ethereal ➻ newtmas

five ; B E G I N

"You were in an orphanage?"

Newt sniffs, and Thomas gets a horrible feeling that he's crying. "Yeah. It wasn't bad — the nurses were mean but - that wasn't what made it bad. It was just — not having a family. I guess."

Newt goes quiet for a minute, and Thomas feels his heart shatter. "I'm sorry, Newt." He says softly, and gets a sniffle in return.

"Sorry doesn't cut it," Newt mutters, and Thomas can hear him start to get frustrated. "Doesn't make it any better. Still don't got nobody."

Thomas throws the covers off of him and heads towards Newts bed, sitting down at the edge. Newt gives him a curious look, and even in the dark he has puffy eyes, red rimmed and swollen.

"I know it doesn't," Thomas murmurs, placing a hand on Newts upper arm. "But you have people, now. You've got Maggie, Charles. Minho, Mina. You've got me, Newt. You'll always have me."

He hates how this stupid boy with his stupid smile and stupid laugh is turning him soft — but Thomas finds that it's worth the while being kind. Unguarded. It's worth it being around someone like Newt.

"Thanks," the Londoner whispers, and Thomas gives him another gentle squeeze before tip-toeing back to his own bed. It's dark and quiet, the wind whistling outside. It's the same every night, and Thomas feels his gut twist at the odd familiarity of it, now.

"You're an odd one," Newt says aloud, then. It was sudden, and Thomas finds himself holding his breath to listen. "I don't know what it is, I can't hack it. But you're different. I like it."

Thomas is glad for the darkness, because that way, Newt can't see him smile.

T U E S D A Y

Everything is a little easier. It'd been somewhat easy at the start, but things are settling and it's starting to feel normal.

Newt and Thomas have started talking like they've known each other their whole lives. Thomas finds how easy it is to be himself — and he swears Newt is far ahead of his time. He knows too much.

Minho's shining eyes and witty humour is normal now, too. Usually quick comments and sharp remarks would irritate Thomas, but with Minho, it's okay. Everything's, okay. Things that used to annoy him don't even earn a blink, now. He's calmed down a lot.

He's not sure if it's because these people don't know who he is - but he feels, free, in a way. They don't judge him and they haven't labelled him as some dodgy basket case that will jump kids and wreck property and slash tires for kicks. They don't think he's a waste of space. They like him. They listen, to him. And Thomas finds he likes that. A lot.

It's still startlingly scary how things are coming together, and how Thomas feels like he belongs here. Deep down, he knows he doesn't. He belongs back in the future, with IPhones and flat-screen TVs and Range Rovers and things you just don't get here. Things that Thomas finds he can live without.

Even so, he's listening to his heart for once. He's let himself loose a little - easying up. The countryside is quiet and separated from the world, but it's new and exciting if you add the mystery to it. He's screaming laughing in the ocean and rolling around in lakes and doing gas mask drills at school. He's learning to live like they do, and it seems so natural, it's hard to remember that this isn't home.