you end up grabbing dinner like you said you would?”
Jefferson had texted Alexander to join him for dinner in the dining hall earlier that evening, but Alex had said he couldn’t make it because he had a meeting for a group project.
“Um,” Alex said. And that said it all.
“We’re making ramen when we get back to your dorm,” Jefferson commanded.
“Stop babying me,” Alex snapped.
“I’ll stop when you start taking care of yourself,” Thomas snarked back.
“I am taking care of myself!” Alexander exclaimed. When his eyes locked on Jefferson’s there was something different about them. They were a little glazed over.
Jefferson shrugged it off as too little sleep and not enough food.
Alexander swung his backpack over his shoulder. “I’m going to my dorm room, and I’m going alone,” he said.
Jefferson’s heart fell just a little bit. But he quickly brushed it off, reminding himself Alex was exhausted and hungry, and nobody was at their best when they felt like that.
“All right,” Thomas sighed. “Call or text if you need anything.”
“Mmhmm,” Alex said. He pecked Thomas on the lips before scurrying out of the library.
Jefferson stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what had been so different about the kiss. His lips, he thought. They were so warm.
He shrugged. Alex was tired. He’d be fine in the morning. He just had to be.
Yesterday–– Campus Quad
Alexander was shivering more than usual. He was always cold whenever the temperature dipped below 50 degrees, but this seemed different.
“Um, are you sure you don’t want to go inside?” Thomas asked.
Alexander glared at him from across the table they were seated at. “Yes, I am quite sure,” he said with a little huff.
Thomas rolled his eyes. “Well you’re shaking like crazy, so just wanted to make sure.”
“I’m fine. Everyone else is out here enjoying the nice day.” He gestured to all the other students occupying the quad, some at tables, others sitting on the grass, a few tossing a football back and forth.
Thomas wanted to say well you’re not everyone else, but he bit his tongue. Alexander clearly wasn’t in the mood for that kind of thing.
“Well let’s at least get a warm drink, then,” Thomas offered. “My treat. I’ll run into Starbucks and grab coffee.” He stood up, not even waiting for Alexander’s response. Starbucks wasn’t Alex’s favorite, but it was right on campus, and it was what they both drank most of the school year.
“No thanks,” Alex said without looking up from his book.
“What?” Thomas said, staring at Alexander.
“No thanks,” Alexander repeated as if he regularly turned down coffee.
“Are you okay?” Thomas couldn’t keep his voice from cracking.
“I. am. fine.” Alex growled, still not looking up from his book.
Thomas went to Starbucks and got them both coffees, anyway. He wordlessly set it down on the table in front of Alexander.
Alex didn’t even touch it.
Yesterday–– Evening, texting
Alexander: Sorry I was such a jerk earlier today. Not feeling the best.
Thomas: It’s okay. I figured something was up, but you didn’t seem to want to talk.
Alexander: Nothing bad, just a little tired, a little sore.
Thomas stared at the screen of his phone for a moment. It was one thing for Alex to admit to being tired. He did tend to admit it, but only after other people pointed it out to him. But sore? Jefferson couldn’t remember a time when Alex had complained about feeling sore…
Thomas: sore from what?
Alexander: all that working out I do ;)
Alexander: I think I’m just tired is all. I’ll be fine
Thomas was in the middle of typing back a long response about how Alex should call him if he needed him and that he really needed to take better care of himself when another message appeared on the screen.
Alexander: Goodnight, Thomas. Thank you for caring so much <333
Thomas stared at it for a moment. In their months of dating Alex had never written something like that. There’d been hearts and goodnights, but never thank you for caring so much. It seemed oddly… final.
Thomas brushed it off. Alex was clearly exhausted. Everyone dropped their guard a bit when they were tired.
He deleted the response he’d been working on in favor of a shorter text.
There was no response. Not that night, not the next morning, not until Thomas ran over to Alexander’s dorm and pounded on the door. And now, staring at his boyfriend in the hospital bed, all of his strange behavior made sense. The finality of the text made sense.
