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Thomas fidgeted with the sleeve of his suit jacket, scanning the ballroom. His eyes skated over their heads, looking for one in particular. A head of hair that was long and dirty blonde and tied back at the nape of his neck; the head of hair he’d recognize anywhere. But after losing his breath the first three times he saw similar hairstyles, he gave up hope and lifted his gaze to the decor.
The large dance hall was decorated to its most grand. Given it was the annual Christmas Eve ball, it was the place to be if you were anybody who was anybody. And Thomas, of course, was somebody - as much as he didn’t want to be.
Being the next in line as an eligible man since his elder brother married off the year before, every woman of age had her sights on him. Thomas wasn’t interested in any of them.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He was somewhat interested in Teresa, the woman he’d grown up with and the one everyone expected him to marry. So he was courting her, and he didn’t hate it. But he didn’t understand the passion everyone else claimed to feel when they found the one to marry for love. Teresa was wonderful and one of his best friends, but Thomas simply felt comfortable around her, relaxed. The sort of calm and familiarity that came with knowing a person for years and years. That had to be what real love felt like, not simply lust as everyone else felt.
It made sense that he would be courting to marry Teresa. The Palmer family lived next door to them his entire life and he and Teresa had become fast friends from the beginning. It was almost expected that they court when they came of age, and marry soon after. And until approximately a few months ago - or more specifically, one evening a week and a half ago - Thomas could have seen himself doing just that.
That was until Newton Isaacs walked into his life with all the grace of a swan and a bite to go with it, and Thomas’ life unraveled rapidly before him. The son of a carpenter whose family had moved into town near the beginning of the year, Newt had shown up on the Greene family doorstep when his father had called for a new barn to be built for the horses as their old one was beginning to look ragged.
Thomas, with nothing better to do (so he told himself, anyway) made acquaintances with the boy with blonde hair kept tied up at the nape of his neck, and a wit sharp enough to scratch; they found themselves friends before the month’s end. There was just something about Newt that Thomas liked - maybe it was his refreshing perspective on the world, or the way he laughed, but he found himself unable to stay away.
Now, as he stood at the edge of the room, a hand slid into his and squeezed lightly, dragging him back to center. Teresa stood next to him with a small smile. “Sorry, did you say something?”
She chuckled, and glanced out at the dance floor, “Are we going to stand at the edge of the crowd all night, or are you going to ask me to dance?”
Thomas mentally shook himself, attempting to put his entire focus on the woman before him and not the friend who had bailed on him. “Miss Palmer, would you like to dance?” He gestured with his free hand to the floor steadily filling with couples, and grinned at her.
“Why, I’d be honored, Mr. Greene.” Teresa replied with another laugh.
Thomas led them to the dance floor and they joined in a lively group dance that had him distracted for all of four minutes. When that dance ended and another began, his attention wavered again despite the nearness of Teresa in this second, far more intimate waltz. Out of the corner of his eye flashed a head of blonde hair tied at the nape of a neck and Thomas’ breath caught. The hope that rose within him for the briefest of moments was immediately shattered as they turned around. Not Newt. No, his friend who had promised months ago to join him at the Christmas Ball (“Only for you, Tommy.” he had said, and Thomas’ stomach was in knots at the way he said his nickname like it belonged solely to him) hadn’t managed to make an appearance. Newt wasn’t coming despite his promise, and that hurt Thomas more than he wanted to admit.
He made his way to the table lined with drinks and picked up a glass of champagne for him and for Teresa. He took a sip out of his own to try and calm the hurt that was beginning to bubble in his chest and turned around to find his date. As he did so his gaze swept the room once again and this time while he was looking for Teresa, he stopped short when he met the gaze of the one he’d been searching for all evening.
Newt, looking impeccable in his best suit. Thomas found he couldn’t tear his gaze away, and Newt wasn’t exactly moving either. His expression was unreadable, but if he had to guess it was a mixture of barely suppressed surprise and hurt. The bottom dropped out of Thomas’ stomach, what little champagne he’d drunk souring as Newt took a step towards him.
Almost immediately he was interrupted by someone approaching him, clearly asking him to dance. Of course Newt could hardly refuse it, so Thomas watched feeling dazed as Newt unfolded. He turned on the charm that every woman adored about him and something akin to jealousy sparked in his chest as Newt smiled at the girl and held out a hand for her to take. Newt was a known flirt but as far as anyone knew he’d yet to show a serious interest in anyone. He just went around charming anyone he smiled at, wearing it as a mask to hide everything else. And despite his family’s less-than-stellar social status given their line of work, the women fell for it every time.
