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"I'm okay." It has become Newt's mantra, whispering it in his sleep. He says it even when he's happy, even when the thoughts come back.
Most of the time, he's okay. He can smile without thinking about it. He feels as though he could fly.
Other days, he's not. The thoughts come back, whisper sweet.
"One little cut," they whisper, "and you'll feel better. You'll feel free." Newt knows it won't help, but sometimes he does it, just for that bit of release.
"How'd you get those cuts?" his friends ask.
He'll force a smile onto his face. "It's fine. A dog got me." They all ignore it, even Minho, who he thought would see through his façade, except that one brunet.
"You might want to get that checked out. Make sure it didn't have a disease or something." Newt feels his stinging eyes, telling him he knows the truth.
"I'm fine," he insists. Thomas smiles, the way an adult does when they don't believe a child. "Really."
The thoughts stay away for a few weeks. "Perhaps they will stay away," Newt wishes. When they come back, they are even more powerful than before.
The top of his apartment building is 21 levels up. "That should be enough," he thinks.
It isn't. He falls to the sidewalk roughly. A distinct snapping of bone is heard from three blocks away. The last thing he remembers is Tommy's face full of worry before he drifts off into the darkness.
-
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Newt awakes to it. He's laying in a hospital bed, with countless machines and tubes hooked up to him.
Tommy is alert in the chair and notices him.
"You worried all of us," he says coldly. "I knew I should have confronted you. This never would have happened."
"I'm sorry." Newt's voice is feeble in the room.
"You don't do things like that. You tell someone. You have people that love you!"
"Like who?" Newt is angry now. No one really cares until it's gone.
Thomas approaches him and takes his face in his hand roughly. "Me." Then his lips are on Newt's, soft and full.
He runs his fingers through the brunet's soft hair.
It's hot and messy and perfect. Neither of them want to stop, and it seems to go on for an eternity, until Thomas pulls away.
"You really worried me." Thomas's breath comes out in short pants. "I though I lost you forever."
"You didn't though, and now I'm yours forever."
Newt never walked quite right again, with his shattered leg, but he made the best of it. Thomas was there every step of the way, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. And when the thoughts came back, Thomas kissed him hard until they disappeared.