A/N: Wow just wow. Thank you so much for the amazing feedback! I'm really overwhelmed by how much you guys seem to love my story! It makes me the happiest to know I can make you happy with my words.
As I predicted earlier, I was really busy for the whole week but as promised, here's the next chapter! Enjoy!
When you sleep, will it be with me?
When you sleep, will it be with me?
The small pocket watch Newt had found from the Med-jack's bag ticked loudly in the otherwise silent room. The blonde-haired boy was holding it inside his fist, keeping his eyes on the boy before him. The Homestead around him was quiet as most of the boys had already gone to sleep.
Thomas had been sleeping for about two hours and Newt had been watching him the whole time. As fascinating as the boy was, the passive sitting still and the lack of sleep from days before slowly started to get the better of him. Newt's racing thoughts had slowed down to a sluggish stream, the edges of his mind softening and blurring.
His arm eased itself to rest on the surface of the bedside table, pillowing his head on top of it. As his eyelids started to feel irresistibly heavy, he could feel his thoughts starting to drift away, leaving him feel so, so blissfully light.
*.*.*
Newt shivered as he felt a hand caressing his bare back, fingers dancing up and down on his spine in a languid, calming manner. He rested his head on his crossed arms, breathing in and out, feeling so calm and safe, hoping it would never end feeling like this.
He opened his dark brown eyes slowly, his gaze immediately descending on the pair of hazel brown, warm eyes gazing at him mere inches away. Thomas was resting on his side, facing Newt, his head propped against his palm as his elbow leaned against the mattress. The sheets of the bed were haphazardly spread to cover the lower parts of their bodies, the sheet resting low on Thomas's hip and revealing his flat, muscled stomach and chest.
As their eyes locked, a slow smile started to spread on Thomas's face, the warmness of his eyes intensifying. He swept his fingers over Newt's spine to twine in the blonde locks of hair, caressing his scalp gently. Newt breathed softly, his eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure Thomas's gentle touch ignited.
"I love seeing you like this," Thomas murmured softly. Newt blinked his eyes open again, staring at the dark-haired boy in wonder. "So relaxed, so open, so soft. Beautiful. You look like you don't have a worry in the world," Thomas continued, smiling his wonderful smile at Newt.
"But it's true," Newt answered, scooting closer on the bed, lifting his hand to curl around the nape of Thomas's neck. "When I'm with you, I'm safe. I'm happy. I can forget the rest of the world around me. You are my world."
Thomas's smile widened against Newt's lips as the blonde-haired boy pulled him to a kiss. Their lips moved gently, softly together. There was no heat in their kiss this time, it wasn't rushed by passion but instead it was slow, beautiful and meaningful in a whole different way.
After a while, Thomas pulled back slightly, whispering few words so quietly Newt couldn't make them out. As he leaned forward to catch Thomas's mouth again, the boy resisted, repeating the words, louder this time.
"Wake up," Thomas whispered, looking at him with a sliver of sadness in his eyes Newt couldn't quite understand.
"What?" Newt asked, his brow furrowed with confusion as he looked at Thomas.
"Wake up," Thomas repeated, sweeping his hand through Newt's hair and looking over his features as if trying to memorize them. "Darling, wake up."
Newt opened his mouth to speak again, but then he started to feel oddly light-headed and the room, the bed and Thomas seemed to drift away. His sight became blurred and he couldn't hear his own voice anymore as he called out for Thomas, but it was all in vain as his world was spinning, spinning,...
*.*.*
Newt woke up with a start, cracking his neck painfully as he straightened up in seconds. He blinked the exhaustion from his eyes rapidly as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. The spare room of the Homestead was silent, the boy on the bed still sleeping peacefully. Newt let out a long, relieved breath and willed his heart to stop pounding so hard.
As his gaze fell upon the clock, his face paled. How in hell had he fallen asleep for four bloody hours? Thomas would soon have slept almost seven hours without anyone checking him out. Newt cursed himself inside his head as a sick feeling started to churn in his stomach. How can I be so stupid?
