Running his hands through his shaggy brown hair, Thomas sucked in one last breath and jumped.

"We've got a pulse!"

Air was suddenly shoved down his throat as his heart started thumping in his chest once again. This was not meant to be happening; the bright light was false under his lids. Groggily, Thomas opened his eyes. There were machines lining the white-lit room, the smell of sterile equipment was making him feel sick. Shouldn't he be dead right now? How did he even manage to fuck that up? Doctors were fussing over Thomas like they had succeeded when in fact they only made his life worse. Wishing to never open his eyes again, he let darkness blind him once more.

There were scars coating his arms with barely any clear skin on show. This was not what Thomas wanted originally. Years ago, he would have never believed anyone who told him he would attempt to take his own life; yet he heard people telling him to do such. He swears he was once a happy and carefree child, but when his mother died, his life turned into a disaster. Thomas became detached from the world, making him an easy target for the bullies. Newt was the worst. His hair was sandy blonde and his eyes were a deep dark brown, not to forget his thick British accent. It was not Thomas's fault he fell for Newt in high school, the boy was the definition of an angel. Of course, that image was shattered once the blonde angel found out about the crush. While Newt never said anything himself, he stood there smiling into the distance as Thomas took another fist to the face and a cup of abusive words from Gally, never once trying to stop it. It only tortured Thomas more to know that his crush was secretly enjoying his pain.

The cutting didn't start until he came out to his father in full confidence. He believed that his dad would be supportive of his child, not wanting to lose another family member. Instead, Thomas's father had become enraged that his only child had betrayed him. Thomas would never forget the way the man's face filled with blood and his hands began to shake. Two minutes after coming out, Thomas found himself on the tiles, his nose pulsing and a ring in his ears. The shock didn't settle in until later, that his own father had hit him. From that night forward, Thomas would numb himself through the knife. He did not feel the pain from the blade that glided across his pale skin, in fact it relieved him from it all. It reminded him he was alive. All Thomas needed to do was hide his marks from everyone around him. While some were suspicious at him wearing long sleeves in summer, Thomas was still able to keep the scars and bruises on the down low, much to his relief.

In the end, the mix of verbal and physical abuse from Thomas's dad and the Glader's High School students became too much for him. The comments were getting worse, 'Kill yourself you fuck up!' 'Go cry to your mother, oh that's right, she's dead, probably too sick of your existence.' It began to build up inside Thomas, making him feel more and more worthless with each passing day. His grades were collapsing, as was his spirit, and there was not a patch of untouched skin left on him. For three years Thomas had put up with it, his blade helped keep him strong enough to make it to another day. However, last night he was meant to finally end it. His knife could only numb him for so long. He deserved to die. The world would be a better place without his existence.

It wasn't the bright light and forced oxygen that woke him up this time, it was the sound of someone sobbing next to his hospital bed and the pressure of a hand clasped in his. Through squinting eyes, Thomas saw a familiar mop of blonde hair bouncing softly to each escaping sob. "Newt?" The name escaped Thomas's mouth before he could even stop it. The blonde lifted his head, looking like he'd seen a ghost. His face was pale with dark shadows under his eyes as though he hadn't slept in days. His soul deep eyes were strained and bloodshot, tears rolling down his cheeks. Even his cheekbones had become more prominent. It pained Thomas to see his angel like this, even if it was, partially, the boy's fault. His lips were stained with blood possibly from biting them hard. It took Thomas a second to realise the blooded lips were moving.

"Tommy? Oh god Thomas! Don't ever do that to me again you slint-head!" Thomas' eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Tommy? Where had that come from? Since when did he care? "I found you Tommy, in a pool of your own blood, down by the old bridge. You looked at peace, almost asleep, yet I couldn't leave you there! Your heart had stopped beating! Why would you do this? Oh my god, this is my fault; I'm a bloody idiot! Originally I thought you had fallen but I…" Newt's voice was cracking, "I saw your wrists and god Thomas, I nearly killed you didn't I?"

Anger started building up inside Thomas. So this was what it was all about, Newt wanted a clean slate. No guilt of pushing someone over the edge, only praise for saving him instead. Like Thomas was going to give him the satisfaction. Rolling his eyes, Thomas politely told him to fuck off.

A few months later, after the boy's release from hospital, Newt did not leave Thomas alone. He would be waiting outside for Thomas to finish his therapy sessions, even offering to help him with school; it was like he didn't care if he lost Gally and the rest of the group. His mouth would always open to apologise, before Thomas's glare closed it.

It was coming up to graduation and it didn't take long for Thomas to boil over. "Okay Newt-the-bugging-hero, why the hell do you keep following me around like a little lap dog? And you keep trying to be nice to me for once. What is your problem man!?"

