In The Morning I'll Be Better// newtmas

6

Newt's POV:

Dinner is incredibly awkward. I can't believe Thomas had the gut to stay for dinner. How bloody dare he talk about me like that. I could just about take the rumours floating about around the school but Thomas denouncing me right to my face made me furious. As soon as Thomas had gone downstairs to see if Mum needed any help, I rushed into the bathroom and scrubbed the number off my arm, leaving it red and raw. All because I felt so gross and bitter.

Thomas and I eat in silence as my parents grill Lizzy about her day at school. I don't trust myself to speak lest my parents notice the boy next to me and decide to question him instead. It would be embarrassing for both me and him. However, I hear a quiet curse next to me and can't help turning to face Thomas.

There is sauce dribbling down Thomas' chin, ready to drip onto the table. I reach out, grabbing a napkin from off the table and hand it to him, rolling my eyes. He glares at me, clearly aware of my eye movement but all I want to say is 'you chose to stay, not me'. If only we didn't care what other people said about us, then maybe we'd be able to move on and tolerate one another.

"I didn't want it to drip onto the table," I hiss, "Calm down."

His expression doesn't change and I suddenly realise that dinner is only going to get even more awkward. So I stand and dismiss myself, hoping Thomas will just show himself out. I plan on going to bed to forget about everything even just temporarily. 

Though from behind me I hear, "May I excuse myself from dinner?"

"Dear, we're not that formal here. If you want to go, just go," my mother says.

I hope Thomas got up to go home but unfortunately, he follows behind me as I go up the stairs and along the hallway to my bedroom. Before I open the door, I spin around, Thomas almost bumping into me, as the anger starts to bubble up again from deep in my chest. 

"Why are you following me?" I ask, my voice quiet so that my parents can't hear me, "What do you bloody want? You've eaten, now you can go home! For someone that hates me, you seem to buzz around me like an annoying fucking fly!"

Thomas looks taken aback. "I just want to get my clothes!"

I open my door to let Thomas in and he walks over to pick up his stuff. I stroll in past him, picking out a vest that I can lounge in but before I can even pull it out of the wardrobe there's a thump. I whirl around and Thomas is sitting down, his head in his hands. My first thought is that he is being weird and that makes my jaw clench. But when he doesn't move for a few seconds I realise something must actually be wrong. Just like the first time I saw Thomas unconscious in the park I feel the worry pouring into me.

Crouching down next to him, I shake his shoulder. He looks up through heavy eyelids, his skin pale and pasty. Something is definitely wrong.

"Hey, Thomas, you okay?"

He opens his mouth to say something but that seems to just make everything worse. He squeezes his eyes shut, clamping his hands on either side of his head like he was trying to block out a bad noise. Under my hand, I can feel him shaking violently and my heart speeds up to an unnatural level as anxiety attacks me.

The only thing I can think to do is move him to my bed where he can't hurt himself. I lift him up, thankfully like before he seems to be able to support his weight quite well, and dump him on the mattress. He lays down, shaking. I worry that he's having some type of attack; I don't think it's an attack.

"Thomas, I'm going to get you some water, I'll be back in a minute."

I think he nods but it's hard to tell with the shaking and the hands to still clamped over his ears. I jog out of the room and miss every other step as I go downstairs. In the kitchen, my parents are arguing again but I ignore them and grab a glass from the cupboard, filling it with water. On my way back to my room, I take a detour into the bathroom and pick up some aspirin just in case.

Back in my room, Thomas seems to be slightly better. He's no longer shaking quite as much and he's removed his hands from his head, fiddling with my sheets instead. It's a bad time but seeing Thomas lying in my bed flusters me slightly. 

"I thought you might want some water," I say, trying to hand him the drink. His hands shake too much that I don't want to risk him spilling it on my bed. 

"May I?" I ask, lifting the glass to Thomas' lips. He doesn't say anything so I think it's fine. I allow the water to trickle into his mouth and before long, he's drunk nearly half the glass. I take it away, placing it on the bedside table, unsure of what to do now. I place the aspirin on the table next to the glass.

"There are some painkillers if you need them."

Thomas remains silent.

"What happened?" I venture.

This time he answers, his voice hushed. "I had a faint spell. Now I feel so shucking stupid."

"You're okay now, though?"

"I don't know. I think my backs seized up."

"Oh."

I walk over, unsure on why I'm still helping him, and push him up so that he's sitting. I sit on the bed behind him and after a second to hype myself up, start to massage his shoulders. My face instantly starts to burn from the embarrassment but I continue anyway. I glance over at the clock on my chest of drawers; it's nearly nine. My plan to sleep has gone out of the window completely. 

After a few seconds, my own back begins to become stiff at the angle I'm perched at. I climb fully onto the bed, aware of how I'm kneeling behind Thomas as I continue to massage circles into his back, working my way down his tensed spine. My fingers feel each ridge of his backbone like I've done this many times before, but my brain complains that this is so weird. On the occasions I've seen Thomas, I never thought I'd talk to him, much less be soothing his aching back in my bedroom. If I wasn't weak I'd tell him to piss off home and sort out his own problems. If I wasn't weak maybe I'd finally have the guts to tell him that I don't actually hate him but that I just can't stand being near him when he makes me feel so dangerously unstable.

He's always made me feel like I'm falling into a void; either taking me to a new galaxy full of potential and wonder or dragging me through endless nothingness to suffer in eternal hopelessness.

I want to change that.

I sit down and scoot up behind Thomas so that my legs rest either side of him in a sort of straddle. My heart races, my face beads with sweat,  my hands shake slightly as I resume my massaging, but at least I'm doing something. This is the first time I've made any attempt to be nice to Thomas, though this isn't the best way of doing it as things could easily go wrong. I know if tonight's events get out into the school gossip, not only will it be embarrassing, not Inly will the truth be twisted and my will friends hate me, but the school board itself would have a meltdown from the manipulated truth if it changes the way I believe it would. We'd be called out for homosexual behaviour; given detentions for weeks; maybe even expelled. All because I'm weak when I'm around him.

Thomas' whole body tenses from me being so close and I want to pull away. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Yet, I can't seem to move. The weariness of the day is finally catching up to me, chasing me down like I'm a mouse to a cat. The repetitive slow movements of my hand on Thomas' back hypnotizes me into a lull. I really want that nap now. The only problem is everything still feels so wrong. I still feel angry at Thomas for the way he called me out. I still want to amend how I treat him but I don't know how while I'm too tired from the hostility.

I can feel Thomas relax and then I feel his breaths becoming even. He's asleep. I remove my hand and lay back, Thomas lying on my chest and bunched between my legs. His even breaths and my heavy head finish the deal. I'm drifting off to sleep before I can even stop myself and rethink this whole situation. Maybe tomorrow everything will be better?