Thomas dropped his head into his hands and sobbed.
au where guy wants to go to prom with thomas but can never work up the nerve to ask him so thomas just ends up going with some random chick and guy stays home in his bed, crying into the baguette he holds in his arms, and listening to “in the air tonight” over and over
^ that’s the context, blame her. Human!DP, awkward quasi-philosophical/absurd schoolboys, and bread. Vomited out in two-three hours.
Can you feel it coming in the air tonight, Oh Lord?
Guy can’t believe it. He just cannot believe it.
I’ve been waiting for this moment, all my life, Oh Lord…
“Well, I was,” he groans back at the radio, shielding his face with his pillow. He’s far too dignified to scream; it was difficult enough pretending to his parents that he wasn’t planning to go to prom in the first place, it’s all a waste of time, Maman, what’s for dinner? “I was - but what do I matter to him now. Mon Dieu. I just - ugh.”
He wasn’t built to deal with this. Guy wipes his face tiredly and sits up from his bed, pushing the half-bodylength baguette he’s been clinging onto for comfort away, before sliding down onto the floor and fumbling around for his smokes. He doesn’t even bother to open the window, just tugging the half-full ashtray close; only when the smoke begins to spiral up does he find some calm again. His eyes fall upon his bed once more, and he gets to contemplating the baked good sat upon it, with the time-honed intensity of tormented French intellectuals that have come before him. It tends to be a fairly French intellectual thing. Contemplating, not bread. But sometimes bread. Coquo, ergo sum!
I’ve seen your face before, my friend, but I don’t know if you know who I am.
Bread doesn’t judge him. Bread is lovely. Baked and brought into the world at dawn, honeyed with the first of the Parisian sunlight. Bread doesn’t abandon him to go to prom with a girl it’s talked to twice. (Then again, bread also doesn’t tend to talk.)
Well, I was there and I saw what you did.
Bread doesn’t go anywhere unless eaten, and even then, part of it always stays with you. Guy sniffs. Bread is his best friend. Certainly better than the one that ditched him tonight.
A soft ringing noise wakes you from your slumber and the
events from last night’s crazed activities come pouring into your head. You
groan and try to roll off the couch to reach for your mobile phone but then
immediately realise that you’re still wrapped up tightly in Newt’s arms, most
of you and him intertwined. You refuse to wake him so instead you stretch your
arm out as far as it can go and you only just manage to reach your phone.
“Hello?” You yawn sleepily as you await your caller to
reveal themselves as you didn’t bother to check the I.D because of your
“Your Mom wants you home.” Thomas’ gruff voice orders over
the phone, laced with sleepiness. Of course he has to call early in the morning
so he can ruin your mood for the rest of the day, what are friends for?
“Why didn’t she call me herself?” You challenge.
“She’s too distraught.”
“I’m sure she is.” You hang up the phone, throw it and watch
it fly across the room over onto the next couch. You try to remind yourself
that Thomas shouldn’t be able to control how you feel, but you can’t help it.
He just angers you so much. The things he’s doing are not right, he can’t
control your life the way he wants to. He can’t hurt Newt the way he does.
“Good morning Y/N.” Newt says huskily with a small yawn
following. He blinks his gorgeous brown eyes open and stares up at an
irritated, frowning you.
“Morning.” You sigh.
“Thomas?” Newt asks, although he needn’t to. It’s evident he
already knows, who else can get you revved up this easily?
You snuggle your face back down into his shoulder, his arms
wrap lazily around your back in reply. “I don’t want to leave. Can’t we just
stay cuddled up like this forever?”
“We have school and work and homework.” Newt reminds you as
he brushes his fingers through your hair.
“I don’t want to go to school.”
“Neither do I but I have to if I want to go to college.”
Newt reasons, “and so do you.”
“I’m going to start my own business, I don’t need college.”
You counter, and then lift yourself up onto your elbows. Your chin resting in
the nook of your cupped hands.
“Oh yeah?” Newt questions, a sleepy smirk crawls onto his
face, “And what business might that be?” He can’t but help to yawn again, this
time his lips stretch into a wide ‘o’ and you almost giggle at the sight.
But then you quickly remember his question and forbid
yourself from getting distracted by Newt’s face ever again, “It’ll be set up
somewhere near here.” You start, a smile tugging at your lips. “And people will
come to my office and pay me to crash the parties of their biggest enemies.”
