Newt Imagines {rewrites coming soon}

{Newt} The Cure

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of depression, anxiety, personality disorders, paranoia, self harm and other such topics. Please be aware if you get triggered by these kinds of the things.

Chapter One
Depression

I lay in my bed, feeling over the scars on my wrists. They spanned across both arms, going from my wrist to my elbow crease. It was only 10:00 AM, but I didn't want to get out of bed, much like every other day. It was just a normal thing for me these days to not want to get out of bed, ever since I came to the WICKED Mental Health Facility. Basically, it's full of teens with severe mental illnesses. Like me.

There was a knock on my door and I sat up straight, pulling the sleeves of my long sleeved shirt down.
"Come in." My voice was raspy due to not speaking to anyone in a while, and came out alot quieter than I meant it to. The door opened slowly, and I expected to see a doctor, but this time it was a boy my age, about 14 or 15. He had strawberry blonde hair in a shaggy cut, and it was swept across his forehead. He was tall and slightly muscular, and his eyes were a deep brown.
"H-Hi." I stuttered, my severe anxiety collapsing my ability to speak.
"Hey." His voice was quiet, and it seemed he was hesitating on his next move. "Can I come in?"
"Y-Yeah." When he came into the room and shut the door, his features became more clear. He had a sharp jawline and his eyes were soft, showing a sense of hesitence towards approaching me. His lips were in a small line, slightly upturned to show that he appreciated me letting him in.

"Let me guess. The doctors sent you here cause they thought 'I needed someone to interact with?'" I said, pulling my legs to my chest and hiding my arms.
"Something like that I guess. They told me to come here cause I haven't had human contact in ages." His voice had a beautiful British accent, a perfect match for his face. He leaned against the book shelf and propped his body up.

"You can sit down you know." I said, gesturing at the bed. He walked over and sat down on the foot of the bed, legs crossed. "You know, you never told me your name."
"Newt. My names Newt." He said, a small bit of a smile on his face.
"Strange name, but I like it. Mines Y/n." I held out my hand for him to shake, and my mind screamed at me.

No! What are you doing? Do you wanna get hurt? Do you wanna be forgotten? Why make him your friend? You just want another person to disappoint.
Anxiety sucks in situations like this. Makes you feel horrible for a simple thing like making friends.

He took my hand and instantly I was filled with a warmth. My hands were like ice from the cold room, but his were warm like what's radiated off a fire. Maybe he's one of the people that just does that. A person who radiates warmth and comfort to everyone around them.
"Why are you here, if you don't mind me asking." Afterwards he decided to add, "Just curious."

"It's alright." I offered a weak smile. "I'm here because of-as my file says it- 'reduced endorphin production and severe paranoia.' Basically depression and anxiety." I shrugged, not ashamed to talk about my mental health issues. "What about you?"

Why would you ask that? Maybe he doesn't want to talk about it. Ever think of that? Huh?

"Personality disorder and schizophrenia." He said calmly. "I have this thing where I had wierd mood swings that make me change into a different person. And I hear voices." I looked at him sympathetically.

"Wow. That sounds terrible." I said, my knees drifting away from my chest a bit.
"I've learned to manage. Yours seems worse though." He nodded at me. "Your anxiety and all."
"It's a bit difficult. I can barely talk to people most of the time."
"But your talking to me." He smiled, a genuine smile.
"You must be pretty special then." I smiled back for the first time in a while.
"You must be too. I think the voices like you." He joked and we laughed. "Well I better get going. See yah later Y/N."
"Bye Newt." I waved as he walked off and shut the door.

I layed back on my bed and stared at the ceiling, smiling.
Wow. He's amazing. And you didn't mess anything up. Good job.

I decided to call my sister like I always did when I had good news.
"Hello?" Her voice said through the phone.
"Jessie, guess what?"
"What?"
"I actually talked to someone today!" To anyone else this wouldn't have been a major accomplishment, but to me it was huge.
"No way! What were they like?"
"He's British, and he's so nice. He has great hair-"
"Wait, he?" She questioned.
"Yeah. Why?"
"No reason. Continue."

I spent all night talking about him to her.

Hey guys! I wanted to start this series of imagines cause this is a huge topic I'd like to discuss. Mental illness is often referred to negatively and people are shunned because of it, but it is a severe issue. I have suffered with depression and minor anxiety in the past, so I wanted to bring light to this.

Also, recently one of my favorite youtubers did a charity live stream for the Depression and Bipolar Disorder Association so that they can help people, and it gave me the idea for this. Also I had this idea at 12:00 am so you know it's good.

More chapters of this story incoming!