Warnings: nightmares, mentions of suicide, references to what happened on page 250, and shameless Newtmas fluff and cheesiness strung in between.

No legit deaths, I promise.

College!AU, comforting!Newt, nightmare!Thomas

Dark Nights

Thomas sat up in bed, gasping. His heart was beating so hard he could hear it, feel it, pounding in his chest as if it was trying to escape his rib cage. The vision of the dark room in front of him spun, and there was a dull headache starting at the back of his skull.

Thomas clutched his head, trying to even out his breathing so he wouldn't wake the boy lying next to him.

Newt. He was safe. He was alive. His blond angel was still here, with him. It was just a nightmare, Newt was safe.

"Tommy?" asked Newt's husky, sleepy voice, "are you awake?"

Thomas held his breath, holding still so that Newt would fall asleep again.

"Tommy?"

"Go back to sleep, Newt," Thomas said shakily, not wanting to be a burden to him.

"Tommy," Newt said, sounding more awake. He blearily opened his eyes to look at Thomas. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry for waking you," Thomas whispered. He could feel an onslaught of tears burning in his eyes. He tore away from Newt's gaze.

The covers shifted, and Thomas could feel a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist.

"Tommy," Newt said quietly, his lips ghosting on Thomas's neck. "Tell me what's wrong."

Thomas choked down a sob. Newt's grip tightened on him, as his slender fingers started combing through Thomas's sweat-matted hair.

"Oh, darling," Newt said, pressing a feather light kiss to Thomas's hair.

"I d-dreamed of you," Thomas said, curling close to the older boy. "You—you were on top of that building again..."

Newt's fingers froze.

It was no secret that Newt had once tried to kill himself.

It was all over Glade College. He had gone up to the top of the school building and jumped off. Newt still had a leavy limp to prove it.

Thomas had barely known Newt then. Newt was a junior, and Thomas, a freshman. It was only after accidentally bumping into each other at a nearby cafe made them get closer to each other.

Once, Thomas had asked why he had jumped, why he tried to kill himself. They were curled up together in Newt's dorm on his couch, talking.

"I hated the place, Tommy. I hated being alive, here," Newt had spat out, his normally warm eyes filled with desperation and anger at the question.

"Do you still feel that way?" Thomas had asked sadly, his brown eyes gazing up at the taller blond.

"No, never again," Newt had replied softly with glassy eyes, his hands squeezing Thomas's shoulders. "Because I'm with you, and I have everything to live for."

"You jumped off again," Thomas continued, sniffling now, jolting Newt from past thoughts. "You said you hated me."

"Shh, don't cry, love," Newt said, his heart clenching as he saw his Tommy crying. He gently turned him around to make Thomas face him. "I'll love you, Tommy, no matter what. It was just a nightmare."

"You promise you won't do it again?" Thomas asked with his doe-like eyes begging him for confirmation that it made Newt's heart shatter.

"Yeah," Newt replied, closing his eyes. "Go to sleep, Tommy. It's okay, I'm here. I'll still be here in the morning. "

He laid Thomas and himself down back on the bed. His arms still encircled around Thomas, he rocked him to sleep.

Thomas knew the bed was empty even before he opened his eyes. He sat up in panic, frantically looking around the room for Newt, squinting in the darkness. A cold feeling curled in his stomach as he saw it empty. His gaze went to the doorway. The door was ajar, and the hallway outside pitch-black. Dread crept up Thomas's chest.

"Newt?" His voice sounded like an echo in his ears.

There was no reply.

"Newt?" he called again, a sick feeling running down his spine.

Thomas threw off the bed covers, shivering as the icy cold air hit him.

He might be in his own dorm, Thomas thought, trying to think positively. Maybe he wanted to take a shower and didn't want to wake me up.

But a shower this late at night? Thomas couldn't help but also wonder.

He padded down the hallway to Newt's senior dorm.

Thomas see the room was lit dimly. He squinted at the door number to make sure it was Newt's. It was room 250; he was at the right place.

Taking deep breath, Thomas pushed open the door.

Newt was there. With a pistol in his hands.

"Newt?" Thomas asked in disbelief, his insides recoiling. "Wh-what are you doing with that gun?"

"It's none of your business, Thomas," Newt jeered from across the room, his face contorted into a look of annoyance.

