I have to leave. Leave Thomas. Leave Chuck. I have to say goodbye and face everything ahead of me alone. Recovery, my parents' divorce, trying to expose TIMI; it'll all be on me to handle. Can I do that? Is all of that even possible?
Dr. Paige and Dr. Janson are supposed to meet us in here any moment. We're back in my building, and we're in Ava's office. Being in here with my parents makes it all seem a lot smaller. They have no clue what's gone down here, so they probably don't think much of the place. To them, it's just an institution that their son doesn't belong in anymore. But I'll always see it as a lot more than that.
The Normals are in their class now, so we didn't run into anyone on the way in. That's probably a good thing, though. If I'd seen Thomas...
I hear Ava Paige and Janson enter the room from behind me, but I don't turn my head to look at them. This is about to be wildly uncomfortable, but it's nothing compared to what's coming.
They both sit down; Ava in her chair behind her desk, and Janson awkwardly sitting in a smaller chair to the side of her.
"We have to discuss Newton's outpatient treatment plan," Janson starts.
"So he'll just be seeing a therapist weekly, right?" my mother says.
"You can have him continue coming here for therapy and possibly a group—"
"No," my mom cuts him off. I look at her, then at Janson.
"I could keep coming to therapy here?" I ask.
"We're not interested in doing that, we've found a local therapist for him," Mom says.
So am I just not getting any say at all with this whole thing? She never told me that, and I didn't know coming here was even an option. Coming here would mean possibly seeing Thomas every week. "But Mom—"
"Newt, please," she says.
"Alright, well, we just have to go over a few other things then," Janson says.
As they discuss my medication, I feel anger building in my chest. Dr. Paige doesn't jump in often, and it makes me wonder why she's even here. The only consolation in this situation is the fact that she lost. But the rest of the situation frustrates me so much that even that isn't helping.
I don't speak much either until something comes up that I refuse to let be decided for me.
"Could we take him now?" my father—surprisingly enough—asks.
"No," I say, flying forward in my seat and shaking my head. Ava Paige raises her eyebrows. "I-I need to get my stuff together and pack," I add.
"You're going to make us come all the way back tomorrow?" Dad asks.
I'm fed up. With him, with Ava Paige, with being helpless, with everything. I'm not even sure what's about to come out of my mouth when my mother interjects.
"That's fine, sweetie," she says. I look at her, and the relief that floods through me at the one victory is small, but appreciated.
"Thank you," I say, sitting back in my chair.
Tomorrow it is.
They continue talking until finally they feel they've made a good enough plan for me without any of my input, and my parents tell me they'll be back for me tomorrow after lunch. Just like when Frypan left.
Mom brings me back to my room, and I check the clock in the hallway to see that it's only nine. The Normals won't be out until almost ten.
She stops my chair when we get into the room, and I stand up slowly, trying not to show my shakiness. Lunch isn't until noon, but I don't know if I could stomach anything right now anyway.
"You don't seem very happy to be leaving," Mom says.
I don't answer until I'm sat on my bed. I'm on four, but I don't let her know that. "It's complicated," I say weakly.
"How? This place isn't good for you, Newt. You don't belong here, and I'm sorry I sent you in the first place," she says. She sounds emotional. "I'm so sorry."
"You shouldn't be sorry," I say. "I needed it. I'm better now, aren't I?" It had almost nothing to do with Janson, but it is true.
"Either way, you should be home now," Mom says.
I look across the room at Chuck's unmade bed. "I know," I say. It's not her fault she doesn't know why this is so hard for me.
"Please talk to me," Mom says after a moment, stepping closer to me. This really isn't the time.
"Mom," I say, taking a deep breath. "I'm tired; really tired. So can we do this tomorrow?"
She's disappointed. I wish I could say I'm used to disappointing her, but I don't think that'll ever happen.
"Alright," she says. She looks behind her as if she's expecting someone to be there. "Your father is bringing the car around, so I should go. Please call if you need me, okay?"
"I will," I say. I probably won't.
"I love you. I'll see you tomorrow," Mom says. She looks like she goes to step closer, but decides against it.
"Love you," I say, forcing the words out of my exhaust ridden body.
She walks out, and I lie down, feeling defeated. Every bone and muscle in my body aches, and I don't want to be conscious. I don't want to feel this anymore. I don't want to face the rest of today, or tomorrow. The only things I do want are the things I can't have.
One more glance at the time, and then I sleep.
