𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓬𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓫𝓸𝔂 // 𝓷𝓮𝔀𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 ✿

Deadheads

Chuck lead us out of the Homestead and into the eery darkness of the deadheads. I walked carefully, looking our for the tangle of roots underfoot.

"This place doesn't freak you out Chuck?" Minho asked, while nervously glancing around.

"Nah, I think it's cool."

I looked up, the stars barely visible through the tight-woven branches. Chuck lead us even deeper into the woods until I feared we would run right into the glade wall.

He abruptly made a stop and turned to his right to reveal a large weeping willow. You wouldn't have expected it deep here in the forest. Most of the trees were old gnarled pines, but this was a diamond in the rough.

It's shiny leaves hung low and flitted in the breeze, barely reflecting the moonlight above. We all stand and marvel for a bit before Chuck speaks up.

"Well, that's it. Newt, Thomas, when do you think you can help?" He asks eagerly.

I turn to Newt and let him answer.

"I think me and Tommy will both be free all tomorrow. This one might want to sleep in though." He remarked, laying his eyes upon me.

I laugh it off and nod my head.

"Alright well I'm heading back right now, I don't like it here one bit." Teresa announces.

Minho gives a nod of assent and follows suit. I begin to follow the pack, but Newt grabs my wrist and pulls me away. The contact lit up the forest before me.

"Let's see what's on the inside." He remarks curiously, with the jerk of his neck towards the tree.

I shrug my shoulders and laugh at his eagerness. He stays holding onto my wrist all the while. I watch his hand neatly part the leaves, and I am engulfed through the drapery.

The inside is beautiful. I look at him, drinking in his presence. His eyes are wide as they survey the scene.

"It's amazing." He breathes.

"Yeah." I barely whisper in agreement.

I clear my throat and muster the courage to speak.

"Hey uh Newt. Are you okay? I mean the table and dinner today. You looked uneasy." I admit sheepishly.

"Tommy, stop bloody worrying about me." He snaps.

I pull away from his grasp and sit at the trunk of the tree defeated.

"Sorry." He apologizes.

He scuffs his feat near me and adjusts his crossbody strap and plants himself right next to me. I stagger at the sight of his ankle almost crossed over mine.

"You don't have to talk." I remind him softly.

She brushes his hair away from his face and looks at me. My heart flutters, and the world around me stops. My breath fills the quiet space. We stay here like this. For how long I can't decipher, inhaling the sent of the earth and pine. His otherworldly features more prominent in the moonlight. I take note of his creased eyebrows. His frown.

Here, concealed from the world he whispers to me.

"I wish I was dead."