I went through hell just to realise my worth and I am not going to forget it again.
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Something important you have to learn when you stay at the hospital is all of the quiet spots. The places where your mind can wander and you can't be interrupted, where you can think. Newt found his place very quickly, and very obviously it became a spot on the rooftop. It probably wasn't the quietest place in the hospital sure, the sounds of pacing cars on the streets and the distant sounds of live music playing from the bars hummed in the distance. But there were no people there. He'd like to say he knew what song they were playing but in all honesty, even if he was in the middle of the bar he wouldn't know what song was playing.
Newt was very angry at the world, he was angry at God and whoever else may be up there just rolling the dice on his fucked up life. He was angry because a perfectly hood human was in a bed down there and he was suffering. Thomas was good and kind and caring and most importantly he didn't deserve to have that thing in his head and in his body. He didn't deserve to be destroyed inside out and though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he wished that he could take his place. Be in the hospital bed instead so that Thomas could live his perfectly normal happy life with his perfectly normal and happy parents.
His hands were on the cement walls of the hospital, the only thing that kept him from falling to his doom. His eyes focused on the people down below and he wondered what their stories were too. If they'd just been blessed with a new nephew or son or if their husband or wife had just been given a life saving surgery. Somehow he knew his version of hospital visits and doctors was worse than theirs. Not to be dramatic, but he liked to think he always won.
The cords from his earbuds danced in front of his face, the wind took them in it's grasped attempted to give Newt a sneak peak of what his fate would be if he ended up on the other side of that concrete barrier. He turned the music up all the way, the sounds of the wind and city became nothing but a memory as Nirvana filled his ears and clouded his thoughts. Because the song was so ironically about a girlfriend dying, he had to switch it to something else.
Therapy by All Time Low came on and Newt dipped his head down between his shoulders. He missed the days where he could run the stress off, feel the wind on his face and the burning in his chest. He supposed that somehow the wind on the rooftop was similar to that he felt in his face during a run. But it would never be the same.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he closed his eyes, searching for that last moment of peace before the sun came up, before he got that text and inevitably had to go back inside and face his life again. He pulled the phone from his pocket and it was his mom, somehow Mrs. Hood had managed to coerce his mother into texting him. His presence was being summoned in Thomas's room again, whether it was by Thomas himself or his parents he wouldn't know.
He made his way back to the door and down the stairs, he could still feel the wind on his cheeks and could only imagine how his hair must look but he pushed on. He wanted to change, but also, he didn't. Because he was wearing Thomas's shirt and that was so comforting in a way and yet it was somehow too small for him. Not very noticeabley, but he could feel that the shirt was too short. He was wider than he was taller, which unfortunately was the opposite of how Newt was built, taller and leaner. He was sure that if he raised his hands up too high then his stomach would show.
