End Game (Newtmas AU) {ON HOLD}

THREE

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How many nights does it take to count to the stars? That's the time it would take, to fix my heart.

-unknown
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The page stayed empty beneath Newt's hand that held the pen, and that had now started to shake. Sure, the doctor who had examinated him after he woke up from his minor comma after the accident told him that he should write his day down in the notebook given to him, with his depressive thoughts, self harmed thoughts and such. But when he was feeling completely numb, the complete nothing, what was he supposed to write then?

Maybe he should just let the author from inside him get the best of him and therefore write a story worth given a Nobel to. That way he'd have satisfied both himself, as he'd be relieved from sitting down for hours trying to put his mind into thinking, and also his doctor that would finally let go of him and go work on an other case. Yet, how much would this supposed doctor, Doctor Marie, would believe? The last thing she was, was stupid. And Newt never really thought that he could outsmart her in the first place.

The blonde boy sat up at his bed, fixing the covers by that he was under better around his waist, as he replaced the notebook at his lap, now determined to write a full page of his day. Not only because he challenged himself to write because he wanted to finally be capable of doing something, but also because he had to report the book in the doctor the next day at school , where doctor Marie would work as a nurse. That however , Newt considered as a bammer, as she would more or less be all over his head, watching him. And what would that mean? He wouldn't be able to light a cigarette, nor drink some of the beers that Minho would bring.

In simple words? It would be like his mother would come to school. Which meant what? That he was screwed if he would drop his guard once.

Yet, that moment, Newt had an idea of what to write which was soon to faint due to Minho coming through the door and slamming it behind him as his face held a frown. The Asian boy let himself fall at the mafress besides Newt, and shut his eyes his nose wrinkling, something that he would do ever since little once he was annoyed with something. Or with someone. And if it was the latter, he might had had a hint on who had gotten on Minho's nerves, this time. Nevertheless, the boy reopened his eyes staring down at Newt's book before furrowing his eyebrows, sitting up at the matress, as Newt sighed, expecting the words that then left the other's lips.

"Still haven't written anything?" Minho asked, an question that Newt answered with an small smirk placing the notebook asides, as he sat up laying next to the Asian boy, his look staring at the ceiling. The blonde only shrugged, his look momentary falling to the door, his answer processing at his mind, as fast as it could possibly go.

"Still haven't made out with my sister?" Newt replied ,letting out a bitter laugh escape his lips. Believe it or not, that kind of laughter was the only kind of chuckle or giggle or even laughter that someone would ever witness Newt having after the accident. Though, even if there was an evidence of laughter, the blonde gave Minho an evil smirk arching his eyebrows in amusement.

"Me? Sonya and I? Me, Making out with Sonya? For God's sake, ew, gross, puke, CANSER!" Minho practically yelled, jumping up as if the bed had now started to grow sharp nails underneath it. And in a way, to Minho, it did. But speak of the devil, Sonya entered the room without even knocking, her thin line resting against the door frame as her eyes seemed full wigh venom.