{armis (noun)- the metal coverings formerly worn to protect the body in battle.}
newt's pov:
When he finally said he was ready for visitors, I realised I actually didn't know what I would say to him.
I stood at his door, nervously stepping back and forth, preparing myself for a situation I had no idea how to approach or handle.
I wanted to go in, to open his door and greet him warmly with a hug, or even a handshake if that made him more comfortable - and talk to him.
I just didn't know what to say.
I knocked on the door.
It took him roughly a minute to answer, and then there he was. "Newt."
He looked wracked with fatigue and sorrow - his eyes were empty, his skin pale and his cheeks unshaven.
He didn't smile. "Sorry, I uh, was asleep." He says, a bit of drool still left on his chin.
I smiled at him. "It's fine mate, it's great to see you." I say, stepping past him and into the room.
The smell was so bad it felt like a violation of the senses. "Fucking hell it stinks in here, Tom."
He sighs, closing the door behind him. "Yeah, sorry, haven't showered in a few days..."
I look over to him. "It's fine, Tommy. Although, I'm putting that on the list of things you need to do today, okay?"
The man stares at me, irritated. "I'm not a child, Newt. I can take care of myself."
"Thomas, you haven't left this room in four days. Bren was readmitted to the infirmary the other day, and you still haven't gone to see her. We're worried about you."
Tommy sighs, sitting down on the bed in the middle of the room. The blue duvet laid disgruntled over the matress, the plates and mugs scattered over the bedside tables while his clothes covered the floor so well I could hardly see the wood, only furthered my concern.
He takes in a deep breath. "I can't stop thinking. My brain won't stop repeating it all - everything that happened that night. The second he was born, and everything went silent, I felt something inside of me, sort of, break. It just shattered, and I don't know how to deal with that, or how to help B."
Tom puts his head in his hands. "I don't know what to do and I feel so tired all the time, but all I do is sleep! I'm sleeping for at least half the day, and the hilarious thing is, I spend the other half of the day trying to get back to sleep so I don't have to think about my child dying."
He pulled his hands roughly through his hair, looking back up at me. "Is she okay?"
I hadn't sat down at this point, and noticed a chair by the wall. "Well, no, not really, mate. She said she felt responsible, and even though we all tell her that that's absolutely not true, she won't believe us. She needs to hear it from you, Tommy."
He peers up at me, distressed. "I don't know what to say, Newt-"
I cut him off. "You're going to have to figure it out, and fast. Bren's back in the infirmary for a bit because Lincoln wanted to keep an eye on her after some irregular bleeding. He hopes it's nothing serious and potentially normal but he's keeping her in just to be sure, and even though we all go to visit her, especially y/n, she lonely, Tommy. She wants to see you, mourn with you."
Thomas looks away, nodding. "You're right, I know. I'm sorry. I know I've been terrible."
I shake my head, peering at him as if he were acting ridiculous. "You haven't, Tommy. You're grieving, we all understand. B understands, she just misses you, and even though she won't admit it, she needs you with her right now."
