"Is this about your dad?" Thomas asked after a while. Newt stiffened.
"Thomas, I told you to drop it." Newt said briskly.
"Newt." Thomas said mildly.
"Thomas." Newt replied in the same mocking tone.
"Will you please go?" he asked quietly.
"I will not." Newt said. He took a long drink from his cup after that, whether to avoid any more confrontation or not, he wasn't sure. Whatever wine that Thomas had brought was strong, and already had his head spinning. He couldn't imagine how Thomas had felt. He had drank about half the bottle before they even made it to the couch.
The movie played in the background, but it was one that he had never heard of. Now that he looked at it, it was a tv show. Something about knights and kings or the other. Though, as the movie played, Thomas inched closer and closer, as if he wasn't already close enough. His hand migrated to Newt's thigh.
"Tommy," Newt said, all of his previous frustrations had been worn dull at that point.
"Hm?" Thomas replied, his eyes large as he looked up at Newt.
"Does Brenda know where you are?" He asked, even though his throat caught on the last word. He didn't want to bring it up, not really, but the guilt was so overwhelming that it balled up in his stomach like a flame.
"I don't want to talk about her." Thomas said. Newt craned his neck to look at Thomas, but he was staring straight ahead.
"Tommy?" Newt said again. He wanted to talk, have a good conversation like they used to. The only thing Thomas seemed to want was sex, and Newt was tired.
"Yeah?" Thomas replied.
"What do you want to do when you grow up?" Thomas was quiet for a while, and the hand that was on Newt's thigh slowly inched down closer to his knee.
"Aren't we already grown up?" He asked.
"I don't feel like I'm grown up." Newt replied with a shrug.
"You tell me your answer first while I think of mine then." Thomas replied. Newt didn't have to think about it, not really. He had always known where he wanted to go when he was older anyway. He had thought about it when he was a child, and again when his dad had passed away.
"I want to go to New Zealand and see the flowers." Newt said softly. Briefly, he was afraid that Thomas would make fun of him for this small dream.
"What's so special about New Zealand?" Thomas asked. If he didn't know Thomas, he would have thought his comment rude instead of pure curiosity.
"Chatham Islands and the forget-me-nots." Newt said. "I've always liked those. I think because I don't want to be forgotten." Newt never realized this until he said it out loud. That he didn't want to be forgotten.
"You won't be forgotten." Thomas replied, confused.
"I will. One day. Everyone's forgotten unless they've made some kind of history. Fought in some kind of war. Done some kind of charity work. I haven't done any of that. I'm nobody special. And when you die and Sonya dies and everyone else that I love dies, I will be forgotten." Newt said. There were so many people in the world that nobody was going to last forever. Not even someone like Gandhi. Eventually everyone becomes a memory, until that person with the memory is forgotten. "I will just be a headstone in the ground."
"I will make sure you live on. Unless I die first of course, then you'll have to do the same for me." Thomas said. Newt sighed quietly. It wasn't the same he knew, because he had always wanted to make some kind of impact on the world, or do something that would enable him to live on forever somehow. But he knew that wouldn't happen, not now. Not in this life.