"Newt," I hear. When I recognize the voice, I want to keep my eyes closed. "Newt?"
I have to face him eventually. My eyes reluctantly peel open, and I attempt to prop myself up on my elbows, but fail miserably. "Sorry," I say, my voice barely coming out.
Chuck just stares at me as I sit up. "Medication time," he says.
I look at the time. It's ten. A jolt of anxiety helps wake me up quicker. I go to thank Chuck for waking me, but he turns and just walks to my chair. He's still mad at me.
As I get up, my count continues without me wanting it to. Chuck isn't looking at me. As much as I hate that he's upset, if hating me is the only way Chuck can get through this, I'll let him.
Before I sit down, I look down at Chuck. He hasn't asked, but he'll have to know eventually. "Do you want to know how the trial went?" I ask hesitantly.
He still doesn't look up at me. "Not really," he says. I physically feel my heart hurt. He rocks back and forth a little on his heels before he speaks again. "Just tell me."
I wish he knew just how much I hate saying this. How much I hate all of this. "They decided I'm well enough to go," I say.
Chuck is still for a moment. Then, he nods. His expression hasn't changed much. Seconds go by without either of us speaking, and I wish I could just hug the kid and cry with him about how unfair life is. But we just stay still.
Eventually, he finally meets my eyes. "Are you gonna get in or not?" Chuck asks, trying and failing to sound tough. It reminds me of Thomas. Chuck just hasn't learned how to pull it off yet, and I wish he never would.
I sit down, and then I notice my headache. It's a pressure right behind my eyes that makes the world zoom in and out of focus. I'm not supposed to take my medication on an empty stomach, but I guess I have no choice.
He starts pushing me, and it's so like him to do this no matter how mad he is. I love him even more for it. I'm going to keep my vow. I have to.
We go out to the line, and I don't see any of the Normals in front of us. Not that I'm keen on talking about anything. I just stare down at my lap, and Chuck stays wordless behind me until we get to the little window. I stand up, and all I can think about is that this is coming to an end. After tomorrow, I won't be doing this anymore.
When I finish taking my medication, I sit back down, and Chuck stands next to me to take his. I watch him. He looks so unlike himself, and if it wasn't so horrible, I might be touched that I mean this much to him.
After he's done, he starts to wheel me away, and I'm not entirely sure where he's even taking me. I'm not going to ask, though. It looks like he's headed to the rec room, and that terrifies me. Who's in there? Is Chuck going to tell everyone?
Right before we get there, I hear a voice that makes my stomach drop.
"Chuck, hey, could I take over?"
I hear Chuck step away and watch him pass in front of me, walking into the rec room. My blood has run cold.
Already, I know we're going to my room. On the way there, my eyes start to tear up and I feel my hands shake. The more I think about it, the worse it gets. I'm angry—furious—at him. And he's going to know it.
We get into the room, and he stops my chair. I take one deep breath as he walks around, and I feel a tear fall. But I don't care. I stand up, pushing my chair back as I do so.
He's in front of me now. As I look at him, the pain gets worse. He searches my face. I'm not going to let my crying get in the way of what I want to say. I speak, and it comes out broken, but madder than I've ever heard myself.
"What did you do?" I ask him.
"Did they let you go?" Thomas asks, like he didn't even hear what I said.
"Answer me. Right now," I say, stepping close to him. I don't want his answer. Not the one I'm afraid of.
"So they did?" Thomas asks.
"Thomas," I say warningly, fire in my eyes.
He looks at me for a few seconds. I don't want him to speak. "I'll only tell you if you tell me if it was worth it or not," he finally says.
I stumble back from him. He looks at me expectantly. Does he not realize what he's done? How destroyed I am because of it? How destroyed he could be? "How would this ever be worth it?"
"Are they letting you leave?" Thomas asks again.
He won't stop until I answer. I can't look at him while I speak. "Yes."
When I meet his eyes, Thomas looks happy. In spite of everything, he seems content. Perfectly fine. "Then it was worth it," he says.
"What did you tell her?" I ask. "What lies did you tell her?"
"I confessed," Thomas says, as if it's no big deal.
"Confessed? It was my choice, Thomas. My choice," I say loudly. Thomas looks out the door, but I don't care if anyone hears.
"She doesn't need to know that," Thomas says, keeping his voice low.
"So you told her what? You kidnapped me?" I ask. "Why would she believe that? She read my journal."