“I’m afraid this business of yours won’t last very long
though, you’re missing one thing.”
“What’s that?” You ask as your finger draws circles up along
his cheeks. Maybe it’s the tiredness that’s making you this affectionate, you
definitely know you would never just do
it… although you are right now.
“Me, the best party crasher in town.”
You drop your hand from his face and immediately roll off
the couch, “Sorry, the best party-crasher in town position is already filled;
by me.” You smile innocently and sweetly down at him until he lazily picks himself
off the couch and whips out a pillow, smacking you directly in the face.
“If you’re so high and mighty, then how come you didn’t
smartly dodge that?” He challenges, preparing himself for a hit from your own
pillow. However, little does he know that you’ve changed your mind.
You edge closer to him and keep the pillow in your hand
until you’ve reach the checkpoint of your amazing plan. You drop your pillow
and leap onto Newt, taking him to the floor. You keep him pinned which
surprises you as you thought he’d easily free himself, him being half asleep
has its perks.
“Getoffme.” He says under a smothering pillow.
“What was that?”
“Sorry, I don’t think ‘get off me’ is the answer I wanted.”
You keep the pillow over his face, but only very gently of course, as he
squirms and kicks from underneath you.
“Y/N is the best party-crasher in town!” He almost screams
and you immediately lift the pillow of his face and observe a slightly pissed
slightly exhausted face that belongs to none other than Newt.
“That’s better.” You say sweetly and then roll off his bony
body and start for the kitchen since breakfast is the only other thing that’s
been on your mind since you woke up. “I’m starving.”
“Good because I made way too much food.” Alby says in reply
from within the kitchen, which startles you as you almost forgot this house
belonged to him. “Oh and are you two lovers done with whatever was happening on
that couch?” His eyebrow raised.
“Ha-ha.” You say sarcastically before snatching up a plate
of bacon and eggs. You eye it suspiciously and then mumble a thank you under
your breath before settling down on the table to eat. Newt soon walks into the
kitchen and you only just happen to realise that he’s in his boxers which
consists of a pattern of Superman symbols. You stifle a giggle while forcing
yourself to look away from the shirt that clings so desperately to his torso.
“Ha-ha you say?” Alby questions suggestively, and you
immediately pull your eyes away from Newt. Instead of directing your attention
to Alby you look away embarrassed, cheeks flushed and stare down at your food
before shovelling it in.
“Pretty sure we’re supposed to eat our breakfast, not inhale it.” Newt points out as he takes a
seat across from you, setting down his plate full with food. He looks at you
with amusement coloured in his eyes.
“Shut up.” You mumble through a mouthful of food which only
makes him laugh.
Your mood turns up after talking with Newt and Alby, and you
forget all about your life back at home with your Mom and Thomas. You forget
about all the hurt that has happened in the past week or so, you forget it all
until Alby brings it all back up. You know it’s not his fault, he has a right
to know why both you and Newt came barging into his house in the middle of the
night. But you know it only gets you revved up.
“So what really happened last night, am I allowed to ask?”
Alby asks softly while you help him wash the dishes. Newt left the room earlier
to have a shower, so at least he didn’t have to be reminded.
“I don’t know if I should tell you or not…” You start, “I’m
not sure if it’s my place to say.”
Alby passes you soapy plate to dry, “Maybe you can try and
tell me without much detail.”
You think about it for a moment and decide that his
suggestion might actually be enough to keep that suspicion and curiosity away
for a moment. But before you can leap into the wonderful story of two lonely
party-crashers, your phone buzzes and you immediately answer knowing full well
who it is.
“No, it’s your mother.”
You close and open your mouth, unsure what to say. Your
mother barely ever calls you, she barely even cares about you at least that is
what you thought.
“If you don’t come home I will call the police.”
“I’m not. I don’t know where you are which means you’re
missing, right? Maybe even kidnapped?”
