Fingerprints

Twenty-five

As the day went on, Newt became more and more closed off as he sunk downward into the spiralling pool of his mind. Depressive episodes came randomly for him, and could ask for a few hours, up to a few weeks. He was slightly worried, because he knew Minho and Brenda had seen him like that before, but not Thomas. He didn't want him to think he was just grumpy, or agitated just for the sake of being agitated. But the man found that he didn't even have the motivation to stand up from where he was sat on the windowsill, let alone reply in anything but grunts. He watched the clouds go by with a long sigh, not managing to shift the dull ache in his chest. He curled up tighter, the voices around him simply background noises. The darker sky rolled over the clouds slowly, the moon rising over the sharp skyline. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Minho and Brenda wish him farewell, before leaving the apartment with a soft click of the door. There was silence for a moment, before he heard,

"Newt?" Thomas asked. The man grunted in acknowledgement, head not moving from the window, "when did you last have your medication?"

"Does it mater?" He sighed. Thomas sat next to him, perching on the sill.

"Course it does, you want to feel better don't you?"

"I don't deserve to feel better. It doesn't matter anyway. I'm gonna feel like this forever." Newt murmured, ache getting heavier each time he sighed.

"Hey, that's not true. You didn't feel like this yesterday. The medicine will make you feel better." Thomas pushed.

"I don't want the bloody medicine." The blond snapped back, glaring at his friend before turning back to the dark night. Thomas blinked at him for a moment, but kept his patience. Newt remembered that once, the brunette had told him.

'Newt. If you ever feel like that around me, I'll try my hardest to keep my patience, and keep trying. Because even if you're really mean and sad, I'll remember that it's not your fault. I would never want you feeling like that on your own. That wouldn't be fair. That would make me a bad friend."

"Tommy you really don't have to put up with my bul-"

"Ah ah. Close that mouth of yours, you don't get a say in this." Newt huffed but smiled fondly and gratefully.

"Well, then I'll just stay here. With you." Thomas smiled, shifting to get comfortable on the windowsill. Newt glared at him, before sighing again, giving up, and focusing back on the night sky. For a while they sat, and the blond began to chew on his lip. He felt bad that he was wasting Thomas's time, felt bad that the man was just sitting there in silence just so that Newt wouldn't feel so alone. The thought that he was being a nuisance, made the brit slip further into the wraps of the ache.

"You know, I always thought the sky looked gorgeous at night." Thomas said, not waiting for any response, "Teresa thinks so too. She says that its prettier at night, because it covers up all the bad things. Makes everything look peaceful and tranquil, and she used to say, when we were younger, that there was a man on the moon, and that he was the one who brought it up every night. Because he has to make sure that the night isn't pitch black. If it's pitch black, you wouldn't be able to see how peaceful it really is. She said the man loved watching the night, because of how quiet it is. So," he began to grin, "when we were younger and she told us that, Brenda and I thought that the man on the moon must be lonely. So we tried to send him messages. We sent paper aeroplanes, climbed ladders. But no. Teresa was always the smartest, and she said that-"

"Can you stop going on about bloody Teresa?!" Newt snapped again. Thomas looked taken aback for a moment, before it morphed into a frown. Newt could see the confusion on his face, and it was evident that Thomas couldn't figure out what had got the blond so worked up.

"Why?" The brunette asked. Newt immediately recoiled, sighing and putting his head on the window again. "Newt?"

"Because I'm lonely ok!" the brit glowered at the man, who was blinking in surprise and confusion, "you wouldn't understand."

"Sure I would, I've been lonely plenty of times" Thomas smiled.

"No Tommy. You wouldn't know the first thing about loneliness. Alright? You are popular with everyone, they all love you. Even in your first week at the office, you made more friends than I had the entire three years I'd been there. You have a mum, and a brother that isn't missing and actually wants to spend time with you, best friends, everyone loves you, and if you wanted too, you could wink at someone and they'd instantly come running into your shucking arms. Don't talk to me about being lonely, because you have never, and I mean never, been lonely." He growled snarkily.

"Look Newt," the brunette had finally lost his patience with the angry blond, "I get that sometimes you get lonely and klunk, but don't come over here preaching all your self-righteous shit and putting me in the dirt. I mean, it's not exactly my fault your lonely is it?" He glared back at Newt.

"Self righteous?! You don't get it, of course you don't. Because you've never had to deal with feeling like you don't have someone!" Newt stood up, watching as Thomas became more furious and dumbfounded by the second. The brunette opened his mouth, but Newt cut him off, "All I have ever wanted, is for someone to consider me their pair. And yeah, sure, maybe it sounds childish, and..just some stupid dream of a kid, but all I've ever wanted is for someone to say that I'm their other half. I just want my name to belong with someone else. Just like Minho and Brenda go together, and Sonya and Harriet do, and you and Teresa do. I don't understand why that's so hard to ask for?!"

"Well maybe if you weren't so grumpy all the time someone would want too!" Thomas snapped back, standing as well, coming closer.

"Grumpy?! Oh, so you're insensitive now too? Thought you couldn't be any worse of a person, but here you are. I beat myself up a lot, but for once I'm going to say, I'M PRETTY SURE IV'E GOT A RIGHT TO BE FUCKING GRUMPY. I'M NOT SURE IF IT'S GOTTEN INSIDE YOUR THICK SKULL, BUT MENTAL ILLNESS IS A THING, I JUST GOT OUT OF AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, MY PARENTS DISOWNED ME, I HAVE A LIMP AS A CONSTANT REMINDER THAT I TRIED TO OFF MYSELF, AND MY SISTER HAS BEEN SOLD TO A HUMAN TRAFFICKING COMPNAY AND COULD EITHER BE DEAD OR ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FUCKING GLOBE RIGHT NOW, I THINK THAT CLARIFIES AS FAIRLY GOOD REASON TO BE FUCKING GRUMPY." He yelled. Thomas stopped, all words seemingly escaping him. His stare turned from hard, to soft. Fury turning to sympathy and pity. And Newt hated it.

Thomas was supposed to be the one who never pitied him. Thomas was supposed to be the one who understood. Thomas was supposed to be the one that he could turn too. Thomas was supposed to be the one who would never judge him if he cried, and would let him use his shoulder. Thomas was supposed to be the one who could turn to Newt if he needed anything. Thomas was supposed to be the one who could cry on Newt's shoulder. Thomas was supposed to be the one who protected Newt, just as Newt protected him. Thomas was supposed to be his partner. Thomas was supposed to be his friend. Thomas was supposed to be the one.

Without saying a word, Newt turned, and left.