"She had her reasons. Plus, it's true that your life was threatened, isn't it?" Thomas asks. I'm stunned. "It doesn't matter now. It only matters that you're out."
"How doesn't it matter? Do you know how bad this is for you?" I ask. He doesn't care. No matter what I say, he doesn't care.
Thomas steps forward, and I almost flinch away, but I let him take my hands in his, his sad smile hurting me to my core. He's an expert at the look by now. "I'm sorry. I am," Thomas starts. "But I don't regret it, and I'd do it a thousand more times given the chance. I knew what I was doing, Newt."
My face is a horrible mess of trying to look angry while I cry, shaking my head. "But why?" I ask quietly. "Why would you do that?"
"Don't you get it by now?" Thomas asks. I give him a defeated shrug, holding back a sob. His expression doesn't fade, but his eyes change as he looks at the tears flowing down my face. "Do you remember the shark toy I won you?"
This doesn't help. I grip onto his hands tighter. That day feels like ages ago. I turn and look behind me at my open drawer, because I know for a fact the plush shark is in there. Thomas looks at where I turned to and his smile widens.
"Did I ever tell you why I chose that one?" he asks.
"What does that have to do with anything?" I ask. He doesn't respond, just looking at me and waiting. "No. You didn't."
"The one thing I know about sharks is that they always have to keep moving to stay alive," Thomas starts. I furrow my eyebrows at him. "At first I thought it was appropriate because you always needed to do your tens to function. But it means something else now. Now, it means that if you don't keep going—getting out of here, recovering, actually getting on with your life—then you'll be stuck like this forever. You have to leave. I know you know I'm right."
I just stare at him. How am I supposed to let go of this? This beautiful boy that won me the shark toy and gave me my life back? That's the problem. I know he's right. But leaving him here with the knowledge that he basically sold himself so that I could get out is the worst thing I will ever have to do.
"What about you?" I ask.
"I wasn't getting out of here anyway. Besides, I did all of those things. I might as well not bring you down with me. I'm happy with what I did, Newt. It's okay. Really," Thomas says.
"I can't believe you," I say, choking on my words.
"You're welcome," Thomas says. He takes one of his hands from mine brings his thumb up to my face, wiping a tear away. Just like the day of Winston's memorial. Except this time, he leans forward and softly kisses me on the cheek, making my eyes flutter shut for a moment. My chest aches so bad that I'm convinced part of my heart was ripped from it. When he pulls back, I open my eyes, and he squeezes my hand. "Are you going to spend the rest of your time here hating me?"
I reluctantly shake my head, making him look relieved, although I don't believe he thought for a second that I could ever hate him. "I leave tomorrow," I say, after a moment.
"So we have tonight, then?" Thomas asks.
It's so final. Way too final. "We do," I say.
Thomas smiles. "Great."
When we get into the rec room, everyone's already heard from Chuck that I'm leaving. I'm met with a few congratulations, but the overall vibe is just strange. Nothing like when Fry left. He was happy to go, and everyone witnessed his recovery and was excited for him. For me, I'm miserable, I'm only partially recovered, Chuck is mad, and everyone is uncomfortable.
We all sit down, and I'm next to Thomas with no intention of leaving his side. I keep looking over at Chuck—who's seated as far as he can be—and Thomas must catch on because he turns to look at him too before speaking to me lowly. "He'll be fine. He's just upset that he's losing you," he says.
"It kills me to see him like that," I say. "He told me I'm not ready to go yet. I still think he's right."
"Hey," Thomas says, shaking his head. "He didn't mean that. You proved yourself. He's just having a hard time, he'll get over it."
I nod, but it still doesn't help. "I hope so," I say.
"So, Newt," Minho says, sitting in the chair across from me. "You and Fry gonna hang out and send us pictures?"
I can't tell if he's joking or not. "I'll definitely reach out to Frypan," I say. Minho nods. I want to say that someday soon we can all hang out together, but I know how meaningless that feels to hear.
"Are you going with him?" Minho asks Thomas with a smirk.
Ouch. Thomas rolls his eyes, but my face drops. "You wish," Thomas says.
Minho laughs, then turns back to me. "Dude, you're gonna have the best time not having to wake up early," he says.
"I've got school, actually," I say. That reminds me of how far behind I am by now, and it makes my dread grow even worse.
"Weekends exist, you know. Appreciate it. And not having to see Rat Man's ugly face all the time," Minho says.
