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They were young, but they knew. 

Every summer, arriving upon one another and hoped to calm the means of teases and affection were all that consumed them both. It was usually where they would first see one another when finding themselves back home that protected them from the rest of the country’s troubles for a good month or two. 

The sickness that captivated the nation was not one to be trifled with, but as children, neither knew what other ways could aid the situation already growing too great for any man or woman. Newt was the prime example of this, considering the sickness had been living within his blood ever since leaving those early years of infancy. 

Thomas’s family would prove to be one of those very few special things that had Newt feeling rather ordinary for as long as it permitted him. They would never feel the need to talk for long or stay silent for long. This was them: Newt by the summer windows, drawing and pretending to see seas and strawberry-infested front gardens, and not Thomas right in the corner of his bedroom organizing his own books just as he did every summer they were given together. 

Newt sighed for a moment and decided to act upon a thought plaguing his self-will ever since he grew a little older. “Landscapes seem dull at the moment. Twelve years old, and I already hate it.” 

Thomas looked up and smiled. “Then what should you draw? You have two months to do whatever you want with those pens.” 

The small blonde turned and smirked. “Perhaps people?” 

“That doesn’t sound dull to you?” Thomas asked curiously, scrunching his nose. “People don’t smile in portraits.” 

“Which is why I’m drawing Lizzy first,” Newt announced, already making his way onto a new sheet of clean paper and scribbling what he could remember of the fair sibling. “Then perhaps my mum.” 

“She enjoys life more than your pa,” Thomas teased lightly. He smiled again and went over to sit near his best friend. 

“Not pa,” Newt decided immediately. 

“No,” Thomas mocked in horror, leaning against the ill boy’s shoulder as he studied the doodles beginning to create the figure of a being not yet defined. Newt hid his next grin and fought a new flush when Thomas suddenly lifted his head as the pencil linings began to conform and create the very person captured in Newt’s artistic touch. 

“Wait.” Thomas looked up to him, brown and beautiful eyes big and hopeful. “You said, Lizzy.” 

Newt bit his lip and pressed his temple to his, just as they did when in the means of safe comfort and concealed spaces.

“She’s not here. Rather difficult to do so without her.” It was so soft of an excuse.

 Never had they ventured any further, but this was already too much to express what they were not meant to express in the first place. So when Newt chose to act with another bout of gusto and kiss him faintly across one cheek, Thomas glared in surprised glee and remained agape as Newt continued his work. It was clearly far more important now that he was back on task. 

So Thomas did not say anything as well, not bothering one bit as a new smile reached his young face as he watched and studied the next few outlines that darkened until Thomas could recognize his own eyes and dark hair. Newt would sneak a look every now and then to fully respect his interpretation of his closest friend’s loving expression. 

The first of too many to come in the upcoming years, indeed. 

Thomas said so himself, but he would never deny the pleasure of holding the boy as he began to fight off the sickness with sketched patterns and inked curls and lines. 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The first encounter was startlingly beautiful at sixteen. 

Timid fears started one evening as the two were escaping the gossip and lowly chatter below on the first floor of the estate. They spoke animatedly, but it all dulled and in the same context, nothing of substance or…anything really at all.

Newt jumped a bit in his usual nook when hearing the door open and immediately shut with a brutal slam in an instant. Thomas apologized once meeting the cross expression on Newt’s startled stare. 

He forgave quite quickly once Newt realized what he had been able to retrieve from the lower floor. “Ice Cream?”

Thomas beamed and started towards him, the tension in his shoulders gone. “Lizzy was quite the aid in this small mission you requested.” 

The blonde innocently quirked his head. “Did I?” 

Thomas recognized the small minute of pure confusion and knew what to do once it happened. “Yes,” he softly said. “Remember? You told me never to return if I failed in this conquest.”

Hoping to succeed, Thomas sighed in relief when Newt suddenly woke up and found the momentarily lost memory. “Oh. Yes.” Thomas pushed it no further. He knew what Newt would say if he returned from that unmistakable void that was forgetting. Yet another part of the sickness he had to endure. 

He and Thomas. 

Newt sniffed on his sleeve as per usual but smiled. “That is why I keep her near.” When he was handed his own glass of cold delicacies, Newt gave a small thankyou and a kiss on the cheek. Thomas snickered away this familiar gesture as he always did, ruffling the soft locks as his own type of tease. 

“Thomas.” 

The boy stopped before raising himself from Newt’s presence, confused yet curious. Newt did not move either, fixated on something while his hands held both two paintbrushes and one cold ice cream. 

“Yes?” he whispered, already sensing the faint blush returning to his cheeks as Newt fixed him with the stare and refused to relent. The gentle coaxing spell was beginning to reach Thomas, and he did not resist, despite what he was told and taught of school, society, or really in any way. 

Newt blushed as well, letting one hand rise as he slowly led them to where they were threatened never to tread. And once his cold palm and fingers touched Thomas’s cheek, he felt his life return in rushes and surges. 

“Love,” he said, unable to start as Thomas dipped his head down and pressed their temples. 

“Newton,” Thomas responded with a whisper. 

“Yes?” Newt mimicked, lips near enough to brush his. He tilted his head ever so slightly to the right. 

“You mustn’t use that name,” Thomas reminded softly. “You know what could happen?”

“A great curse?” Newt gaped, noses now touching. Thomas breathed a frail giggle but controlled himself. 

“Perhaps.” 

For all he knew, the very devil could burst from within the mattresses and shoot them both down for remotely touching this way. The family was downstairs; they were not alone. 

So, with utmost certainty, there was no excuse to do anything of the sort now or then or whenever deemed even inexplicably opportunistic-

Newt kissed his shoulder and lips briefly and turned around in his seat, leaving Thomas to still and gape. 

