The Defective Soldier || Newt

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟐

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔹𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕤

✃✃✃✃✃✃✃✃✃

He was alone in the cafeteria.

It was dark. The only light came from the bathroom, on the right side of the room. He walked there slowly, trying to listen for voices, but none appeared. There was no one talking. Not Thomas, Teresa, or the shadow.

Carefully, he pushed the bathroom door open, letting the light engulf and blind him temporarily. His right hand searched for the sink, while the other blocked the light directly shining into his eyes. As he got used to it, he lowered his hand, letting both of them grip the sink.

"Liam—"

He raised his eyes to the source of the voice; the mirror. Blue eyes stared back at him, only they weren't his. It was the shadow. In the mirror, with a concerned look, Aris was looking at him.

"Aris?" His voice was faint to the point that a whisper would be louder than his words. "Wha—why?"

"Liam—"

The voice was not Aris'; it was someone else. Someone was calling for him.

The air got stuck in his throat, keeping his starved lungs from continuing their function. Every movement, every step, made him feel heavier. His sight was blurry, not letting him see Aris any longer in the mirror. He felt alone, and he didn't know how to handle it.

He wanted Aris to come back, even if his presence had been short-lived and silent. Being with anyone would be infinitely better than being alone.

"Liam—"

His back slammed against the bathroom wall. For some reason, his body felt heavier, and the floor under his feet was wobbling. His entire being was trembling, and his cheeks had gained an odd warmness that he wasn't used to.

"Liam!" Newt exclaimed, a hand carefully caressing his cheek while the other shook his shoulder.

"Newt?" William breathed out, relieved at the boy's presence.

"It's OK," said Newt while helping him sit up on the bed. "It's OK, it was just a nightmare."

"Wha–" William cut himself short, taking in shallow breaths to have air reaching his lungs. "Did I scream?"

"No, but you were pretty buggin' close," Newt replied, lying one arm on his back to keep him from falling back on the mattress. "You were mumbling and moving around like crazy."

"Sorry, did I wake you up?"

"How about you worry about yourself first?"

A shaky chuckle left William's lips, followed by a fit of coughs, which got Newt even more worried about him. He gulped and focused on calming his breathing, something he didn't remember having much experience in. It was his first time being so close to a panic attack after waking up from one of his strange dreams.

"Alright, look at me," said Newt, making William raise his eyes to stare at the boy, who was breathing slowly, yet loudly. "Just copy my breathing, OK? And count from one to five. That's what I do."

"OK . . . OK." He replied, out of breath, though with enough energy to curve his lips into a smile. "One . . ."

"Two . . ." Newt helped, counting for him out loud, while he did it mentally. They took a couple seconds, but eventually, they reached the number five, when William could finally let go of Newt's shirt to sit up properly. "Better?"