I know I should be more grateful for this. Minho would probably do anything to be where I am. "I will," I say, mustering a small smile that hurts my face. My eyes are sore from crying, and making any expression feels forced. If it wasn't taking away from my last full day with Thomas, I'd probably take another nap.
Minho looks between Thomas and I. "You're allowed to visit, I think," he says. "Just so you know."
He obviously knows who I'm going to want to see. Before I can respond, he turns away.
"Can you promise me something, Newt?" Thomas asks. I tilt my head. "Don't spend a lot of time thinking about this place. Or..." he trails off.
"You?" I guess. Thomas nods. "I appreciate it, but my motivation for leaving and fixing myself is to help you and everyone else."
"Think about yourself, too," Thomas says.
"Just like you were thinking about yourself when you said all that stuff to Ava?" I ask. Thomas is quiet. "I want a good normal life. I do. But I want one for you too, okay? And don't tell me it won't happen, because I will not accept that."
Does he not realize that it'd be impossible to not be thinking about him all day every day? After everything we've been through?
"Fine," Thomas says.
Thomas has been the only one in my corner, and if he thinks I'm forgetting about that now when I need it the most, he's got another thing coming.
Lunch is a lot of Thomas and I speaking about regular things. Neither of us say why we stick to light topics, but I know it's to keep me from freaking out again. I'm not sure how he's handling it, because all I know is that he's glad I'm getting out. He's told me he doesn't want to lose me, but that's all he's said.
I don't take my eyes off of him for more than a few seconds at a time. It's like I'm trying to take in every little part of him. The slope of his nose, the deep color of his eyes, the little moles scattered on the side of his face, his tousled brown hair, the way he looks when something manages to make him truly happy. I want all of it locked in my brain, because knowing I won't be able to just turn around and see him whenever I want to is way too harsh of a reality for me.
When it's time for group, we're talking about Thomas' opinions on various foods when we get to the door. He stops.
"Is this gonna be weird?" Thomas asks.
"Probably," I say.
"Do you wanna go in?" Thomas asks.
"I don't think I have a choice," I say. Thomas pushes me in, and sure enough, Ava Paige is sitting at the front of the room. Her legs are crossed and she surveys the room with cold eyes. She looks scarier than usual now.
We go over to our usual spot, and I get up, Thomas moving my chair to the side for me. I get a bad feeling, and when I turn to look at Dr. Paige it confirms my suspicions that she's staring at me. So I sit down, not showing any signs of my tens. I feel like I'm struggling to keep my head above water, and every time I break my tens today, it's like someone's pushing my head below the surface.
When Thomas sits beside me, I'm desperate to face him. Since everyone's still getting settled, he can talk, leaning forward. "She won't want you to talk today," he says.
I pray he's right, and I hope the same thing applies to tomorrow. I've got nothing to say to her.
Turns out, Ava Paige isn't thrilled with me right now, because she didn't even ask if I wanted to share when it got to me. But now, at dinner, I'm thinking of a thousand questions I have for her.
"I hope Gally is okay," I say, staring off at the spot he would usually sit. That's currently the biggest issue. What is that pill? What's happening to Gally?
"Me too," Thomas says. I'm proud of him for his progress when it comes to mentions of Gally. No matter what's happened between them, what TIMI is doing to him is horrible on every level.
"The sooner I can expose them the better," I say. "I just have to figure out how."
"We'll talk about that after dinner," Thomas says, eyeing one of the nurses.
"Last dinner with us, Newt," Aris says now, turning to me. "Does that feel weird?"
Thanks for the reminder. "Yeah, it does," I say.
"How much will you miss the food?" Zart asks, with a snort.
"Not much," I say. Sadly, the food is the least of my concerns.
"What about Thomas?"
My stomach flips when Chuck mumbles the words. I stare down at the table, because I know my face will betray me if I have to look up. My leg starts shaking and I can't help that I pause at ten. Nobody's saying anything.
"Chuck," Thomas says softly.
"What?" Chuck asks.
"I'm going to miss all of you a lot," I say. I look up at Chuck. "Hate me if you have to. But just know that leaving you is the last thing I want to do."
He opens his mouth, then closes it. Then, he picks up his fork and continues eating. I, on the other hand, have completely lost any appetite I may have had.
I'm in Thomas' room, because Chuck is in our room, and I don't think he wants to be around me right now. Also, Minho is hanging out with Jeff and Zart, so we can talk about TIMI and WCKD freely without anyone hearing us.