“First kisses never go the way you imagine,” he mused as he dug into his own concoction of mint, chocolate syrup, and hazelnuts. With his mouth full, he said, “Thank you, Thomas. It was just how I imagined it would go.” 

Thomas was not a stranger to Newt’s abrupt directions and decisions. After all, he lived every few months of the year with the madman, so why should he be surprised at all as of right now? If anything, he should have been the madman for even questioning what had just occurred. He turned towards the door one last time, seeing nothing of which he feared to barge in. With that, he buried his head into Newt’s shoulder and gave an exhausted groan. 

“If this goes any further…” he began. 

“Who says it will?” Newt lightly asked. However, he did cease his bites of ice cream to cradle Thomas closer. 

Thomas ignored this. “...we’re in over our heads as it is, Newton. This is your worst idea.” 

“Aw,” Newt received these words as a lovely gift and bowed his head to look into the solemn yet timid eyes of Thomas. “So it’s just right then?” 

Thomas kissed him back, tasting chocolate and mint as he did, and at last felt the press of lips and the touch of warmth Newt hardly possessed anywhere else. As he parted ways to take a small breath, he smiled. “Absolutely.” 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

18 YEARS

The break in their risks and dangerous ways was gone one night at eighteen. 

Thomas never intended it to be. He was simply keeping the other boy from refusing to fall under the night’s spell as the ill-ridden curse got the better of him.

“It’ll pass,” he soothed, kneeling before the bed and pulling yet another comforter across the shivering one. Never could he have seen Newt so defiant over admitting that he needed not only to rest but to keep from leaving. He insisted on work to be done and painted projects to be executed so late in the day. But he refused, above all else, to fall asleep. His dark eyes scrunched up, and perhaps he fell away every now and then, but he did not lose sight of his friend staying close by.

“Find a witch,” Newt shuddered, rubbing one eye and painfully snickering in defeat. “They were the last resort, but we have no choice but to call in the last of the assistance. Tell them to hurry with the best of their brews and bats to cure this.”

“Newton,” Thomas quietly laughed, seeing Newt’s delirious manner not random but quite himself.

“I’m afraid I’m dying.”

“I would have to deny that,” Thomas said, scuffling his hair away from his burning forehead. “Just another fever.”

“Good lord, how did you survive this?” Newt recalled their last bout with this sickness when Thomas had a cold and the two fair-haired siblings over his shoulder, insisting it would pass. “I’m a hypocritical twat that can’t even get my own water.”

“If I can get through it once, you most certainly can for the millionth,” Thomas assured, taking his hand for just a moment. “I assume no one else is as stubborn as you when caring for yourself for once in your entire lifetime.”

“And here I believed you were my ally in this,” Newt swatted his shoulder only to sniff and grumble in the sheets. “Leave me to die then.”

“Again…” Thomas squeezed his hand and carefully placed a soaked rag to his temple. “…I’m here.”

“Sorry,” Newt groaned, sleepily clasping his fingers with Thomas’s. “I'm nothing more than a right tosser.”

“Which is why I’m tolerating you and not your sister,” Thomas took into account how Newt kept their touch. Not that he would refuse, seeing as how Newt’s will to find slumber was returning. Still, he distracted himself. “Please close your eyes.”

At that, Newt’s eyes ironically opened, eyelashes creating a weak flutter when hearing the slightest catch to the other’s voice. If the dying crack of lightning, as well as the furious sheets of rain, were not abusing the pane glass from behind, he may have caught more of the tiny note to Thomas’s words. Even so, he only tightened his hold on his hand and softly frowned. “I don’t wish to.”

He breathed the words out, timidly seeing the other boy curiously frown with him. Thomas leaned closer in insistence. “Newton…” He was just as hushed, seeing the small smile form over the blonde’s lips. “Please…”

With each plea, Newt strengthened, lifting his head as Thomas’s shattering asking came across to them both.

They shouldn’t.

They most certainly could never….ever…

“ Tommy ,” Newt mouthed, just as Thomas’s other hand, which was once stilled in its attempt to keep light locks from dampening, now carded through to the darker roots. “I can’t…”

The boy before him softly breathed, finding the sudden change all the more endearingly sudden and frightening, in which he chose to stay within.

“Can you?” the one in bed asked, lifting their hands with Thomas’s consenting eye. They both were trembling while seeing just how far one would dare….but neither stopped. Thomas soothed the bent and twisted hair, earning a small and breathless sigh and leaving Newt to genuinely close out the rest of the world for a small moment alone, lost in the touch with…his lips just at Thomas’s hand.

Thomas warily did one last assurance before his temple met Newt’s, his cold skin contrasting with the other’s due to the horrid trouble overcoming him in that hour. Closing his eyes, he felt the first brush of a kiss across his knuckles. It was not nearly as warm as the rest of Newt, but it drove him to shake like he truly was pierced with a small and concentrated flame neither knew how to control.

And when Newt did it once more to the back of his hand and past his wrist, creating new trails along the palm in earnest, Thomas gasped and lifted his chin to find a certain poetic plea in his eyes.

“I feel I should apologize,” Newt whispered between each burning kiss, catching Thomas lightly turning his hand to touch him in the process.

“Why ever so?” Thomas quietly asked, seeing the light and stars dim and focus on just what was right between the two of them, albeit in the magical and metaphorical sense. It was just as pronounced once Newt slowed each kiss, earning each touch so as not to frighten either of them. “I may have just endangered you now…” he guiltily closed his eyes but not in the way Thomas had previously wished. “And while I’m half-heartedly mad and drunk off  cough syrup, no doubt.” He sadly let go and covered the sheets over his head, concealing Thomas in the process.

The two shakily laughed before breathily closing their eyes and shaking their heads.

