❝ What did they find? ❞ Thomas looks back at him, and there is anguish clearly written on his face. ❝ You have Alzheimer's, Newt. ❞ His breath catches in his throat. Alzheimer's. ❝ There's no cure for that, ❞ he says. ❝ No, ❞ the other whispers, and Newt is struck by just how old he looks-Thomas isn't young anymore, certainly, but now his face seems to have aged ten years. Determination, however, lights his features as he continues. ❝ It'll be okay, though. You're on medication right now. That-that'll slow it down. And I'll take care of you. I won't leave. We'll get through this together, just like the way it's always been. ❞ Newt is dying, and the worse part is that his mind's too fucked-up for him to realize it. ( tmr sickness au feat. newtmas and a lot of tissues ) PREVIOUSLY REMEMBER ME

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