"So," Thomas says, getting settled. He's sitting criss crossed up against his headboard, and I'm facing him, sitting halfly criss crossed because of my cast, my foot up against Thomas' leg.
"So," I say.
"If you're going to try to take down TIMI, you'll probably have to start with WCKD. Find out everything you can about them. Then, you'll want to talk to Mrs. Flores, so I'll give you her contact information. If you call me, I can help," Thomas says.
"Alright," I say, trying to process it. I'll be able to call Thomas. Hear his voice. That should help, right?
"You sure you want to do this?" Thomas asks.
"Tommy, don't even bother asking that," I say seriously.
He nods. "We'll need evidence, and to make sure Mrs. Flores is on board. I can't get into Ava Paige's office without Vince..." Thomas trails off, his face dropping a bit.
"We'll do it without him. Don't worry," I say, knowing well that I'm just as unsure as he is, if not more.
"With you on the outside and me on the inside, we'll figure something out," Thomas says, sounding about as convincing as I did.
I want to tell Thomas I can't wait to get him out of here, but I know that would be selfish of me incase our plans don't work. The last thing I want is to upset him, but our plans have to work. If I have to personally break everyone out of here myself, I will.
"Watch out for yourself, okay?" I say. After seeing what they've done to Gally against his will, I'm terrified to even fathom what they'd do to Thomas if they find out everything he knows.
"I always do," Thomas says. Not true, I want to say. The stunt he pulled the other day was the absolute opposite of watching out for himself.
"Always check your pills, be careful if you try to sneak around, and don't let them know everything," I say.
"I'll be fine. I've lasted this long, right?" Thomas asks. I'm not sure if he means it to be funny, but I certainly can't find the humor in it.
"Just..." I say, sighing and shaking my head. "Please don't give up on yourself. If you do, there's no way this'll ever work. The goal is to get TIMI shut down, yes, but also to get you out. To find people that can actually help you. Hold onto that."
Thomas doesn't meet my eyes. He doesn't look used to hearing this kind of thing, but he needs to. I wish he'd care about himself as much as he cares about the rest of us.
"I want to see my sister again," Thomas says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Before I met you, she was the only thing keeping me going. I don't know if she'd ever want to speak to me again, but I keep thinking that—"
Thomas cuts himself off, and he looks like he's in physical pain as he takes a few labored breaths. His gaze falls on the corner of the room, and then he abruptly closes his eyes.
"It's okay, Tommy," I say, instinctively reaching out to rest my hand on his shoulder. Thomas leans into it. I have no clue what he's going through right now. He could be seeing or hearing anything, he's still never shared much with me about it. But the thing I've noticed is that any time his family comes up, it triggers something in him.
"If I can find a way to get myself stable, maybe I could come back to her. Be the big brother she should have," Thomas says shakily.
"I know she'd want that too," I say carefully, hoping the assumption won't set him off.
"She was scared of me, Newt," Thomas says. His voice does something strange that I recognize from the past; a sort of detached tone. "I never would have hurt her. I wasn't trying to, I barely even noticed her there, I swear it."
"I believe you," I say. When Thomas doesn't speak for a few moments, a question nags at me. "Why haven't you told Janson that?"
"Do you think he'd really believe it?" Thomas asks. He makes a good point, but it's not fair. Janson should believe Thomas if he says he didn't want to hurt Brenda, just like he should have believed me when I told him I didn't try to get hit by the car. We're already here, why would we make those things up?
"Brenda will believe you. You've grown a lot since then already, right? You've learned more?" I ask.
"I've gotten better at ignoring things, but I don't know if I trust myself. Even thinking about it just—it's hard. Hard to talk about them. Even with these stupid antipsychotics," Thomas says.
"You don't have to," I say. I've learned not to force Thomas to talk about anything.
"I never do. That might be the problem," Thomas says, looking up at me.
I manage a small smile. "See? All that therapizing you do for us, try to do a bit of that for yourself. You're the smartest person I know, and you always say you could do Janson's job, right? Focus on yourself," I say.
Thomas seems to consider my words. "It won't help with some of my symptoms, but I guess I can. Maybe I can use Janson to just tell this stuff to, so he can keep track of it all for me. I don't expect him to actually help."
"Please," I say. I'd feel a little better knowing Thomas was at least focusing on himself while I'm not here and he still is.
"I'm, uh," Thomas says, running a hand through his hair. He blinks slowly. "I want to get out for—um, to see her."