“Newton…” Thomas started, holding both hands. “You chose tonight instead of tomorrow to tell me this.” He emphasized by using his thumb to rub against Newt’s red nose. “All the while, you’re sick.”

“Don’t assume that I could do this by tomorrow,” Newt scratchily said, releasing one hand to cover his eyes. “If ever I was daft enough to do this, I’d be graying and on the cusp of quite literal death.”

Thomas readjusted his forward position until he was settling just beside the other boy, holding him close yet far enough so as not to hurt remaining chances or fuel more silent fears. “You’re the dramatic one,” he commended, a fond grin playing once Newt embraced him by, in fact, burying his head against his shoulder and steadying his breaths. Thomas did the same, the remembrance of such small and supposed inconsequential decisions reviving once he brushed his lips against Newt’s own hand. 

“Most certainly never,” Newt replied before tilting his head and kissing just under his jaw, sending shivers. Thomas involuntarily whimpered as his honest response, and when Newt looked up in find worry, he hardly made out, “Love, are you-”

And his lips were captured and cared for by the other’s swiftly. Thomas parted his mouth with gentle force, and the burning that ached across the rest of them inflamed before the two were suddenly wrapped around the other and refusing to allow their need to breathe win. Thomas, like the man he was, apologized with each kiss, knowing that with every touch, he was wrongly punishing them both. 

Newt did not answer to every Forgive me that his love made, barely holding on once his own mouth reached Thomas’s beating throat, and one hand soothed against the other side. He touched up to his shoulder before stopping and cupping his jaw. 

One thought, one breathless giggle, one lasting press of trembling lips. Thomas carefully and ever so softly pressed Newton against his own sheets, embracing him in a silent spell just as he began to crave his own trail upon the pale yet bewitching skin, nearly sensing the timid blush beginning to fall on the boy. Newt’s hands rose until his knees trapped and flushed Thomas in his grasp, never letting go as they kissed and kissed and kissed. 

“I think a-apologies can stand to wait until…morning,” Newt gasped out just before tilting his chin and granting Thomas the needed and yearning access to his pulsing neck. “Don’t you, Tommy?”

“Please hush,” The boy above whispered, threading fingers into blonde tresses. He was alight, made up of nothing more than what he wished to give to Newt. “Quiet now.” 

To only Newt.

Only and always Newt. 

Their last bout of earned care was much more pronounced and, therefore, quieter and slower. Newt saw to this when Thomas began to trail the kisses past his own bitten lips. 

This would never stop. 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

24 YEARS

Their third mistake created the small miracle to uphold rather than flicker and wither. 

Thomas and Newt found themselves picking at trees and basking in summer sunsets and sunrises. 

Kissing after nightly hours. 

Finding hands under groves and gardens. 

But most of all, using any means to wrangle the other to leave all behind and spend a glorious hour or two by the evening seaside. 

Thomas tried too many attempts at finishing another sheet of his work, but having a Newt on his lap made it too tempting, and he was soon swatting at the boy to leave him be. 

Newt only snickered kindly as his hands cupped Thomas’s flustered face. “Love, this is greatly affecting you. Will you stop denying already?” 

Thomas kissed this away and used his surroundings to his advantage, collecting just enough sand to smother into Newt’s blonde hair and dashing away before retaliation could strike him. 

“You bugger!” Newt would soon exclaim, rushing across the chilly sand mounds and attacking with brute force. Thomas dodged, and he escaped, but it was not until his bare feet eventually reached the first few frigid puddles of the ocean that he knew what was to become of him next. 

“Newt, don’t-!” 

It was too late; Newton Isaacs had proved himself worthy once a ferocious shove caused them both to topple over one another and land into the icy waters as one. Newt swore in beautiful melodies while Thomas fought hard to bite back the icy chill and tackled Newt within the sea at the same time. 

Neither wished to stop, and neither knew what was to happen once they left the lonely yet fulfilling shore that was to be theirs for the remaining summer days. 

Newt violently sneezed just as they were waist-deep in the ocean’s depths. Thomas, ever the worrier, took him in his arms and carefully kissed him. 

“Shall we go home?” He asked, allowing Newt to choose to than to do so himself. That way of thinking only distressed the ill one further, believing he had no choices to make for himself. Newt’s hair stuck to his forehead and cheeks now that was long enough to tie up. As Thomas swiftly pulled it all back and kept a smile on his face, Newt’s disappeared to be replaced with a hollow expression Thomas knew was the start of it all. 

Newt was able to croak out a quiet “yes,” giving Thomas the go-ahead to pick him up and carry him away from the cold. There were a few reoccurrences to this sickness Thomas had to be sure to understand. 

There were the mornings in which Newt took to sleep no matter how much of it he got at night. There were schedules on when to eat, what to eat, and what to avoid, most of it being the simple things of eating anything at all. That Newt had a struggle with time and time again. 

As a child, he was better equipped to follow through with these rules and structured times, but now, with it being just him and Sonya to care for the home during these few months, Thomas willingly carried an equal weight, something not a burden but a need. 

It was usual for Newt to insist on him using his own two feet to bring them back to the house, but it was also usual for Thomas to simply shake his head and return to the task at hand.

Or hands .

Instead, he distracted Newton’s small and hasty breaths with the one and only thing he could use at his disposal; 

Questions and questions. 

“Bread and soup?” 

Newt shook his head. “Just the bread.” 

He also would not disagree with any of Newt’s answers. He only went to the next one. 

“Do you want to finish your painting tonight?”

“After sleep, yes.” Newt cuddled against his chest and breathed a little more evenly. 

“Will Sonya be mad for you refusing dinner?” He called her by her first name rather than her middle one out of respect. That was reserved only for her brother. 

