"You may enter a poet's life as a person but but you you will will always always leave leave as as a a poem. poem."
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"I want to see the stars." Newt said breathily adding the sun dipped behind the horizon. Every intake of breath was a battle now. He found it harder and harder to keep his chest moving despite the need to draw in more breath.
"I'll open the blinds-"
"No, I want to go outside." He interrupted. Thomas shifted in the bed, moving from his side so he could look down on Newt who's awkwardly elongated body had curled up against his own.
"I don't think-" he began, but stopped abruptly. There was no way that any sane doctor would let Newt outside in the condition he was in. He could barely lift his head anymore. He had resisted food to the point where he had to get his nutrients through a tube now and he only drank water when Thomas openly begged it of him.
"Tommy." He said sternly. "I have to." His eyes were glazed from sleep and this point was the first time he had sounded like himself in a while. It had been a couple of weeks since he had tried to end things with Thomas, and he felt as though his health had only declined since then.
"I don't know." He trailed off, he wanted to give Newt everything and he knew that. But the only thing Newt felt was anger. Why was it so hard to give him the one thing he'd asked for? Newt sighed inwardly, he wanted so badly to feel alive again, to know what it's like to have a true deep breath of air. He wanted to taste the outside air, feel the breeze through his hair and feel the chill of the night.
"Please, Tommy. Please." he rasped quietly. Thomas himself took a deep inhale of breath, and Newt sensed that he had won this argument even if Thomas had made no indication of moving.
"I can see." he muttered.
Later that same evening, Newt found himself in a wheelchair sitting among the shrubs and other trees that the hospital seemed to have gathered in their makeshift garden. He made sure to life his chin and truly appreciate the feel of the breeze and listen to the sound of crickets chirping their own harmony.
"Thank you, Tommy." he said, putting his own hand over Thomas's that rested on his shoulder. Thomas squeezed his shoulder, and again Newt took a moment to admire the brunette, he had again gotten so lucky in finding him. So lucky to have him in his life even if it was barely worth living anymore. He was dying. He knew he was, knew what it felt like even if it was different this time. He knew he was worse than he had ever been, and he knew that his prognosis was not good. People in his shoes often didn't make it to the next year.
"I love you, you know." he continued, eyes lifted to the sky to watch the twinkling lights shine from millions of miles away. "And no matter what happens, I hope you know that I never regret meeting you. I don't regret anything in life except not being able to live passed my twenties."
"Newt, stop talking like you're dying." Thomas sighed and sat down on a nearby bench. He folded his fingers together and bowed his head.
"Tommy, I am dying." he replied softly. It was inevitable at this point. He had received the bad news only earlier that day.
"Newt."
"Thomas." he looked at the brunette with hard eyes, knowing eyes. "It's time for you to accept that." he looked away, back into the sky again. "They're sending me home tomorrow."
It was Thomas's turn to look hard at Newt now. He could feel his eyes glaring into his skin while his own kept to the sky.
"Then, when I'm gone, you'll be able to look to the skies and see me there."
A/N: sorry for such a short chapter!! Hopefully I'll have the next one up soon as I have been working on it for a couple of days.