Newt fell quickly to his knees beside the bed, curling his hand against Thomas shoulder, shaking the boy gently.
"Thomas? Tommy? Wake up, hey, wake up," Newt whispered urgently, worry lacing his tone. He touched Thomas's cool forehead with his other hand, moving his hand to palm the side of his face.
"Hey, Tommy, come on," Newt urged him as the boy didn't show any signs of waking up immediately. Newt's breathing quickened and he felt cold fear sweep down his spine.
Suddenly Thomas's breathing changed and he started to stir. Newt froze and watched with wide eyes as Thomas's eyes moved slightly under his eyelids and soon he started to blink them open.
As Thomas's exhausted, unfocused eyes finally found Newt's, Newt let out a huge breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. A smile spread over his face as he murmured, "Tommy."
Thomas was gazing at him, slowly waking up to this world. The boy frowned and as he finally opened his mouth, his voice came out so hoarse Newt could barely make out the words. "Newt?" he croaked. "What- what's going on?"
Newt suddenly became aware of the way his hand was cupping Thomas's cheek and he pulled it away reluctantly. He rose to pour a glass of water for Thomas and handed it to the boy who took it gratefully, propping up on his elbows and drinking the water in just a few gulps. Newt settled the glass back to the table, facing Thomas again. Then all his worry and anxiety erupted in a rush.
"Tommy, how are you doing? Are you in pain? Do you want another pain killer? How does- how does your head feel? Can you think straight? Can you-" Newt spluttered the questions out of his mouth but was cut off as he felt Thomas's fingers curl around his own. His mouth hanging slightly open, he gazed at their joined hands in wonder.
"Newt, stop worrying. I feel just.. fine. Head hurts like hell, though," Thomas said, rubbing his forehead with his other hand, grimacing slightly. "I guess I could use another pain killer, but otherwise, I'm alright."
Newt nodded, poured him another glass of water and handed him a pill from the Med-jack's bag. He waited as the other boy accepted the drink and the medicine, desperately trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Thomas was still holding his hand.
"I guess it doesn't make sense for me to ask you simple questions like, what's your birthday or what year it is since none of us here knows the answers, either," Newt mumbled, receiving an amused chuckle from Thomas. "I don't even have a clue to what the bloody hell to actually ask you, to be honest," Newt revealed, flustered.
Thomas looked at him for a while, then yawned. "Well, let's see. I remember my name. I remember yours. I remember waking up in this place called the Box two weeks ago, arriving to this place called the Glade, meeting all you shanks, getting to know you, working, working,.. oh yes, and yesterday I kicked that slinthead's ass," Thomas listed, grinning triumphantly.
Newt felt a smile tugging at his lips and he shook his head, amused. "Nothing wrong with your memory, then. Your humour seems to be back, as well," he noted but then grew serious again, narrowing his eyes at the boy. "But seriously, Tommy, what the hell were you thinking yesterday? What was that stupid fight about? You know that shank's not worth it. I thought you knew better than that," he said, an ounce of disappointment in his voice.
Thomas avoided his gaze suddenly, pouting his lips a bit before answering, "Listen, I don't wanna talk about it. Not right now, anyway." The dark-haired boy yawned again, his eyes looking heavy.
Newt sighed and gave up for now. The boy needed his rest. "Alright, Tommy. We'll talk about this later, then," Newt declared and finally pulled his hand away from Thomas's, sitting back on his chair. His hand felt cold without the heat of another palm. Empty, too, in more ways than one. "Go back to sleep, now, sleepyhead," he added, a tiny tremble on his voice.
Thomas's eyes had closed during Newt's words and his breathing had started to grow deeper as well. As Newt had slipped his hand away, Thomas's brow had furrowed and for a moment he looked so lost Newt wanted to take hold of his hand again, but in the end he decided against it, swallowing hard. Thomas was already asleep.