An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Merry Christmas @singt0me
Title: Undisclosed desires
Rating: Mature Audiences
Warnings: Implied cheating (not between main ship), Sexual content (fade to black), Non-linear writing, Interchanging POVs.
Wordcount: 5332
Summary: After a rough break up, Harriet shows up at Sonya's door like a woman on a mission. Sonya knows she shouldn't, but she also knows she'll regret it even more if she doesn't take her only chance at getting with the girl who broke her heart back in college.
derry is allowed 1 non cursed day of the year and they use it to host a winter carnival. stan is weirdly good at ice skating. bill is not. cue lots of hand holding and near falls and hahha lemme just lean on you for a bit. wow im so bad at this haha. (are you blushing or are you just cold?)
STOP THIS IS SO CUTE 🥺🥺🥺
stan is absolutely ready to hold bill shand but he tries to play it off all cool, and they both look at their hands and then at each other 👉👈 also them getting hot chocolate together and stan pays for them both and bills like ahh my cheeks are so cold ... hes absolutely just blushing
✨🌼 wonderful person award 🌼 you are awesome and I am so glad you're here, you make the world a better place ✨ send this to 5 blogs you love and appreciate, let's spread some positivity 🌸
gansey had always felt as if there were two of him: the gansey who was in control, able to handle a n y situation, able to talk to a n y o n e, and then, the o t h e r, more fragile gansey, strung out and unsure, embarrassingly earnest, driven by naive l o n g i n g.
this is the first letter i can remember writing. obviously, i don’t know if i wrote any before the maze. but, even if it’s not my first, it’s likely to be my last.
hi all! so here is the first chapter (plus the beginning of the second) of my current WIP. the basic premise is that thomas is scared of newt moving back to england after graduation, so he takes him on an impulsive weekend road trip in California. i have the outline of the rest of the fic set up but i am VERY open to any feedback, opinions, reactions, or suggestions! thanks for reading!
all we do is drive.
What was it about the open road that was so appealing to Thomas? He was never quite sure, but it called to him. It whispered his name in the passing breeze, tugged eagerly at his hand, talked dirty in his ear at night while the cars crunched their wheels on the gravel. Whenever he was stuck, or unsure, or just plain bored, he took to the road. The second he had that itch, he was behind the wheel before he knew it.
Of course, he was almost never alone on these impulsive getaways. There was always at least one other person there with him, and that honor typically went to his former roommate Newt, accompanied by a playlist recently made and a camera dangling from the strap around his neck. The other usual suspects include Brenda getting high in the backseat, Teresa pretending that she doesn’t want to get high in the backseat, Minho shoving some sort of food into his mouth, Alby playing backseat driver to Thomas, or Harriet silently resting her chin against the open window. Any combination of these things was a given but three things were absolutely certain;
Thomas was the driver.
They did not have a destination.
Newt gets shotgun.
When these things became established patterns, Thomas wasn’t sure. He vaguely remembers Newt calling shotgun sometime freshmen year on their first group outing, and it was never questioned since. The few times Newt isn’t on one of their trips, Thomas’ friends just leave shotgun empty and take their positions in the backseat, as if it would be sacrilegious to take his spot. They always seem to have more fun teasing Thomas from the back, anyway. He doesn’t mind.
Speaking of, Thomas suddenly feels a sharp kick through the seat.
“I want Wendy’s,” Brenda whines. “I’m fucking starving.”
Thomas eyes the receipt lying in his cup holder from, oh, ten minutes ago.
“Really?” Thomas asks, shooting Brenda a quick glance in the rearview mirror. “You’re starving?”
“Yes,” Brenda says at the same time Teresa says “No.”
“Oh, come on,” Brenda grunts, nudging Teresa with her shoulder. “Side with your girlfriend, please.”
“Brenda, as your girlfriend, I’m telling you that if you eat any more fast food you’re going to vomit,” Teresa calmly explains, a hint of softness in her voice. “You just have the munchies.”
“Do not,” Brenda retorts.
“Oh?” Newt pipes in, slowly reaching towards the steering wheel. He rests his hand on it without moving it, and Thomas doesn’t object. “So if I rock this wheel back and forth right now, you’re not gonna feel sick?”
“Be my guest,” Thomas invites, taking his right hand off the wheel. “There’s no one around. We can totally do it.”