“You know I came here on my own-
“I don’t care! You’re coming home right now, Y/N. That’s all
You stare down at the phone in your hand, your Mom’s caller
I.D lights up as it tells you that you’re in the middle of a call. You continue
to stare down at it, anger bubbles inside your chest. Who does she think she
is, your Mom? Bullshit! A Mom doesn’t threaten you, a real Mom doesn’t stay out
of your life unless someone mentions that she should do something, a real Mom
genuinely cares if you’ve stayed away from home for a night without any reason
to. Your Mom doesn’t care. She only steps in when she notices that people are
giving her the judgmental look, that’s all she cares about.
So you defy your Mother and throw the phone into the kitchen sink. You watch it
slowly float around the bubbles until it tips into the water, sinking to the
No, of course you don’t do that. You can’t stand up to your
mother. “Fine. I’ll be there soon.”
“Y/N, get in the house.” Your Mom ushers you inside and you
shake her off your back before strolling angrily into the living room.
“What’s your problem-
You immediately shut your mouth and stare down at the two boys that you keep
seeing over and over again. “What the hell are you two doing here?” You spit, “I don’t
have time for this. I didn’t come home to be interrogated.”
“We need to talk to you.”
You remain silent and wait for Thomas to continue his speech
which supposedly will contain sentences such as… “It isn’t my fault,” or “I’m
your real friend, not Newt.”
“I know you won’t listen to me,” Thomas says, a hard, stern
look in his eye, “And you probably won’t listen to Minho either…” Then out of
nowhere, another boy rises from the armchair and you’re almost shocked that you
didn’t notice him before as he almost towers over you. “Like I said, you won’t
listen to us but maybe you’ll listen to him.”
The tall boy with a hardened face stretches out a welcoming
hand, you hesistate before shaking it, “The names Gally.”
“Y/N.” You drop your hand by your side.
“I need to talk to you about Newt.”
“I supposed so.”
“He’s not who you think he is.” He starts off immediately,
and you try to figure out who this stranger is. The look in his eyes don’t give
you any clue at what sort of guy he is and it makes you feel uneasy, you don’t
really want to listen to another person bagging Newt but curiosity gets the
better of you.
“What do you mean?”
You take a step back, “What the hell is this? Are you trying
to scare me from seeing him?”
“He stopped taking his medication ages ago, he has fits like
you’ve witnessed. Sometimes they got out of control and everyone worried that
he would seriously injure himself. Then he stopped coming to school and no one
heard from him since, not even me, his best friend!”
You shake your head and back away slowly, “He’s never
mentioned you before.”
“Why do you think he doesn’t live with his parents? It’s
because they thought he was dangerous! They sent him back to America after he
went home to England after the incident with the silo. They couldn’t help him!”
“You’re wrong! No family would ever do that to their kid!”
“Just shut up! All of you!” You shake your head so furiously
at them that you almost trip over as you take even more steps backwards, “Why
are you doing this? Why are you so determined to keep me away from Newt?”
Thomas turns his face away, his jaw clenched.
“Why are you lying to me?” You take a step closer to Thomas
and lower your voice; softer. “What happened?”
Thomas shakes his head and then stares back down at you, his
eyes filled with anger. The same anger you’ve constantly seen again and again, “Because
he never forgave me! Okay? I told him over and over that I was sorry, that we
were sorry! But then he started panicking and he started- Thomas makes hand
gestures, “Going crazy! He started rambling and it scared me! I thought I
almost killed him when I found him and at that moment I realised that he would
never ever be the same again and it was my fault! It’s my fault he can’t even
think about what happened for two seconds before having one of those fits! It’s
my fault that we can’t be friends anymore! It’s my fault that he’s messed up
for life because of one selfish decision I made!”
Minho has gone back to taking a seat, obviously feeling very
guilty. Gally just looks between both Minho and Thomas, not awkwardly but…
sadly, he shifts his feet uncomfortably as he realises your stare. You look
“Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?” You feel like you
should have been the one to have said it, but those words did not come from your
mouth. Instead they came from someone else. You turn around, although you knew
who the voice belonged to, and stare at an awkwardly held Newt.
A/N: Yo… it’s been so long and I’m very sorry. If you’ve read my recent answers you’d know that I’ve been literally drowning in homework, but it’s starting to clear now which is v good. I’d also like to apologise if this part isn’t that great or if it’s not very grammatically correct because I really just wanted to post it for you guys so you don’t think I’m dead or something :p
Anyway, I hope you somewhat enjoyed this roughness of a chapter/part.