Thomas prided himself on the knowledge that he got to see the sides of Newt he didn’t show to anyone else. The genuine and real side of Newt that trusted him with secrets and the one unsure of his place in society, being as it was.
The memories flooded his mind’s eye in a rush – the first time he and Newt had really opened up to each other and began testing their friendship. Newt had whispered in a quiet, hesitant voice that he didn’t like girls at all, he liked boys. At the time, Thomas had been a bit surprised but he assured him that this changed nothing between them. Newt seemed reassured and they’d left it at that.
Until one evening months later the boundaries of their friendship were pressed further when they were in Thomas’ room one evening after perhaps a tad too much wine at dinner, and they kissed. And it felt entirely different than kissing Teresa. Newt’s fingers snagging the front of his shirt to pull him in. Thomas stumbling forward, laughing as his lips met Newt’s, sure they were both doing it in jest. Until, suddenly, Thomas wasn’t laughing anymore and something clicked into place in his mind. Through the buzzing in his head and throughout his body he found a kernel of truth in that kiss - this was something he wanted. But it was over entirely too soon and Thomas was left with a mess of confusing feelings.
It wasn’t long until they found themselves in another similar position but a somewhat less private part of the house when Newt tried to kiss him again. Still entirely out of his depth in regards to what he was feeling, a tug-of-war between what he was supposed to feel and what he did yanking him this way and that - Thomas snapped. He pushed Newt away and snarled quietly, “I’m not like you, I’m normal.”
Thomas regretted the words the moment they were out of his mouth. He immediately tried to apologize, but Newt’s expression hardened and he stormed off.
Since that night neither of them had spoken of what had been said and done. In fact, they’d hardly spoken at all. It was all Thomas could do not to let the guilt eat him alive. He needed Newt as a friend, if nothing else - he didn’t want his stupid words to break them apart. His only goal tonight was to talk to him, to apologize and take back what he’d said. He didn’t believe it, anyway. He’d never believed in any one person being normal or abnormal – it simply didn’t exist. Every person was as equally complex as the next, and Newt liking boys didn’t make him any less “normal” than anyone else. He had to talk to him, to get him to realize he didn’t hate him, but rather far from it.
Thomas downed his champagne and set the empty glass on a tray, wondering how to find a way to get Newt to talk to him when he seemed determined to do anything but. Gradually, the night wore on and he found himself caught up in more socializing and more dancing. Thomas lost count of how many dances he’d joined that evening, all of them flitting in and then immediately out of his memory. The only one that managed to capture his attention briefly was Brenda. He considered her one of his best friends as well, and she was like a balm to his brittle nerves. The next dance that managed to get him to slow down for a moment was with his mother when she eyed him with her motherly concern and, “Thomas, dear, are you alright? You look tired tonight, a bit fuzzy around the edges.”
Thomas shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “More dancing tonight than I expected, is all.”
“It’s the Christmas Ball, what did you expect?” She teased gently. When he didn’t react, her expression shifted. “Teresa’s not bothering you, is she? She’s such a nice girl and the two of you make a wonderful pair. To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t proposed.” Her voice was forcefully light, but Thomas could read his mother better than that and saw she was worried for them.
“It’s still early in the season, yet. We don’t have to rush.” He reminded her.
She conceded with a slight nod, “Yes, but don’t wait too long or someone else will snatch her away. She’s got quite a line of suitors if what I’ve heard is true” - his mother cut herself off for a moment to give him a conspiratorial smile - “but you’re the one she likes best. Don’t squander this opportunity, Thomas.”
He fought not to roll his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know. Our families joining together will be good for all of us –”
“That’s not what I meant. She loves you, and you love her. It’s not often one finds a match like yours.”
Some unidentifiable feeling rolled through him at her words as they struck home. But did he truly love Teresa in the way that she loved him? He mentally shook himself, that was stupid of course he did. Why shouldn’t he?
Inevitably, though, his thoughts drifted (much in the way a train could drift) back to Newt and his chest tightened yet again. What he’d said to him after that kiss, the hurt on Newt’s face immediately after, and the regret Thomas hadn’t stopped feeling since. His emotions must have shown on his face once again, because as the dance came to an end his mother gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm and squeezed his hand before walking away.
He didn’t get any chance to breathe or scan the room for Newt again because the moment his mother disappeared Teresa popped back up in her place, startling him. She gave him an exasperated look after he jumped a foot in the air when she tapped him on the shoulder. “Can we talk for a second?”