"Maybe because I bloody care about you!" Newt's eyes were beginning to glow with anger.

This comment made Thomas scoff. "Oh yeah, that's why you've been abusing me for the past three years just because I liked you. If you didn't want me to like you, well done, you have fucken succeeded! Oh and as for you caring about me, I'm not buying it you slint-head! I-I hate you Newt!"

Before Newt had the chance to even respond, Thomas was running down the hall leaving the blonde stranded with watery eyes.

Graduation had come and gone, with Newt smiling as Thomas walked on stage. Thomas could not figure out why the smile didn't reach his eyes however. He ended up moving out from under his dad's roof hoping to gain freedom, but fresh scars were still being made on brunette's skin. He was currently sitting under the bridge he jumped off a many months back, staring at the bloodstains that were still there while fiddling with his blade. He was thinking about trying again. It's not like his life had improved. This time he knew no one would care, except Newt maybe.

Oh Newt.

Thomas felt terrible for treating Newt badly, even if he had deserved it. He was beginning to wonder that maybe, just maybe, the British boy truly did care. Newt had been looking rather down since Thomas yelled at him; it was like the life had been sucked out of him. His skin had become chalky and the shadows darkened even more under the blonde's eyes creating a sunken-in look. He rarely smiled anymore unless he was looking at Thomas; even so, it was just a twitch of the lips. Yet somehow he still looked beautiful to Thomas, like a fragile angel. The anger that Thomas had felt towards Newt had been lost, with guilt replacing it. Right now, under the bridge, Thomas wished he could take it all back, the look of hurt in Newt's eyes, and the way they lost their sparkle. It would forever haunt his memory.

Thomas' thoughts were broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. Whipping his head around, he could see the silhouette of the blonde boy of his recent thoughts.

"Newt…" he whispered into the cool breeze, tucking the blade away, "…Newt, I don't hate you I swear. I don't hate you. I-I'm sorry. I don't hate you."

It didn't take long for Newt to wrap Thomas up in his arms. Thomas sobbing apologises onto Newt's shoulder.

"Tommy, hey. Hey, Thomas, look at me." Newt said cupping the brunette's wet cheeks, "Don't be sorry okay? I deserved it. I know you don't hate me, it's okay"

They sat against the wall with Newt holding the broken boy. "Newt? Why did you start caring about me all of a sudden?" Thomas said, finally breaking the silence.

Newt bit his lip hard, "I always did." He paused before beginning to explain. "I always wanted to approach you, you know? I guess I never had the courage to ask you about your day or even talk to you. I was going to eventually, I-I swear. But after your mother died, you became so detached from everything and everyone. And I, not trying to sound weird, would watch you to make sure you were okay. I wanted to be there for you. It really pained me to see that you had no one. And yet I didn't even notice you were hiding your scars from everyone, I feel so stupid looking back. I didn't even have the courage to stand up for you Tommy. Sure Gally would tell me he would hurt me if I sided with you, but still! I'm sorry, I was such a buggin' coward. They would hurt you and I would stand there watching, not doing anything!

"But every time you boar those gorgeous bambi eyes into the back of my head, I'll admit, my heart would thud. The point is, I really like you Tommy, you're beautiful and seeing you in a pool of your blood…" Newt began choking on his words and reached out to clasp the other boy's hand, "…I realised that I almost lost such an amazing person and it was all because of me. I hate myself for it, but I am happy you're still here."

Thomas was left speechless with silent tears running down his cheeks, trying to ignore the tingling sensation of Newt's hand in his. "Shit Newt. You- you like me?"

His question was answered when the blonde pulled up Thomas' sleeve and pressed his lips to each scar like he could take the pain away. The brunette watched intensely and shivered at each touch. Thomas's eyes began clouding over once more. After a minute had passed, Thomas put a finger under Newt's chin to make their eyes meet, staring deeply into them, mouths brushing.

"Tommy, can I kiss you?" Newt whispered against the brunette's lips.

With a nod, Newt closed the gap softly. Thomas had never been kissed before but he knew it was not meant to be this perfect. Newt's lips were soft against his, tasting of coffee and salted tears. It was hesitant, slow and caring. Thomas curled a hand around the back of Newt's head, pulling him even closer, while the other slid around his waist. Their lips moved in sync, neither aggressive nor heated.

Thomas pulled away with a shy smile upon his face and red cheeks. "Does this mean we're…?"

"Yeah. I mean if you want."

In response, Thomas pecked Newt's lips once more before tucking his head into the crook of the blonde's shoulder.

The boys stayed wrapped in each other's arms until the moon had cast shadows under the bridge. Nether of them spoke, just at peace with each other.

"You truly are my angel Newt."