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It was early morning, gentle sunlight spilling into the room through the thin curtains.
Newt was woken by a tickling sensation on his palm. He blinked his eyes open, looking down at the head of brown hair next to him. Thomas was playing with his hand.
He was tracing the lines on his palm with his finger, he thought. No, he was drawing shapes. No, that didn’t feel quite right either. What was he doing?
Tommy didn’t seem to have noticed he’d woken up and he looked so at peace. Rather than asking him, Newt decided to try and figure it out himself. He concentrated on the motion of Thomas’ finger running in odd, certain ways along his skin.
After a few times, he realized Tommy was repeating the same motions over and over. He’d finish whatever it was he was doing, then start over and do the exact same thing.
It was starting to feel like he was writing letters. Spelling something.
Newt focused on the lines Thomas was making.
I
That was easy.
L
O
V
E
Y
O
U
It was those letters. Again. And again. And again.
Newt’s breath caught in his throat.
Thomas heard him and startled, stopping, and glancing up.
Newt leaned in, cupping his face. He stroked a thumb over Tommy’s cheek. “I love you too,” he whispered with a big grin.
Thomas blushed and Newt smiled wider, kissing his red nose and then his lips.