chapter nineteen

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Thomas stood humming by the counter while pouring a cup of hot chocolate to a little girl. He walked around the counter with the blue cup in both hands, carefully kneeling down in front of the girl to give her the cup. "Careful, sweetie. It's hot," he said as the girl reached for the cup. She carefully took the cup from him and beamed before she walked off to find her mother by one of the tables. Thomas smiled fondly at the child.

He was just about to walk behind the counter again when he heard the bell chirp happily and his attention immediately went to the person who stepped into the bakery. He knew what time it was, that Newt had ended school fifteen minutes ago which meant he should be at the bakery at any time soon, and–

It wasn't him. Newt wasn't there. It was a woman with two children. Another day with no sight of his southsider. It had been five days and Newt hadn't replied to his messages (he had sent him one every day, sometimes two if he felt extra worried) and he hadn't seen the blond boy even once. Not at school and not at the bakery. It was as if the boy had disappeared completely, like he had run away forever and no one except Thomas had noticed. His heart hurt more for every day that went by without him seeing Newt. And the longer he waited, the more thoughts appeared in his mind. The maybe's and what if's were overwhelming, being the cause of why his heart never beated in a calm, normal pace anymore and why his throat sometimes tightened in that painful, worrisome way.

He just wanted to know what was going on, if he had done something wrong and if Newt was alright. He was worried that the boy might had gotten in some trouble, even though he knew Newt wasn't one of those southsiders that got into trouble, but he knew that other southsiders liked to mess with people. He was afraid Newt might had gotten hurt. He was also afraid that maybe it was his fault. What if someone had found out about him and Newt hanging out and had gotten upset? What if Newt's parents knew and weren't letting him out of the house? Thomas had no idea what Newt's parents were like, but they could be just like his own and that wasn't good.

Or maybe Newt just didn't want to see Thomas anymore. Thomas tried his hardest not to think like that, but it was so difficult to not blame everything on himself.

He kept serving customers, with a small smile on his face, his eyes still going to the windows and door every now and then to see if the blond boy was there. He didn't see him, and he didn't know before that he could get any more disappointed than he already was until he left the bakery without the sight of Newt.

He barely said a word at home. He nodded, shook his head or hummed when his parents tried talking to him. He barely looked at anyone. All he was, was sadness. Every other emotion was pushed away, long forgotten by his mind that was full of negativity. He missed the love, the light, the laughter, or more specifically, Newt's love, the light Newt gave him, and Newt's laughter. He was left empty with hollowness and an aching sadness and longing.

It wasn't the kind of sadness that made him feel like crying hysterically until every part of his body hurt, no, it was the kind of sadness that made him feel empty, dull. He realised that he had gotten so used to having Newt around that he had taken the happiness for granted. He hadn't felt really sad for such a long time, and now that he hadn't seen Newt for five days, five long days, he realised how truly lucky he had been to have someone who brought him so much happiness. It was rare to find someone who could make his cheeks hurt so much from smiling, his eyes water from laughing, his heart tingle from all the joy he felt. It was rare to find someone who could keep him happy for days and weeks.

Thomas just wanted his happiness back. He wanted his Newt back. He had been happy before he met Newt, of course, but it was nothing compared to the happiness he felt around the blond boy. The happiness he used to feel was more dull, much smaller. The happiness he felt around Newt was like a bomb of happy colours and endless sunshine and a feeling of tingles in his chest that he never wanted to forget.

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