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Thomas was startled awake by the sound of his phone vibrating on his nightstand. He sat up quickly, his heart racing, quickly taking in his surroundings. He finally realized his phone was what woke him. Worried, he quickly answered, unable to read the screen without his glasses on.
“H-hello?” Thomas slurred, still not fully awake.
“Oh, Tommy,” Newt answered, his voice sounding surprised but mostly shaky. “I didn’t expect you to pick up.”
Thomas sat up in bed, fully awake after hearing Newt’s voice. It wasn’t normal for Newt to be calling him at 2 in the morning.
“Then why did you call?” Thomas asked, worry seeping into his gut.
“Well, I uh-” Newt stammered, clearly not sure what to do at this point. He sounded like he had been crying, or screaming, or who knows what. He wasn’t okay. “-bloody hell, I don’t know Tommy. Everything’s shit. Everything is shit and I don’t...I don’t know what to do.”
Thomas stayed silent for a moment, panic filling his chest. He knew that Newt had his issues; he’d had to throw out some pill and booze bottles himself, drive Newt home from random areas across down when he was barely even conscious, listen to him complain about his parents, school, college, and everything in between. But through all that, Thomas had never heard him quite like this, never this broken.
“Why, Newt, what happened?” Thomas asked, putting on his glasses.
“Nothing happened, Tommy, I just....” Newt stopped, and Thomas waited through shaky breaths for Newt to continue. “I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about...about everything, you know? Bloody school and all these tests. It’s about all this shit I don’t care about it, and I can’t get myself to try, and then my parents are disappointed, and I’m disappointed in myself but really, I’m not surprised. I’m just shit.”
“Newt, you’re not shit, you’re not,” Thomas assured him, completely out of bed now, too anxious to be sitting down. “Don’t say things like that, alright?”
“But I am, Tommy!” Newt argued with a sarcastic laugh. “I mean really, don’t flatter me here. I’m just sayin’ what’s true. I don’t try. I don’t. I can’t bring myself to. I’m bloody exhausted, Tommy. All the time. I don’t sleep. I barely eat. Everything takes effort.”
“I know, Newt,” Thomas murmured, a fist clutching his heart. He hated hearing Newt talk like this, talk down about himself. Newt was one of the kindest, warmest, and friendly people Thomas had ever met. He just couldn’t see that in himself. “But you just need to keep going, okay? It’ll get better. We’re almost done. We’re gonna make it.”
“Maybe you will,” Newt sighed. “I’ll barely pass. Go to some community college. Marry some pretty brunette and have three kids and live in the suburbs and work in a cubicle until I retire, then die. That’s all I’ll be.”
“No, that’s not what you’re future is going to be. You’re not making sense. You’re not thinking straight.”
“Am I ever?”
“Well, no. Neither am I. But you know what I mean. You’re overthinking things. You always do. Just take a minute, okay? Breathe.”
Newt stayed silent for a minute; Thomas could hear his continuously shaky breaths through the speaker. He paced back and forth in his bedroom, his anxiety never lessening, his heartbeat never slowing. He had never heard Newt this worried.
“I could just end it, you know?” Newt said, almost so softly that Thomas wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it. But he did.
“End it?” Now Thomas’ voice was shaking. “Newt, what do you mean?”
“My mom’s got some pills left in the bathroom,” Newt continued, his voice hollow. “You didn’t throw them out because they were for her health. They’re still there.”
Thomas was already throwing on his pants, scrambling around the floor for his shoes. He clumsily held the phone against his shoulder. “Newt, do not go into the bathroom, okay? Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t you dare.”
“I’m so tired, Tommy. I really am.” Newt had never sounded so empty before. So hopeless. Thomas was tying his shoes as fast as he could. “Waking up is a nightmare. Day after day in this shithole of a town. You’re the only thing that’s kept me going, really.”
“And I’m still here Newt, okay? I’m right here. This is me.” Thomas was shaking all over now; the trembles ran from his voice to his hands to his ribs.
“Yeah, and here I am, waking you up at 2 in the fucking morning because I’m a mess.” Newt let out a deep sigh. “I keep hurting you, Tommy. I’m sorry. I want to stop hurting you. Hurting everyone.”
“Listen, Newt, the only way you will be hurting me is if you do anything stupid tonight, alright?” Thomas finally finished the loop on his shoes. “Keep your window unlocked. I’m coming over.”
“What? Tommy, do-” Newt’s voice was muffled as Thomas shoved his phone into his pocket, running down the stairs and out the door, silently apologizing to his parents. He looked wildly around his driveway for his bike, but it was gone. “Shit,” he hissed to himself. Their only car in the driveway was his dad’s stick, and he didn’t know how to drive that.
He looked out at the street, the dim, yellow streetlights shining off the black streets. It was raining, hard, and no cars were in sight. Pulling his hood up, Thomas set off down the driveway and ran, ran as fast as he could down the road.
