♫R U Mine? by Artic Monkeys
~ I was thinking about posting another fic I've started writing. I really like the idea of it and I haven't come across another Newtmas fic similar to it so it would be unique and interesting.
~I had my English exam today so I really hope I've passed. I'm so busy this week with studying for another exam on Friday so I might find it difficult to update but I'll try my hardest.
~I had horse riding after my exam and I was on a different horse that I haven't been on since January and she was absolutely flying! She wouldn't slow down to do a twenty metre circle so we ended up continuously going over the poles and it was honestly so frustrating but she made up for it with her canter because I didn't even have to kick her to tell her to go.
Thomas's POV
It wasn't the sound of my alarm that woke me. No, it was the sudden chill in the room, like the air had dropped below zero degrees. I felt like that all the time, though, as if I had frozen over. I tried not to think about it -about Newt being away from me for three whole months. My anxiety hadn't supressed in the last few days, even after it had all sunk in.
It's pathetic, really. I've been sleeping for at least five hours a night now. I've been less tired at school and I've been catching up in most classes. My GPA has risen and I plan to keep it that way. No matter what I think about, Newt always manages to sneak his way into the vision.
'Newt's missing school, but I know he'll graduate anyway', or 'maybe my friends and I could hang out later, but Newt wouldn't be there', or even 'I don't understand the maths homework, I wish I could text Newt and ask for help'.
Three months may not seem like a long time, but for me it feels like an eternity.
I just want it all to be over.
***
I absentmindedly tap my pen on the desk. The whole class were quietly chatting away, supposedly talking about the work the teacher has given us. I stared at the title, reading it over endlessly in my mind: 'What ideas are shared in the poem?'
As much as I love English, I have no energy or motivation to write about a poem I'll never remember. Shakespeare's talent makes me jealous. I wish I could write, I wish I was good at many things, but I'm not and I never will be.
"Thomas, are you alright, man?" Minho asked. I looked up to see his concerned eyes looking into mine.
"Somewhat," I mumbled in reply.
"Oh, Tom, you've got to stop getting yourself worked up over what's going on with Newt-" Teresa began before I cut her off.
"I don't want to talk about it," I snapped, trying with all my might not to get angry.
Teresa looked taken aback, her body visibly tensed before she exhaled a long breath, "I'm just trying to help you, Thomas, stop being so stubborn."
She never calls me by my whole name. I know she's just as furious as I am, but there's nothing more I want right now than to scream at everyone and blame them for every little thing that's gone wrong in my life. It's not true, though, because I'm the reason I'm a failure.
Failure of a son.
Failure of a friend.
Failure of a boyfriend.
"You know he's going to be okay, he always is," Brenda tries to reassure me.
"Yeah, say that the next time he tries to kill himself but magically makes it out alive!" I shout, the anger and hurt finally at it's peak. The class go silent and turn to stare at me. Even the teacher looks as shocked as the rest.
I don't speak another word before grabbing my bag and throwing it over my shoulder. I stalk out the classroom, slamming the door behind me.
I'm a ticking bomb, waiting to go off and, when I do, I'm going to take everyone down with me. Everything around me will crumble; shattering into tiny pieces, almost like glass. The pain will be unbearable, but I'll be the one to deal with it. I'm already weighed down by constant negative thoughts, but maybe adding to that might push me underground.
Being alone let's me think. Sometimes, quiet is good. But, as a wise man once said, 'sometimes, quiet is violent'. It's true. I tend to overthink things when I have space. Thoughts of terror often make their way into my mind at night, so I lay there thinking about them until I'm tired enough to fall asleep.
'I'm not schizophrenic, I just have an over active mind' is my version of 'I'm not a psychopath, I'm a high-functioning sociopath'.
"Look who's out of class," a taunting voice echoes. Ben. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"
I don't want to fight back. Rage gives me adrenaline, but I can't risk getting into trouble. There's a sudden strong grip on my shoulder that turns me round. My face is so close to Ben's, even though he is slightly taller. I try to take a step back, but he only takes one forward.
"Go away, Ben," I say, sounding like a five-year old.
"Ben, seriously, man, just leave him be. He's going through enough shit right now. You don't need to give him anymore," Clint -one of Ben's friends- says from behind. His arms are crossed over his chest and he look impatient.
"Not yet, Clint," Ben snaps.
"You're such a prick. I'm leaving," Jeff -another one of his friends- says.
"Don't!" Ben yells, "you dare. We haven't had any fun with him yet, have we?"
"And we don't need to. Now, let's go," Clint pleads. Both he and Jeff grab on to Ben and pull him backwards. I watch as he struggles against their grip. They're not as tall but they're just as powerful.
"You're welcome for just saving your ass, dude," Zart says. I didn't even realise he was there.
"Thanks," I reply.
"We're gonna try and make sure he stays away from yourself and Newt for a while. I'm sorry for what he's put you through."
I nod, clapping his back. The sincere smile on his face reaches his eyes. Why are they friends with him? He's not made of gold, he's not special.
I wander round school, knowing I'm not going back to English. Next period is lunch anyway, so I sit in the cafeteria and bring out things to study. I read over notes from History class, trying not to fall asleep.
Time seems to fly by and, before I know it, the bell has rang and students are piling into the room, desperate to find a seat next to their friends. I wave mine over, acting like I'm okay. Apparently, Teresa is not because she slams her books on to the table, causing me to jump.
"What the hell has gotten into you, Thomas?" She spits. She doesn't give me a chance to reply before she lurches back in again, "I'm trying to help you but you throw it back in my face. You screamed at Brenda when she was only trying to reassure you. I promised Newt I would look out for you, but I'm failing him because you're storming out in the middle of classes and being snappy about everything we say!
"Do you know what else, Thomas? You think you're the only one who's hurting. Well, big news, you're not. We're all finding it tough to cope with what Newt did but we're pushing that all aside to make sure you're okay. Pull it together, Thomas, because you are being damn right selfish."
There's an awkward silence. Teresa scoffs at me, clearly disgusted.
"Teresa, I..." I never realised how...obsessed I had been with all of this that I didn't notice I was turning the attention upon myself. "I'm going to see Newt tonight. Please come with me. All of you. I think it would mean a lot to him."
"Of course we'll come," Minho said, his voice unsteady. I know he agrees with Teresa, along with everyone else, but Newt is his best friend. He'd die for him.
"Brenda," I say to the shy girl who's hiding behind Gally. She slowly shows herself, fear striking her face. She unwillingly takes a step forwards. "I'm really sorry for yelling at you. I don't know what got into me. I'm really starting to lose it, aren't I?"
"I forgive you, Thomas. You didn't have to take your anger out on me, but sometimes it's better to let it out rather than pent it up inside you," her small, yet confident, voice said.
A sympathetic smile was all I could manage. I can't deny the fact Brenda is one of the sweetest girls I've ever met. Her badass side is usually hidden at school, but she can slag people off with her sarcasm like a professional.
And I know Teresa will be angry at me for a while, but she'll come around. She always does. I just have to be patient.