“Yeah, what’s up?” Thomas asked, trying not to let his frustration show on his face.
“Somewhere less crowded?”
“. . .Okay.” He followed her out of the stuffy dance floor to the porch, where a cold breeze nipped at his skin in a way that made him realize he was sweating. Holding back a shiver, he came to an abrupt stop when Teresa suddenly turned to face him with a frown.
“It’s like you’ve been in another world all night. What’s going on?” The frustration in her voice teetered on the edge of anger, and he knew it was all because of him and his current absentmindedness. He should have been more attentive to her tonight, but his brain simply refused to cooperate and now he was in this mess - wanting to explain to Teresa what was on his mind, and knowing that if he did, it could potentially ruin both their lives.
Thomas didn’t have any of the answers, and certainly none of the ones Teresa was looking for. He let out a sort of “I dunno” mumble, and looked past her along the porch with a sigh. Flame flickered in the lanterns along the stone railing, but in between were pockets of darkness. His gaze settled on one before he realized there was someone in the shadows - it was Newt, looking in his direction with a somewhat startled expression. Their eyes met and Thomas’ entire body lit up in some sort of reaction; he was unsure if it was relief or guilt.
Then Thomas blinked and the next thing he knew Newt had turned and was walking down the steps towards the gardens. Teresa spoke again, but it was as if through a wall for as much as he could hear her. Without another thought he brushed past her to follow him, only the absolute need to talk to Newt thrumming through him.
“Newt.” Thomas called softly, not running but definitely doing more than walking as he tried to catch up to him without making it obvious he was chasing him. The only reply that reached his ears was his own breath, and the crunching underfoot of frost-covered grass. “Newt, wait!” He called slightly louder, stomach in knots. He was nearer him now as they entered the hedges, losing sight of the hall with every corner they turned. He reached out to touch his shoulder, and so abruptly did Newt stop that Thomas tripped into his back before righting himself as he whirled to face him.
“We need to talk.” Thomas blurted before Newt could speak. Newt’s already dark expression darkened further.
“Right - talk. After you told me that I’m the abnormal one? That I did this to you? The “this” you won’t even admit to?” Newt scoffed, anger flashing in his gaze as his breath clouded the chilled air.
“Well then why did you even keep your promise to come to this ball if you hate me so much?”
“It’s not a given that I’m invited to these balls like you are, Tommy. I’m not wasting the chance to be seen in public for once because of our - our. . . tiff.” Newt gestured between them vaguely.
It was Thomas’ turn to scoff. “Tiff, huh? You were the one who got me in this mess in the first place! We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if it weren’t for what you -”
“If I remember correctly, it was you who kissed me last time.” Newt interrupted.
Thomas rolled his eyes, anger sparking a flame in the core of his gut. “No, it wasn’t.”
“Yes, it –”
“I just don’t know what you want from me!” Thomas cut him off, voice rising without meaning to. “Do you want me to tell you that I have feelings for you? Well, fine; I do. But it’s not like we can do anything about it!” He flailed his arms in the direction of. . . everywhere, only just catching Newt’s muttered, “Finally.” in a quick reply.
Thomas’ heart stuttered in his chest as he met Newt’s gaze full-on for the first time in weeks. Music from the ballroom swelled faintly in the periphery of his awareness, and for the second time that evening noticed how cold it was outside through watching Newt’s breath cloud before him. They were silent for long enough that Thomas began to reflect on his feelings.
Teresa, the one he should be wanting, was standing on the porch demanding he tell her what was wrong, genuinely worried. The one he loved, but didn’t. The one he should want. Only. . .he didn’t. The one he wanted was standing in front of him, real emotion spilling from every pore. The one he thought he might love, too. The realization took his breath away, and for a moment Thomas thought he might fall over. Then he swallowed, and opened his mouth to speak.
“I think–”
“Tom, where – Newt?” Thomas heard an angry and then confused voice from behind him, and he turned to see Teresa stopped a few feet away. With a glance back at Newt, he saw a mask slip back over his features and backed up a step. Thomas, too, straightened in surprise and then guilt. An expression of bewilderment and distaste masked her anger for a moment. “What are you doing out here?”
“We just –” Thomas tried.
“We were discussing an addition to the barn.” Newt replied smoothly, all confidence and warmth like a lever had been thrown.
“Oh.” Teresa blinked, brow furrowing further after a moment. “Why wouldn’t you discuss this with Mr. Greene?”
“He was occupied by the time I arrived.”
