I kiss back.

Just for a moment, I melt into his touch, my hands at my sides—then reality crashes back in and I use those hands to harshly push him away.

His eyes lock onto mine. I move further away from him, but he keeps close the space between us.

"Just give me some time, okay?" I snap, voice shaking.

His gaze softens. I hate it. "Why didn't you tell me that before? I would've immediately listened had you told me."

I clench my jaw, unable to reply because I don't know what to reply. I'm being stupid for no reason. Everything's a mess, my thoughts all over the place, spiraling until it makes me snap at everyone around me.

I guess I just need something to distract me. Frowning, I eye Newt again. "Never mind," I mutter, leaning in again.

The anger, the tension, the confusion—all of it explodes in a rush of heat. His hands slide in my hair, pulling me closer. I clutch at his shirt like it's the only thing keeping me steady.

It's messy and overwhelming, but I can't bring myself to care. I kiss him back with everything I have, even though it hurts my ribs. The worst of all is that it makes my heart ache, while that never got bruised. Not by his past friends, at least.

He groans against me, and I pull away again. A surprised laugh leaves him. "So that's how it is?"

"If you remember my name this time."

"Make sure I forget it first." His lips curve in a grin before he collides them with mine again. My hands slide under his shirt, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin.

He gasps when my nails scrape along his back. His own hands are everywhere, pulling me impossibly closer.

Our shirts are soon on the floor. Everything's a hurried mess, but I still don't bother until he stops kissing, pressing our foreheads together.

"Don't turn your back on me after this," he says, breaths blowing against my skin. I don't get to respond, because his lips are already on my neck.

My head falls back. I'm losing my mind, painfully slow but somehow it feels so good that I sigh out. Newt's lips graze my collarbone. The cold surface of the wall presses against my back, a sudden change of heat. It only makes me pull him closer.

"Newt," I'm too consumed by him to even notice that didn't leave my mouth, until the knocks on the door become louder.

Newt's eyes wide. He pulls away, fast, as if we're committing. "Eh, yeah?" He stammers.

The door opens—how can it open? It's always locked, no matter what.

Right. We gave Minho a key while Claire and Ledger were here. In case something would happen.

"Woah," Thomas whistles, stopping in his tracks.

Minho sticks his head through the doorway. "Oh, damn."

"We should probably..." Thomas begins taking steps back, but he can't stop staring. His eyes twinkle.

"No. Get dressed," Minho protests. "We were planning to go on a walk."

"Though it seems you're already burning enough calories—"

I interrupt Thomas, "Why would we go on a walk?"

"Erm, because it's Halloween? We need to go trick and treating." Minho crosses his arms, eyes like a hawk as we quickly put our shirts back on. "I want candy."

"You can't always get what you want," Newt murmurs, clearly irritated. He stands up from the couch. "Do you even have costumes?"

"My biceps are big monsters, Newt. I don't need a costume. And your face is also enough to scare people."

"Besides, you have a baby-face, so we can pretend you're our kid that forget to dress up," Thomas adds innocently.

"Wait, that's a good idea." Minho walks over to the counter and rips open a drawer. "Ha! I knew we forget this one."

He holds up one of Ledger's pacifiers.

Newt's face falls. "Oh, bloody hell, no."

But Minho is already washing the thing below the sink. "Sander and I are the parents and Thomas is the crazy, single uncle."

Thomas grabs a marker to draw a mustache on his face. "I love this."

"I know, Tommy Boy. And I love you."

"You might be on drugs," I point out.

"Can't I express my love for my friend? I mean, you and Newt were also expressing love." Minho swings around, putting two hands on my shoulders. "I got an A from Jorge, can you believe that? This is the best day of my life."

He turns to Newt. "Open your mouth."

Newt keeps his mouth shut.

"Hey, I know Sander was reserved for this role, but open up." When he still refuses to, Minho sighs. "Here comes the airplane!"

He stabs the thing against Newt's lips with such force that it's impossible for Newt to not give in.

Newt glares daggers at Minho as the pacifier ends up between his teeth, his face turning red. "You're a dead man," he mutters around the thing, yanking it out of his mouth and hurling it across the room.

Minho doubles over laughing, practically howling. "Oh, come on! You made an adorable baby!"

"Get into character as a corpse next."

"Parenthood just comes naturally to me." Minho puffs out his chest.

I can't help but laugh, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. "Maybe we should actually go out now."

He tosses an arm around my shoulder. "Let's go, partner. Our kid—" he jerks a thumb toward Newt, "—can follow behind."

"Why do I even hang out with you lot?"

"I don't know. I'd say you have an extraordinary taste in friends, Newt."

I can't help but snicker at that as I put my jacket on. My ribs ache every time I laugh, but it's worth it.

"Wait." Newt hurries inside his bedroom.

"Hurry up," Minho calls out. He embraces Thomas and I, pressing us to his side.

When Newt exits his bedroom, he's wearing the brown jacket, a stupid smile on his face.