Thomas's pov

Saying I was frustrated would be quite a big understatement.

Saying I was angry would be an even bigger understatement.

But saying I was anxious would be the biggest understatement of all.

My mind flew at about a million miles per hour during the next thirty-seven minutes and forty-eight seconds--each moment of which, was incredibly awkward, as my new partner was seemingly afraid of me after the fight (Seriously dude, stop cringing away. I'm not going to attack you--that privilege is saved for someone else). Hundreds of questions and doubts flittered through my head, banging around like angry bees bumping into the walls of a glass container. By the time we were dismissed, my head throbbed painfully and my shoulders slumped in exhaustion.

I grabbed my bag from the corner of the room, finally beginning to address my current thoughts. Lurking at the forefront of my mind, was not Dylan, as one might expect. Though I did resent him to the highest degree, my thoughts clouded more so around Kaya, and specifically what she had unintentionally said.

At least pretend to be able to stand each other.

It wasn't necessarily her words that had struck a chord in me, but the unintended realization that had dawned on me as she said them. I was certainly used to being reprimanded, so her scolding words bounced harmlessly off my skin. However, Kaya had managed to stir a certain memory in my gut too; with just two short sentences, she had made me regret just about everything that had happened over the past week.

Now, before you get the wrong idea, let me explain. I didn't regret fighting Dylan--hell, he deserved to be punched in the face. There was nothing about that guy that I liked, nor would I ever like, so I couldn't bring myself to feel guilty for my incessant jabs and insults at his expense either.

Unfortunately, I did regret the deep hole I had dug myself into.

You see, along the lines somewhere, I had lost myself in the loathsome boy. Distracted by his sassy (and slightly flamboyant) personality, I truly realized for the first time that I had managed to make him hate me too. Now, normally I wouldn't care, but as I had quite a bit riding on the fact that I would make him love me, I realized that this may be a slight issue. At this point I was pretty darn sure he despised every single part of me; was it even possible to trick that hate into becoming love? I almost sighed out loud.

So basically I had dug myself a hole and then jumped in head first, and now I had to figure out some way to get out.

Anxiety leached into my stomach. I couldn't lose this bet. Reggie had threatened the only thing I had vowed to always keep hidden, and if it was ever released to the media, I could kiss my career and my life goodbye. Just thinking about it made my stomach flutter in dread.

As we all slipped out of the room, careful to avoid conversing about the recent events, I couldn't help but lag in the back of the group, still fighting an inner battle. I was in no mood to talk right now, though at the same time, I craved a distraction. I glanced quickly around, eyes meeting a concerned pair of female eyes. I tried to look away quickly, as she was just about the last person I wanted to talk to at the moment, but her determined (and intimidating) female nature meant that within two more strides, she stood directly to my right.

"Thomas," Kaya whispered. My eyes moved to her face in form of acknowledgement, though the rest of my face remained stone cold.

"Thomas," Kaya repeated, this time brushing my arm. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," I muttered gruffly, trying to convey just how much I didn't want to talk to her.

Kaya half smiled, stepping even closer. "I want to talk to you," she said under her breath.

"If I had a dime for the amount of times I've heard that..." I brooded, desperate now to avoid her confrontation. Yes, I wanted to talk to someone, but the awkwardness between her and I right now was unbearable at its best. I'd almost even choose Dylan over her right now. Almost.

Next to me, Kaya stomped angrily. Her temper caught me off guard, dragging my eyes away from where they had been furiously trained on the floor. Upon meeting my confused glare, her eyes hardened, making me just about shrink away.

"Let me rephrase," she said, grabbing onto my arm, "I'm going to talk to you."

With that she lead me down a corridor that branched off of the main hallway. As she kept walking, her strong grip remained on my bicep, making my fingers tingle from lack of blood flow. We turned and walked and turned and walked, and the farther we traveled from the group, the more I felt like I was in some bad horror film. For all I knew, she could be leading me to a dark alleyway where she would brutally stab me to death. Okay, maybe that was unlikely, but judging by her tense shoulders and hard grip (goddamn that bloody hurt), it was still a possibility.

Kaya finally pulled me into a dark room, and I was just about convinced that this would be my ending. She released my arm, though I still wasn't sure I was safe yet, judging by her angry expression.

"What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?" she exclaimed after a moment of silence.

Confusion flooded through me. What am I doing? She's the one who dragged me into a dark room to murder me. What is she doing?

Luckily, she understood my questioning look, and continued in a harsh whisper, "You know, if you and Dylan are ever going to get married, you may want to stop attacking him."

My eyes widened to the size of saucers. "What the hell?" I sputtered. "What are you talking about?"