“But out here in the cold? And Thomas was rather occupied too, last I recall.” Teresa sketched a mocking smile at him and turned fully towards Thomas. “Is this what you’ve been distracted about all night, then?”
With an attempt to sound like he knew what was happening, Thomas nodded vigorously. “Yes! Yes, that’s all. Having the horses in the other pasture makes it quite difficult for the barn boys to fetch them in a timely manner –”
“So I offered to build a tack room just beside the new barn rather than nearer the house as had been originally planned, to make it easier.” Newt finished for him, which was a relief as he’d had no clue where he was going with his excuse.
Teresa’s anger slowed from a boil to a simmer, and she crossed her arms. “Was that really what had you so on edge you could hardly speak to me in full sentences?”
The skepticism in her voice turned Thomas’ gut to lead. He nodded anyway, sticking with the story he and Newt had crafted in the span of two seconds and a single shared glance. The fear of being found out by her just then far outweighed the conversation they had actually been having, and both of them knew it.
“I’m sorry, Teresa.” Thomas sighed, forcing his shoulders to relax and his feet to walk him closer to her. “I didn’t mean to worry you, I just thought you wouldn’t be interested in hearing this type of talk.”
“Not interested?” Teresa scoffed, “You must care far less than I thought, Tom. You’d think knowing each other fifteen plus years would tip you off to the fact that I’ve ridden and owned horses my entire life.” She shook her head, expression now somber and disappointed. “Finish your boys' talk later, and come back inside. It’s freezing and people are beginning to wonder where we are.”
“Uh - right, okay.” Thomas nodded, with a quick look towards Newt. Everything that was left unsaid stretched taut between them. He worried it might snap with every step he took in Teresa’s direction.
“Of course.” Newt nodded as well, expression placidly cool. “Shall we, then?” He gestured to the way they had come, and Teresa led the way as Thomas kept pace beside her. Newt’s gaze bore holes into the back of his head the entire way.
It wasn’t until nearly a week later that Thomas managed to find Newt again, somewhere they could talk alone. With Christmas celebrations and other gatherings it had been a whirlwind of a holiday, but what occupied most of his brain space was how they’d left things in the gardens, and the world-tilting realization he’d come to. Having had no time to process it, Thomas could barely get words out of his mouth properly by the time he and Newt met in their usual spot - underneath the leaves of one of the largest trees on the grounds, and all the way at the back in a secluded grove almost no one visited.
Newt stood in front of him with his arms crossed while Thomas leaned back against the tree, struggling to be coherent.
“You were right, Newt. I think I - no, I know I don’t want to be trapped into marriage with someone I don’t love. Well at least, not like. . .not in the way that I think she loves me.”
“So what do you want, then, Tommy?” Newt asked, lifting a brow.
“I. . .” Thomas’ voice failed him for a moment, and he took a steadying breath. Newt never broke eye contact, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “I want - you.”
Something cracked in the mask Newt had clearly been holding up, and his entire body relaxed immediately. “Really?”
Thomas nodded, more sure of what he wanted than anything before. “Yes really, Newt.”
“But you said before that there’s nothing we can do about it.” Newt replied, still cautious. He hated to see his closest friend wary of him.
“Well,” Thomas shrugged, “nothing grand, or life-changing or anything; but we can at least do this.” As he spoke, he stood up from the tree and stepped closer to Newt, allowing a tentative smile to pull at his lips. This time he didn’t hesitate to lean in to kiss him, sucking in a sharp breath as Newt reacted in kind. Hands met his waist to pull him in, and the thrill of that touch caused a giddiness to rise. He found himself laughing and Newt following suit, neither of them stepping back from their close embrace.
“You do realize this is going to change everything, right?” Newt asked a minute later, tone quiet and suddenly somber. “Not just for you and me, but Teresa – your family. And no one can know –”
“I know.” Thomas cut him off gently. “But can we worry about figuring that out later? Because – all I can think about right now is kissing you again.” A flush crept up his cheeks as he admitted his feelings without restraint.
“Is that so?” Newt asked, sounding on the verge of laughter.
“Very much so.” Thomas replied with a light laugh, leaning back in to kiss him again, and again. Kissing Newt felt like nothing he’d felt before. Every other kiss he’d had was with girls, and while he didn’t mind them, this felt right. He’d never understood what everyone was going on about when it came to love and affection, but the pieces finally clicked into place.
Thomas didn’t know what the future held, but he did know he wanted to spend it by Newt’s side. He knew by choosing him he was opening up all kinds of hurdles, and big ones. But nothing felt insurmountable at the moment, and that was the hope that buoyed him until he was floating on the clouds.