Break-Ups (Newtmas Short Story) (COMPLETED)

I.

The first one happened in spring, when the darkness of the night tranformed into the faintest traces of daybreak.

The first one hurt him more than it actually hurt his best friend, because there is absolutely nothing worse than watching the one you love be cherished then broken by someone else.

The first one was bad, but not nearly the worst.

//

3:00 A.M.

Thomas tilted his neck to the side, a refreshing pop echoing in his small room. He wiped at his drooping eyes, lips forming incoherent thoughts and words he had yet to type. His hands stiff from typing all night and day, Thomas glanced at the time again. He almost groaned, realizing that if he wanted to finish this report for his boss by eight in the morning, he'd be pulling another all-nighter. Thomas was beginning to think he would never get a full night sleep again.

Broken from his reverie by the buzzing of his phone, Thomas stretched to grab hold of the small device. His finger slid along the "answer call" button without hesitation, too exhausted to even glance at who was dialing him.

"Hello?" Thomas asked as he raised his phone to his ear. His speech came out slow and slurred from his lack of sleep. He held his phone in the juncture between his neck and cheek, continuing to type as he listened to the speaker.

The static of the phone line reverberated in Thomas's eardrum. Meeting only silence, Thomas opened his mouth to repeat his greeting, but a familiar voice spoke up to interrupt him.

"Hi."

The voice was faint and tight, like he was barely able to choke any words out at all. Thomas's fingers froze mid-type, his eyebrows scrunching up. "Newt?" Thomas asked. With his friend's broken voice, Thomas felt coldness wash over him, instantly sobering him. His right hand rose to clutch his phone, holding it firmer to his ear to pick up the weak voice. He straightened in his slumped position, clicking save as he did so.

Thomas was greeted by silence once again. His eyes blinked unseeingly at his illuminated laptop screen, concern slowly leeching into his body the longer he waited for a response.

"Are you okay?" Thomas asked when the silence stretched for too long with no reply.

Newt hesitated but attempted to cover it with a whispered, "yeah," over the line. "Are you busy?"

"No," Thomas lied. Then he repeated again, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Silence. "...no," Newt finally whispered, his voice so quiet Thomas had to strain to hear.

Without hesitating, Thomas was on his feet in a flash, laptop closed and hands searching blindly for his car keys. Finally he found them in the darkness, the rigid metal digging into his palm with how tight he grasped them. "Wha--what happened?"

Again Newt was quiet, and then almost inaudibly he whispered, "Ryan and I got in a fight. We broke up."

Thomas froze in his tracks, heart dropping to his feet.

His first reaction was oh my god, I hope he's okay. His heart clenched for his best friend, feeling the sorrow he must be feeling fill his own heart as well.

But then the dark, selfish part of his brain took the wheel to his thoughts, driving him straight into a pit of guilt and pain. It was the place he tried his best to keep locked up for Newt's sake, so as to avoid dragging him into the depths of this particular hell with him. Against his own will, Thomas thought, good, I'm glad they broke up.

Thomas's breath hitched, and he pulled at a strand of his hair, as though punishing himself for such a cruel thought. He took a deep breath to compose himself, forcing himself to focus on his best friend's thoughts and emotions, and to ignore the stupid feelings blooming in his stupid chest. "I'll be over in ten," he finally managed as he scrambled around his kitchen for a few necessary items.