Work Text:
The second his eyes opened, Newt knew that today was not going to be a good day.
He could feel the pit in his stomach, the ache in his chest. An overwhelming emptiness and purposelessness. Unshed tears glossed his eyes, blurring his unseeing, sleep-clouded vision. A phantom of a dream lingered in the back of his mind, plot and characters forgotten. Only the emotions, the weight of fear and sorrow and loss remained, shattering the confines of the ephemeral dream-world and invading his reality with inescapable persistence. They consumed him completely -- heart, mind, and soul -- and threatened to drag him down into the abyss of despair.
With effort, he turned and reached to his left. His body felt heavy, muscles not quite obeying, limbs moving through air like molasses. He sighed when his arm landed not on the boy he was hoping would still be in bed with him, but on the collection of pillows carefully arranged to fill the empty space. He pulled one in anyway, curling tightly around it, and squeezed his eyes shut again.
He knew he could just call out, and Thomas would come running. Heck he’d probably even forget to turn off the kettle again -- that incident was very nearly disastrous. But he couldn’t quite muster the energy to form those words, to expel the air from his lungs, to make anything more than a muted hum.
Now that he was slightly more awake, he could feel the dull throbbing in his leg, pulsing to the beat of his heart. He willed himself to reach down, massaging his knee lightly, focusing first on the lateral tendon -- which felt more inflamed and tender than usual -- before moving further south to the bone. His fingers traced over the shallow contours, a permanent reminder of the wound that never fully healed. Pain jolted up his leg as he started to apply some gentle pressure, going through the regimen his physical therapist had taught him. It didn’t do much for him today, though, and ultimately he decided to just leave it be.
He sighed again, pulling in another pillow and placing it under his leg, both as support and to pretend he was cuddling with Thomas. He shivered slightly. The weather was getting colder -- they really needed to start closing the window before bed. He wrapped his comforter tighter around him, trying to trap as much heat as he could. Thomas would’ve been warmer than these pillows.
A faint pitter-patter reached his ears. Must be raining, he realized. Odd that. It didn’t usually rain in October. The only rain they really got was in the spring, providing much needed nourishment to the fields. By now the summer heat had scorched those lush, green hills, and all that remained were golden stalks of shrub-grass, dry and parched and merely surviving rather than thriving. At least they had been spared the wildfires this year.
His thoughts were interrupted by a loud clamor coming from the kitchen. Most likely the coffee grinder, he guessed. Recently Thomas had decided to start grinding his own beans rather than buying pre-ground coffee, claiming it tasted infinitely better. Not that Newt could really tell. He was more partial to tea himself anyway. Luckily Thomas would always have a cup freshly brewed for him by the time he plodded out of bed and showered. It almost made Thomas’s getting up early and his losing out on morning cuddles worth it. Almost.
The sound stopped. Newt debated whether to extricate himself from his cocoon. Probably time to get the day started, as long as he was already awake. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to move. It was cold out there. Warm and soft and cozy in here. They didn’t have plans for the day anyway.
~ ~ ~
He didn’t know how long he lay there. He didn’t know when he’d drifted back off to sleep. All he knew was that he felt a dip in the bed behind him. Heard a faint shuffling of sheets. A familiar warmth pressed against his back. Teasing fingers brushed against his bare arms. Newt hummed. This was good. Safe. Perfect.
“Good morning, you.”
Newt scrunched his nose. Almost perfect.
“You have coffee breath.”
Thomas laughed behind him, placing a soft kiss on the nape of Newt’s neck. Newt smiled at the sound, curling closer into him. He still hasn’t completely shaken those early-morning feels -- probably wouldn’t for a while -- but somehow, his day has started to feel just a little bit brighter.