“No, she’ll shove it down my throat one way or another,” he smirked just as they made it to the front steps. Lizzy was already in the kitchen when they appeared. With her blue gown caked in flowers and her dainty fingers currently placing bacon on the stove, she made the place all the more like a heavenly slice of home. She smiled as they entered, smiling a little sweeter when seeing Newt closing his eyes and falling asleep. 

She motioned for Thomas to take a few crumpets in one yellow bowl. Thanking her with a silent word, Thomas snatched a few and turned the corner to head upstairs. She winked back and resumed her work of creating the small sizzle of fatty meats baking. 

Once they returned to Newt’s room, it was like a quick patterned dance commenced. Newt opened his eyes and was lowered to the bed, where he stacked all of his books concealed in the sheets and placed them on the bedside table. Thomas flicked the light on and started to make his way towards the fire’s hearth on the other side, where it was still alive. It was rare for Newt to leave the comforts of home for too long anyway, so Thomas fed the fiery monster and sighed when removing his jacket. 

At that moment, a predictable “mew” from their summer cat came from behind. Thomas went to his side of the bed as he looked at the little one hopping up and immediately attacked Newt in purrs and meows. Her mother would be near, and that also meant the rest of the summer litter. Thomas hopelessly laughed as the kitten, currently claiming her space in the duvets and pillows, bit at Newt's hair and licked at Thomas’s raised finger. 

“I feel grand now,” he tiredly said, smiling again when their pet curled herself up into a ball and closed her eyes. Stroking her snow-white fur, Thomas looked to see Newt reaching for a book. 

“You should eat first,” Thomas said, taking the crumpets that were in his coat pocket. 

“I feel in the mood for soup, thank you.” 

Thomas would have smacked him if not for their dearest companion dozing in between them. “You were saved by Lucy.” 

“She always comes to my rescue,” Newt said but relented when stealing a crumpet and eating it as fast as he could to have it over and done with. Thomas laid down and took in the flash that crossed their window, seeing the downpour overcome the entire shore instantly. 

As quickly as she appeared, Lucy sat up, looked Thomas right in the eye with her icy blues, and hopped out of the bed, sprinting into the hall. 

Thomas and Newt faced each other and laughed. 

“Mum won’t be too far,” Newt reassured, hearing the oldest feline meow to prove his point. He snuggled right against the brunette once he was finished with his “meal.” 

“Thank you, love,” he mumbled against his neck. 

Thomas took the book from his slightly shaky hands and flipped through the first few chapters. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Were we on four or five?” 

Newt hummed right against the pulse of his throat, causing it to tighten and shiver. Thomas did not lower his gaze, giving a small cough and concentrating on the mess of notes scribbled on the sides or bottom of the aging pages. “Newt, concentrate.” 

A kiss to a small patch of skin. “Mmm…chapter five.” 

“Thank you,” Thomas heeded, kissing his forehead. It was not burning, but it would if he did not rest his eyes. 

Again. 

Words were read, albeit a few in various parts of the story, Thomas’s will to resist barely fighting back as Newt began to kiss a little firmer…a little longer. 

The poet continued at his best. And, oh, what a subject to be taught in this particular chapter at this particular moment. 

For what would come to be forgotten surely as soon as it came to be. 

It’s one of the most valued languages yet without letters or phrases. 

Nor statements or promises. 

One kept in fingers intertwined. 

Newt teased him by doing so. 

Hair in place with the simplest of care.

Newt took a steady breath against his brown locks. 

And what would be against the laws of what could only be described as pure love? Newfound love. 

What to be felt in every aspect and way known. 

Thomas gently shuddered. He wanted to feel it again. 

Both outside and…

“Tommy…”

Within. 

“Keep going,” he breathed, one hand trailing to hold his. 

“Well, you need to stop,” Thomas softly interjected. He was on the verge of closing his eyes. His own fingers were shakily holding the book. 

“Nonsense,” Newt murmured, though he went against his own objection with another kiss and a slight pause to close the book. “Why have you stopped?”  

“Fool,” Thomas managed to say just as Newt’s arm crossed over his body and his torso twisted to stay flush against him until finally… over him. 

Hands met hands; fingers locked; others loosened to seek and search; torsos found the place to push and burn; kisses were found across expanses of chests and stomachs. 

Thomas lifted himself up, cradling Newt to his front as they both rose in strength. They were abruptly aware of the many more aches and burns that needed to be soothed and cared for. Thomas followed suit and pressed his lips to the hollow of the blonde’s neck, concentration as the key and losing yourself as another factor. His right hand skimmed the cold skin and felt the early warmth as his reward. For now, Newt would tolerate the chill kept within his spine, and he humored Thomas with a wicked smirk and a loving touch of tongue in the next kiss to properly send the quaint message. 

“You have much to paint come morning,” Thomas whimpered, cupping the angel’s face and seeing a weak but giving light once Newt pressed their temples and tickled his nose. 

“And you have much to write,” Newt panted. 

Goodness, how much love could be expressed in one to two gestures at a time? And Thomas had love in place for them and them only, something presumed to be impossible. Newt kissed the corner of his mouth and sighed once Thomas pushed at the hem of his shirt, revealing a bare shoulder in a moonlit flow. He was no fool, however, to the subtle but prominent linings of violet and crimson just underneath. 

The fire’s hearty colors outlined each one, and Newt's visibility halted once Thomas stood still for too long. 

“No, no, none of that, please,” Thomas immediately whispered, keeping Newt’s head from lowering, even his frowns, a glaring beauty he or anyone could not ignore. He peppered his nose in kisses, taking notice of his rosy cheeks and forehead until their mouths met once more. 

“They will never leave me,” Newt timidly confessed when Thomas dipped down to relish in the new patch of skin of just the first shoulder. Too beautiful, he believed. That was when Thomas realized what he meant. 