“Do NOT swerve the car,” Alby chimes in. “I may not be high but I’m not crashing into a tree just to make Brenda vomit.”
“Pfft, whatever,” Brenda mumbles. “Can’t prove nothin’.”
Thomas laughs and places his hand down on the steering wheel a second before Newt pulls his away. Their hands brush for just a second and somehow, amazingly, it sends a small zip through Thomas’ fingers. Four years and every accidental touch feels like a small lightning strike. You’d think he would have adjusted by now.
***
Brenda flips Thomas the finger as she shuts the back door and walks with Teresa to her apartment. Thomas feels a slight sense of relief followed by an immediate pang of guilt at the now empty backseat. As much as he loved his friends, having to handle them and drive at the same time was a bit exhausting sometimes.
Newt, somehow reading Thomas’ mind as always, chimes in from the right. “Four years and they haven’t lost their energy yet,” he chuckles.
“Yeah,” Thomas manages, the words four years replaying in his mind. Somehow it feels like it went by in a flash and also the longest period of his life all rolled into one. How the hell was he supposed to graduate when he couldn’t even get his bearings on the concept of time?
“Hey, speak of the devil,” Newt continues, looking down at his phone. Thomas intrinsically looks down at the screen and sees a text from Gally. He ignores the sinking feeling it gives his stomach.
“Jesus, him?” Thomas groans before he can stop himself. “How long has it been?”
“Two years, I think?” Newt mumbles, reading the message with furrowed brows. “I don’t know what it is with the guys on this campus being so clingy.”
“You hooked up with him, what? One time?”
“Uh, twice? Maybe? Can’t say I remember.”
“So what the hell does he want?”
“What do you think, Tommy?” Newt laughs. It’s not meant in a mocking way, but it makes Thomas feel very small. “It’s the last time he’ll get a night with me before we graduate. Guess it’s a now or never sort of thing, right.”
Thomas gives a half-chuckle and looks away. “I guess so.”
“Maybe I’ll give him one more night,” Newt murmurs. “Who knows.”
Thomas stays silent and backs out of the parking lot as an excuse. He doesn’t know why he indulged Newt. He doesn’t like talking about Newt’s many, many, experiences with guys in their four years at college. Newt talks about them so easily, so effortlessly, as if him leaving these guys on read and ghosting them after one or two hookups was something that came naturally to him.
(Thomas definitely doesn’t like thinking about his own experiences with men at college. And he certainly couldn’t talk about them as casually as Newt does, if he ever could at all.)
He wonders how, or why, Newt has decided not to commit to any of them. Curiosity sizzles in his gut, burning like stomach acid.
“Why didn’t you ever, like...I don’t know...actually give one of them a shot?” He asks. “You know. Like, date one of them.”
He cheats a glance over at Newt and sees his features fall, ever so slightly, before quickly being placed back in position.
Newt shrugs. “What’s the point? I would just be putting a time bomb on it anyway. No use getting attached to someone just to hurt them.”
Thomas holds back a sigh. “You’re really set on staying in England, huh?”
A ghost of a laugh escapes Newt’s mouth, more a breath than anything. “I came to California cause I got a scholarship. That’s it.” There’s a moment of silence before he adds “This isn’t my home. No use making them think that it is.”
A mix of emotions stir in Thomas at that statement. These are all things he already knew, but for a moment, he feels a profound, inexplicable sadness. It consumes him, darkening his vision and gripping his throat, but only for a moment. Quickly, he brings his attention back to the road.
“Besides,” Newt pipes up, his tone happier. “If I had a boyfriend I wouldn’t have all this free time to drive around with you, right?”
“Right,” Thomas answers, offering Newt half a smile. He hides the thought of Well, if I was your boyfriend, you wouldn’t have that problem.
So here’s Thomas’ problem. He knows.
Thomas knows it so deeply in his bones he does not remember a time where he did not know. Even his memories from before are tainted with thoughts of what that experience would have been like if he had known then. What he would have avoided doing if he had known who was coming into his life. He has hidden it every day and known every day and he has never known anything else.
He remembers the first day moving into his dorm, of opening the door and immediately seeing a skinny blonde boy hanging a rainbow flag on the wall next to his bed.