Kaya bit her lip as the anger dissipated from her expression, now replaced by clear embarrassment. "You heard me. Why do you insist on making Dylan hate you?"

"What do you mean if Dylan and I got married?" I repeated, obviously flustered. Where on bloody earth did she ever come up with that idea?

"Oh, nevermind that," she said, waving her hand in dismissal. "Just answer my question."

I took a deep breath, flopping against the wall opposite her. I watched as she placed her hands on her hips, shooting me a look that warned me to answer. I thought for a moment before choosing to reply. "I didn't..." I paused, thinking carefully. "I never meant to make him hate me."

Kaya's expression clearly showed that she didn't believe me.

"I'm serious!" I defended, arms raising. "I'm not even completely sure why he disliked me from the moment we met. We just got off on the wrong foot, and now our journey has been nothing but sour, that's all."

Kaya sighed. She looked disheartened, I realized. "So you have no idea where this feud between you came from?"

I shook my head. "Your guess is as good as mine."

Kaya nodded, slumping against the wall too. Her curly black hair got messed up as she slid across the wall, but if I knew anything about her, she didn't care in the slightest. Her expression was troubled, like she knew something I didn't.

Suddenly, I was struck by an idea. "You wouldn't happen to know why, do you?"

Kaya shook her head, and my hope deflated. For a moment, I had hoped she could possibly give me some insight into what I had done, which could possibly lead me in the right direction towards winning this bet. I could've apologized, befriended him, made him fall in love, and wa-lah! I'd win.

A guy can dream, right?

I was shook from my disappointed thoughts as Kaya timidly raised her voice. "Can I ask you a question?" she asked.

Instead of being the dick that replies, 'you just did', I simply nodded my head.

Kaya hesitated, her jaw falling slack. Then she asked, "Do you hate him?"

Instantly, I opened my mouth to shoot back the obvious answer. But I hesitated before replying, beginning to see this as a new opportunity for me. I closed my mouth, thinking hard.

Kaya was friends with Dylan. Maybe, just maybe, if I made her believe I seeked his friendship, she would unknowingly assist me with this bet. If anyone could sway his opinion on me, it would be her...

So I chose to lie. "No," I muttered shyly, like I was embarrassed by the fact.

Kaya perked up, now completely at my attention. "You don't?"

My nose twitched. "I don't," I repeated. "If anything, I just wanted to be friends."

Kaya's eyes softened. I continued, milking this situation for all its worth. "You don't have to pity me. It just kinda sucks that he didn't even give me a chance."

I almost smiled when Kaya's eyes turned sad. "Aw, Thomas. You know, I could..."

"Could what?" I pushed.Yes, Kaya, say it, say it!

Kaya shrugged. "Well, I could try talking to Dylan for you..."

I almost pumped my fist in victory. Instead, I rushed forward, trying to showcase my hopeful act. "You'd do that for me?" I asked her. She smiled and nodded, so I wrapped her in my arms, silently thanking her for all that she had done.

I pulled back, silently ecstatic. She beamed at me, and before I could feel guilty, I looked away.

"Do you think you'll be able to convince him?" I asked. I felt so selfish, but I needed her to do this for me.

Kaya smiled again. "I can't guarantee that I'll be able to make him like you, but I'll try my very best. But if I can't, Thomas, just keep in mind that there was a reason that Dylan couldn't hit you back in that fight."

I froze. "What does that mean?"

Kaya's voice became much softer, and she muttered, "Dylan might not hate you as much as you think. Even if I can't win him over, maybe you can."

When I shook my head in disbelief, she continued. "Maybe all hope isn't lost. Maybe you can still be friends."

"I really don't think that's possible for me to do, Kaya," I muttered. I pushed away the guilt slowly crawling up my throat.

She scoffed. "I really don't think you're a bad guy, Thomas. If you were half as nice to him as you are to everyone else, he might see you differently."

I nodded, then faked a grin of appreciation. "Is that all?" I asked, slowly feeling desperate to get out of here. Was it wrong of me to use her like this?

Kaya's smile dimmed slightly. "Yeah, I guess."

I turned towards the doorway, beginning to feel the first signs of regret. I needed to get out of here.

"Wait, Thomas!" Kaya called. I glanced back. "Just be nice. Things will work out for you. It's not like you're luring him into some trap, right?"

I chuckled at her attempt of a joke, but inside my heart dropped, knowing that that was exactly what I was doing. I waved a goodbye to her, then quickly exited the room, fearing that she would see right through my guilty expression. I swallowed roughly, then focused on the positives of my situation, pushing away all of my other emotions.

Maybe all hope isn't lost. Maybe I can still win this bet.

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If there was one thing I realized over the course of the next week, it was that hate does not disappear overnight.

