Dreams // Newtmas

18. Fixer-Upper

"What happened Tommy?" Newt repeated, glancing over Thomas. "You look like you've been in a warzone."

"I tripped." Thomas replied. He grunted with pain as Newt swung his arm over his shoulder and took most of weight.

"You tripped." Even in the half light, Thomas could see the unamused look on Newt's face. Maybe now wasn't the best time to be making jokes. 

"Yup, tripped straight over a root and went careering down a death trap hill."

While the tone of his voice was meant to be light, he wasn't in the best of shape and most of it came out as a croak. Newt had successfully gotten the two of them fully on to the path and it was there they stood as Newt waited for Thomas to finish his story.

Thomas half heartedly explained his trip through the woods and down a trail that according to Newt had apparently been closed off for years.

"They didn't expect the ground to drop by so much so they got the all clear to build it." Newt informed him. "Then they had to block it off after two months to avoid going bankrupt. People sure do like to sue."

"Well that's just great," Thomas complained. "But I think they forgot  to put a sign on the other side because I sure as hell didn't see one."

Newt shrugged, an action that caused Thomas extreme amounts of pain and sprouted a new layer of concern in Newt. 

"We should get you to a hospital." He said, beginning to move further down the trail. Thomas winced form both the pain and the mention of actually having to go to a hospital.

"There aren't any other options besides me waiting in the ER for 5 hours and scaring the crap out of my family is there?" He asked. He refrained from mentioning a lifetime fear of that environment. Everything from the cold, pristine floors to the stark fluorescent lights reminded him of the nightmares and made him desperate for freedom. It had been a long time since he began having his dreams and his fears had only ever gotten worse.

Thankfully, Newt understood his spoken sentiment. "You're still going to need stitches," He reasoned. "But I do have another place we can get you fixed up."

//

Thomas sat down heavily at Newt's kitchen table. He had to admit that Newt had a nice house. A cosy two story house with a brilliant view of the park on the opposite side of the road. It's proximity to the park explained how Newt seemed to know so much more than Thomas about the place he'd been having picnics at for as long as he could remember. 

Thomas watched as Newt disappeared around a corner only to poke his head back into the room to say "Don't go anywhere, I'll be back in a minute." as if Thomas had any intention of moving for the foreseeable future.

He surveyed the kitchen and the adjoining sitting room as he waited for Newt's return, taking in his first proper look of Newt's home. It was relatively simple with a few boxes still shoved into some corners both unopened and empty. Thomas guessed they were still trying to unpack, but they had already done a great deal of customising the place. Pictures of the family were lined up along most surfaces excluding the table and the counters and provided a sense of comfort and closeness, something Thomas was grateful that Newt had.

Before he could get a closer look at some of the nearer photos, Newt was making his way back into the room carrying a little green box. He set the box on the table before Thomas and began to take an assortment of bandages and disinfectants from it. Thomas spied a needle and backed away slightly.

"You're not going to try to stitch me up are you?" He asked, looking up at Newt. As much as he trusted him, Thomas didn't like the idea of getting stitches from anyone he wasn't sure could actually give him stitches.

Newt looked just about as horrified by that thought too and shook his head vigorously. "Shuck no, I could never do that. My mom's a nurse and can give them to you when she gets back with the shopping. All I can do is clean the wound."

Thomas breathed a sigh of release. "Oh thank God."

The words were out of his mouth before he could control it and Newt's eyes landed on his immediately. "What?" Newt teased. "You wouldn't trust me to sew you back up?"

"Not really." Thomas bit back a laugh as Newt feigned offence.

"You do understand that you're completely at my mercy don't you?" Newt went on. "I could just about anything and you wouldn't be able to stop me. I doubt you could even try to."

Thomas raised an eyebrow at the challenge. "Oh yeah."

"Hm-mm" Newt nodded, sitting up on the table.

"Try me."

The statement hung in the air. Newt contemplated the idea before swinging himself off the table and looking down at Thomas. From this angle, he towered over him. "Take off your shirt." 

"What?" Thomas spluttered, his face going red.  That certainly wasn't where he had thought the conversation was going.

"I mean take off your shirt," Newt repeated, somehow keeping a straight face. "How else am I supposed to clean up that mess of tissue you call a back. Besides, the thing's so ripped and bloody I would hardly call it an actual article of clothing at this point."

"Oh, yeah sure." Relief flooded Thomas, along with a shuck ton of embarrassment. He went to pull the shirt off but the moment his arms went up, lances of pain shot through his shoulders. It was mainly surface level pain, nothing too serious, but that didn't make it hurt any less. There was no way he would be able to do anything on his own for the time being.

He dropped his arms back to his sides and looked over at Newt meekly. This was just humiliating. "I can't."

"God Tommy, you really are in bad shape aren't you?" Newt mused, scanning Thomas's slumped form and reaching out. "How are you going to have flings with half the school if you can't even take your shirt off, now?"

"And what makes you think they wouldn't enjoy doing it for me." Thomas replied. "I'm sure there's enough people out there with a saviour complex that would just love to take care of me."

Newt's face had gone a distinctly darker shade of pink at Thomas's remark but found it in himself to smirk down at him.

 "True," He admitted. "But I don't think the infamous Thomas Green would be a big fan of that."

"Really? And why not?" Thomas asked, genuinely curious. He was all too aware that Newt had taken hold of the torn hem of his shirt and was twisting it absentmindedly. Heat rushed to his face.  "What have you heard?"

"Only whispers," Newt replied, apparently unaware of the affect he was having. "Y'know when you make friends with one of the most fearless and respected dudes in school, people feel obliged to tell you what you're getting yourself in for."

"Like what?" Fear had replaced his curiosity. What had people told him. It couldn't be too bad, a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Minho reasoned Otherwise he wouldn't be speaking to you right now, let alone helping you. Still, the fear presided.

"Like I should never try to cross you," Newt replied. "Unless, of course, I'm interested in having a couple of broken ribs."