Newt imagines 2

Dear Diary

Dear diary,
I had the most amazing birthday ever! Harry took me to Galvins - a very expensive restraint in London - and oh my, it was beautiful, the view over the cityscape was so eye dazzling that Harry had to close the golden curtains to get a conversation out of me. It was unlike anywhere Thomas had taken me, way above anywhere he or I could afford.

Now that I am official another year older plus one day, I guess it's finally time to muster up some courage. Got to grow a pair as Harry would say, although he would add on my queen, or beautiful girl.
Anyway, now that Harry and I are together, and sharing his fancy flat, I need to actually have more stuff. I'm just about managing to survive off three sets of outfits!
I needed to get all my stuff from my old apartment, the one Thomas is currently living in.
Just think about walking into that bedroom one last time, fuck! It still hurts! That bedroom was the soul room of that apartment we had brought together. I wonder what he will say when I tell him of Harry? Or do I leave it out? I might go in and run out without being noticed, it's not like he will even realise I'm there as long as I stay quiet to not disturb him.
Got to go, Harry is giving me and lift over.

Harry parks the car, smiling kindly, he knew that this would be hard. "I'll come and give you help with your bags." He opened the car door.
I clutch a handful of his shirt, running my hand down his chest. "No. Please. I ought to do this alone, I owe him that at least."
Harry leant in, kissing me, the little love-bomb fizzing away inside me. "You don't owe him anything."
I take a deep breath clutching my old key, head on inside. This would be the last time I would enter that door, I took the stairs remembering that time there was a massive storm, the lifts didn't work. Thomas and I had to take the long flight of stairs, in soaking wet clothes. How it was his idea to use each other's bodies to warm ourselves up.
I open the door, pushing it open with a flat hand, already on my tiptoes in pure fear of letting my whereabouts be known. My heart was beating so loud he could probably hear me. I glanced into the living room, the home of all our movie marathons, arguments over which movie that always ended in a chase or pillow fight somehow. I saw the dark shape of the top of a head, the long hair stuck out like sunrays. He must have passed out with exhaustion finally.
I creep upstairs, gathering up the last of my soaps and perfumes from the bathroom, then go to the bedroom. The room was musty, the curtains closed blocking out all light from this situation. I open them, squinting at the surprise of light. I run one hand through the curtains, farewell. I gather up my clothes packing the last of the suitcases, leaving him one for his job. Goodbye wardrobe. I turn to the bed, it's unmade as ever, he never was good at that. I put the bags down, tidying the sheets. I shut my eyes breathing in the smell, all the memories flashing through my mind. The mornings when we woke up and he would lie there, shirtless with a stupid smirk, the morning sun beaming into his hair, that morning haze he had, the first kiss of that day. A lonely tear fell on to the white duvet, but that's all it was lonely.
I wipe my eyes, I had Harry now, we would remake those memories, we would create better ones, more. Soon these would be memories I would have to dig hard to remember, and then one day I would turn around and say: Thomas? Who is Thomas Brodie Sangster? I've never heard of him.
I plump the last pillow, removing a strand of his hair and binning it. I stop in the doorway. Thank you room, I loved every single moment of it.

I tip toe downstairs completely in the clear, unheard.... Or so I thought.
He stood there, in sweatpants and a vest, his back to me. His hands grasping the kitchen side board, unable to see his head it was hanging so low between his shoulders. I halted. Maybe he had just woken up naturally undisturbed by me.
"You got it all?" His voice raspy and in need of a drink.
He didn't turn around so I could look upon his face, not that I wanted to. By the sounds of it he had noticed my absence more than I had guessed. "Thomas I... I left you a suitcase, I can bring the others back later."
"Oh, so that's how it is then?"
I frown, was he getting upset over suitcases?
"We're back to full names then. No more Tom or Tommy?" His voice sounded like the knife I had driven into his back.
"It just doesn't seem right now that we are no longer.... A thing." I felt like I was whispering, my voice afraid to startle him, he is hurt and anything is possible.
"Why!" He span round. My knees felt weak, I held onto the banister. His face, salty cheeks, bleeding, torn lip, eyes filled with tears and beer. I knew he didn't speak of the loss of nicknames, this question was bigger. Why had I left him?
I laughed almost disgusted by him asking that question. "Why! Because I didn't want to waste my life telling myself that I was loved here."
"I?I! I don't love you? Your the bloody one who chose to leave!" He screamed, his petal lips ripping.
"I left because you didn't want me." I try to keep my voice calm but, God! It was hard.
"I never said that."
"Oh really? You think I just dreamed up all those times you told me to leave you alone, go away, stop bothering you, for Christ sakes! You told me to kill myself once."
He shook his head, spinning around groaning. "That's because I was wasting all my time trying to do something for you!"
"Don't you try to blame this on me." I spat at him, covering the floor in a shower of spit.
"I was trying to buy you a house in France for fucks sake y/n."
I step back stunned. "Why would I want a house in France?"
"I don't know!" He flung his arms up in the air. "Maybe because Dylan brought his girlfriend one in Spain, Ki Hong got his wife one in Cornwall, your sister's boyfriend brought her one in the south of France and I know how competitive you two get."