My next victim |~NEWTMAS FANFIC~|

"You're also my brother." "Promise?" "Promise."

Thomas couldn't believe it. He just couldn't. He had watched Newt, his best friend in the entire Crank infested, dried up, Flare burning world. . . die. His brother. Or someone he loved like a brother. A knife in his chest. A knife. Though only and inch or so from his heart, he still died. The virus and the knife combined must have been to much for his body. So his brain just. . . shut off. Just, quit.

That's what Thomas told himself at least. Not saying that he was weak, or not strong enough to survive. Because he was, he definitely was. He was a lot stronger than Thomas, and that was a fact.

Thomas sat around the roaring fire, the fire that reminded Thomas of the burning city, the burning city where he last saw Newt.

He remembered the first time he met the boy. He remembered the last time he met the boy. And he remembered every time they met, talked, laughed, cried, hugged, and looked at each other in between.

It was hard on Thomas, and everyone knew that. Everyone, knew that. And they all acted like they knew more about it then Thomas did. Like they knew a small detail that he didn't, but they never actually said what the small detail was.

People would always look at Thomas in a weird way when he walked close to them, then they would start whispering to each other. It bothered him. He hated it. If they had something to say about him just say it to his face for the sake of his goddamn sanity.

Every time it happened he would just roll his eyes and walk the other way, sneaking back into his hut. House? Home? Whatever the hell you wanted to call it. Then he'd lay on his bed and let it all out, he cry himself to sleep, even though it was the middle of the day. Only to wake up an hour later and act like nothing happened.

The whole thing must have been hard on Minho too. Most definitely worse then it was on Thomas, and Thomas wanted everything to stop. He wanted the world to quit spinning, time to quit falling into the nothingness they called the past, all life as they knew it to just end. . . Even himself.

And to think Minho felt worse than this? If Thomas felt like this, how the hell did Minho feel? That thought alone made Thomas want to cry.

Come the hell on Tommy! He told himself. Pull it together! He stared blankly into the fire, the sun had finally set around them, only the blazing fire providing enough light to see. He felt hundreds of eyes on him. People avoided Thomas, and he didn't know why. Had he changed that much after one day?

After a couple seconds of staring into the fire, sadness washed over him, he felt his expression change to sadness and more around the fire looked at him, he felt tears starting to sting his eyes as he realized what he had told himself.

Come the hell on Tommy. Tommy. . . Newt.
Dear Thomas, . . .
Please Tommy, please. . .
You deserve to be happy. . .
Goodbye mate, Newt. . .
Those words floated in his mind, over and over and over, again and again and again. He couldn't take it anymore. Thomas stood up and walked over to his poorly built hut. He opened the door and walked in closing it quietly hoping no one followed him.

Thomas took off his old Runners vest and threw it on a wooden table to the East side of his hut, Minho had kept them after all this time. He fell to his bed on the other side of the room and let the tears flow. He looked over to his Runners vest with tears in his eyes and saw his old blade half sticking out of a pocket. He stared at it for a second, millions of thoughts running through his head.

He slowly sat up, still staring at the old blade. Then he stood up, and walked over to the old blade, letting his fingers run across the wood handle of it. Then he touched the cold, half dull metal, the touch sent shivers down his spine.

Then only a second later, a knock at his door.

Knock, knock, knock.

Then it opened without anything else, and someone stepped in, not so quietly closing the door behind them. Thomas shot his head up from the blade and looked at the stranger at the door, slightly whipping away his tears. Thomas looked up and found someone who wasn't so much of a stranger to him, Minho.

He had his head down, looking to the floor. Thomas quickly whipped away the rest of his tears, if he needed to be strong for anyone, it had to be Minho. His other brother.

Minho stood at the door, looking at the ground, then he slowly looked up at Thomas, and his heart broke into a million pieces.

Minho was crying.

Without warning Minho almost ran up to Thomas and pulled him into a bear hug. Letting his tears flood down his cheeks, dampening Thomas shirt. Minho shook with his silent sobs, then he accidentally let out a loud cry. Thomas could feel Minho's embarrassment.

Thomas didn't know what to do. What to say. So he hugged him back, saying things like, "Shh," and, "It's okay." Sometimes rubbing the boy's back slightly.

Eventually Minho pulled away from Thomas whipping away his tears, he looked at Thomas with a look of guilt and embarrassment. "Sorry," he murmured looking at the ground, letting another tear slip from his eye.

Minho whipped away the tear, walked to the other side of the room, and sat down on Thomas's bed. He didn't look up at Thomas, he just stayed looking down at the dirt ground. Thomas took a seat to the right of him.

Minho sobbed and twisted his body so he was hugging Thomas again. Thomas let his own tears fall as he hugged Minho back.

After a few seconds, Minho pulled away again, whipping his tears, his face flushed red with embarrassment. "Uhg, sorry." He said rubbing his eyes for a second then looking at Thomas.

Minho's eyes were red and puffy, like he hadn't gotten sleep in years and did nothing but cry for those years. And Thomas knew he didn't look any better, even though he had slept easily more then half the day.

"Ahh," Minho said with a laugh, slightly shaking his trembling hands, trying not to cry again. "And we call ourselves Runners?" He laughed. "We're over here crying like a couple shuck babies!" He laughed and Thomas laughed too.

"You know it okay to cry, right?" Thomas said placing his hand on Minho's shoulder. Thomas looked from Minho and added in a whisper, barely loud enough to hear, "We did lose a brother."

Minho's gaze fell the the floor, "yeah, a brother. A brother." Minho whipped his hand on his face below his eye. "Sorry," Thomas murmured this time.

"No." Minho said quickly, shaking his head. "No! Don't be sorry. You're right! You know that?" Minho looked at Thomas then stood up off the bed. Thomas followed, also standing. "You're right! He was- is, our brother." He corrected himself. "Our brother. Our best friend. Our family." He took in a deep breath. "And we're his future." Minho looked proud.

"Thanks Tommy." Minho's eyes widened with fear as he saw how the expression on Thomas's face had changed. "I meant Tom. Thomas. Thomas, I meant Thomas." He said with an apologetic smile. "Sorry," he said smacking his hands against his face. Thomas grabbed Minho's wrists and pulled them away from his face, smiling at the dark haired boy. "It's fine Minho."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm one hundred percent sure."

"You're not totally pissed and gonna slit my throat in my sleep?" He asked nervously.

Thomas laughed. "No Minho! You're also my brother and always will be!"

"Promise?"

"Promise." He smiled, and Minho smiled back pulling him into another hug. Minho pulled back again, "Mind if I stay for a while?" He asked nervously, looking at the door and touching under his eyes which were still puffy and red. "Sure." Thomas said sitting down on his bed. Minho sat next to him.
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This is my first chapter of my first fanfic, so I deeply apologize if it's terrible! I have a pretty set plan for this fanfic and excited to continue writing! Hope you've enjoyed so far.

-C <3

~1387 words~