"Come on. Up you get, Lynn."

My head is pounding. And I am groaning as Newt tries to wake me up. "One more minute."

"You said ten minutes ago."

"Or your watch just isn't working."

"Come on!" A laugh escapes his mouth, which makes my eyes open a little more. "It's your own fault you have a hangover. But the sun is shining and we will miss breakfast."

Eventually, I turn around and bury my face in my pillow. "I can happily tell you I don't need to do photosynthesis, so no sunlight needed for me today."

He chuckles again. "We'll be painting our clay figures today, though."

At those words, I jump up and slide into my clothes for the day— my favorite jeans, which are wide and blue, and a simple yellow shirt I painted flowers on.

"Plus," Newt continues, "You said you'd paint my clothes."

"Sure," I reply. "What clothing and what do I make?"

Just like that, Newt pulls off his shirt and hands it to me as if he didn't just... do that. "This clothing. Make whatever. Surprise me."

I look down, clearing my throat as I nod. "Right."

Newt puts on a new shirt, which makes me wonder why he even put that first one on in the first place, but I don't ask. "Always a questioning look. Just like Tommy."

My head snaps back up. "I don't always have a questioning look. However, I do have a few questions for you."

"Spill."

"How old are you?"

"What do you think?"

"I'll probably hurt you with my guess."

"I'm nineteen," he announces. His smile makes him sixteen, if not fifteen. "And you?"

"Nineteen," I say. "What's your favorite color?"

"Yellow. Maybe brown."

I nod. "I like yellow, too. When's your birthday?"

"April fifth. Yours?"

"December 20th. Hm... favorite food?"

His eyebrows furrow for a second. "Cookies. Or brownies."

"And dinner?"

"Cookies... or brownies."

The corners of my lips curve up at that. "Alright," I laugh. "Siblings?"

"A sister. Her name's Sonya. She's seventeen."

"You think she'd get along with Lelia?"

"For sure." He nods heavily. "Any other questions or has the interview ended?"

"I have a million questions. I'll ask them as we walk."

Nodding in agreement, Newt steps outside, into the damp grass yet the sun that is indeed shining.

"Where are you from?"

"UK. But we moved to the US a few years ago."

"Right. Explains the accent."

"You like it, don't you?"

I stop immediately, and scoff. "Who said that?"

"You did."

"I never did."

"Oh, wait. You're right... you don't like it, you find it cute."

"What?" Heat rises up to my face. "I never said that."

"Yesterday, you did."

Freaking alchohol.

His accent is cute, though.

"Anyways." I cough. "Hobbies?"

"Gardening or maybe drawing. I love to read."

"Any pets?"

"No. But I'd like a dog."

"Same." My head tilts to the side. "So... how did you piss Jorge off?"

"I—"

"Alarm!" If it weren't for Newt taking ahold of his shoulders, Thomas would've pushed us over.

Newt sighs. "What is it, Tommy?"

"She touched my hand," he peeps. "I was getting food and she handed me my tray. It was skin to skin!" A pause. "It's about Teresa, by the way. Did I tell you we touched?"

"Yes, you touched her hand."

He makes a jump. "I know right! She's down bad. And I'm going to play it cool."

"I think it's the other way around," I chuckle.

"No. Why else would she have touched my hand?"

Newt and I share a glance, then laugh. "We wouldn't know."

"God, this is awesome. I'm going to tell Jorge!"

"Wouldn't do that. He's not in the best mood after I woke him up and refused to leave," Newt says.

"Damn. You suck, Newt. I need to tell an adult this serious situation and I'm not telling Rat Man."

He palms his face. "Tell Mary."

"Good idea! See ya!"

When Newt turns back to me, he shrugs, still smiling. "He's obsessed."

"I see." The two of us continue walking until we've arrived in front of the long table, full of food. I hum a bit as I look around, eventually taking some fruit, and a toast with scrambled eggs, along with a glass of water.

Newt's breakfast isn't much different from mine. Together, we join Minho and the guy I'm sure was named Jeff... I'm not good at remembering names.

"Morning," I greet, and look at Minho. "Where's Lelia?"

Without a word because his mouth is full, he points at a the corner of the room.

I see a group of girls, laughing and whispering before they walk outside, their trays in their hands.

"And who exactly are that?"

"Well, one of them is Thomas's beloved." Minho grins. "Then we have Newt's sister, and Harriet."

Something in the back of my brain itches at that name, but I can't exactly place it.

"Don't forget Rachel and Miyoko," Newt adds. "Don't worry, they're all very nice."

"And hot."

"Minho, that's my sister!" Newt hisses. "And his sister! And Aris's best friend. Technically our friends."

"So?" He shrugs, a smirk on his face. "Anyways. What's on the program today?"

I tell him about the clay figures, totally ignoring the thing Minho said, and then ask what they're gonna do.

"Swim," he replies. "Vince is likely gonna make us practice techniques before we swim on time, and then maybe water polo."

I nod. "Nice. Have fun."

***

My mouse and dog have been painted. The mouse is white, with some hints of rainbow in the legs, and the dog is supposed to represent a golden retriever.

Of course, Newt is still working on making his butterfly absolutely perfect. I must say that all those details on the wings do look really good.

I take the shirt he gave me this morning out of my bag and put a cardboard below it, so I can paint on a flat surface. However, I have no idea what to paint.

