Newtmas|Dylmas One-shots

Life Support

It had been two weeks since Newt had been admitted to W.I.C.K.E.D Children's Hospital. It had been one year sine he was diagnosed.
Apparently, he was lucky to have lived that long, the doctors said, the tumours were slowly destroying his brain.

Thomas could remember clearly that scorching summers day, halfway through his seventeenth year on planet earth. They had been wrestling playfully on his bed after school, the windows open to maximise the flow of air. Then, mid-laugh, Newt had gone limp in his arms, eyes closed and face pale. He had screamed for help until his mom rushed up the stairs, mobile phone already in her hand.

On the ride to emergency, in the ambulance, Thomas held Newt's hand and tried desperately to remember if he had told Newt he loved him. He couldn't.

The next time he had seen Newt, his arms were full of tubes and the steady beep, beep of a heart monitor echoed throughout the cold room. The dank hallways of the hospital smelt like death and disease, constantly haunted by infantile screams. And, as Newt stated when he finally woke up "A bloody dismal place to spend a lifetime".

After a month in and out of intensive care, he was finally discharged, on the condition that he no longer went to school, as it was 'too demanding'. every day, Thomas would visit him, bringing books and gossip. It made him feel happy to see Newt break into a wide grin at the tale of Minho's latest escapades.

It brought his mind back to when they met, one chilly autumn, under the falling leaves. It was eighth grade- an awkward year for Thomas, and trees shed their golden coats like a sheep losing its wool. Even then, Newt had a beautiful smile, and the crisp morning air just made that more real for Thomas. Newt took up so much space in his life now, that he could barely remember a single day before their meeting. He had no idea how to live without him.

After months supposedly tumour-free, Newt relapsed. It came as such a sudden shock, that at first Thomas didn't believe it. He refused to visit Newt, thinking that if he didn't acknowledge it it wouldn't exist. But, after a few days reading to an empty chair, the stark reality of it hit him. There was nothing he could do, except wait.

So, there he was sitting by the deathbed of his lover, not moving for anything. Newt was his only concern. Hushed conversations from behind curtains leaked through his daze, snippets processing in his sluggish brain. The words 'coma' and 'empty' and 'lifeless' stuck like glue, whirring around his otherwise dull head. And it was not until he heard someone tap his shoulder gently, and say his name, that he stirred, lifting his chin up tho stare into the tear-soaked eyes of Newt's mother.

He felt confused. No one had tried to even make eye contact with him these past few days, even to bring him food. Why would now be different? She sat down on the end of Newt's bed and laid a hand on his knee. He noticed, with a note of grim finality, that she had become thin and bony."Thomas, darling. There's something I need to tell you..." her voice wavered, but she swallowed and continued on "Newt has gone into a coma-like state. The doctors have done all they can for us, but-" she choked on her words and began to cry "There's nothing they can do. They... They say he's not even in there any more, and th-the only thing keeping him alive is the life support. Also, he-he wanted me to give you this note..."

Thomas took it from her silently, his gaze sliding over the familiar scrawling hand.

'Dear Tommy,
There are some things I want to say to you, before our final goodbye.
Firstly, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never got to live my life with you, that we never got to grow old together, and maybe even adopt bloody kids. Sorry'.

Thomas took a deep, shaking breath as tears fell silently onto the paper, and his hands shook.

'And second, Tommy, I don't want you to be sad. You have years ahead in which to be happy. Use them. I don't want to look down from heaven, or wherever I'll be, and see you moping around. Get out there and use that big brain of yours, stop what happened to me happening to other shanks.

And, most importantly, my dear Tommy, do not forget me, please. I beg of you. I've done nothing in this world worth remembering, so I want you keep me in your head. Store a mental image of me. Not like you see me now, but like I was, back when I was strong and healthy.

I love you, Tommy, and I will never stop loving you. So that's why I am going to ask of you this one simple task: I want you to be the one to flick the switch.
Please, Tommy. Please.'

Thomas let the note fall from his hands and watched it flutter to the floor "When...?" he croaked, not able to look Newt's mother in the eye. He could hear hear her crying, but it didn't register. All he could think about we're those last words... 'Please, Tommy. Please.'

"He- He wrote it months ago..." she sobbed "After the doctors told us this was a possibility." her shoulders shook and tears streamed down her sallow face.

Thomas said nothing, only sucked in deep, ragged breaths. He looked at Newt's lifeless form on the bed, full of wires. Thick tubes protruded from his mouth and nose, moving his lungs for him. Thomas wondered if something was beating his heart, or if maybe, it still beat for himself.

He remembered Newt, eyes wide and curious, leaning over his desk on that fateful day. "Name's Newt, Greenie," he had said "Welcome to Glade high school."

"Greenie?" Thomas had replied, furrowing his brow "What's that?"

"It means Green Bean," Newt replied, grinning from ear to ear "The newest newbie."

Newt's grin was contagious, and Thomas soon found himself quietly smiling at the back of class.

Thomas finally found the courage to look Newt's mother in the eye. finally found a voice to speak with. "Do we have to..." he wasn't able to finish the sentence.

"I'm sorry, Thomas," she said gently, heartbreak distorting her pretty face "We're going to have to turn Newt off."

...............................................................

The day Newt's body was buried, Thomas wore a loose black sweater. Newt had always hated formality, and it would be and insult to his memory if Thomas went suit and tie. The sweater had belonged to Newt.

When the minister began reading out prayers, Thomas nearly laughed. Newt despised this kind of thing, saying all that junk was just for show. When it was Thomas' turn to speak, left what he had prepared and walked up to the podium.

"Newt," he began nervously, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants "Newt knew he was going to die. and I don't mean this." he gestured at the coffin. "I mean, he knew that a human life was short and unsure. He always did everything as if it were his last day on earth, loving everyone who deserved it. I... I know what he would say if he saw me now. He would say 'Tommy, get your head out of your ass and start living'. So that's what I want to do."

Newt's mother smiled tearfully at him from the front row, as he walked slowly down the aisle. But he didn't stop at his seat, to sit back down and listen to more of things Newt hated. Instead, he threw open the large oak doors and ran out into the sunlight. As he vaulted the fence, he swore he could hear Newt's voice, laughing and congratulating him.

It was time to start again...

Wow, I really have been busy this week. I'm going to start writing some oneshots, and this is the first one. The interview at the top is literally the best thing ever. SO MUCH DYLMAS.

Ugh I don't like the way this ended...