Every minor detail to his condition; each line and growing vein; the delicate hitches in his breaths; the hours spent to revive him if the day proved to be a heavier burden before merely beginning. 

All of this was no comparison to the person it affected. Newt was his own, and Thomas was forever grateful for him taking many leaps and jumps no matter what tainted his life or day. 

“They may never leave, but neither will I,” Thomas spoke, quoting what would most likely be written in a romance he and Newt read to one another. He tried once more as Newt sadly stared back, his chin tilting every now and then to find one last kiss. Thomas was willing to give many, using that as his following few words. “May I say it?” 

Newt was kissing his own exposed chest as they began to rid the many other layers until dress shirts were all that remained, their last item to free themselves of. He rolled his bare hips and moaned. “Say what?” he helplessly gasped. 

They knew what. 

“Please,” Thomas begged, hands now reaching downwards as Newt encouraged with a weak nod. His mouth trapped Newt’s next raw gasp once they both found new and rare pleasure. Newt yearned to know more, to be held together until he burst apart. 

Harder. Faster. Tighter. 

“Only if you wish to,” Newt weakly answered, trembling until he could no longer meet Thomas’s mouth properly or skillfully. He clasped fingers around Thomas’s own to undo it all. “ And if you truly mean it…”

He cried aloud once Thomas tugged, neck craned, and exposed so beautifully. 

Thomas could not help himself, heart bleeding and lungs full when he mouthed and spoke to the center of his throat. The sheets were in true and blessed warmth as their legs tangled. The exposure was only among themselves, and even that was covered under the blankets and small nook they called their Haven. 

And with that, Thomas could not be stopped once the release was evident and the last few moans were gratefully shared. 

“I love you, Newton. So much. Too much.” 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The first splinter was one kept in secret for ages. Not until Thomas finally had it out that Newt could no longer bear it. 

Here they were, wall against wall; separated no matter how close their bodies were. 

Thomas could not help it inside him, fighting back and trying to slow down at the same time. “Love, this is nothing new.” 

“Please don’t do that,” Newt said on the other side. He had no intention of keeping the door locked, but Thomas did not open either. 

Lord knew the more complicated it would be when pushing for too much. Sonya was at the further end with the towel and the medicine in hand, though she knelt down against the staircase. She carried the same exhaustive marks as Thomas had. Their eyes were colored over in glaze, and their frowns matched in the lowering sunlight. She gave a small shrug but a hopeful nod for him to keep going. 

“If you do it again, we know what to do.” 

“That does not help you nor Lizzy.” He was clearly fighting back. After a pause, he spoke again. “Are you alright?” 

Thomas closed his eyes and kept himself bent forward. “You didn’t do anything, Newton.” 

“I hurt you,” he objected, voice stronger rather than weaker. 

“You pushed me, Newt,” He said calmly. “And that wasn’t you to begin with.” 

“Right,” Newt replied hastily. “It was the lovely Newton that’s been with the buggin flare since he knew anything. Your excuses won’t stop it.” 

Thomas did not speak, recalling what could happen even now. The part of Newt that hardly showed itself had taken advantage of this one evening. Thomas had been urging him to try and find something other than drawing to fill the small hour after supper, more suggestions than demands. But Newt did not see this as it was, fighting every word and beginning to accuse him of meaningless ways and nonexistent intentions. He had come to the point where Thomas knew he was no longer speaking to his love. 

He had pushed him against walls, threatened him with questions, and ultimately screamed until he at last took his first breath. And just as soon as the virus had festered, it settled until Newt woke up, both in shock and in apparent hurt, when he realized what he had done. 

Thomas chose to take a small moment to collect himself before using his voice again. “There are no excuses, Newt. It’s the truth we both have had to remind ourselves of it since we were children.” 

Even small spites as a child did not come from Newt. He was never an angry one to begin with. And when he was frustrated, he was strong enough to hide and to lie. So when it would eventually burst, it was plain and simple: 

He was terrified of himself. 

“It was horrid of me,” Newt breathed. “Tommy…I'm so sorry.” 

“It’s alright.” 

“No, love, it’s not.” Thomas did not need eyes to know Newt was shaking his head once more, most likely to rid himself of the evil thoughts that plagued what could have been a glorious second to last day of their summer. 

“It will be alright,” Thomas attempted. “We have summers to get this right. There is no limit to when we can say sorry or ‘I forgive you.’” 

 Sonya looked down with a sad expression and did not speak. 

“And if time is short on hand?” Newt asked. “Am I meant to say nothing more than apology after apology towards you or my family because what I have left is nothing more than anger and horrible violence?” 

Thomas ached to reach for the doorknob. This was new torture. New pain. 

Newt’s pain mirrored his so horrifyingly. 

“You are not this,” Thomas soothed. “And if I were the one sick, I would want to be in your arms regardless.” 

“And that is why it is better that it is me and never you, Thomas.” A pained pause. “If I hurt you again, I know I must protect you.” 

“By hiding?” Thomas tearfully said, no longer able to hold back. 

“By being strong enough to tell you to leave.” 

Thomas and Sonya had lost. His sister stood up and placed the medicine along with the cool towel at the foot of the bedroom door. Thomas shook his head before Sonya guided him up with a gentle hand. “Give him time.” 

He felt himself be taken downstairs, but the last apology left his lips. Newton’s last response was the small click to the door lock. 

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The families invited many. And those many invited more. And those more invited too many until the summer estate grew into a palace of hosts and guests. All were dressed, and all were grinning ear to ear, with the last of the sunny festivities dwindling until night took over their small beach. Music was played in one corner, and laughter, along with merry greetings, were the many other melodies to fill Thomas’s ears. 

“Care to dance?” So many asked him, taking the chance to brush a hand on his black-suited shoulder just before he would kindly decline. Teresa did the same but as a tease and cheerfully strode off with another one of their friends, Minho, who could not help but ask the same question. Thomas would have taken the joke if someone else had been by his side to join in. 

