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thomas was sure that he was dying. he feverishly dipped in and out of consciousness as he waded through illness, sensing little more than blurry shapes and slurred voices. the steady beep of a machine was the thing that kept him grounded. he would listen to it when he couldn't open his eyes, which was most days. when he arrived, the beeps were short and fast and the only thing he could concentrate on amidst the confusion. newt had been there, he thinks. yes, he was the one telling the uniformed people to pick thomas up. minho, too, was standing cluelessly in his underwear and a shirt. rubbing his eyes, he had helped the uniformed people put him into a stretcher. when they brought thomas outside, the cold air was refreshing and the smell of nighttime was welcoming. then he was loaded into a vehicle, which would've been nice if not for the angry sirens and the frantic voices; newt and minho talking over each other. that's when the beeping started - before then it had been more of a thud, and he could feel its reverberations inside of him. the beeping had been, and still was, external.
he didn't remember what happened afterwards, because he had fallen asleep. he had woken up in his current location, a cool, bland room if he remembered it clearly. periodically, wet towels were placed onto his forehead, and someone would prop his head up and pour water down his throat. then, a person, sometimes multiple, would come and sit and say things and laugh sometimes and be quiet sometimes. one thing they always said was "thomas, will you be alright?" and thomas would always say how would i know? in his mind. newt never asked him if he was going to be alright. he said things like "if you die, tommy, i'll kill you," or "tommy, you better get better." once, thomas had meekly replied, "or what?" and startled newt, much to both of their amusement.
the door to the hospital room squeaked open - they really should get that oiled - and in tumbled teresa, minho, and newt, all masked and teresa gloved, although that could've been a fashion choice.
"how're you doing, tom?" she asked, taking the seat closest to thomas. he could see newt's visible annoyance as he took a seat next to her.
"'m fine." thomas said. "kinda sleepy."
"too bad," she said. minho, still standing, snorted quietly behind her.
"how's hospital life?" newt said. "teresa and i made you a pie." he glanced at her. she smiled and produced a small pie slice from her purse, wrapped in plastic wrap. it was slightly misshapen, with a clumsy whirl of whipped cream on top of it. thomas appreciated it anyways.
"we had to smuggle it in." teresa announced proudly, pulling out a fork and offering both to the bed-ridden boy. he looked at her apologetically.
"i dunno if i can even eat that by myself, t."
"oh." teresa coughed awkwardly. "i'll just leave this here, then." she placed the slice of pie on the bedside table. minho struck up a conversation to fill the silence, and they talked for a long time. at least, it felt like a long time. thomas lost track after a while. he eventually dozed off, and he could faintly hear the group leave. once again, the beep of the heart monitor filled his mind.
when he reopened his eyes, someone was holding his hand.
"teresa?" he mumbled. she was the only person he could think of who would even think to touch his hand.
"try again, sweetheart." a voice chuckled, bordering on sarcastic. newt's hand left him, and thomas sighed.
"don't you have classes tomorrow, newt?"
"i'll be fine." they both knew his grades were slipping, probably because he spent so much time visiting thomas. he used to bring his schoolwork and try to do it while keeping up quiet small talk and messing around. he'd tell thomas about what was happening during lunch periods & in school bathrooms and how the girls were saying they missed him. other times he talked about how he was doing, upon a request from thomas. newt would always answer honestly ("i'm not feeling the best, tommy." or "today was a good day, even without you."), thomas could tell by the careful thought in his eyes or the fidgeting of his hands, the nervous tics that showed a person's actual character.
"why were you holding my hand?" thomas asked, all anticipation because he knew the answer, they both knew the answer.
"are you gonna make me say it?"
"yes."
newt shook his head, took thomas' hand again. "i won't. it'll spoil the mood." thomas shrugged in response, eyes wandering to the pie that teresa had left.
"did you really help bake the pie, or did teresa make it and you cleaned up afterwards."
"believe it or not, i actually helped. minho ate most of it at home, though, so you might want to enjoy this piece while it lasts."
"mm. gimme some."
"look who's getting rude," newt unwrapped the pie, laid the plastic flat on the table for use as a plate, and carefully broke a piece off of the treat with the fork. it seemed that he didn't care how he looked as he fed thomas a bite of the pie, which resulted in a wrinkle of his nose.
"how minho eats your guys' cooking will forever amaze me." he teased.
"yeah," newt said. "we need you back to cook for us."
"that's it?"
"mhm. no other reasons." they caught each other's eyes, and the melancholy tension that a hospital always held was lifted for a moment as they laughed, too loudly for the dumb joke and the situation they were in. the joy was broken by a yawn from newt, accompanied by a yawn from thomas.
"go home, newt." he mumbled, sinking into the hospital bed.
"i'll stay overnight." thomas couldn't tell if he was being serious or not.
"don't," he warned. it took another yawn from newt to convince him to get a good night's sleep. as he stood, he fondly brushed a clump of disheveled hair away from thomas' forehead. by that point, he was already asleep.