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cold.
‘when did it get so cold?’ Thought newt, he always did prefer warmth.
Dark.
”I never liked the dark.” Newt couldn’t see..? How come he couldn’t see?
Tommy.
And then suddenly he could see again, he saw Tommy, his Tommy.
…
and when had he picked up a gun?
Refusal
he didn’t want to hurt Tommy, he’d never forgive himself.
death.
pain, in his side, He almost didn’t feel it. He was too busy thinking of his life. About how he survived the jump, living when all he wanted was to die. But now, laying in a pool of his own blood, knife stuck inside his chest, the frantic breathing of his dearest friend beside him, he felt himself wanting to live.
But it was too late, Newt knew that, he just hoped Tommy would be alright with him gone. He imagined Tommy and Minho, Newt wondered how Minho was doing right now.
Everything was cold, fading to a simple yet complex state of nothingness. He felt his conscious fade away as he took his last breaths.