After a few minutes of thinking, I got the perfect idea. I'll make a pair of thermal hands. Red in the middle, then orange, green, and if needed, blue. Perhaps I'll make a star out of the middle part.

We work in silence. Now and then, Mary comes to check if everything is going well, and I try not to get distracted by the yelling kids around us.

By the time I'm done, he also is. It reliefs me, because I wouldn't know what to do if he still wasn't done, and neither would I want to leave him alone.

"No, don't look!" I pull the shirt away before he can see it. "You can see it when it has dried, yeah?"

"Sure, sure."

He waits for me to put the shirt away. Once I'm done with that, we tell Mary bye, and move outside. It's not very late yet. I don't think Lelia has finished swimming.

"Should we–"

"Do you want to–"

We fall silent. Then, we speak again. Unfortunately at the same time... again.

"Where do you want to–"

"What do we do–"

Another silence. It makes me cringe so hard that I just wait for him to open his mouth this time.

"What did you want to say?" He lets out a chuckle.

"If maybe you want to come and watch Lelia and whoever else is there," I explain. "What did you want to say?"

"If maybe you wanted to come see my favorite place here. Something I don't really show anyone. No one special, at least."

"Ah." I nod, suddenly flushed. No one special, at least. "I mean, sure."

His face lights up. "Yeah? Don't feel forced to. If you want to watch Lelia–"

"Nope. I'll be perfectly fine with you."

"Alright, then. Let's go."

***

"So how much further is it? Climbing mountains isn't my best ability." I stop, taking a few big breaths. "And I'm starting to consider you'll kidnap me."

Newt looks back, the sun behind him. It shines through his hair. Gives it a golden look. "Not much further. Come on."

Ten minutes later, I come to the conclusion he was not only speaking the truth, but the forty-five minute walk was totally worth it.

We're on a flat part of the mountain, flowers in every single color all around us, and a river clear as crystal at our side, the sound of it relaxing and nice. While Newt sits down on a blanket he brought, I keep on staring, because back home, we for sure didn't have this.

"Wow." Is all I can manage once I do sit down.

"Yeah." His eyes are focused on me, as if he doesn't really care about the sight. Maybe he's used to it. "Wow."

We sit in silence for a while, and both end up on our backs, sun in our faces.

"What's your dream country to go to?" I ask.

"Back to the questions, hm?" A pause. "Well, I don't know. I have a few friends in the UK, but it's not that spectacular for me. I wish to go to Italy someday."

"Cool," I comment. "Did you live in London?"

"Yup."

My smile brightens at the thought of Newt in London. Would he be phoning people in those red booths?

"Now that you're asking so many questions, can I ask some?"

I shrug, even though he can't see it as his eyes are focused on the sky. "Sure."

"Your favorite ice cream?"

"Strawberry."

"I don't know why, but I could've expected that." One of those laughs slips from his lips again. "Hobbies? Besides painting?"

I let go of a breath. "Ehm... following Lelia to parties? I don't know, painting does usually fill in all my days. Though I do like to bake."

"Alright," he replies. "So... ever had a girlfriend? Or boyfriend, for all I care."

Another breath leaves my mouth, but it's heavier. "Nope. You?"

"Yeah."

"Like those kindergarten marriages or a very serious relationship?"

"Quite serious. But then we grew apart. Sometimes, I see his pictures online, but I'm not really a fan of social media."

So it's a he.

Well, that's fine.

Though my stomach does some kind of flip.

"Don't tell me you're homophobic."

"What?" I nearly jump up. "Oh, no, I'm not! Why would I be? Do I look like a homophobic? I'm so sorry if–"

"Don't worry," he interrupts, laughing again. "Or panic."

How long does alcohol stay in my system? There was no need to respond like that.

"So... you're gay. Or bi."

"As gay as I can be."

Slowly, I nod.

"Don't worry, though," he adds. "It's not like I fully check every male out. Or that I have other... intentions with bringing you here."

That eases me. Not that I was uncomfortable before, but it's some kind of relief. "Alright."

"This is kinda personal," he then continues, "but what about you? Any interest in a certain gender, or not at all. Or maybe you don't want to be labeled."

"Uhm." My eyebrows furrow. No one has ever directly asked me this.

Like literally. Some assume. And I hate it. Those people. Those boys who made me lose my friends. I hate them.

And I hate that I'm not even sure. And because I wasn't even sure, I couldn't stand up for myself, or get my friends back.

And then I wonder, do Newt's friends know he's gay? And if they don't, how would they react? Would they drop him?

Minho must know. With the comments he sometimes makes, he must. Or he's the same as them, but I refuse to believe that.

And then I remember again how uncomfortable that whole situation made me. If Minho knows Newt's gay, he was teasing. I kind of hate teasing. If he doesn't know, he was assuming. I also kind of hate assuming.

"Lynn?"

Oh, jeez, I got caught up again.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," he says softly.

I'm not sure what to answer.

"I don't know what I am," I finally say. It's truly the most inspiring reply ever.

"Well, I think you're a lot of things."

"Yeah?"

A faggot? A weird person? An abnormal teenager?

"You're awesome," he says. "And creative. And nice company. Bloody nice."

At those unexpected words, I flush again. "Thanks, Newt," I say, because I wouldn't know with what other words to explain how much that just meant to me. "I think you're great company, too."