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Newt's voice shakes as he speaks. "You still care about her, don't you?"
Thomas watches Newt rise from his seat, eyes fixed on his like a hawk. His throat goes dry and he can't seem to find the willpower to respond. Something begins to buzz in his ears in time with the blood starting to flood his cheeks.
Newt scrutinizes him, scans every feaure of his face as if he were an open book. What he finds appears to horrify him; his expression gets impossibly paler and his eyes widen in hysterics. His lip curls when he says, "Too ashamed to answer, Thomas? I'm right, aren't I? You still--still--like her! Despite everything she's bloody done!" Spit flies from his mouth with Newt's toxic anger.
Thomas instinctively reaches out, his breath quickening to keep up with his rapid pulse. "Newt, hold on," he says helplessly, retreating a couple feet as the other boy takes a step towards him. "I don't--you don't understand. I swear. It's not what you think. What I feel for Teresa--how I feel now--it's not that. You've gotta believe me, Newt." You believe me, don't you? His heart twists in pain.
Newt stares him down, his chest heaving. There's a glint of madness in his gaze that terrifies and intrigues Thomas at the same time, and he's so distracted by it that he doesn't realize he is leaning forward until Newt lunges and grabs his shoulders with a grip of iron. Thomas's breath is ripped from his lungs as he is pinned against the wall behind him, Newt's nose bumping against his in the scuffle.
"Don't lie to me!" shouts the elder. His nails pierce Thomas through the thick fabric of his jacket. Thomas is absolutely still where he stands, not even daring to breathe. Not while Newt is this close, so close he can feel the heat on his lips with each shallow exhale.
Thomas's eyes flick from one eye to the other, finding that both are pooling over with emotions so raw and turbulent that he can feel himself beginning to drown despite the feelings not even belonging to him. Newt is silent for what seems like an eternity, but Thomas knows it only feels like that because he's so caught up in the proximity and the way Newt's holding him and the look in his sad brown eyes.
When Newt does speak again, it's almost a relief. "Don't lie," he repeats, his voice having dropped into a strained, choked whisper. "You've hurt me enough, Tommy--please don't lie to me too."
Thomas's hands have been numb where they hang loosely at his sides, but now they drift up between Newt's arms to gently rest on his chest. "I'm not lying," he protests quietly, ignoring for the moment how Newt had accused him of hurting him. "Newt."
Whatever he's about to say dies in his mouth when he sees the dim light of the room glittering off the first tear making a crisp line down the dust caking Newt's face. And then another. And another.
Newt's fingers get even tighter around him as he swallows back a sob, briefly closing his eyes and pursing his lips. Thomas waits patiently, still having to struggle to breathe without moving too much. His nerves are on overdrive and he can't relax in this position. He's hyperaware of every little detail, down to the flutter of Newt's long lashes and their chests all but brushing against each other's. He licks his chapped lips nervously.
As if Newt had sensed the movement, his eyes open and rest on Thomas as fiercely as before. "Forget her."
"What?"
"Just forget her already." Newt's unbridled hatred for Teresa is quiet, but bitterly cold. "She's done nothing but betray us and stab us in the back every single time we think we can trust her. That--witch doesn't deserve your sentiment."
"Stop," breathes Thomas, squeezing his eyes shut. "Please, Newt--that isn't fair--"
"I thought you said you didn't like her!" There it is. The explosive rage returns, and Thomas flinches and ducks his head when Newt picks him up from the wall just enough to slam him back against it.
"Newt, stop," yells Thomas, grabbing the collar of his friend's jacket. He's never seen Newt get furious enough to pose this kind of physical threat to him specifically. Now that he is experiencing it for the first time, real fear begins to creep into his gut.
However, Newt seems to be running on pure adrenaline alone, because after a few more wild exclamations and outbursts and manhandling Thomas a couple more times, he breaks down sobbing. Thomas freezes up when the boy drops his head onto his, pressing their foreheads together and bringing them closer than they have ever been. "I'm going crazy, Tommy," Thomas hears Newt groan.
"Shit, Newt," Thomas whispers, gently slipping his hands over Newt's shoulders. "It's okay. I--it's okay."
Newt looks up and Thomas finds himself looking directly into his eyes not two full inches away. There's a question, a plea, a hopeless request lurking inside of them. When he leans away enough, Thomas instinctively glances at Newt's lips before looking back up at him. "Newt..."
One of Newt's hands move from his shoulder to the side of his face, first hesitantly touching his cheek to cupping his jaw. Thomas shivers, his mouth opening in the slightest way in shock. His eyes close halfway and his heart pounds in his ears, filling his mind with a senseless red silence.
Newt's face is moving at an angle, so slowly that Thomas doesn't register it at first. Then he finds that his body is involuntarily responding, making him move forward to meet Newt halfway.
Except he doesn't.
He isn't aware of who stops first, but they do. Their lips are so close to each other that Thomas can actually feel them touching. It's enough to be sensed but too little to be called a kiss. Confusion spreads through him, and he doesn't know if he should finish this.
"No," Newt mumbles, abruptly letting go of Thomas and stepping away. Thomas automatically gets off the wall and reaches for him, Newt's name on his lips, but the older boy turns and knocks his outstretched arm away. "I didn't want it to be like this," he says, tone flat and heavy with his accent. "None of this should be like this."
Thomas stares at Newt for four long seconds before actually stuttering, "Wait--what were you just--"
"Nothing. Nothing." He sounds like he's on the verge of another breakdown. "I need to go. Don't you bloody dare follow me." And without another word or glance, Newt leaves the room wiping his eyes, leaving Thomas alone in the middle of the floor.
END