I Write Sins Not Tragedies (newtmas au)

Chapter 21

I apologise in advance if this is sh*t. I started school today, woo! (note the sarcasm). Ah well, it's my last year :)

3rd Person POV

Thomas woke up the next day full of regret. He vaguely remembered the night's events . . . well, how could he forget?

He needed to make it up to Newt, but he didn't know how!

* * *

Thomas walked down Newt's street, stopping outside the ever familiar door. With Newt's broken expression vivid in his mind, Thomas stepped up, knocking loud and confidently on the door. After a few minutes, Newt came to the door, unlocking and opening it to reveal his tired face. However, Thomas couldn't even open his mouth before the door was slammed very forcefully back in his face.

Sighing Thomas slumped back home, trying to think of how he would get Newt to talk to him again. He had already left thousands of messages and voicemails on Newt's phone, but he figured that the older boy must have switched it off by now.

As he opened his own front door, he heard his mum come rushing out from the kitchen.

"Honey, where did you go? It's 9am on a Sunday morning! You never go out!" she worried, cupping his face when she saw his worn out expression. "Oh, baby, what happened?"

"I've lost him . . . he hates me." Thomas muttered, pulling himself away from his mum and walking upstairs to his room. He closed his eyes, falling back onto his bed in despair.

* * *

That week, Thomas was unlike his usual self.

He didn't smile, or laugh, or even talk for that matter. He would just stare blankly at the school's bleak walls, no change in his plain expression.

Scott had been watching, becoming more and more worried about his friend as the days went on. But he didn't know what he could do to help him, he didn't even know what had happened.

Similarly, Newt had been just as quiet. However, this was more like his old self. He hung out with Minho all day at school, acting just like he had before, only not going after all the usual girls like he would have done.

In a way, Minho was pleased. During the past few lonely weeks, Minho had missed Thomas. He finally had his friend back . . . Only he didn't, did he? This wasn't the real Newt. The real Newt was the one that had come through only when he was with Thomas, but that Newt was gone now.

Now that Thomas was gone.

The only difference now was that Minho was finally noticing just how much Thomas really meant to Newt. To begin with, Minho believed that Thomas was just another one of Newt's flings. Only, maybe Minho was wrong? What if Thomas was more than that?

As the days passed, Minho began to see small changes in Newt's behaviour. For example, every time Minho saw Newt, he would have a cigarette lit, the small roll of paper not leaving his lips.

Minho had turned up unexpectedly at Newt's house on Wednesday, after school, only to find Newt completely drunk out of his mind, an empty bottle of vodka hanging loosely between his fingers. Large, purple circles hung under his now dead-looking eyes.

Newt never slept anymore; he couldn't. Every time he tried to, he would wake up from the same dream. It would be of that night, when he found Thomas kissing that girl. Only this time, Thomas was never his in the first place, and he's just stood all alone in the middle of the party.

* * *

Thomas' POV

I was sat in English, waiting to see if Newt would turn up or not. I had planned to explain everything to him . . . well, everything that I could explain anyway, because even if he doesn't talk to me, at least I'd get my side of things across.