"This is kind of a weird question, but, um... do you know where all the pens went?"
"Of course," Newt answers. "I have them all."
"Oh. C-can I have one? I need it. To, you know, write."
"Use a pencil."
"W-well, the thing is-"
"Look, the pens are all mine now, alright? You can't take them."
"Newt..."
He picks up a set of keys lying on the table and throws it at Thomas. It misses completely, but the other man looks as if he has been hit anyway.
Good. He should know not to try and take what's his.
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He wanders through the house, marveling at the colors of each room. Red. Blue. Green. He likes that they stand out so much. Sometimes if he goes into a room where the walls are too muted, he has trouble distinguishing between the background and the furniture. It frightens him, so he has to go to another room where he can tell the difference more easily.
His chair is in the red room, marked with a bright yellow pillow, making it easy to locate.
He can vaguely remember when it wasn't so hard to find things, but all he knows is that it was a long time ago.
: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
"Don't forget to brush your teeth," Thomad tells him while washing the dishes.
Newt nods and goes to the bathroom. Put toothpaste on brush, place in mouth, move back and forth.
He needs reminders to do these things now.
: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
There are items all over the kitchen counter.
"I'm making a pie," Thomas says, grinning. "Do you want to help?"
Newt looks at him. "Okay."
The other man flashes him a brilliant smile, retrieving a mound of dough from a bowl and setting it on a breadboard before handing Newt a rolling pin. "So just roll this until it's nice and flat, alright?"
He complies, slowly smoothing out all the grooves and bumps with the pin. He doesn't realize that in the time it takes for him to do this, Thomas has greased the plate, made the filling, and prepared the crumbs to go on top.
"Beautiful," Thomas tells him when he is done, pressing the flattened dough into the pie plate, though there is something sad in his eyes when he says the word.
But Newt is happy to hear the praise.
: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
"Listen," he can hear Thomas say, "I'm not sure if he's up to talking right now. He's been-well, I know, but-all right, I'll put him on." He turns to Newt "Newt, Minho's calling. Do you want to talk to him?"
"No."
"I think you should."
"No."
"He insists."
"Fine." Thomas hands him the phone. "Who is this?"
A snappy voice answers. "What kind of a stupid question is that? Didn't Thomas just tell you who I was?"
"Thomas just told you who I was."
"What?"
"What?"
YOU ARE READING
MEMORY • newtmas au
Fanfiction❝ What did they find? ❞ Thomas looks back at him, and there is anguish clearly written on his face. ❝ You have Alzheimer's, Newt. ❞ His breath catches in his throat. Alzheimer's. ❝ There's no cure for that, ❞ he says. ❝ No, ❞ the other whispers, an...
