"Stilinski." The nurse called out harshly, waiting for the boy to take the remaining steps into lock up. He would've been fine on suicide watch any other time, but Thomas admitting that he was to leave, made Stiles' plan change. But the mental hospital that he found himself in, did not change according to him, and so he was stuck sticking to his old plan. One that he no longer desired to keep going.

"Step inside." Stiles rolled his eyes, but he listened as he dragged himself into the room, turning just in time to see the door closing in on him, leaving him trapped. Sighing, he looked around, familiar with the interior of these rooms, although never having hated it quite as much as now. Before, he would always come up with ideas in here, using his vicious and conniving ways to do something brutally painful. Now though, for the first time, Stiles didn't come up with anything.

He already had everything figured out, but now it was the day before Thomas' departure and he was stuck. He didn't wish for Thomas to leave exactly, he'd gotten used to him being around again, but if Thomas stayed, then so would Stiles' cruel intentions of hurting him.

It worked like a reflex did, switching on whenever he was in close proximity of certain people. Hurting others brought him joy, it made him happy and feel in control. And the closer he was to the people he hurt, the more he liked it. It was Stiles' twisted reality that made him want Thomas here. Besides, if Thomas stayed, he wouldn't have to worry about being locked up. Being put on suicide watch had indeed been part of his original plan, but his brother had to ruin that.

Stiles was conflicted in the sense that his emotions were all over the place. He was going to keep Newt safe, he'd promised his brother that much, but the way to keep Newt safe, scared him. Stiles was scared, because he knew what was going to happen if he was going to keep his promise.

He still didn't exactly know why he'd agreed. It wasn't like he liked Newt in any way. But something about the blonde drew him in, and he had to do what he could. Stiles tried to convince himself that he'd only said that he'd promised so that his brother would stop worrying so much, and so that Stiles could cause havoc again. However, Stiles was also smart enough to know that that was a lie.

Stiles wanted to keep Newt safe.

And that terrified him and shook him to the core, making his body crash into pieces because yes, he wanted to do something good for someone. For Newt. A boy he'd tortured and scared so badly that Newt could barely be in his presence. The blonde was getting better at it though, he wasn't deathly afraid, especially if Thomas was around. Thomas wouldn't be though, because by tomorrow, Thomas would be gone.

And today, well today Stiles had completely lost his sanity. At least he'd convinced himself that that was the case.

Newt was driving him mad, and it wasn't like he'd been perfectly sane before, but the thought of doing something good without him gaining anything from it, was strange to him. It didn't feel right, and he felt like his body was disconnected from him. He was split into two parts, and one was strong enough to go against the person he always was.

His eyes conveniently caught sight of a notepad on the table before his bed, one of the only three pieces of furniture in the room. A bed, a desk, and a small dresser. It was smaller than the ones in the individual rooms, mainly because there was a lot less freedom and possibility in these holding cells. You were completely isolated down here, and Stiles' hands twitched in anticipation and anxiety of getting out.

"Fuck." He cried out, letting his hands rip at his hair as his nails dug into his scalp. Stiles was burning, although he knew that the floor he was on was usually the coldest, as it was the basement. It was below ground, no windows to escape from, no doors to unlock, and barely any light. And yet he still found himself heating up.

Stiles threw off his shirt in an uncoordinated panic, the walls caving in on him as he uncontrollably began to shake. He lurched forward, falling to the rock solid ground but managing to barely catch himself with his hands. His breathing was irregular, ragged, and just about the only thing that Stiles could hear in the room he was in. Silence hung loudly otherwise, and he let his body cave in on itself as he crumbled up into a ball.

Reality sunk in again, almost retrieving him from the drowning water he'd been in. He was so small in that moment, curled up on the floor with his body continuously shaking, but more calm than before. His eyes stung with tears, and he willed them away by squeezing his eyes shut.

"Damn it, Stiles. You're not like this." It was true. Stiles wasn't the type to fall over and cry, and so when he did, he felt how he weakened and cracked. In this case, he broke purely out of fear, but he knew that he wouldn't back out. Stiles never backed out of anything unless he had no choice but to do so.

He sat up before crawling over to the desk, his shaky hand reaching out to grab the small black inked pen that was attached to the paper. His energy was drained as his fear of what would happen took over him and made him nothing but a weakened dead shadow. Stiles smiled bitterly, not a smirk that portrayed malice and flared excitement.

"It'll be okay, Stiles. You'll be okay." Stiles whispered, trying to convince himself that this was true. But he didn't feel okay, and as he hastily scribbled out what he wanted to say, he knew he'd never be. Stiles had lost it entirely, he knew that he had no control anymore, and so trying to take ahold of himself was just a waste of energy. He was already too far gone.

Stiles wrote this note with great care as he fully begun to cry, his handwriting sloppy because he was so uncoordinated, but he smiled just a tiny bit. It would make it unique, one of a kind. It would only be Newt's. When he was done, he threw the pen to the side, kissed the paper with gentle lips, and then read it over once more. It really only made him cry harder, but he knew that he'd have to keep it together all the way until tomorrow night.

He made his way to bed, the note in his hand before he lay it on his pillow, and then he fell asleep for a little while, despite it still being very early in the morning.

Thomas, on the other hand, was ever so slowly making his way around his small room. He smiled bitterly, seeing that he'd never had time enough to hang photos on the pale wall. He was already leaving. The truth hit him hard as he got his duffel bag, throwing it onto the bed before he made his way to the small dresser. He held in a breath as he opened the drawer, his twitching hands rummaging to the bottom of one pile of folded clothes before he pulled them out to place on his mattress.

