Lost in the Nightmares of Hope- a Newtmas Fanfic

Exchanges of Power and Words

"Newt...Newt wake up!"

Newt groaned as warm hands roughly shook him awake. He opened his eyes and slowly sat up, groaning. His head hurt from where Gally's cronie had hit him. He reached his hand around to the back of his head and found something sticky covering his scalp and hair - blood.

"You okay, Newt?"

He looked up from his now blood-covered hand to see Tommy looking at him with worry on his face. He grabbed Newt's hand and asked again, but this time with his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he let out a small laugh. "My head feels like it's gonna bloody break open any second now though. They didn't have to hit me so buggin' hard."

Thomas laughed nervously along with him, clearly wondering if Newt had gone crazy with that whack to the head. Any sane person wouldn't be laughing in their position. Wait a second...where are we anyways? And gosh darn, Tommy sure is bloody cute when he's worried. Gahhhh! Get a hold on yourself, Newt!

"Where are we, Tommy?"

"The Slammer." A grim expression plastered Tommy's face as he waited for Newt's reaction.

Newt thought for a moment, pondering, analyzing. He watched Thomas and noticed a bloody mark on the side of his head too. His poor Tommy. Newt searched the other boy's eyes for any traces of pain, but found none of the Thomas' own. It was only Newt's pain that Tommy felt.

Why does he have to be so perfect? I just want to k-

"Good god! Just get it over with and kiss already, shuckfaces!"

Newt whipped his head around, searching for the source of the voice. He quickly found it sitting slightly behind and to the right of him, with its tight shirt sleeves rolled up past the elbows and somehow always-perfect hair still styled despite their location and predicament. Minho.

What is he doing here? How does he know about me and Thomas? Is he still mad at me? Am I still mad at him? What if he tells Thomas what I had planned to do to him? How on earth is his hair still amazing!?

"Minho, I-" Newt began before being interrupted.

"Don't say it, you little slinthead." Minho glared and pointed at him accusingly. "I don't want your sorrow, pity, apology, whatever."

"But I-" he tried again, and was interrupted for the second time. He gave Minho the death glare. Rude shuckface.

"I know you didn't mean it." Minho paused and gestured to Thomas. "You were just out of your mind over the matter of this shuck Greenie."

Newt's mouth fell open and Thomas looked at him, dumbfounded.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Thomas asked no one in particular, his brow furrowed in quite obvious confusion.

"Oh, you know, Newt was just in the usual, everyday, I-wanna-kill-this-guy-cause-I-need-someone -to-blame-for-my-friend's-death-but-also-I-wanna-kiss-him-and-now-my-best-friend-thinks-I'm- wrong-and-now-I-just-wanna-kill-everybody kind of mood," Minho responded without blinking an eye.

Newt was horrified. How could Minho do that to him? "Minho! What the bloody shuck do you think you're doing?!"

"Making sure you two have a healthy, truthful relationship," the Asian responded simply. Then he asked them both, "And doesn't it feel so much better?"

Newt just glared at him, but Thomas surprisingly decided to answer.

"Yep, because now I can admit I really wanted to kill Newt most of the time for a while there too," Thomas said, laughing slightly, his eyes flickering over to Newt.