Pyscho {Newtmas AU} (on hold)

Chapter 5

They could mend each other's souls.

Thomas was the first to pull away, and he felt an uncomfortable cold once he separated from the blonde's touch. As much as he wanted to just stand in the boy's arms and forget about anything and everything, he knew he couldn't. He had to tell Newt what had happened considering he just showed up out  of nowhere beaten and covered in glass from a whiskey bottle. Newt's expression saddened when Thomas pulled away, but one look on the brunettes face told him he was in for one hell of a story. With no words being spoken once again, Newt pulled Thomas to the tattered couch, him sitting with the smaller boy nestled on his lap.

Thomas turned to face Newt, his hands trembling slightly and his breathing shaky. He didn't know how to start, so rather than explaining what had happened that day, Thomas told Newt every abusive story he could remember about his parents and himself. Once he started he couldn't stop, and he trembled more, his breathing becoming more ragged with each story. It wasn't until Thomas looked at the pained expression Newt's face held that he finally stopped rambling, his own expression contorted with worry. He folded his hands in his lap and looked down at them, closing his eyes. He felt tears prick at the outsides of his eyelids, and spoke in a shaky whisper.

"I'm sorry..."

Newt's hand went straight to the small of Thomas's back, rubbing it gently and soothingly.

"Don't be sorry Tommy, you did nothing wrong. I'm just worried about you is all, and I can't stand to think of something so awful happening to you again. Why don't you stay here for a while and give your dad some time to calm down, yeah?"

Thomas's head shot up at that, eyes clouded with a mixture of surprise and happiness. His body shifted so he was facing Newt, knees bent to the side and nudging gently against the blonde's.

"R-really? You-you'd let m-me stay h-here?" Hope was dripping from every cracked syllable Thomas spoke, and for once he was barely smiling. It was hardly noticeable, but there all the same. Newt let out a soft chuckle before ruffling Thomas's already-matted hair.

"Of course I will."

Thomas wrapped his shaking arms around Newt's slim torso, engulfing him in a warm hug. He buried his face into the blonde's chest, repeating stuttered "thank you"s which were muffled by the cotton shirt Newt was wearing. Newt smiled and continued to rub Thomas's back comfortingly. Anyone looking at them would assume that Newt was full of joy and utter relief that Thomas had made it away from his father okay, but Newt's mind was still corrupted with homicidal tendencies. Gears in his brain were turning as he thought of a way to get revenge on the man that hurt his Thomas. His Tommy.

My Tommy? Newt suddenly thought. Thomas wasn't his, and he most certainly wasn't some kind of property that Newt owned. But he liked the idea of protecting him, doing whatever he could to make sure the boy was safe. He felt, drawn to Thomas, and he wanted to protect him. If that meant getting rid of his family then so be it. Newt didn't have much experience in things like guilt, and he clearly didn't realize how killing Thomas's parents would make the brunette's situation worse than it already is. All he could think about was the shards of glass from the whiskey bottle slicing Thomas's skin, leaving cuts, scrapes, and even scars that the poor boy would have to live with for the rest of his life.

Newt didn't want Thomas to feel like his life was a burden, like he wasn't important or wanted. And the relationship he has with his family is an indicator that that's what Thomas feels every day. Deep down Thomas knows someone somewhere will eventually want him, but every day he loses hope. Newt wanted to spark a new hope within Thomas, giving him the feeling he desires most: to be accepted. Thomas was oblivious to Newt's planning, and Newt wanted to make sure that the boy never found out it was him who did it, so he was going to do the most logical, and smartest, thing he could think of. He was going to make the murder appear like suicide.

-

The boys sat in silence for the next three hours, Newt rubbing circles on Thomas's back while the smaller boy clung to him like a life raft. It was a soothing silence, not the eerie quietness Newt was used to feeling. Everything felt calm, the sun hitting the broken windows at the perfect angles to allow steady warmth into the small space without blinding either boy. However, the human body doesn't care how comfortable you are, it still needs to perform basic functions. So, despite the peaceful quietness the room held, Thomas lifted his head briefly and looked at Newt.

"I need to pee. Where's the bathroom?"

Newt let out a small laugh. "Down the hall second room on the right."

Thomas smiled thankfully and pounced off of Newt's lap, almost sprinting (and tripping) to the bathroom. Newt's lap felt unnaturally cold once Thomas left, and he pulled his knees to his chest in an effort to warm himself back up. When that didn't work Newt decided to continue reading, grabbing his book off of the table next to him. He opened the book to where he marked it with an old slip of paper that was yellowing and crinkling at the edges. He removed the paper and let his eyes scan the words across each page, soon losing himself in the story before him.

Newt was so caught up in his book that he didn't look up from it for almost an hour, and when he did, he saw Thomas had never returned from the bathroom. Puzzled, Newt placed his bookmark on the new page of where he was now, closed the book, set it back on the table, and stood to walk to the bathroom. When he got there he tried the door, but it was locked. Newt suddenly grew scared and anxious, and he knocked on the door softly.

"Tommy? Is everything okay? You've been in there for a while..." he trialed off when he heard muffled crying from the other side of the door.

"Thomas?! Open the door!" Newt pulled and pulled on the locked knob, and he started shoving his shoulder against the door when he got no response. The door wouldn't budge. Newt had no idea what Thomas got himself into, and the endless possibilities sent a shiver down Newt's spine. When kicking the door wouldn't open it, Newt scrambled for his gun. He ran back to the door and aimed the barrel at the doorknob. His finger pressed the trigger so fast it looked like a blur.

A jarring sound echoed throughout the house as the bullet pierced the copper doorknob, shattering it to pieces. Newt pushed the door open, which slammed hard against the bathroom wall, and his eyes scanned the room for Thomas. He stood stock still when he saw red droplets on the side of the small bathtub, the shower curtain pulled to cover any view of the shower.

Newt felt his vision blur with tears, and he blinked them away quickly before running and pulling the shower curtain open, ripping it off the rack and throwing it to the floor. He froze. Thomas was lying there, crying as he pulled the sharp end of a razor blade across his arms, blood pouring from where his skin was being cut open. The cuts were deep, the blood a dark crimson, and Newt had to choke back a sob of his own.

He grabbed the blade and threw it as far away from Thomas as he could, sliding into the tub and pulling the the shuddering boy into his arms. Blood stained Newts shirt and skin, leaving permanent stains, but Newt didn't care. All he cared about was Thomas, trembling and bleeding as he cried into Newt's chest. Newt gritted his teeth. Whatever Thomas's dad had done left the boy traumatized, and Newt now made it his sole mission to get revenge. He had made up his mind.

Thomas's dad is going to die.

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I know I'm a terrible person I'm sorry. I've just been busy with soccer and softball and I'm starting high school soon so I just kinda forgot to update, but I made it longer than usual so I hope you guys like it! Pls vote and comment your thoughts I'd really appreciate it!  XOXO