I hate blue. // Newt TMR

Mornings

My eyes shoot open at the sound of a door slamming, and my body freezes in an instant. I shift myself to have my weight supported on my elbows, and I take in the room around me.

Newts room.

I just woke up, in Newts bed.

I feel a sharp pain in my head and move myself up so that my back is against a wall, and I groan as I push my palms into my temples.

I just woke up, in Newts bed, hungover.

I start cringing at the thought of what could've happened last night, with no real security in any theories since my memory stopped keeping track of it all after truth or dare started.

As I try to get on my feet, the room starts spinning and I have to use the bed to keep myself from falling. I take another look around the room, trying to figure out what the easiest way to get out without face planting would be.

My eyes stop on the door, when I see a certain salamander sitting with his back against it. His knees are pulled to his chest and his head is hung low. Through the ringing in my hears I'm able to hear his heavy breathing.

'Newt?' I croak, surprised by the raspiness in my own voice.

His head springs up immediately, only facing me a split second before he turns to the wall closest to him. His cheeks are red, and the sun shining through the buildings cracks makes the fact they're also wet visible.

"I didn't think you'd still be in here." He murmured, "It's after lunch."

'That late? Jeez.' I say more to myself than him, 'Are you alright?'

He looks back to me, definitely crying. His eyes travel up and down my figure, before locking on the ground beside me. He gives his head the smallest shake, almost unnoticeable.

I frown and move over to sit by his side, mirroring his position. I cross my arms over my legs and our shoulders brush, causing him to snap out of his fixation on the floor.

He throws his head back, hitting it roughly on the door. He takes a deep breath before looking at me again, seemingly debating with himself on whether or not he should open up.

'You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I'll listen if you do, or I'll just sit here, or I can leave.' I sputter out words without knowing where I'm going next.

"Uh- can you just, stay? I'd get flamed by any of the boys for this. I just- I'm tired of it all." He sighs and pushes a hand through his hair.

'Yeah, of course.' I tilt my head, 'so do you want to talk about it?'

"Not really." He scoffs.

'Okay.' I press my lips together into a thin line.

We sit in an awkward silence while he tries to stop crying, occasionally wiping the tears off his face.

Once he does calm down I look away from him and down to myself, noticing I was wearing his shirt and remembering the situation I had woken up in.

'Shit.' I say so quietly its basically inaudible, but he hears.

He looks at me confused, furrowing his brows. I wait for a second, trying to find any information in my own memories and coming up with nothing.

'Why am I in here?' I ask, coming off a little more accusatory than I meant to.

"Do you remember like-" he pauses, "anything, from last night?"

'I don't think so.' I shrug.

"Oh." His eyes widen, and he turns his head away from me.