“Oh, hi,” the boy said once he finally turned around. “I’m your roommate, Sam? From the email?”
Thomas was immediately floored by his British accent but was too overwhelmed by, well, everything to process that.
“Hi Sam,” Thomas greeted, his eyes glued to the rainbow flag. “I’m Thomas.”
“Thomas. Nice name. How about you call me Newt, and I’ll call you Tommy, yeah?”
Thomas couldn’t help but laugh. “Newt?”
“Yeah. That’s my name. I only said Sam so you would know some weirdo hadn’t broken into your room. But I go by Newt.”
“Cool, man. You do you.”
Newt followed Thomas’ gaze to the rainbow flag on the wall. “Like that? My sister Sonya just got it for me as a moving-in gift.”
“It’s nice,” Thomas answered, not sure what else to say. He knew what it meant; he had spent enough time staring at the pink, purple, and blue flag and feeling the rightness of it seep into his bones that he knew the power of those colors. He just didn’t have one of his own to hang, nor would he likely ever.
“Don’t worry, Tommy, I’m not gonna flirt with you or anything,” Newt assured him. “Unless you want me to.” He ended it with a wink, and then another laugh. “I’m kidding.”
Thomas laughed but was overcome by an itching in his fingers, and suddenly felt the familiar, comforting heaviness of his keys in his left pocket.
“Hey…” He started, putting down his suitcase. “Do you wanna go for a drive?”
Surprisingly, Newt would go with him on that drive, even though they hadn’t finished unpacking yet and most of Thomas’ stuff was still in his car. In fact, Newt had barely questioned it at all, just started following Thomas as if it was the most natural thing he’d ever done. Soon the two were spending more time in the car then they did in their dorm, doing everything from late-night fast food runs to playing video games projected onto blank walls. Thomas barely remembers the time before Newt molded his body to the shotgun of his car.
Thomas knows. It’s all he knows, it’s all he’s ever known, and when they graduate in a few weeks and Newt moves back to England, he will not know anything at all.
***
Thomas can’t sleep that night. The open road is talking to him again, whispering him sweet nothings and teasing him mercilessly. He can feel the aura of his car in the parking lot, haunting him from a distance. His hands are magnetized to his car keys, and he’s using all the strength he has to pull them away. He shakes like a leaf in his bed, suppressing a scream with a pillow.
He wishes he knew a better solution to his problems than running. Ever since he was a kid, the second something was wrong, he took off running. It scared the shit out of his parents. Honestly, he’s surprised he never got kidnapped. But old habits are hard to break, and his instinct to drive away is only growing louder the longer he lays in bed.
He sits there in the silence, thinking about all the feelings that he’s hidden (and run away from, literally or figuratively) for the last four years. He remembers when Newt first hooked up with Gally back in sophomore year, which he found out when Newt came stumbling back into the room at 4 A.M. with noticeably disheveled hair.
“You’re not gonna like who it was,” Newt chuckled as he kicked off his shoes.
“Don’t tell it me was that Gally prick.”
Newt snorted. “Yeah.”
“Oh, gross, dude. That guy’s a total asshole.”
“You don’t want to KNOW about his ass, Tommy,” Newt slurred as he collapsed face-first onto his bed.
“You’re right,” Thomas agreed, shoving his headphones back in his ears. “I really don’t.”
The next day, he told Newt he wanted to live in a single the next year, and pretended not to see the knowing and hurt look in Newt’s eyes when he did.
(He also pretended not to see the look in Gally’s eyes a few months later, filled with a different kind of knowing that spread a sick burning of shame through Thomas’ blood.)
He thinks about when Brenda and Teresa first started dating, how their eyes were wide and electric, the way their hands slid into each other like silk, how the simple act of them being together caused goosebumps to rise on the back of Thomas’ neck. He’s happy for them, extremely happy, but he’s also poisoningly jealous.
“You don’t know yet?” The boy said, looking down for just a moment.
“N-no,” Thomas lied. “Not really.”
“Huh. Alright then,” the boy exhaled, moving on.
Thomas thinks about everything. He thinks about finals, and parties, and drinking, and smoking, and girls, and England, and cars, and boys, and Sonya, and papers, and keys, and Minho, and June, and fast food, and laughing, and Teresa, and knowing, and wanting, and Newt, and driving, and running, and Newt, and Newt, and Newt.
