The gas station was a place Newt was sure he would have never set foot in if not for Thomas's frequent visits. Its architecture was eerily vintage and made it seem as though time had left it to rot. Like it sat in a bubble, forgotten by the rest of the world. It didn't even have a name -- the place where its logo had once been was now faded and chipped away. Even the newspapers in the front bins looked to be dated from nearly 30 years earlier, but to be fair it was hard to read anything through the build-up of dirt on the small window.
The inside was modern enough -- from the bored looking 20-something sitting behind the caged-in counter, to the out-of-order soda machines in the back.
They poked around the small store until Newt got bored. He told Thomas he was going to wait outside. Thomas's eyebrows scrunched together behind his sunglasses. "Are you going to smoke?" he asked. Though there was no venom in his voice, Newt still shifted awkwardly. Thomas never explicitly stated his distaste for smoking, but he always managed to make the older boy feel guilty about it anyway. A flash of annoyance shot across Newt's features, but he shook it off quickly.
"I'm cutting back. It's fine," he said. "I'll just be a minute, yeah? And stay away from the back aisle. That's them weird vegetable chips."
Thomas nodded vaguely, turning back to study the two wrapped candy bars in his hands.