Newt disappeared and reappeared at will. He said he was just as beautiful as he was a day ago without the cloud hanging over him or anyone else. Sonya and him were glued to one another as they made their way down and, with the many other family members and friends, prepared to answer the same poem of questions. 

How are you? 

Has the summer aided your health? 

You’re not dying on us yet, are you, boy? 

When will a wife snatch you before you leave us? 

All jokes. No meaning. 

That was not to say that he was immune to the jabs and the snide comments. Fully aware of this, Thomas felt the same prick of annoyance and pain for the man when he fought to wince or allow his smile to falter. They met each other from varying distances as the evening waned on, neither accompanying the one they truly wished. 

Newt’s hate had died as suddenly as it had started, his guilt manifesting until he was in that period of numb memory. This was his time to think through what he would regret and what he would try and exaggerate to explain his own self-confidence better. 

He would create the greatest storm with just the sad and hard crease within his brow. Thomas nodded towards him time and time again, and Newt would always return the gesture, just as idiotically hopeful to make every look just a little more fonder.

For him and for him only. 

His silent voice was all Thomas would hear once the music swelled and, the commotion at the last hour dawned over the house, and summer was officially at an end: 

I love you. Forgive me. 

Thomas smiled again, shy and honest, when Sonya also caught sight. With a flash, she whispered to Newt’s ear and dashed to the next room, where a girl with dark braids tangled in gold waited for her. Newt bid her goodnight but calmly turned away to exit the gleam and glimmer of the spaces. Thomas understood the signal and made his way towards the other exit. He stopped himself when he realized what else he could bring with him. 

A cure of his own. 

“Tommy.” Newt already sounded at a loss once Thomas had found him just at the foot of the backyard gardens. Lanterns were lit, crickets were busy, and champagne glasses littered what used to be Newt’s living room. He loved the afternoons where the rivers alongside the greenery produced fresh scents of the summer harvest. The boy was grateful for what he could work with when spending hot days with Thomas, in love with both to be so near to him. 

“Newt,” Thomas greeted, glasses of their kid treat in both hands. Newt delightfully took him and murdered him in minutes. A small sigh edged to a moan when the treat reached his tongue, and he helplessly leaned against the brunette. 

“What a bloody end to this year.” 

“We have months before it ends, Newt,” Thomas laughs. He tangled a few fingers in the gold nest. Newt kissed his neck briefly to reassure himself that they were quite alone. What an authentic flicker of luck. 

“It ends for us,” he said sadly. With a calm shrug, he looked him in the eye, reflecting the same lonely fears. “Have you found what you needed for New York?” 

Thomas bit back another prick in his chest. This was always the plan. He just wished they did not have to say it aloud just yet. But the season was leaving them, and with that, the hazy dream of timeless sunsets and sleepless nights. 

He kissed his forehead and ate his ice cream, determined to stay afloat. “Teresa will accompany me. The brownstone we chose will house us for the time being. Until then, it’s just the means of getting the writing done.” 

“You’ll be amazing,” Newt whispered against him. “You’ll prove it to everyone now.” 

“No proper novel to prove anything yet,” Thomas said. “But that is what New York will provide. But I can always change my mind before next fall if I wish to stay there permanently.” His last sentence felt a little more anxious in terms of who it was directed towards. 

Newt sighed again. “Tommy, this is your wish.” 

“And it’s not the only one I can choose.”

“It’s the right one for now,” Newt grinned. “And I can be the other when I find you again.” 

Thomas felt a few tears. “I’ll love you more than a temporary dream.”

Newt sniffed and hugged him. “Thank you.” 

They did not say anything else. For now, they wanted to remain here. Where ocean waves would be heard from just around the corner. Where the bed called them. And where present troubles could be solved. 

“Can you forgive me?” Newt rasped. 

“Eat your ice cream,” Thomas chose with another kiss. “And I will again.” 

“Of course, you already have done that,” Newt sighed. Nuzzling close, he apologized a few more times between bites of ice cream. “I may just stick what’s left of this into my shoes. They’re burning.” 

“Or we could retire for the night?” Thomas kindly suggested. At this, he cupped his face after placing his own ice cream down. “Are you ready to?” 

Newt laughed. “I hardly believe you’d assume that I would turn you down at that.” 

“I meant to sleep, Newton.” Thomas blushed but grinned. Perhaps a hidden message could surpass the innocent invitation. 

“One last night to remember what you’ve been holding back?” Newt was wickedly teasing. Thomas shushed him with another quick kiss. The two boys giggled from the burning champagne still in their throats and stomachs. 

“At least until we can return to our Safe Haven after this winter and spring.” 

Newt paused. 

Thomas grew worried when he said his name twice. 

“Newt, are you alright?” 

Snapping back, Newton suddenly had tears, and he kissed Thomas ferociously. Both confused and drawn, Thomas shook his head and gasped, “We can’t. Not here.” 

“I know,” Newt croaked, stepping forward and pleading with Thomas to lead the way backward. 

Once he did, the journey past the last of the guests and the few crowded staircases was their greatest trial. 

There were halls sprinted through; doors shutting; locks intact. 

Thomas wished to explode and place himself back together with the help of the other, but he knew to keep cautious, especially with Newt still vulnerably withdrawn due to the other day’s events. 

Newt already took care of this when pinning him against the opposite wall of the bedroom. “I know what to say,” he said as he kissed his neck and crossed the threshold, which was to be interpreted as superficial dress layers and shirts. “I will say all that I must once I can.” 

“You swear?” Thomas weakly urged as their fingers tugged at buttons, stitchings, and spaces between the top and bottom pieces of their gallant appearance. “Don’t let me take anything from you.” 

