Ten | newtmas

forty eight

Thomas pulls me closer, adjusting the blanket across our laps.

"Where'd you go?" he asks.

I frown up at him. "What d'ya mean?"

"You left," he says.

I pause the TV, sitting up more on the couch. This is my couch, right? Thomas looks at me expectantly. Something is wrong. "No, I didn't. What're you talking about?"

"It's alright," Thomas says, smiling now. "You had to, it's okay."

"Had to what?" I ask.

Thomas shakes his head. "Nothing. Can you go grab us something to drink?"

I eye him carefully, then get up, walking to the kitchen. But it's different. No, this is TIMI's cafeteria. I walk back, and Thomas is sitting in a chair this time. The rec room. Are we back?

"You're doing great," Thomas says.

I want to ask with what, then I remember. My tens. I look down, and something feels missing—my cast. When I try to ask Thomas where it is, he's no longer there.

"Tommy?" I ask. I try to walk forward, but I'm frozen. Panic starts to fill me. Why can't I move? Did I do something wrong?

I need Thomas. Where is he? Where is he?

I take a deep breath as my eyes flutter open. It's dark, so taking survey of where I am is nearly impossible for a moment. It helps when I remember I have other senses, like feeling things. I can feel a blanket over me, and bed beneath me. But that doesn't register first. What registers first is my hand on Thomas' chest as it moves up and down. Our faces are close, and his leg is on top of my cast, but it doesn't hurt.

My medication usually makes me a heavy enough sleeper that I don't remember my dreams, but this one I happened to have gave me anxiety, so I calm down by listening to Thomas' breathing. I don't stop to wonder what time it is, or if Minho is in here, or if I should leave. All I have to know is that I'm here, and Thomas is here. Nothing else is of much importance.

Part of me wishes Thomas was awake so we could talk more, but for now, I'll take what I can get. I move closer to him, and lay like that for who knows how long. I'm not counting.

When I wake up next, it's to Thomas' voice.

"Newt?" he asks. I'm not sure how long I've been asleep.

I'm overjoyed to realize that I'm still here with him. "Yeah?" I ask, opening my eyes.

"I hate to wake you guys, but it's six." This voice isn't Thomas'. I lift my head to see Minho standing on the other side of the room. That wakes me up more. When I look at Thomas, his eyes are open but droopy, and he's looking at me with a soft smile.

"How did—how am I still here?" I ask, looking between them.

"I was wondering the same thing," Thomas asks, looking at Minho. His arm is still around me. "Did you do something?"

"No, actually. All I did was tell Vince, and he said he'd cover for you. Thank him," Minho says, before looking at me. "Morning, Newt."

"Morning," I say back.

Thomas looks confused and conflicted. "Vince? Really?"

"Yeah, man," Minho says. "I'm gonna leave you guys alone and get ready, but try to be out there soon, alright?"