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Yes, it was stupid, he knows, trust him, he's not an idiot, he just does things that would be worth questioning in a court of law. Alby made him angry, so he sort of trashed his car. He and Alby used to date until they both decided it wouldn't work out. It was a mutual thing, but see, Newt had this issue with anger, and Alby has this issue with making him angry, and from that point on, something usually illegal ensued.
Incidentally, this was the reason Newt was sitting in a holding cell at the police department. The neighbors had been the ones to call the police on account of some sort of disturbance at the house across the street again. Alby would be pissed, yeah, but he would still come bail Newt out, like always. Newt would always pay him back apologetically, and they would continue to be just friends until one of them slipped up and they became temporary enemies, example A: tonight.
Newt sat and waited for roughly five minutes, counting and re-counting the tiles on the ceiling, then the floor, then the bars of his cage. He was through the round of iron bars for a fifth time when they suddenly opened. He looked up, expecting to see Alby with the cop, but it was some boy he'd never seen before.
He was Asian, with spiky dark hair and an angry frown on his face. He was almost as tall as Newt, with long legs and a slim torso. He wore sneakers, beige jeans, and a button-up rolled at the sleeves and every bit of it made Newt's heart throb.
Oh, hell no, Newt thought, a holding cell is not the place to get a crush. The words "criminal" and "felony" passed through his brain, but the boy looked so genuinely annoyed at being arrested that it was cute, and cute never really screamed murderer.
"Come on, man!" the kid exclaimed. "I wasn't even drinking!"
"We're calling your parents," the cop said, unlocking the handcuffs and pushing him into the cell.
"Oh, they'll love that," the boy answered. "Word gets around, everyone'll hear about it, they'll get to play the poor-pitiful-us card again. It'll be like Christmas came early."
The cop gave him a fleeting glance, then looked at Newt. He didn't say another word as he turned back around to go to the front of the building. The boy groaned and dropped down onto the wooden bench beside Newt. He nodded his head at him, then examined him closer, as if something was odd about him.
The boy's brows furrowed. "You don't seem like you should be in a holding cell at midnight on a Sunday."
Newt raised one eyebrow at him. "Neither do you."
"Oh, the cops know me personally by now," the kid shrugged, as if regularly getting arrested was no big deal. "They usually don't do anything, but the cop that busted me was a greenie."
"Greenie?"
"New guy," he answered, then changed the conversation with, "So what'd you do to get in here, anyway?"
Newt shrugged. "Trashed my ex-boyfriend's car."
The other made a face. "Ouch. Bad breakup?"
"No, mutual break up, a long time ago," Newt replied. "He just made me mad. He does that often."
"And you trash his property often as well?"
"I try to keep it to a maximum of once a week."
The two were smirking as if they were in on some great joke, looking at each other out of the corners of their eyes. Newt said, "What'd you do?"
"Sneaked my way into a concert," he said. "It's my friend's band, she's in college. Well, technically, she's my ex-girlfriend."
Newt sort of deflated. Girlfriend. He should have known.
Then the boy added, "My ex-boyfriend is in it too."
Newt felt something grin inside him -- it made its way out and crawled onto his lips.
"Come to think of it," the other continued, "I think I've dated everyone in the band. Huh. Guess that makes me the groupie."
"I thought groupies were myths," Newt joked.
" 'Course not," the boy grinned cheekily. "Everyone needs a bit of fun, my friend."
"You're obviously a big fan of fun," Newt commented.
The other boy's shoulders shrugged. "Nah, not really. I mean, it should probably mean something, you know? It is sort of personal."
Newt smiled and thought that he would very much like to be friends with this guy when they got out of the cell. "Yeah."
And then the boy's lips turned into a little smirk/smile/grin/something desperately beautiful, something Newt would have very much liked to trace with his fingers just so that it would be engraved in his fingertips, something that had no right belonging to someone that he met on a whim. And then those eyes, dark and mysterious and smooth and kind and dangerous all at the same time, and Newt wondered if maybe, by some stroke of luck, this boy was thinking the same thing about his smile, his eyes. He hoped to whatever God was watching that he was.
"I'm Minho," the other boy said quietly, his eyes locking with Newt's. Newt caught his breath.
"Newt."
"Hello, Newt."
"Hello, Minho."
Then the same cop from before came down the hall. "Hey, kid," he said, looking at Newt. He pointed behind him with his thumb. "Your friend's here."
Then Alby was right behind the cop, giving Newt a frustrated stare. Newt would clearly have some real apologizing to do this time. He looked down at the ground.
Beside him, Minho said, "I'm assuming this is the ex-boyfriend whose car you trashed."
Newt nodded, and Minho stood from his seat on the bench, walked to the bars, and stuck his hand through them, an offering to Alby. "Hello, I'm Minho."
Alby eyed him warily, then cautiously stuck his hand out, giving a firm handshake.
Minho explained, "I just wanted to be on good terms with you before I take Newt out tomorrow night."
The other three people in the room shared the same shocked expression. Alby's eyes flickered from Minho to Newt, then back again. Newt looked at Minho in awe -- did he just ask me out via my ex-boyfriend? The cop just thought that this was a pretty eventful first night, and this was even better than the soaps his mother would make him watch when he got home.
Minho turned around to face Newt. "That is," he said, "if you say yes."
"Did you just ask me out?"
"To dinner," Minho confirmed, "tomorrow night."
Newt raised an eyebrow, willing himself to stop protesting because this entity of perfection just asked him out, but he said it anyway. "You do realize we met in a holding cell."
"At least we'll have something in common."
Newt stared at this anomaly, this magnificent being who had somehow taken an interest in him. Then he grinned. He stood from the bench to walk out of the cell. He stopped at Minho with a smirk. "I'm allergic to shellfish."
"I'll keep that in mind when choosing a restaurant," Minho beamed. "I'll meet you out front of this place tomorrow at seven."
"It's a date."
Minho planted a quick kiss to Newt's cheek, which then flushed bright pink.
He and Alby left the building, Newt flying high while Alby was still trying to catch up. Finally, he said with sarcasm, "Well, he seems nice."
Newt looked out at the darkened, starry sky and let a soft smile form on his lips.
"Yes. Yes, he does."