The Fire That Sparked My Soul- Newtmas AU

Chapter Twenty Three

♫R U Mine? by Artic Monkeys

~ I was thinking about posting another fic I've started writing. I really like the idea of it and I haven't come across another Newtmas fic similar to it so it would be unique and interesting. 

~I had my English exam today so I really hope I've passed. I'm so busy this week with studying for another exam on Friday so I might find it difficult to update but I'll try my hardest.

~I had horse riding after my exam and I was on a different horse that I haven't been on since January and she was absolutely flying! She wouldn't slow down to do a twenty metre circle so we ended up continuously going over the poles and it was honestly so frustrating but she made up for it with her canter because I didn't even have to kick her to tell her to go.  

Thomas's POV

It wasn't the sound of my alarm that woke me. No, it was the sudden chill in the room, like the air had dropped below zero degrees. I felt like that all the time, though, as if I had frozen over. I tried not to think about it -about Newt being away from me for three whole months. My anxiety hadn't supressed in the last few days, even after it had all sunk in.

It's pathetic, really. I've been sleeping for at least five hours a night now. I've been less tired at school and I've been catching up in most classes. My GPA has risen and I plan to keep it that way. No matter what I think about, Newt always manages to sneak his way into the vision. 

'Newt's missing school, but I know he'll graduate anyway', or 'maybe my friends and I could hang out later, but Newt wouldn't be there', or even 'I don't understand the maths homework, I wish I could text Newt and ask for help'. 

Three months may not seem like a long time, but for me it feels like an eternity. 

I just want it all to be over.

***

I absentmindedly tap my pen on the desk. The whole class were quietly chatting away, supposedly talking about the work the teacher has given us. I stared at the title, reading it over endlessly in my mind: 'What ideas are shared in the poem?'

As much as I love English, I have no energy or motivation to write about a poem I'll never remember. Shakespeare's talent makes me jealous. I wish I could write, I wish I was good at many things, but I'm not and I never will be.

"Thomas, are you alright, man?" Minho asked. I looked up to see his concerned eyes looking into mine.

"Somewhat," I mumbled in reply.

"Oh, Tom, you've got to stop getting yourself worked up over what's going on with Newt-" Teresa began before I cut her off.

"I don't want to talk about it," I snapped, trying with all my might not to get angry.

Teresa looked taken aback, her body visibly tensed before she exhaled a long breath, "I'm just trying to help you, Thomas, stop being so stubborn."

She never calls me by my whole name. I know she's just as furious as I am, but there's nothing more I want right now than to scream at everyone and blame them for every little thing that's gone wrong in my life. It's not true, though, because I'm the reason I'm a failure.

Failure of a son.

Failure of a friend.

Failure of a boyfriend.

"You know he's going to be okay, he always is," Brenda tries to reassure me.

"Yeah, say that the next time he tries to kill himself but magically makes it out alive!" I shout, the anger and hurt finally at it's peak. The class go silent and turn to stare at me. Even the teacher looks as shocked as the rest.