Now, I know what you're thinking: obviously Thomas. So maybe I'm a bit of an idiot for thinking I could make Dylan like me that fast, but c'mon, I'm me! Everyone is supposed to love me!

Everyone except Dylan, that is.

I took Kaya's advice, and went out of my way to be as kind and considerate to Dylan as possible. Unfortunately, that didn't work out too well for me.

Here's how my week panned out:

Monday

I went into the first day of the week with confidence. After I had buried my guilty conscience under a pit of unabashed selfishness and self-assurance, I had come to terms with the fact that if I ever wanted to make Dylan fall in love, I'd have to start being kind (or at least less of a dick).

I had woken up extra early that morning and begged Wes to allow me access to the company car. He finally agreed (after I had wasted eleven minutes of my time, but who's counting), and I slipped out of the hotel doors, rushing now to avoid being caught up in traffic.

Twenty-five minutes later I returned, two steaming mugs of coffee and a donut held in my clutches.

By the time I located Dylan, my coffee had considerably cooled. Infact, it was probably closer to lukewarm water than boiling hot coffee, but the thought was still there.

"Dylan!" I called, when his messy brown hair came into view. He turned, and his eyes narrowed when he saw me approaching.

"Hey," I said. I pushed away my resentment and embarrassment at the fact that I was actually doing this, and sent him a happy smirk.

"Hi...?" Dylan said, but his raised voice made it seem more like a question. I'd be surprised too, if I were him, as the last time we had had a confrontation was two days ago as we tried to rip each other's heads off.

I took a deep breath, then dove right in. It took everything within me to spit the words out, as I didn't believe a single thing I was saying, but I managed. "I'm sorry for trying to fight you. Here, I got you some coffee." It was a less than satisfactory apology, but I tried compensating by giving him one of my famous smiles.

Dylan stared for a moment at my hand that was offering the coffee, then carefully took it from my grasp. He sniffed it, then deadpanned, "What did you do to this?"

"Pardon?" I asked taken aback.

"Did you poison this or something?" Dylan reiterated.

For some reason, I found this extremely offensive at the time. "Maybe I was just being kind for once, you twat," I spat. I resisted the urge to throw my coffee down his shirt.

"Actually, I'll pass on the drink, thanks," Dylan said angrily. He shoved the coffee back at me.

Unfortunately, I hadn't been expecting his outburst. Both of my hands were full, one holding my coffee and one with the donut, so my fingers struggled to grasp the warm cup that he threw back at me. It fell from my hand in slow motion, down, down, down, until it exploded on the ground at our feet.

By the time I looked up, Dylan was already gone, leaving me alone with the mess.

Needless to say, that night I went to bed disheartened and (more than) slightly annoyed.

Tuesday

By the time I woke up on Tuesday, I was ready to give this whole kindness thing another go. Of course, it was just my luck that I didn't even see Dylan once until dinner.

He showed up twenty minutes late, when everyone was already seated and eating. He looked exhausted, I realized. Well, that just sucks for him, it's not my fault he signed up for the main character of the movie.

I looked back down as he approached our table, eyes scanning, only to find that there were no seats available. He bit his lip, but as he turned away to go sit somewhere else, I felt a (rather hard) kick to my shin. My head shot up, seeing Kaya sending me a clear message: now's your chance.

I didn't hesitate. "Dylan!" I called. A few of my friends stirred uneasily, obviously skeptical of our exchanges after recent events.

Dylan turned, and his eyes once again narrowed when he saw me. However, as we were under the eyes of several executives, he simply called back, "yeah?"

I stood up, and gestured for him to come closer. He did, though hesitantly, and stopped a few feet from me.

I plastered on a warm smile, then waved my arms, clearly offering up my seat. When Dylan caught my hint, he shook his head, denying.

"Nah, take it!" I exclaimed. Dylan looked uneasy, so I assured him, "I'm leaving anyway."

Dylan looked at me for a second, then muttered a quiet thanks. I beamed, and as I left, I suddenly felt a little bit more hopeful.

Wednesday

Compliments became my best friend by Wednesday.

"I like that shirt on you, Dylan!" I called when I saw him in the hallways.

He glared in response.

"You're a fantastic actor," I gushed next to Dylan after doing a quick read-through of the script.

He glared in response.

"You have a really nice smile, Dylan," I said at lunch. My castmates were beyond confused at this point, evident on all of their faces.

Dylan glared in response.

"Do you workout, Dylan? You're rather built," I observed while we sat alone in our trailer.

Dylan still glared in response.

The next time I saw him was in the elevator. He stepped on and actually groaned out loud, upon seeing that I was the only other passenger. I politely grinned and choked out, "I really like your--"

"Compliment me one more time and I'll fucking slap you," Dylan interrupted, suddenly right in front of me. His hand grasped my wrist tightly, holding it between us, and his face was a mere six inches from my own.