“No, that is for me to decide,” Newt snidely said. He pushed their coats to the floor and had trouble in focusing across bare and exposed skin, becoming distracted in such a short time. 

Thomas kissed him harder while finishing the first task. It had been an entire day, but he was losing what he could carry in such a short amount. He would never become tolerant of the raw and scorching heat that were Newt’s lips, his hands, especially his hands, his skin, his dark frown, his uplifting frown…

The way his breathing stilled when he began to lose control. Thomas trembled once he had finished stripping them bare as can be, elevating when Newt ran fingers in true and lovely places. Picking him up in great strength, Newt did not stray from his mission of kissing heated skin and whispering things fit for them and them only. 

Not for the ears of too many, they decided. 

“Why are you this lovely?” Thomas asked as they found sheets and a soft heaven of pillows. He raked his teeth and lips against a collarbone. “This gorgeous?”

“ Lovely ,” Newt passed onto his lover, kissing him again and fervently tangled fingers with his. He pecked just to the side of his jaw where the smallest kisses left forever formed into freckles and more. “ Gorgeous .”

The first few touches were created on the outside, caressing where they could and grateful to whoever had kept their fireplace alive, its warmth on naked skin and twinkling reflections. Thomas kissed to his flank, and between each limb and region meant for no one else. He skimmed below his navel and to a wonder that had Newt already arching in shock, asking- begging for Thomas not to heed but to keep going. 

For as long as he could before gasping or becoming just as distracted. Thomas’s own moans did not fall on deaf ears, and each use of his voice and throat pained Newt to rasp and hide his words into a pillow. 

I love yous were tiny and perfect given Thomas’s current position. It was so miraculous of a touch he could give, but he could feel it as well, tongue heavy and the swell fulfilling what he enriched himself with every stroke and lick. Newt was from a world millions of stars away. 

Too beautiful.

Too breathtakingly rare. 

Thomas would shatter a little when parting from him. 

He drew his hands along pale thighs and moved them both upon the bed. 

“This night is all we have,” Thomas gasped when mercifully letting Newt go. However, the blonde did urge him closer until he could kiss him deeply and slowly. 

Newt tasted, yes, but he determinedly followed Thomas until it was finally his turn. 

“We have more time,” Newt comforted, catching his chance and twisting them until he towered above. Thomas was both surprised and delightfully mad as Newt calmly pulled back to grasp him in his shaky hand. 

There was a quell of soft cries, but Newt soothed those away with his mouth. 

In between, he was stronger than Thomas with his voice, making out love letters in broken breaths.

“You have more than a future here with me.”

He guided himself through the trial of awaiting. Thomas claimed he was always ready long before he indeed was. But he heeded with fingers for entry first, patient only Newt. 

He met him with his tongue again when saying, “You have a world to find when I can’t see it for long.” 

When he was inside of him, moving but sparing his strength for last, Newton pressed a damp cheek to Thomas’s dry one. Tears were felt, and Thomas closed his eyes to release his own. With a falling edge to the movement of his body, Newt caressed Thomas and surrendered even as he led. 

Thomas had done the same so many times. Too many times. 

“Never stop,” he moaned. He was cradled against Newt as the pleasure gusted and concentrated until it burned their skin. 

“Don’t let go,” Newt ached. He kissed his eyelids and small star-like moles. He was lost, wishing to. “Not yet. Please.” 

“ God… . Newt…oh…Newton… ”

“ Death of me…” Newton swore against his chest, sensing the burst before it began. “ …bloody death of me …l-love you ... .I love you so much… ” 

Thomas' eyes grew dark and big when they opened, his body pressed deep into the bed. He did not move as Newt moved and clung strong fingers to Thomas one last time. 

“Newt.” 

No response. Too much. It was all too much. 

“N-newton.” 

He tearfully looked down, Thomas breaking apart by the seams and still stubborn with might to use his voice for his love. 

“I love you, Newt.” Thomas stopped himself as his eyes fluttered closed. His tongue was stuck, and he could no longer speak. 

“You don’t h-have to, darling,” Newt fought out, increasing and deepening. “Let me have you. It will be alright.” 

“Newt…” 

“Love…it’s okay…” 

His tears had stopped, for he had none left, and he felt at peace once Thomas did listen to him and to what his body wanted to let go of. Be free of. 

The warmth over their stomachs and the glorious end they battled to retrieve coated their bodies and had them falling into a fitful slumber moments after. Thomas could not leave Newt’s neck well enough alone. Newt was numb all over but willing to give more of him than he could offer. He saw a new light made in the collective droplets that shone in Tommy’s brown eyes. 

How could he say farewell to this? 

To these? To him at all? 

What would he do?

He broke, and he shattered just as Thomas himself feared he would. Hiding beneath the covers, Thomas fervently kissed him all over. “What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t have what you deserve,” Newt cried, hugging him so tight. 

“What do you mean,” he barely whispered. 

“I’m not…going to be enough for the rest of your life, Tommy.” 

Thomas thoughtfully paused, rethinking until it bled into him. 

Oh no. 

Gods, no. Not Newt. 

Newt shook his head of wild locks and curled up against him. 

“Hey…” Thomas threw every sheet across them both, promising a Haven for them. “What have you learned that I haven’t?” 

“It’ll hurt you.” 

“Only if you keep it to yourself,” Thomas kissed his chest. “Don’t carry that pain alone. Please tell me.” 

Newt lifted himself until both he and Thomas’s noses were kissing, sharing warmth and love underneath blankets, all while commotion was still present below the two. So many memories to care for in such a place. One of comfort and one of permanence. 

So much so that Newt would happily die here and nowhere else. But that day will not come for now. It would be kept away with a broom until Newt could no longer carry it. And even if Thomas would take that burden, it would still not drive that poor day away. 

