Newt nodded to his sister as she waved goodbye before stepping out of the front door. Thomas took a seat next to him and began to dish out the styrofoam boxes and bowls that had their food. In front of Newt, his favorite bowl of soup. Or what had once been his favorite. He couldn't look at it the same since he had seen it in the toilet that day. But he ate it, or he tried to. Every spoonful lead to a grimace as the hot soup touched a sore in his mouth, but bit by bit, he finished it.
Later on, when they were on the couch, Newt had his head in Thomas's lap much like before and he thought that there was never going to be a good time to tell him this. He would tell him in the same way he had his mother. That he was okay, for now. That he was getting treatment and he would be okay. So he did.
"Newt." Thomas said, after he had laid it on him. The blond sat up to look at his friend properly, and he wished he hadn't. His eyes were brimmed red with tears and he had this horrible look on his face, one that he never wanted to see. "How long have you known?"
"Not long." Newt said softly. Thomas looked away and bowed his tear-filled face. He stood up then, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Newt could only watch, he didn't know what else he could do for his friend, for his love.
"It's going to be okay, Tommy." Newt said. He tried to reach for his hand but it was just out of reach.
"I wish things were different." Thomas said quietly. Newt was confused for a moment, what could he have meant by that? Different for him?
" I don't understand." Newt said quietly.
"How long do you have?" He asked, his back still facing Newt.
"Wha- Tommy I-"
"How long, Newt?" Thomas asked. Taken aback, Newt furrowed his brow and sank into the couch. What could he tell him? Surely not the truth. The truth was he didn't know for sure, really.
"After treatments, five years. Maybe more." He said hesitantly. Thomas let loose a long breath, he didn't know if this had relieved him or left him in more dread. He didn't want to know what the real truth would show him.
"Five years." He repeated quietly. "It's funny, how we've known each other all our lives and now we're on a ticking clock."
"Tommy, this doesn't change anything. I'll still be here that whole time. Maybe I'll get to see your first baby with Brenda and I'll-"
"Oh, piss on that." Thomas spat, finally turning to face Newt. "I've spent half my life pretending to be someone I'm not, and now, now that I'm finally figuring out what I want, this happens." He laughed bitterly and Newt couldn't help himself. He laughed as well. Because Thomas had turned something that had happened to him into something of his own demise.
"I'm sorry to be of an inconvenience to you." Newt said, rubbing his fingers through his thin hair.
"No, no." Thomas muttered, sitting back down harshly. "It's not your fault. Of course it's not." Newt says quietly for a long time waiting for, well, he wasn't sure what. Waiting for Thomas to say something else, for one. "I'm sorry this happened to you, Newt. I truly am. I'll be here for you through it all." He took Newt's hands in his own and the blond just stared at them. His hands had once been so much larger than Thomas's, they could've engulfed his easily, and now Thomas's hands swallowed his own. Skeleton hands. That's what he had.
"Thanks, Tommy." Newt said quietly. They were quiet for a while, and Newt couldn't take his eyes off of their hands.
"I'm going to leave Brenda. I'm going to leave her for you." Thomas said. This truly took Newt off guard. Thomas, it seemed, was full of surprises tonight. He had waited to hear Thomas say that for so long, he wanted to hear those words come out of his mouth, but now that he heard them he wished he never had. There was a tug of war in his heart, the part that loved Thomas and the part that truly wondered if Thomas would ever love him back or just said this because he was sick. This confession, this word vomit that Thomas blurted out, it didn't feel right. It didn't feel true.