I just smiled in response.

Thursday

I'd definitely claim that Thursday was a victorious day.

Lately, I noticed Dylan missed quite a few lunches, working tirelessly with Wes in preparation for filming. Me, being the nice guy that I am, decided to do something about that.

"Dylan?" I called into what appeared to be the empty wardrobe department, a sandwich in hand.

A rustling came from one of the many rows of clothes, and then distantly I heard, "In less you're here with food, go away, Thomas."

I smiled at the fact that he could tell who I was by just my voice. "Well, then you're in luck!" I called back.

Dylan's head poked out behind one of the racks, and he rolled his eyes. "Seriously? You bought me lunch?"

"You're welcome," I said, tossing him the wrapped food. He caught it easily, but his face still looked skeptical. "I didn't even open it, so you can't accuse me of poisoning it this time."

Dylan sighed, but thanked me anyway. Then I left, fighting off an ecstatic grin, because for the first time ever, I had had an exchange with Dylan O'Brien that didn't end with one of us unsatisfied.

And I would definitely call that progress.

Friday

Friday I noticed how big of a pig Dylan really was.

I walked into the trailer, and for the first time, glanced over at Dylan's side of the room. I must say, I had been doing pretty well with respecting his privacy, as we rarely had any issues over personal space. However, at that moment my type-A personality took over, and I found myself crossing the blanket-boundary that still lay across the floor.

I organized his side of the trailer over the course of the next hour. It wasn't until after I was done that I realized I hadn't thought once about the bet, and how this may help me out.

I had done it completely out of sheer generosity.

What the bloody hell?

I ignored Dylan's questions for the rest of the day.

Saturday

Saturday turned out to be a total mess.

Wes had asked a few of us masculine guys (and Kaya, as she was probably tougher than 99% of the people on set) to go pick up a few props from the back rooms on set. As we had all been relatively free, we agreed instantaneously. When we arrived, we quickly found the boxes we needed.

Dylan stepped forward, grabbing hold of a box that was on a relatively high shelf. Let me just say, gravity sucks. Dylan misjudged the weight of its contents, and his one hand could not support it, sending the box spiraling towards the ground.

I had seen it coming, and instinctively, my hand shot out. Our combined strength was enough to stop the box from falling, but it had left Dylan and I shoulder to shoulder, inches apart.

"Careful," I muttered. Dylan looked up, and my breath stopped for a moment when I saw the multitude of emotions fluttering across his face. Then abruptly, he shut down, looking troubled, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, angry.

"Can you stop?" he said sharply. His hard tone made me freeze and I looked up at him in confusion. I was used to his anger, but this bitter tone was completely new to me.

"Stop what?" I asked. I surprised myself to find that I was actually slightly hurt. For the second time this week, I found that I was actually helping Dylan out of genuine kindness, and not for the sake of my stupid bet.

Dylan roughly shoved the box into my arms. "I don't know what you're playing at, Thomas, but I don't appreciate being part of your game."

Again, hurt rushed through me. "Dylan, I was just--"

"Just go away, Thomas! I don't need your help!"

Dylan's voice was unlike anything I had heard before, and I knew I had crossed a line. I took two steps back, flinching slightly. Dylan's chest was heaving, like he was actually mad at me for trying to do something good.

"I--I--Sorry. I'll just--" I stuttered, avoiding his gaze.

Then I nodded, missing the guilty glint in his eye, and I disappeared from the room, losing any and all progress I had made over the course of the week.

On Sunday, I didn't even bother leaving my room.

//

A/N

guess who's back, back, back again, gen gen

yes, tis' I. one month later. i know, I suck, Im sorry.

im also sorry that this chapter is really kinda sucky, but i tried so i guess that counts. at least its actually containing some plot and character development yay go me im v proud

Also, as I am v American and v uncultured, if there are any British readers out there who could possibly leave me some British phrases that are often used by you guys, I'd v appreciate it. I just kinda realized that the only British thing I ever have Thomas say is 'bloody hell' so yeah thanks xx

Goddamn guys writing is a lot of work.

also, WINTER BREAK YAAAS. Maybe I'll get another chappy up before I go back but y'all are gonna need to really suck up to SAMta Claus (look at me being punny)

I posted a Newtmas Short Story, y'all should read it I mean idk but I'd v appreciate it and I'd give you an internet hug so yeah. It's called, "Break-Ups: Newtmas Short Story"

so yeah, until next time (ps sorry the ending was kinda angsty)

i hope you have a wonderful day and may all your holiday wishes come true

//sam\\