Thomas flinched at the use of his full name. Newt never called him Thomas unless he was very, very angry.

"Where you get that?" Thomas asked, his mouth tasting like he had swallowed sand. "Where did you get that, Newt?"

"I don't want to tell you," Newt said, his voice suddenly small, clutching the pistol closer to his chest.

"But what—why don't you give that to me?" Thomas pleaded, gesturing at the gun, so scared of what Newt might do with it.

Newt gave a slight shake of head. "You don't understand, I have to do this."

Something in Thomas's stomach dropped. "No!" he yelled. "Newt, you can't! You promised you wouldn't do this yourself again!"

"I'm not," Newt replied to him calmly, the look behind his eyes steely. "I'm asking you to do it."

Newt held out the pistol to him.

Bile rose in Thomas's throat and a thin sheen of sweat broke out on his head. He let out a nervous laugh. "Please tell me this is a joke," Thomas whispered.

"You think this is a joke?" Newt fired back. "Remember why I have this limp, Tommy? I tried to kill myself. Climbed up to the top of a bloody building and jumped right off. I couldn't kill myself then, and it's all your fault!" Newt snarled, pistol shaking in his hands.

Thomas felt like he just got punched in the gut.

"Repent! Make amends, Thomas, for everything you've done and just kill me."

Thomas stared at the pistol held out to him, feeling as if his heart was being torn out.

"Newt..." Thomas stammered. "I love you, Newt, please—"

"Pity," Newt sneered, a feral grin spreading on his pale face. "I don't."

Thomas stumbled back, his chest hurting so much that he felt dizzy.

The wild, desperate look in Newt's eyes made him slowly reach out for the gun, his hands closing around the cool metal.

"Kill me, Thomas," Newt begged, the savage look on his face clearing for a moment. "If you've ever been my friend, kill me."

"I—I can't—"

"DO IT!"

Newt's eyes softened. "Please, Tommy, please."

Slowly, painstakingly slowly, Thomas raised the gun, his finger trembling dangerously close to the trigger. Tears streaming out of his face, Thomas closed his eyes and pulled the trigger, letting out a sob with the gunshot.

He briefly opened his eyes and saw Newt's body on the floor, crimson blood slowly eating up the carpet—

He turned away and fled, screaming and crying as he ran down the hall, just anywhere, anywhere away from his body. He had just shot Newt—

"Tommy." It was his voice, oh god, it was his voice, but how could that be, he had just shot him, oh god, oh god—

"Tommy!" It wasn't him, he had killed him, it was fake, he was hallucinating—

"Tommy, wake up!"

Thomas woke up with a sob, his face wet with tears, forehead slick with sweat.

Newt was nearly straddling him, concern etched on his features. He knew exactly what Thomas was dreaming about again.

Without hesitation, Thomas threw his arms around him. "Please—i-it wasn't my fault, please d-don't leave me, I-I'm so sorry, Newt—"

Newt gently cut Thomas off, his heart aching at the crying boy. "Shh... it's alright, it was just a dream..."

"Newt..."

Newt felt his heart physically crack as he saw his beautiful boy so broken and crying. He gently pulled Thomas away from his chest, forcing him to look at him. Newt gripped his shoulders lightly.

"Tommy," he said softly, "do you trust me?"

A couple tears sliding from Thomas's wide brown eyes. "Y-yeah," he replied.

Newt brushed the brunet's tears away. "Then when I say I'll never do that to myself again, will you believe me?"

Thomas looked at the older blond through his long, thick lashes before nodding.

"Oh, darling," Newt mumbled, his lips pressed to Thomas's temple. "I could never do that to you."

Newt cradled him, whispering reassuring words over and over to Thomas until his sobs subsided and breathing evened.

"Go to sleep, my angel," Newt said, pressing a kiss to Thomas's forehead and laying him down. "I promise to wake you up if you start having nightmares again."

Thomas replied something incoherent before nuzzling into his pillow. Newt laid down next to him, waiting for him to fall asleep, a sad smile on his lips.

Oh wow, my first try at angst, slash, suicide, and murder all in the same fic... honestly, I didn't think my first TMR fanfic ever would be this dark, lol. But it was kinda fluffy in between so that's good.

If you have any prompts/plots/ideas/literally anything Newtmas you would like to see, please comment them (as long as it's not smut, I don't write that), and I'll try my best to write them in this book!