Work Text:
There’s a person-shaped lump under the covers when Thomas gets home from work that evening. Instinctively, Thomas lowers his bag to the floor and inches his way onto the bed. The lump doesn’t move, so his arms are able to wrap themselves gently around it, pulling it in close. There’s a faint, almost inaudible sniffle in response from under the blanket.
“Have you been here all day?” Thomas murmurs, part of him already knowing the answer.
The lump, once again, doesn’t move, but Thomas doesn’t miss the quiet “yeah” that comes from it. The pain in that voice breaks Thomas’ heart, but he’s learned to work past that in favour of getting things done and making this as manageable as it can be.
“How does tea sound?” he asks the motionless lump.
“Good.”
Good. The word brings Thomas a small sense of relief; he can help.
“I’ll get you some.” He presses a soft kiss to the uppermost portion of the lump, somewhere near where the sound had been coming from. “I love you.”
There’s a muffled voice from beneath the blanket, unintelligible, but muttered to the rhythm of ‘I love you too’.
With that, Thomas pushes himself up and gets to work in the kitchen, boiling the kettle and searching for the favourite mug, which he’s always thought is better designed to hold soup than tea but it suits the lump just fine. It doesn’t take long to find; it sits in plain sight on the countertop, stained from the last time it was used. After a quick wash, it’s as good as new. In the time it takes for the water to boil, Thomas thinks back over the last twenty-four hours. There isn’t always a reason for days like this – not concretely, at least– but sometimes he can recognise a trigger or factor that makes these days more likely. He thinks back on the day they had yesterday (out at the movies for Thomas’ day off work). They’d smiled and laughed their way through some goofy comedy and then made their way to their favourite restaurant for dinner. Nothing had been amiss. They’d enjoyed it. And today… this.
The kettle boils and Thomas pours the water into the mug, leaving it to steep for that specific amount of time before adding the tiny dash of milk , just how he’d been taught by the lump himself.
On his return to the room, Thomas sees that there’s been no change.
“You’re gonna have to come on out to drink this, sweetie,” he reminds the figure, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed and rubbing soothing circles on the tallest part of the blanket.
There’s a grunt in response and for a second Thomas wonders if he’ll have to do some more convincing, but slowly the covers are pushed back to reveal the desolate love of his life. Newt’s red and swollen eyes meet Thomas’ for a brief moment before settling on the mug in Thomas’ hand. He frowns, perplexed.
“Did you clean it?” Newt asks.
Thomas nods, extending the mug to his boyfriend. “Of course I did. You can’t drink tea out of any old mug.”
The hint of a smile on Newt’s lips has Thomas’ heart flipping in his chest. It’s more of a reward than he’d hoped for by now; usually it takes the better part of an hour to get a smile out of him.
“Thank you,” Newt says, as he sits up and takes hold of the mug, waiting for the tea to cool down before sipping it.
“You’re welcome.”
They sit in silence for a while, Newt staring into the space ahead of him and Thomas watching him carefully, working out how best to help him. He takes in Newt’s appearance; the ruffled hair, puffy cheeks, bloodshot eyes and reddened nose. Not for the first time, he wishes it were easier. He wishes there was a simple fix for this horrible, debilitating disease. But, it just wasn’t like that. Mental illness wasn’t the same as a physical illness or injury. As Newt had once put it; the broken leg had been the easy part– the broken mind, not so much.
But Thomas was learning and Newt was learning too. There were things that worked– that made it a little easier– and there were things that made it worse.
Tea, for one, was simple and usually helped. Newt always said he felt warmer inside after a cup of tea. He said it thawed him out and helped him breathe.
Therapy was another turning point. Once Newt had someone to talk to, professionally, he could unwind a little more. He found techniques to ground himself when he felt out of control and, most importantly, he learned to open up instead of bottling his feelings inside.
And then, of course, there was Thomas. His presence alone eased the tension in the room. Rain clouds seemed to clear when he walked into the room. And, for Newt, who’d lived most of his life in the grey, a little sunshine was always welcome.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Thomas asks, nudging Newt ever so slightly with his shoulder.
Newt takes a sip of the tea. “My thoughts are worth more than that.”
So Thomas thinks for a second. “Pony for your thoughts?”
And Newt slowly turns his head to meet Thomas’ expectant gaze. He blinks once. “Huh? Did you say pony?”
“I did.”
“Hm,” Newt considers it. “I suppose that’s adequate.”
The spark in his eyes quickly fades again and Newt drops his head, sipping his tea again, lacking the energy to keep the charade going.
“Newt?” Thomas starts, and when he receives no answer, he rests his head on the boy’s shoulder, attempting to comfort him with more than just words. One of his hands reaches out and gently grasps one of Newt’s, fingers interlocking.
Newt sighs and after a moment his head comes to rest on top of Thomas’. “I’m sorry, Tommy.”
“Don’t apologise. Please don’t be sorry, Newt.”
But Newt shakes his head, ruffling Thomas’ own hair with the movement. “I just wish I could be happier for you.”
His words worry Thomas. They give insight into Newt’s motivation.
“Newt, I don’t want you to be happy for me. I want you to be happy for you.”
Silence follows. Thomas is reminded of the fact that telling Newt he’s doing things wrong probably isn’t the best way to make him feel better. So, he tries another tactic.
“You know, I was really excited to come home from work today.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
Newt slumps down and attempts to set his tea on the bedside table, Thomas intercepts it before he can, gripping Newt’s hand tighter in encouragement. “Newt, I’m not disappointed. Hear me out.”
A barely audible sigh is heard as Newt sits up a little more and takes his mug back, sipping quietly, waiting for Thomas to continue.
“I like spending time with you, Newt. Whether you’re happy, sad, or anything in between; you’re you. You’re the person I’m choosing to spend my life with because I love you, in whatever form you come.” Thomas presses a quick kiss to Newt’s forehead to emphasise his point. “I was excited to come home because it meant I got to see you, and talk to you, and hear about a whole new day in your life.”
Newt huffs out a humourless laugh, staring down into his tea again. “Not much of a day, Tommy.”
“Hey,” Thomas cups Newt’s chin with his hand, so that his boyfriend has no choice but to look at him. “You know that every day that you live is incredibly important to me, right? I’ve told you this.”
Usually, Thomas would get another sarcastic comment, fueled by how terrible Newt feels. Today, however, he gets something different. Newt’s eyes fill with tears as he looks back at Thomas, nodding his head ever so slightly.
“Come on.” Thomas takes Newt’s tea from him and places it on the bedside table before pulling Newt into his arms for a tight hug, rubbing circles into his back. “I love you. Every part of you. For every single hour of every day, Newt.”
Newt’s grip on Thomas tightens. “I love you too,” he mumbles. Then, after a pause. “I’ve got therapy tomorrow morning.”
Thomas knows what Newt is trying to ask without him needing to say it out loud. “Would you like me to come with you? I’ll take the morning off, if you like.”
“Yes, please.”
Thomas pulls out of the hug but leaves his hands on Newt’s shoulders. “I’m really proud of you, Newt.” His hands cup Newt’s cheeks and he uses his thumbs to wipe the tears away. “So proud. So, so, so proud.”
“I get it, Tommy. Thank you.”
“So, so, so, so, so, so proud.”
“Thomas, if you-”
“So, so, so, so-”
Newt silences Thomas with a kiss, which is exactly how Thomas knows he’s succeeded in making things feel okay .