Newt lived about a 3 minute drive away, but Thomas had always been a fast runner, placing on his track team at every meet. He ran faster than he had at any race, because the stakes were real this time; it wasn’t just some silly trophy that he would shove in his attic to collect dust. No, Newt’s life was at stake. If Newt did something before Thomas could get there, the ambulance might not be able to save him. It would be too late, and Thomas wouldn’t let that happen, couldn’t let that happen.
So he ran, and he ran, and he ran. His lungs burned, his chest ached. His legs were on fire, and his breathing was deep and heavy. The only sound was his feet slapping the asphalt. Thomas couldn’t hear anything through his pocket; he quickly looked down and saw that the call had ended. “Shit,” he hissed again. He sprinted on.
Images of Newt opening the pill bottle kept passing through his mind. The idea of running into his house, breaking in if he had to, and seeing Newt sprawled out on the bathroom tile; the thought made Thomas’ hands tremble as he ran. Newt was his best friend. In their shitty small town, it was them against the world. Thomas had accepted Newt, and all of his faults and quirks, the moment he met him. He started introducing him to his favorite comic books, artists, TV shows. He would rant enthusiastically about NCIS for hours, Newt just sitting there, smiling and laughing at his passion for crime drama and mystery. Thomas had always loved solving puzzles, figuring out mysteries. Newt was his biggest mystery yet. And every day, Thomas tried to solve him. To figure him out.
To fix him.
He thought it was working. He thought giving him comics and mix CDs and reassuring talks would be enough. He thought he would be enough. To help. To heal. But Thomas might have just stalled the inevitable. Thomas wasn’t enough to fix Newt.
Tears stung his eyes, blurring the dark road ahead. But he ran, because he wasn’t giving up on Newt, not now, not ever. He wasn’t going to lose Newt. Not today.
He finally reached Newt’s house after what seemed like an eternity of running, chasing someone he couldn’t even see. A possible ghost.
Newt lived in a one-story, shabby house; his dad was away most of the time, and his mom wasn’t much of a home keeper. Thomas spotted Newt’s window on the side, slightly ajar. Relief flooded his chest. He’ll let me in. Thomas quickly ran to the side and knocked on the window before entering.
“Newt, it’s me. It’s Tommy. I’m coming in.” He quietly shuffled in through the window, not wanting to make too much noise. He knew Newt’s mom would be angry if she was woken up. He landed softly on the floor, tucking his knees to lessen the blow. He slowly stood up, squinting in the darkness to try and find Newt.
“Newt?” He called out. No response. Thomas’ heart sunk again. He had left the window open; where was he?
Thomas used the flashlight on his phone to illuminate the room. It looked like Thomas remembered; messy, clothes and papers thrown everywhere. Crooked band posters were hung on the walls, and crumpled drawings littered the waste basket. Newt never liked his drawings. Thomas loved them.
Thomas crept his way across the bedroom floor, carefully stepping over the mess. He kept whispering Newt’s name, hoping more than anything for a response. But he heard nothing. His heart hurt his chest with how intensely it was beating. He could hear it in his ears. His hands shook. His voice trembled.
He reached the doorway and looked out into the hallway. The bathroom door was ajar, a dim, yellow light spilling against the drab, gray wall. Thomas’ heart stopped. He shuffled over to the door and threw it open, never being ready for what would be on the other side. His breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Newt, standing and perfectly conscious, safe, alive. It was through rain-soaked glasses, but he could still see him. Thomas clutched his chest.
“Jesus, Newt.” Thomas breathed, his chest heaving. “You scared the shit out of me. Newt was looking down at the counter; the pill bottle was open, the cap unseen. The mix of pretty blue pills was staring Newt in the face; he looked at them like he was looking at a ghost. Newt slowly turned and looked up towards Thomas; his eyes were red and watery. He had clearly been crying. Thomas noticed that his hands were trembling just like Thomas’ was, and his jaw was quivering. The sight of him made Thomas’ heart break.
“I couldn’t do it,” Newt whispered, so low and inaudible that Thomas had to strain to hear him. “I couldn’t…” He trailed off, avoiding Thomas’ gaze. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’m a coward.”
“You’re not a coward,” Thomas assured, taking one step closer to Newt. “Not killing yourself is one of the bravest things you’ve ever done. Okay? You did the right thing. You’re still here.”
“Yeah, well, what good is it?” Newt answered through gritted teeth. “A lot of bloody good, I am.”
Thomas grabbed Newt by the shoulders, forced their eyes to meet. “Newt. Enough of this. Okay? I care about you. I’m sick of seeing you like this. You don’t deserve it. You’re a good person.”