A strange paradox builds in Thomas, two opposing ropes tearing at his lungs. Part of him feels what he can only describe as “pre-missing,” longing for things that hadn’t even left yet. He is still in his bed, in his dorm, in his college, and yet he feels like he is not there at all. He feels very far away, and he suddenly misses his friends and his classes terribly. He’s almost heartbroken over the thought of it.
The other part of him, the insane, stubborn, and immature part of him, wants to get as absolutely far away from this college as possible. Within a few weeks, he would be gone from this place forever. And the longer he lays in bed, feeling both here and not here, the harder it will be to leave.
So why not leave now? He finds himself thinking. The less time I spend on campus, the easier it will be when I actually go. Maybe I should just sleep in my car.
(But then he goes back to Newt, because that boy has a rope tied around Thomas’ neck that he lazily tugs on whenever Thomas hasn’t thought about him for more than 10 seconds.)
I can’t leave campus. I’ve only got a couple more weeks before he leaves. At least all my other friends will still be in California. I can’t fly to England. And I know he isn’t coming back here.
Thomas suddenly finds himself with his keys in his hand. He doesn’t remember getting out of bed, and he certainly doesn’t remember how he got outside Newt’s apartment complex.
“Guess it’s a now or never sort of thing, right?” Thomas hears Newt’s voice ring in his ears, vibrating against his skull like church bells.
Sorry, Gally, Thomas thinks, a sick sort of smile spreading on his face.
He locks his car and marches up to the familiar brown door of Newt’s apartment. He knocks on it so loudly that he startles himself by his aggressiveness. Newt will probably think he’s the campus police. Thomas is almost embarrassed but feels too much of a confidence and familiar stubbornness trembling in his fingers that he can’t be bothered with that right now.
A couple rounds of knocks later, Newt finally opens the door, his hair matted on one side and fluffed up on the other. Thomas is grateful that Newt answered instead of one of his roommates, who he’s convinced hate him. He decides to speak before Newt can start asking questions.
“Road trip.”
Newt blinks. “What?”
“Road trip. Right now. Let’s go.”
“Wait wait wait, hold on a minute,” Newt starts, dragging his hand across his eyes. “Slow down. What time is it?”
“Um,” Thomas stutters, unsure. He clicks his phone and sees the bright white numbers 4:37 stare back at him. “Like 4:30 ish.”
“Four thir-...are you trying to fall asleep at the wheel?”
Thomas deflates slightly, realizing the romanticized version of this in his head where he and Newt drive off into the sunrise never to return was probably not going to happen.
“I’m-I’m awake,” Thomas insists. “I can drive.”
“Have you slept at all?” Newt crosses his arms and leans against the door in what Thomas suspects is mock irritation.
“Yes. Maybe. Well, no, but who cares! Let’s just...drive somewhere. Fuck it.”
Newt’s features soften as he sighs, lowering slightly. “Look, Tommy, you know that normally I would love to meet you and the gang for a fun trip to the town or something. But I’m bloody exhausted and I’m not about to have you pass out at the wheel.”
“Okay,” Thomas compromises, wheels turning. (Pun intended.) “Then we’ll leave later. I’ll get some sleep and come back.”
“Well, I’ve got a final due on Monday. That mean anything to ya?”
“I’ve got finals due, too. That’s never stopped us before.”
There’s a moment of silence as Newt stares at Thomas, eyes lasering in on him with emotions that Thomas can never read. If he could have one wish, it would be to have the ability to know what Newt is feeling, and not just on a surface level, or the vague answers Newt gives. But he’s convinced no one could do that.
Newt gives another sigh. “Okay. How long will we be gone?”
Forever? That work for you? “Two days?”
Newt blinks back. “One day.”
Thomas doesn’t even flinch, long used to compromising with Newt when dealing with his impulsive ideas. “Done.”
“You tell the others yet, or am I the first door you’ve knocked on?”
The others. Oh. Newt thought this was a group trip.
Thomas briefly considers lying, claiming that all of the others couldn’t make it. Normally he couldn’t lie to Newt, but he’s got too much pride in him, too much sick and stubborn pride, to admit the true reason. So he tries a neutral approach.
“You remember how we took that drive together the first day of school? How we kind of just drove around, not knowing where anything was?”
