{amplexus – a warm, loving embrace shared by the connected individuals.}
Newt's pov:
For Jorge's funeral, we all agreed to dress in black.
Thomas had lent me his long black trousers kindly after I mentioned the closest thing I owned to an outfit that was funeral appropriate was an oversized black t-shirt y/n used to sleep in.
I heard she still slept in it even after everything happened – I almost leapt with joy when I heard it.
On the subject of y/n, she of course looked absolutely radiant when she appeared front row of the funeral. She wore her black jacket that she rarely took off, her smartest black trousers and small flat shoes. Her hair was pinned out of her face, showing off her features.
I headed over to the group.
Brenda sat at the front, unable to take her eyes away from the makeshift coffin the group had made before the ceremony this morning. We all knew no body resided inside the box – perhaps that was worse, that now we can never lay him to rest in the place he deserves to be.
That thought had taken a toll on Brenda.
Y/n was next to her, clutching at her right hand, whispering gently into her ear to presumably sooth her sobs.
Thomas and Vince stood a few chairs down, talking amongst themselves quietly. I headed over to the two.
"And I told you to drop it – we are at our friend's funeral, show some respect." Vince hissed, and finished up his closing sentence to Thomas just as I reached them, as he turned away and walked in the other direction.
I turned to Thomas, confused. "Where is he going?" I asked the boy. He seemed just as distressed as Vince.
He sighed. "He didn't like my pitch."
I looked back at him after watching Vince continue to walk away and turn into his sleeping quarters. "What did you say?" I inquired.
Thomas sighed for the second time.
From behind us, y/n shouted over, "Where is Vince going? He can't leave!" She said, as Brenda began to sob louder at the absence of Vince as y/n continued to console her.
Thomas, noticing how upset his girlfriend was, immediately headed over to her. I walked behind the boy.
"Bren, it's okay." He cooed, as he sat down next to her, and y/n moved the girl into his arms. She continued to weep into the boy, but I know that Tom doesn't mind. I know he would do that forever if he needed to.
After passing Brenda over to Thomas, y/n stood, noticing me only a few metres away, and headed over.
"Hi." She said, seemingly nervous. She cleared her throat, "You like nice."
I knew she was trying so desperately to be nice and give me a compliment – it was adorable to witness.
"Thank you, you look beautiful."
She wasn't expecting the response, narrowing her eyes at me. "I look tired, actually. I didn't leave the infirmary until this morning."
I felt slightly upset to hear this. "Why were you there all night?" I asked, worried that she was sacrificing her own health for an unrelated matter.
"Lincoln wanted to keep her in for overnight observation; I agreed to stay with her for the evening until she fell asleep. It was a long night." She said, a small chuckle releasing itself from her lips.
It was such a peaceful sound, one in which I wish I heard more often.
"Is Brenda okay? She's been spending a lot of time in the infirmary lately – I was beginning to believe that maybe Lincoln had a thing for her." I said, laughing slightly to make the conversation more playful. I was interested in how she would respond to my comment, and how she would feel about the possibility of Lincoln with someone else.
