'Cry, my love.'

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EYOOOOOOO GUESS WHO'S BACKKKK

Srry i was gone for so long lmao

anyways, like always i ddint proof read.

**

'There is beauty in everything,' that is what Newt always said. Newt was always such a kind and wise man, but he loved this line the most. He was a strong man who didn't like when he was put in a corner. Newt was a man who laughed when Minho hit his head and would later ask if he was okay. Newt was the kind of person who loved with his whole heart, he was the type of person to bring you flowers if you were sick or sad. He would bake you a cake or make you soup just because you hadn't smiled that day. He would make you sing and dance with him if that is what it took. He was amazing.

Newt loved the flowers in his garden, he loved making people smile, he loved to help, but most of all; he loved Thomas.

He saw someone in Thomas, someone who could be loved and cherished. Thomas hadn't understood then, but he likes to think he does now. Thomas has always loved Newt. Newt was simply the most beautiful human Thomas has ever seen and it didn't matter that there were raw, jagged edges along the both of them. They could smooth out the sharpness, they could. So when Newt became dull instead of smooth, Thomas saw and Thomas cried.

He cried and mourned for someone who was still alive, Thomas mourned and wilted away.

Newt became a mess of sharp and dulled edges, an ugly mixture of a bitter man. The man who had loved with all his heart has started to hate with everything he had.

Newt was angry and unhappy, a stark contrast to what he used to be. Thomas couldn't figure out how to help him so he watched. His beloved wilted away right before his eyes and Thomas was long gone before Newt. They had burned out and instead of smoothing the other out, they had sharpened them.

Their love had died.

Newt isolated himself and Thomas couldn't do anything about it. It made Thomas' heart pound in his chest, he couldn't save the one person he vowed to keep safe.

It had hurt a lot and Newt was angry at him for it. He had screamed at Thomas for abandoning him and Thomas just stood there. He was listening closely, because Newt rarely spoke to him these days. Thomas enjoyed Newt's voice, even if it had become nearly unrecognisable lately.

So Thomas stood there, not saying a word, what could he even say?

Newt kept yelling and screaming, tears streaming down his dirtied face. Then he just stopped.

Thomas felt his heart sink, is Newt done already? He wanted Newt to keep going, keep talking to him, keep him company. He's sorry he abandoned him when Newt needed him, but he just wants to keep hearing Newt. He would beg if Newt deemed it necessary. He would.

Newt had stopped and Thomas felt himself break, pieces of his soul were being carried by the wind. It took so much effort to keep his eyes open while he begged Newt to stay. Newt had to stay, Newt had to talk to him, Newt had to listen— Newt had to love him.

He must, because if he stopped then Thomas would disappear. And Thomas couldn't stand the thought of that.

He wishes desperately that Newt would not stop loving him. And Newt doesn't. He just... loves a little less.

He just loves a little less every day, until one day he forgets. And Thomas cries again that day. Newt forgot the exact colour of Thomas' eyes and he loves a little less then.

Then, Newt loves less and less. He forgets and forgets and then it is all gone.

That day it becomes clear to Thomas that he has to disappear. He doesn't get a choice, because Newt has forgotten.

He cries and cries until he can't anymore, the last intact piece of his soul gets carried away as Newt stops remembering. Thomas does not get the chance to dry his tears as he disappears.

Time passes and Newt seems to get better, Thomas can not watch him get better and it only saddened him.

'Cry, my love, it is alright,' someone would whisper to him, and then Newt would remember again—but too late. Newt would remember again what colour Thomas' eyes were—amber coloured, like a smothering fire that burned inside his soul, filled with love and— but it was too late now.

He would remember everything and Thomas has disappeared again, he would never get back and then Newt would mourn. He would allow himself to cry and he would die inside to keep remembering the little things, he would remember—two freckles in the shape of a star under his right eye and a mole right behind his left ear and a smile that would light up his entire day because it was Thomas and— but too late.

Newt feared the day he might forget again, and he would fear the day he would see Thomas again. Because when he would see Thomas again, he would be forgotten too. 

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