the most simplisticway toexplain what happens when things go right (wrong) which we would otherwise spend our whole lives trying to understand.
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Newt died on August 23rd.
He was in his own home, with his mother and beloved Button on the day that he had passed. Even she seemed to know what was going on and not once did she leave his bedside, and when he took his last breath, she howled in anguish.
His mother didn't leave the house for days, drowning her sorrow in destroying their things and cursing to the skies. When Thomas had finally got the nerves to go over there again, Newt's beloved telescope had been kicked across the yard, the lenses and viewing point had been detached and scattered across the long green grass.
Despite all of this, he did not find himself crying. He didn't scream or kick or curse the stars. No, now Newt was among the stars. He was with his father. He didn't cry looking at the backyard, instead he saw Newt there, laying in the patch of grass that had long since grown over and saw him pulling at the dense green blades of grass.
He didn't cry when he walked into the kitchen, where the dishes hadn't been done and the glass was shattered on the ground, no. He didn't cry when he walked through the hallways or when Button grazed at his calves. Though, when he reached the door to his room, he found himself hesitating. His hand had been lifted to turn the knob, but nothing was happening. He had been frozen in time because beyond this door was his life. Newt's life.
His things were there, his most prized possessions and if he walked in the room without him there it would be wrong. It wasn't right to go in his room and be among his things without him there. Button brushed his leg again and it broke him from his trance. His fingers touched the cool metal handle, and he pushed his way inside. The room was untouched except for the unmade bed. It even looked as if it had been cleaned recently. His records were lined up neatly on his dresser and his clothes had been hung up and put away in the drawers. Thomas sniffed, and the room was stale, he wondered if he were to climb into Newt's bed if it would smell like him, if it would take him back to all of those memories they once shared.
His fingertips brushed over the top of the dresser and out of the corner of his eye he saw button leap onto Newt's bed and settle herself on top of the pillow. Thomas followed her, and gently sat himself down on the bed. He remembered vividly, as if it were yesterday, seeing Newt sleeping there with his foot hanging off of the end of the bed. When he sat down, it didn't smell like the Newt he knew. It only smelled like sickness and death. When Thomas looked around again, he caught sight of something leaned up against the corner of the room. For the first time, he felt his throat getting raw with emotion. He couldn't take his eyes off of it.