Newt stayed silent, his gaze locked to Thomas. “You don’t believe me,” Thomas murmured. “You don’t think you’re a good person. I know that.” He lowered his hands from Newt’s shoulders. “I get that. Most mornings I wake up shaking. I have nightmares, all the time, of me hurting those I care about. About hurting you.” Newt swallowed, an air of uneasiness settling on him. “But you know, and I know, that I would never, ever, hurt you. I care about you more than anyone.”
Newt’s hands unclenched at his sides, and his jaw loosened. But he still trembled, his breaths still shaky and uneven.
“So you need to believe me when I tell you that you are a good person. Okay? You’re kind. You’re selfless. You’re giving, even when you have nothing left to give. I’ve seen it. So enough of this crap about hating yourself, alright? It’s not right. You deserve to be happy.”
Newt paused for a moment before saying “Your glasses are wet.”
Thomas scrunched his eyebrows, confused. “What?”
" Your glasses,” Newt answered, pointing. “They’re wet. Why are they wet?”
Thomas paused for a moment before answering. “It was raining.”
“Yeah, I know,” Newt assured, seemingly annoyed. It sounded normal. “Did you bike here?”
Thomas shook his head. “I ran.”
Amazingly, Newt laughed at that; not a sarcastic one, either; a real, deep laugh, sending a smile that lit up his whole face, bringing back the Newt that Thomas knew was always there. It filled Thomas’ chest with hope. “Well what the hell would you do that for?” Newt asked, still smiling.
“I didn’t...I wanted to get to you. Before...you know.” Newt’s smile faded, and he gave a small nod. He hesitated for a second before removing Thomas’ glasses. He took a towel from the wall and wiped the glasses clean, then handed them back. “Here. So you can see my shining face.”
“I could see it before, you weirdo,” Thomas laughed, putting his glasses back on. There Newt was, smiling, no raindrops clouding his vision.
“I’m sorry, Tommy,” Newt murmured, looking down. His cheeks flushed with red. “I shouldn’t be putting you through this.”
“Hey, I’m the one who signed up for it,” Thomas attempted at a joke. Newt gave a hint of a smile. “Don’t apologize, Newt. You never have to, okay? I’m always here. You know that.”
Newt looked back up, tears forming his eyes again; Thomas knew they were of gratitude and not sadness. “Thank you, Tommy. For everything.”
“It’s nothing,” Thomas brushed him off, giving a slight shrug.
Newt looked at Thomas for a moment, his eyes trailing down from his glasses down to his lips. They were pink from the cold, standing out against his pale skin. “
You know, Tommy…” Newt started, a smirk creeping up on his face. “You looked kind of cute with your glasses all wet.”
Thomas was startled; his heart skipped a beat. Did Newt really just say that? This boy really was a mystery.
Finally, he laughed, realizing it would be worse to say nothing. “Yeah, and you look pretty cute with your messy hair and teary eyes. We’re a hot mess.”
Newt laughed then, louder than before. Thomas joined in, the two of them laughing with pure happiness, as if the last 10 minutes of panic and worry never even happened. It was back to how it should be.
“Hey, wait wait wait,” Thomas interrupted, lowering his voice. “We don’t want to wake your mom.”
“ She’s not home,” Newt answered, his laughter fading. “Out with some friends, or something. I don’t know.”
“Oh,” Thomas answered, not sure how to respond. He took a moment to look at Newt, standing there in his pajamas, his eyes sagging and red, his hair fluffy and messy. His best friend in the world. He could never lose him. He refused to think of it.
Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around Newt’s shoulders, resting his chin in the crook of Newt’s shoulder. Newt hesitated for one moment before wrapping his arms around Thomas as well.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Thomas whispered into Newt’s ear. “You need to promise me. Right now.”
“I do,” Newt murmured, even though no one else was home. “I promise.”
“Swear on it,” Thomas insisted. “I can’t lose you, okay? Break this promise and I’ll never forgive you.”
“I swear,” Newt said into Thomas’ cheek. “I swear. I won’t leave you.”
“Good that,” Thomas said, pulling back so they could face each other, their noses brushing. “Because I love you, you fucking moron.”
Newt smiled at that, because he knew what it meant; it meant more than “I love you, friend. You’re like a brother to me.” No, it was more. It was much more.
“I love you too, you bloody idiot,” Newt laughed. He kissed Thomas, then, cupping his face in his hand, running his thumb over his cheek. Their heads were tilted just so that they fit perfectly together, their noses brushing. They pulled away, blushing and smiling and silly with happiness, just to be with each other, no one else in the world; just a dimly lit bathroom in a shitty neighborhood, them against the world.
“Hey, Tommy?” Newt whispered, his breath tickling Thomas’ skin, their lips brushing.
“Yeah, Newt?” Thomas answered, slightly out of breath.
“Stay?” Thomas nodded, kissing Newt on the forehead. “Of course. Always.”