Newt gives a soft, yet confused, smile in return. “Yeah. What about that?”
Thomas clenches his fists so he stops shaking. “Well, it’s kind of like that. First I was scared about school starting, and now I’m scared about it ending. So I wanna drive. You know how I get.”
It’s a nothing answer, and Thomas knows that. But all he cares about is that he said the right words to get Newt to give in, which he does like clockwork.
“Alright. Fine. Let’s go on a road trip. That’s all we do, anyway.”
all we do is think about the feelings that we hide.
Thomas feels as giddy as a child going to Disney as he lovingly tosses his backpack into the backseat. His (unknown) destination was not nearly as exciting, but that wasn’t what mattered. He cared about the company quite a bit more.
“Coffee,” is all Newt says as he drags his hand down his face. Thomas looks over at his obviously tired eyes and feels a quick pang of guilt hit his chest.
He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be, Thomas tells himself. It works for now.
“Typical spot?” Thomas asks, even though he knows the answer.
“Sure, if we’re going that way,” Newt offers.
“We are now,” Thomas remarks before setting out of the parking lot.
It is now 8:30 AM. Thomas knows that Newt only got in the car because he thinks Thomas got enough sleep to drive. Thomas knows he can drive; he’s certainly awake enough to do that. But sleeping...that wasn’t something he was able to do so well.
Part of it was because he still felt that itch to leave immediately. And it’s oh, so hard for Thomas not to impulsively act on all of his urges. But, for Newt, he shoved his car keys into his desk drawer where he couldn’t see them and attempted to get some semblance of sleep. Normally he wasn’t a fan of waking up early in the morning but again, for Newt, he was willing.
Thomas pulls into the parking spot next to the closest gas station to campus. It’s one of those fancy ones that’s connected to a coffee shop.
“I’m gonna get myself a cup,” Newt says, one hand on the door handle. “You get us some snacks, yeah?”
“Easy,” Thomas dismisses as he exits the car. “My specialty.”
“Something with a hint of nutritional value would be nice.”
“It would be, wouldn’t it?” Thomas smirks as he closes the door.
Five minutes pass before Thomas plops his bundle of goodies onto the counter, relieved of the weight off his arms. The cashier looks down at his haul with a hint of a smirk on her face.
“Another trip, huh?” She remarks as she rings up the first bag of Hot Cheetos.
“Probably the last,” Thomas simultaneously says and realizes. This must be the last gas station snack stop he’ll ever make, at least under these circumstances. He’s immediately filled with a whirlwind of other potential lasts; last time taking a test, last time going to their favorite bar, last time seeing the $2 movie on Tuesdays. He starts longing for the things he hasn’t lost yet, then remembers that he’s in a social situation and needs to not have a breakdown in front of his favorite cashier.
“Can I also get a pack of Marlboro’s?” he asks. “Almost forgot.”
“Almost reminded you,” the cashier quips back. She grabs them from somewhere where Thomas knows she had them ready as soon as he came in. “He’s gonna need them with all those finals coming up, I bet.”
“Hell, maybe I’ll even steal one,” Thomas jokes. The cashier laughs with him, but both of them know it’s not true.
The cashier finishes bagging all of Thomas’ items and hands him the receipt. He’s sure he’ll stop by here once more for gas or a quick drink before graduation, but something about this trip feels so final, so definitive. He’s not sure if that’s reality or if he’s just dramatizing everything again. He still decides to make his goodbye seem a little more personal.
“Thanks a lot, Mary,” he settles on, knowing she isn’t wearing her nametag today or any day.
“Any time,” she responds with a kind smile.
Thomas walks outside to see Newt leaning against the wall, sipping his coffee out of his favorite, sticker-covered thermos. He turns to Thomas and eyes the bulky plastic bag in his hand.
“I’m afraid of what you’ve picked out,” he jokes. “It might kill me.”
“The only thing that’s killing you are these,” Thomas replies, tossing him the Marlboro’s.
“Oh, thanks, mate,” Newt smiles as if surprised. Somehow he is every time. “I’ll square with you where we stop next.”
It’s so routine, so intrinsic, that it hurts. Is this the last pack of Marlboro’s he’ll toss Newt? And why should that even matter?
“Alright,” Thomas says, getting back into the car. “Let’s drive.”
