the things we fix | newtmas au

chapter twelve

Thomas held Newt's hand as they walked up the stairs to his appartment. It was only on the first floor, which was great for Newt's leg -Thomas wouldn't want him to force on it when it was not necessary.
He smiled timidly at Newt when they almost got by the door, happy -but also nervous. He didn't even remember if the house was clean before he left this morning. It had been a really long day.

''We're here,'' he said softly, getting a smile from Newt in response. He opened up the door and lead him in, closing the door behind them.

''Hi honey,'' he heard, making his lips curl into a smile. ''George! They're here,'' the woman said again.

Thomas watched fondly at her, standing behind the counter, looking after a pan on the stove. She was very beautiful. Big brown eyes and curly hair just like Teresa.

''So...You must be Newt,'' she said happily, coming closer to hug him briefly, doing the same with Thomas right after. ''Thomas talked a lot about you. You're as charming as he said, if not more so,'' she said with a smile, winking at Thomas.

''Thank you,'' he heard Newt say, ''you're very kind. It smells delicious by the way.''

As Thomas tried to say something as well, a man entered the room, walking towards his wife to kiss her forehead. ''Hi boys,'' he said while getting beers out of the fridge.

The woman stirred a wodden spoon into the pan before she stepped back from the stove and came closer to Thomas, cupping his cheeks. ''I missed you, sweetheart,'' she said softly.

''I missed you too Mom,'' Thomas answered.

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Thomas woke up with a start, panting. He quickly sat down, removing the cover from his body, because he was way too hot and felt like he couldn't breathe. He stood still for a minute, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to steady his breathing and slow down his heartbeat somehow.

He eventually got there, rubbing his hands on his face as he tried to shake his nightmare off.

It wasn't the first time he dreamt of his parents, but each time was painful. That particular dream had been painful. Because he knew his parents would never meet Newt. He could never actually tell them about Newt.

He looked at his hands, playing with his fingers, and tried to hold on to the image of his mom's face for an other minute. He often did that. Once the panic of the nightmare had passed, he would try to recreate those few minutes he had with his mom and dad in his head. It'd make his heart squeeze in a strange way when a mix of warmth and sadness would hit.

''Oh, mom. I wish you could meet Newt,'' Thomas muttered for himself.

Wait. Oh no, no no no no.

Thomas panicked when he remembered Newt, and most importantly his last evening with Newt.

No. I couldn't have dreamt that, I couldn't have dreamt that.

He quickly searched for the switch of the lamp standing on the nightstand and turned it on.

Wherever he looked he couldn't find Newt. No. No no no no no.