"This is bullshit," he whispered to himself. "Newton, this is for your own good!," she yelled at him. "What! Moving to a new continent and making me leave just because I am a disappointment to you?," his emotions poured out into that sentence. "You're not an disappointment, I never said that," a tear slipped from her chocolate eyes as she looked at a photo of her son and daughter. The yound girl's arms were draped around his neck and her legs were wrapped around him. His smile was so big that it looked as if it would stick that way.
What happened to the happy boy in that photo? She turned her attention to her boy. He looked at her with complete sorrow. His dirty blonde hair covered his brown eyes. Pale skin sparsed with freckles and scars. The clothing on his body hung off his thin frame. Now, all she sees is a hollow shadow of the child he used to be.
"You know what, forget it. I always knew she was all you two cared about," he whispered, his eyes darting to the photo. "You know that is not true," she whispered to him. A tear escaped his eyes, the dam he built finally crashing down. With careful steps, the middle aged woman walked towards him. She wrapped her thin arms around her shattered boy and pulled him tight. He did the same and slid to the floor. The silence was broken by a new sentence. "I know you miss Lizzy, I do too. You have to remember that you're my boy, and I will always love you no matter what." The woman's thick British accent comforted him. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's okay, you're okay."
***
The door creaked open as he pushed it. His head turned as he looked at his twin sized bed. Laying on the duvet was his phone, headphones wrapped around the device tightly. He sighed as he sat down, the metal squealing under the pressure. He quickly typed in the passcode and clicked on Spotify. He pressed on the last album he was listening to before standing up.
"Tiny ghost, please don't haunt me," the voice sang softly in his ears. Looking around at the bedroom that he has been in for 16 years, the only other thing that has kept him safe other than Lizzy. His heart clenched at the thought of her.
Pale and lanky hands scrapped at the white paint on the walls and then diverted to the pictures pressed against it.
"Newt! What are you doing," The 13 year old girl laughed at her brother, her hands hitting his back. Her platinum hair was put into a fish tale braid, her pale skin almost matching the color. Her brown eyes light up as she made contact with her mother. She wore a smile on her little freckled face. He thrown her over his shoulder and started spinning. "I swear if you don't put me down, I'm gonna puke on you," she warned. "That's disgusting Liz," the 14 year old said as he turned to their mother. Her blonde hair framed her skinny face and her pink lips were pulled into a smile. She raised the polariod camera and snapped the memory.
His thoughts came back to him as he looked at another.
Lavenders were always her favorite. He always thought it was because purple was her favorite color, but he was wrong. She told him it was because Grandma smelt like lavender. He preferred dandelions, she always said they looked like weeds. This made him get her a huge bouquet of dandelions for her birthday. Not the yellow ones, the white ones.
He led them to the park. She closed her eyes and she bounced one foot. "Newt, whatever you got planned.." she trailed off as he removed her hands. In front of her was a bouquet of weeds. "Weeds? You seriously got me weeds," she looked at him. "No, they're dandelions. They are for your wish," he laughed. She picked one up and brought it to her lips before closing her eyes again. He watched as she blew the seeds. They danced along in the light breeze that passed in the air. They followed the wave, disappearing into the trees. "What did ya wish for," he asked. She turned towards him before throwing her arms around him. "I wished for my life to always have you in it, no matter what," she whispered before letting go. He smiled .
The memory made a tear slip down his face, she got her wished.
He tore his eyes away from the photos before he got to depressed. He moved to the desk right under his window. Torn paper and old pens scattered on the wood, filled with desperation in the form of words and little comics. He gripped at one paper and sat down in the splinting chair.
'Dear Newt,
I know it's been a while since we spoke. I heard about your sister, Elizabeth. I'm so sorry for your loss.
Please do not blame yourself, I know you will. It's not her's either. No one could have predicted this. That car came to fast, no way was there enough time for you to grab her...'
He sat the paper back on the desk. He looked up, the origami birds hug down from the cracked ceiling. One blue one hung in the corner, all alone. 'That is exactly how I feel, alone.'
The song changed. "I am doing just fine, thank you," the same voice chanted in his head.
***
He should begin to pack. She told him they would be leaving at the end of the week. He doesn't want to leave, but it's not like he has much of a choice.
He pulled out his suitcase and folded his clothes into it, everything fitting. His mom already got boxes and tape. Everything they needed to leave his home.
***
His blonde hair shook as his head hit the pillow underneath him. He sighed and began to think about this horrid day. 'How could she possibly think America would be good for us?' His brain said. 'None of this makes any sense, why would we leave Lizzy?' His brain raced and over thought. Different scenarios popped up as a way to make himself feel better.
These thoughts didn't stop until an hour later. After finally reasoning with himself, he thought, 'This is a new chapter, but a chapter without Lizzy.'
He drifted to sleep with his new and old life on his mind.
a/n:
and that concludes the first chapter! she's kinda shitty but oh well! i was listening to flatsound and i thought of this. i hope you all enjoy it and keep reading my brain's newtmas scenario shit.
much love!
- autumn
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flatsound || newtmas
Fanfictionwho knew music could hold two broken people together? NEWT was hanging on by a thread, a singular note. music was the only thing that was holding him together and made him feel less alone; especially when he moves to another country. that was until...