"I know," I say. It horrible when his words sound like they hurt to string together, like I can see him trying to make sense of them in his head.
"And for you, too," Thomas says. He huffs, frustratedly. "To see you."
My heart aches. "You're going to. I promise. This isn't normal, Tommy. I don't know much, but I do know that you're not supposed to be in here this long. It's not right."
"If I tried to leave and they fought me on it, they'd win," Thomas says.
"Which is why we're going to show the world what TIMI is doing," I say. Thomas seems to focus on me, his eyes glued to mine. Then, he scoots over on his bed, so he's taking up only the right side, making my hand fall to the blanket.
"C'mere," Thomas says, patting the bed next to him. "If you want to," he adds.
I want to too badly. It only takes me a few moments to settle in beside him, and Thomas surprises me by shifting in a way that makes him half lying down, his head upright against the headboard. I follow suit, and Thomas takes me into his arms. No part of me is going to complain about that. It's surprisingly natural by now.
I almost can't believe I was just yelling at him ten hours ago. But that wasn't out of hatred. It was out of fear. I don't want to be mad at him now, but I stand by that what he did was stupid and he never should have said it. He really is an idiot. But I can't help but think I'd do the same thing if I was in his place.
My arm wraps around Thomas. It's crazy to think of how far we've come from when I first got here. From avoiding the truth, to denying it, and now knowing both of those things were pointless. I hate myself now for wasting so much time I could have spent like this, but I know I couldn't rush it. At least that's what Thomas would tell me. I still have a part of me that tells me I'm wrong, but I know how I feel now.
"I have to pack," I say suddenly, remembering the annoying chore.
"You can pack in the morning, right?" Thomas asks. I almost smile. He doesn't want me to leave.
"I can," I say. I'm dreading it.
"I'll help," Thomas says.
I want to just forget the world and lay here without thinking about our conditions, or the future, or even where we are. I've never been good with change or goodbyes. This will be the worst yet. Anything I went through with Alby doesn't even compare.
When I look up at Thomas, he looks down at me. He's sad, but he's trying to hide it. Thomas can't fool me, though. I know him too well by now. He carries his emotions in his eyes—and I've seen all of them. The light is so dim it's hard to imagine it ever wasn't. But I've been lucky enough to see it for myself.
"We should go back to that amusement park sometime," I say softly.
Thomas smiles, and I long for him to mean it. "You liked it?"
"I loved it," I say. But it wasn't necessarily the park itself that made it so fun.
"We should, then," Thomas says. I wish it didn't feel so much like a pipe dream. I think he feels that way, too.
I'm sleepy, but I don't want to be. I put my head on Thomas, feeling tears well up in my eyes. "Where else?" I ask. I'm tired of crying.
Thomas takes a moment to answer, and I fear I've crossed some kind of line. But eventually, he speaks. "We could go to the beach," he says.
"I get sunburnt easily," I say, smiling weakly.
"So you put on sunscreen," Thomas says. I can hear a smile in his voice. "What about the movies?"
"Do you like movie theaters?" I ask.
"Sometimes. Maybe we could see a comedy or something," Thomas says.
"That'd be nice," I say.
"I'd like to fly, too. We could go to England." Thomas' hand trails up and down my shoulder.
"I could show you where I used to live," I suggest.
"Also the Eiffel Tower," Thomas says.
"Tommy, that's France." It's nice to laugh.
"See? This is why you have to take me," Thomas says.
"Alright, then. We'll go to both," I say.
"How about the mall?" Thomas asks. "Stores, food court, all of that. But you have to buy me a churro."
"Gladly," I say, taking my hand from around him quickly to wipe a tear away before putting it back across his stomach. He's warm, but thin in a way he shouldn't be. Either way, hugging him is still comfortable because it's him. Maybe soon he'll be better. Healthier.
"Maybe we can go to school together. I'd go for psychology, and you for... english?" Thomas asks.
I haven't given college as much thought as I should have. "Probably. We could share a dorm."
"Even after spending time in my room? That's really flattering."
"I'd keep it tidy." I yawn, and Thomas hums.
"Good luck with that. You'd hate me as a roommate."
"I could never," I say truthfully, letting my eyes close.
"We could go to the park, too. A nice one. We're not too old for playgrounds, right?" Thomas asks.
We keep going back and forth, and miraculously, it takes my mind off of everything. The longer we talk, the calmer I get, until eventually I drift off in Thomas' arms, my head filled with plans and memories of roller coasters.