Mint and Alcohol is a Weird Mixture (Oneshots)

Only to be Left With Tape and Locked Treasure Chests

He didn't exactly find the situation funny, but he was hurt, not physically, but then he let out a laugh before he could stop himself. His voice didn't feel like it was his, it was more than a thin layer of ice that coated his unrecognizable voice.

"Fuck you."

Newt was unfazed by Thomas's reactions, but Thomas was nonplussed, and had spoken the first words he thought with an iciness he didn't know he had. Newt had told him they were over, and it had struck Thomas so hard and he didn't know why Newt decided to put an end to their special relationship. He had felt that he had lost the last thing, and he knew better than to argue with the blonde who was stubborn and was more than likely not going to listen to his plea.

"Goodbye, Thomas." 

Thomas suddenly felt his heart drop, the previous iciness forgotten. He almost broke out into sobs,  the abandoned name that he loved when it would roll off the British man's tongue in a way that no one else's could was, well, abandoned. He couldn't believe he loved such a heartless monster, someone who had shown so much emotion seemed so relaxed about their break-up as if he planned it for weeks.

A glance at Thomas that once would be filled with solicitude was now filled with an undesired look of sympathy was all that he was left with before Newt turned away. That was when Thomas knew, he would never love him again. No matter how much his heart would ache with the remembrance of the times he spent with Newt, he would push it back; what he didn't know was that turned him out to be cold and numb. He would be a treasure chest, locked and buried under the sand at the bottom of the ocean. His heart was only held together with flimsy tape, his pain never to heal. He told himself that he would never be such a fool and love someone else, not even the most marvelous man could replace Newt. Precious, dear Newt.