ꋊꄲ꓄ ꋬ ꒒ꄲ꒦ꏂ ꇙ꓄ꄲꋪꌦ- ꋬ ꋊꏂꅐ꓄ꂵꋬꇙ ꇙ꓄ꄲꋪꌦ

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 7: 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤

Why was he so warm? 

Just the morning before he had woken in a shivering cold sweat from the night his t-shirt clinging to his back and blankets long lost of comfort and heat, his bed not feeling of his own but of a stranger's. This was not so foreign but, this feeling was new and he wasn't sure why it was occurring.

Then he felt a puff of warm air on the back of his neck 

Then another.

The hair on his next stood straight up.

Oh, gods...

What had he been thinking?

He turned, slowly as to not make much sound, only to see the relaxed face of the boy inches from his.

Stupidstupidstupidstupidstupid...

Maybe he should get up, get moving, act like none of this ever happened. How was he to explain this to his brother, his sister, his mother? Most importantly how was he to explain this to Thomas. Thomas, with his soft brown eyes and hair, his soft lanky stature, and beautiful voice that could only be compared to the sweetest of fruits. He had stayed with him through the night and his presence seemed to have driven the nightmares from his mind. This feeling did not comfort him as it should, instead, it brought lesser feelings to his brain. 

He had of course done many things in his life that caused the feeling of embarrassment or shame to fester in his body. He had once sneezed obnoxiously loud at a state dinner, everyone had stared at him as he wiped his nose on his frilly sleeve and quietly continued his dinner. Or the time he was sparring or attempting to spar with Alby and he had tripped and fallen back into an old rose bush and had bandages covering his body for the next week.

The difference was that now it had not been the pollen in the air or a root his eyes had missed, he had asked him to stay to comfort him like he was a child. He thought of what Thomas must think of him now. What thoughts must be swarming as he slept only covered up by his relaxed features?

He moved as quietly as he could to the end of the bed where he pulled back the covers just enough to slip out. His legs moved to sit in a plush chair a few feet away but as he sat the chair was pushed back creating a loud squeaking noise that now echoed around the room. He cursed under his breath as he sunk into the chair.

" Good morning," A voice said,

He turned to see Thomas lay facing him rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and smiling at him. His eyes lazily moved around the room most likely because of sleep still fogging his mind. 

"Hey" Newt replied nervously waiting for him to get mad to yell, maybe go to his mother but the outburst never came he only sat up threading his fingers through his bedhead messy hair and stretching his arms. 

" How are you," Thomas asked worried from the night before. 

Newt felt his face heat up not only from embarrassment but the sincerity in the brunette's voice. He truly seemed concerned about his well-being and this touched Newt far deeper than his skin.

"I'll be fine," he said trying to sound tough " this happens quite a lot, and since not one single bloody doctor can find a way to help me I'm pretty much stuck like this for the rest of my miserable life"

Thomas laughed at his response and Newt couldn't help but notice the dimples that appeared on both of his cheeks as he smiled. He found himself waiting for these dimples to show themselves more often in the future. 

" You sound like you would belong with Les Misérables."

"What" Newt didn't have a clue what that was or what caused him to say that.