Ghost of You | safe haven newtmas

first contact

Newt runs his hand over his name on the stone. It almost makes him want to laugh, and almost makes him want to cry. It's so... final.

He walks away from the area and hops onto the dirt. It doesn't hurt in the slightest with his limp being gone, and he's suddenly almost thankful nobody can see him as he starts half-jogging over to the huts. He knows exactly where he's going, and knows the act of walking there makes no logical sense, but he chooses to do it anyway. After all, he hasn't got time to worry about, does he?

"Thomas, Vince asked me to tell you. This isn't just me-"

"Really, Minho? Because 'I can't stand watching this' sounds a lot like you," Thomas snaps halfheartedly, Newt feeling a wave of pain at his words.

Minho just looks at Thomas for a moment before shaking his head. "Listen, man. I'm not gonna force the shuck papers out of your hands and tuck you in. I just came over here to ask."

Thomas' expression softens. "Thank you, Minho. Really. But you have to let me..."

Newt feels the urge to walk over and put a hand on each of them; tell Thomas to listen and hug it out.

"I know," Minho says. He looks at Thomas a moment longer before starting to walk away, stopping at the door. "I miss them, too."

Thomas watches Minho walk out, Newt hating the look on his face after as he stares down at the ground in front of him. That bloody pout Newt knows all too well.

"Hey, Tommy." The words come out milky and far away, sounding like a whisper in a hurricane to him. He's still not used to the sound, and knows it's lost on anyone but him, but he's not ready to give up. Newt sits on the bed in front of Thomas and wills him to just look up, already. "Come on. You're the only reason I'm here in the first place, least you can do is talk."

Thomas finally looks up and straight at Newt's abdomen, Newt chuckling at the odd hilarity of the situation.

"Eyes are up here, remember?" Newt jokes. He wants to observe Thomas a little while longer, but he can't stand watching him like this.

Getting up, he walks so he's standing directly in front of Thomas. The necklace-Newt's necklace-is hanging down around his neck. Newt hadn't expected him to wear it. He'd actually been worried he wouldn't even find the letter inside. But he knows Thomas. Always looking deeper.

Crouching down, he touches it, almost feeling the object but not even attempting to move it. Then, he positions himself to be looking right at Thomas, and Thomas at him.

"You should see me now, Tommy." Newt puts his hand on Thomas' shoulder and focuses all of his energy onto it, trying to direct his words and his thoughts all into the seemingly non-existent touch. "No veins, no black stuff, no coughing, no blood, no limp. I'm as beautiful as the day I was born."

Thomas' expression changes, encouraging Newt to focus harder.

"Take a buggin' break. You made it. It's time to relax." Newt tries to deliver the message calmly but it comes out as more of a rushed plea. He stares deeply into Thomas' eyes now, trying to make his way past them, somewhere far deeper.

With all of his energy being put into one area, he almost doesn't notice it when Thomas starts tearing up. Almost.

It catches Newt off guard for a moment. The most he's gotten is an uncomfortable shift in his chair, or an odd look around the room before getting back to his work. But this feels different-stronger. Is it finally working?

Thomas tenses up and Newt watches his jaw harden, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over.

"It's me, Tommy. It's me," Newt practically yells, trying to channel his excitement at the reaction into his touch, the material of Thomas' shirt feeling more and more real to him by the second.

With all the might Newt has left in him, he gives one last burst of effort, squeezing Thomas' shoulder. "Please."

Thomas breathes in sharply, sitting straight and making Newt force his hand away. The lack of steadiness makes Newt fall to the ground, his vision getting wavy. Not now, not now.

He forces himself to keep conscious as Thomas stands up suddenly.

Newt thinks he's imagining it when Thomas slowly reaches a hand up to his shoulder. It can't be, he couldn't have felt it.

Thomas shakes his head, Newt seeing a tear fall from his face. He keeps doing that, just shaking his head until he leans on the back of his chair, his head hanging down and a sob escaping him.

Newt wants to get up, tell him he's there, that he's going to be okay, but every bit of strength has been used up. "It's okay," Newt says weakly.

The words are followed by Thomas looking up, his body shaking from his crying. If Newt still has any sort of heart, it breaks at the sight. He has to help, he needs to. Thomas needs to know he's there, that he's watching him. He didn't leave him.

Thomas takes a shaky breath and looks down at his bed, his hand coming up and grabbing at the necklace. Newt watches him rub his thumb over it, before squeezing it hard, closing his eyes.

Weaker, weaker, weaker.

Finally Thomas walks over to the bed, past Newt, and sits down. Newt can feel himself slipping, but struggles to keep watching.

He only lets go when he sees Thomas rest his head on the pillow.