And lord, how that already took its toll on his heart as he trusted a careful gaze upon his other heart and cupped its cheek. 

“Tommy…” 

No. Please no. Don’t say it at all. 

“I’ve lived for as long as I was given. I’ve got none left.” 

Thomas helplessly snapped and crumpled before Newt had even said anything of anything at all. He suddenly dreamed of a world where Newt had fallen asleep instead, keen on telling all this to him in the early morning. Or perhaps a day before, he was meant to leave brusque and brightly and dressed in the apparel made for writers going across countries. 

It really was too far away now that Newt’s lips had moved and parted to speak what Thomas did not dare accept or acknowledge ever since he had been kissed on the cheek by that very windowsill ten years ago. 

He listened to those words more often than he could take, even if all it took was once. 

Newt fearfully held him by his arm and lifted his hand to kiss and hold. 

Thomas silently cried as Newt fiercely kept awake. 

His voice felt so empty and cold when he could manage the first question. “How did you find out?” 

Newt kissed his palm when he spoke. “A week prior to this party. Lizzy…Lizzy told me when the doctor had finished his visit.”

“You…you said nothing,” Thomas realized, remembering the evening Newt was escorted to the kitchen by the doctor meant to come in every few weeks to check up on the forever sick boy. 

“I could not understand it myself,” Newt admitted. “I tried to forget. Perhaps long enough for you to leave for New York when your plans could already be in place.” 

“Newton Isaacs.” Thomas started in horror, but Newt stopped him. 

This was just as horrid for Newt to understand, but he continued. “My temper was not directed at you.” He let go of Thomas’s hand, and his lip trembled. “I just couldn’t…” he did not fight when Thomas wrapped his arms around his bare torso and kept him to his chest. “I couldn’t believe that any help I receive from here on out will never be enough. And for you to push yourself until you were worn made me angry. Angry that I could not do the same, feel better- be better for you.” 

Thomas corrected his hold to kiss his temple and think. No doubt, Newt could hear and feel the numbing beats of his heart. “You cannot fight this thinking of only me, Newt. You are meant to try because you want to live. And you have.” 

“I have tried,” Newt sniffs. He studied Thomas’s fingers and pecked each one before moving on to the next, small and concentrated flames dancing. “Tommy, I’ve tried for my family, my friends, my doctors, my sister, and for you, my love. And even for me.” He sighed heavily and seemed too exhausted to keep awake. “But every day, no matter what I wish or what I need, no matter where you are or where Lizzy goes, no matter who is nearest and who is furthest…” he closed his eyes. “…I can feel myself slip away just a little, hardly recognizing it until I no longer have it in me. And I only lose more when I attempt to stop it.” 

Thomas could not stop his tears and reluctantly brushed them away until Newt began to do it for him, his artistic spark cleaning away what passed across the brunette’s cheeks. His delicate and skilled fingers finished their work as he weakly went on. 

“It’s like the tide we watch every other day, darling.” He pulled back with a new but strong will in his eyes. “It pulls back for the shore to recover and settle, but it leaves its mark over it regardless. It’s small and big at times, and it may be unpredictable, but it cannot be stopped.” 

“Then I’ll stop it,” Thomas decided. His jaw was set, and he pleaded. Newt was his. He was Newt’s. How was he supposed to let go that easily? “I’ll fight it, and I’ll master it, and it won’t ever take you.” Thomas knew he could lie, but this wasn’t one. It was false hope for both of them. “It can’t harm you as long as I’m here.” 

“It has ever since I was young, love.” Newt breathed soundly after a slight and hurt hiccup. He combed a few fingers through Thomas’s front locks and did it over and over. “And even if you were to stay and ruin your life for me, it would still do its deed and take me away. And you are a fool if I will allow you to. You’re a wonderful and loving spirit, Thomas, and you have to create something in this world that doesn’t encompass just me.” He tenderly kissed his cheek. “It’s not right.” 

“But you’re it all,” Thomas gently confessed. “It’s not right for me to leave you. I can’t. Not now.” 

“Yes,” Newt firmly held, brushing his lips to his and never stopping even as he said, “You will because you love me, and I know what you want.” 

“And if I don’t want what you think I want?” Thomas asked. 

“Then you’re the biggest shank I’ve ever tolerated for staying put.” He went down to care for his neck and shoulders. “You’re going to do all that you’ve ever wished for, and it’ll bring you more and more with each try. You’re going to write, and you’re going to thrive, and you’re not going to wait for anything. Not for me and not for my strength to return.” 

Newt. Please. No. 

“And Tommy…” 

“Newton.” 

“I’ve loved you for longer than I thought I could.” He winced when he rose to be right above Thomas a second time. How different are these two events contrasted? 

One of passion and one of honesty. 

Newt kissed him deeply with what he had left. The brutal awakening was now over them both, and he could not apologize enough. “And I’m so sorry, Tommy, that I told you now. But I love you, and I am grateful for you no matter what you do in your long life or where you go, far away from here.” 

Thomas could burst all over again, be one with Newt, and stay where he was. He could throw away and let go of all he had planned. All for Newton. And he would. 

He would . 

But Newt would stop him no matter what. 

He would even stop his love for Thomas to realize that his life had barely begun.  That what he would earn if staying was to be met with hollowed promises made long ago. Newt would not allow it. None of it. 

That did not stop Thomas from trying. “How long do I have you?” He brokenly asked, touching Newt and already feeling him slip away little by little. The Angel closed his eyes to the touches and gasped so beautifully. He knew he would ask for this next. What else could he expect? Surely not a reasonable reaction. 

What would he say? What could he do? 

Newton granted him one final kiss before closing his eyes and drifting away. Thomas whispered his name gently and would softly shake as Newt faintly sighed: 

“One more summer.”