“Are you bloody serious?” Newt said
as he felt Thomas’ lips linger on his neck. “You’re trying to seduce
“Thanks for noticing,” Thomas mumbled against
his skin, not even stopping. There were teeth
as well, scrapingagainst the
side of Newt’s neck, and seriously, what?!
Thomas was bloody straight – straight like an arrow, maybe even more than that,
so what the hell was going on?
“I’ve been trying to for these past few weeks,”
another notion that made Newt gawk and he had a faint idea Thomas was trying to
leave a hickey. “But unless I got physical, you never really noticed.”
“Of course I never noticed!” Newt squeaked when
Thomas circled his arms around his torso and kept him close, like a teddy bear.
His lips moved higher, behind Newt’s ear, and it sent shivers down Newt’s
spine. “You’re bloody straight, what the hell-,”
“I’m bloody bi,” Thomas opposed, nibbling at
Newt’s ear now. It made the blond whine a little. Then Thomas suddenly stopped
and pulled away. “Wait, you seriously didn’t notice I was trying to hook up
“No?” Newt responded with a deep intake of
breath. “You were like… talking normally and suddenly this? Jesus.”
“Cuz you didn’t react to any hint I dropped!”
Thomas huffed, but then seemed to think about it. “Wait. You didn’t react
because you’re not interested, is that it?”
“What?” Newt stared at him with wide eyes. He didn’t
notice any hints, for fuck’s sake. If
he did, they wouldn’t need to have this bloody conversation. “Fine, okay. First
of all, what kind of hints you supposedly dropped? Because I have no bloody
idea what you’re talking about.”
“No,” Newt uttered and forced down the
disappointment when Thomas let go of his waist. He didn’t say stop, he just really wanted to
understand how the hell did they even got to this stuff without his proper
knowledge. He wasn’t that bad at noticing when somebody flirted, was he?
Or maybe he simply refused to give it deeper
meaning before, because he thought Thomas was straight and off limits? Because
that could have dulled his receptors a lot.
“Wow,” Thomas let out. “I never thought I’m so
bad at flirting before.”
“I mean, I even invited you to a movie?” he
offered and Newt did remember something like that happening.
“Oh, yeah, you did,” he agreed but then
frowned. “With Aris and Minho. How’s
that supposed to be a hint? Come with us
to the cinema?”
“Point taken,” Thomas admitted with a sigh. “I
took you out for lunch?”
“Because lesson got cancelled and we were both
hungry,” Newt dismissed it immediately. “Hardly a hint.”
“You’re so stern,” Thomas drawled. “Fine, so
maybe I wasn’t obvious enough. In that case please don’t take this as an
assault because I really thought I made myself clear. If you do take it as an assault,
then please don’t hit me and I swear I won’t do it again.”
“You’re a tit,” Newt stared at him in
exasperation. “You could have just said you want to go out.”
“I kinda did, in a sense?” Thomas opposed and
seemingly didn’t know what do with his hands, so Newt grabbed them and put them
back on his waist, earning a curious look.
“In that case pretend I accepted, in a sense,”
Newt told him simply. “But making out on a first day is a serious faux pas.”
“This is not a first date though,” Thomas
pointed out. “In a sense.”
“Ha, you’re funny,” Newt poked his chest. “But
ten points to Gryffindor for the neck. I like that.”
“I’m more of a Slytherin kind of person, but
thank you,” Thomas smirked and pulled Newt back to him, so he could suck on the
place he left off before, making Newt squirm. Then he stopped for a second and
looked back to Newt’s eyes. “It’s okay then?”
“Well, throw in a nice dinner, and yeah, it’s
okay,” Newt nodded and reached for Thomas’ face so he could hold him still. “And
a kiss. I’m not a barbarian.”
“That’s amendable,” Thomas smirked and leaned
in. “Ten points to Ravenclaw.”
“Well, that’s not a bad guess,” Newt snorted
and then Thomas licked into his mouth, making him decide he could never assume
things without a solid proof.