The boy repeatedly went back and forth until no more items were in his dresser. So he shut it closed, knowing he'd never really be back to open it and use it again. It was sad, he hated to leave, which was odd because he knew that most people would be thrilled to leave a place like this. But Thomas wasn't so sure that he could handle it. Not without Newt.

Speaking of Newt, he and the blonde boy were supposed to see Stiles later. His therapist had given them permission to talk as Thomas was leaving, as long as it was monitored and controlled. He knew that the blonde was slightly scared, having said so the day before when Thomas had last seen Newt before it was time to go into their designated rooms to rest. But Thomas had assured him, told him that it would be okay because Thomas would be there. And if they were all being monitored, Stiles wouldn't try something anyway. He wasn't that crazy.

After that, he'd have one more meeting with his therapist, to wrap it all up and close this chapter of his life, never to open again. The thought made Thomas' throat constrict in pain as his heart clenched tightly in his chest. It was all over.

Eventually all of his things were packed away into his duffel bag, and he reached for his last remaining item on the desk, his phone, to see what time it would display. However, he regretted not just looking at the watch on the wall, because his phone happened to still display the title of the song he'd last heard. The song he'd danced to with Newt.

He desperately tried not to let any tears slip past his eyes, but it wasn't working, and soon enough, he'd broken into tears. Thomas had never felt so beaten down before, the only thing worse than this was seeing what Newt had sometimes done to himself. Other than that, nothing was worse. Not a single thing.

Since he'd seen the time, he knew he had about twenty minutes to go to Newt's and then the basement where Stiles was. He left his room, leaving his things behind as he still had a day before he was entirely gone, making his way down the hallway.

When he walked into Newt's room and saw the blonde curled up on the bed crying, Thomas' heart shattered all over again. He was leaving who he loved, and trying to convince himself that he was still young enough to find someone else didn't seem to convince him. In his mind, he'd found who he wanted forever, and now he couldn't even be with him.

"N-Newt." Thomas stuttered out, his voice breaking as a fresh set of tears surfaced in his eyes. The blonde looked up at him slowly, his lips chapped and eyes bloodshot, skin pale and hair tousled. But to Thomas he was still the most beautiful person he'd ever gotten to lay eyes on. Newt was still angelic and gracious in his eyes.

"You don't have to talk to Stiles with me if you'd rather stay up here, okay? I won't make you go." Newt moved his body off the mattress just as Thomas was walking towards him, and he caught the weak blonde in his arms right as he'd stumbled over his own feet.

"You want to go?" The blonde nodded, but it wasn't a certain nod, rather one that showed hesitation. It broke Thomas, it really did.

Newt and Thomas were both familiar with the basement, the blonde more than the younger. On the way down, Newt had slipped his hand between Thomas' shyly, and Thomas had squeezed it tightly to assure him that it was alright. Nothing was going to happen to the blonde as long as Thomas was there. He was happy that Newt had gotten enough courage to take Thomas' hand first, but under these circumstances, it was hard to be joyful.

Thomas saw someone walk towards them, and he instinctively hid the blonde behind him. It wasn't too difficult to do, seeing as the blonde had always been very small, but Newt appreciated the gesture as he grabbed a part of Thomas' shirt on his back with his fist. He was scared.

"Thomas and Newt, correct? I'll be monitoring your conversation with Stiles to ensure that it doesn't get out of hand." Thomas nodded, following the man whilst ensuring that the smaller boy was always right behind him. The hand on his shirt was comforting, as it assured of the blondes presence.

They walked inside a room before the man walked back out, leaving the door ajar so that he'd be able to hear raised voices and shouting if things spiraled out of control. But Thomas wasn't too focused on him, he was focused on his brother.

Stiles was sitting on the bed, looking completely beaten with his eyes sunken in and his body slumped, but his smirk was there. It was displayed proudly on his face, mischievous, and Thomas assumed that all of his brothers sanity from the past few days, had left him, until Newt spoke.

"He's a-acting." The blonde whispered from behind Thomas. And Thomas was surprised to hear Newt accuse that. Thomas knew that Stiles was a brilliant actor to manipulate and get his way, but he never pretended to be insane, did he?

"How can you tell?" Thomas mumbled back, making sure it was only loud enough for the blonde to listen in on.

"H-his e-eyes don't m-match his lips." Newt stated, and Thomas glanced back to take another look. The blonde wasn't entirely wrong. Stiles' eyes looked almost frightened and scared, while his lips were telling a whole other story. Thomas was amazed at Newt's brilliance to catch such a detail he overlooked.

"Are you just going to whisper over there or are you here to talk to me?" Thomas made his way over to Stiles once he'd spoken, Newt following as well, but slower. He took his time, and he only dared come a little closer so that he could sit on the floor in front of the bed, still far from Stiles. Thomas had sat next to Stiles, and he reached out his hand for Newt to hold if he wanted to. The blonde slowly brought his hand out to connect with Thomas', and Thomas smiled towards Newt to assure him again.

"So, you're leaving?" Stiles asked aloud, turning to his brother that was next to him. Thomas nodded, feeling Newt tense up on the floor after Stiles had spoken.

"Yea, tomorrow." He sighed, leaning back entirely against the wall as he glanced up. Thomas didn't dare to look anywhere else. His brother was not one he wanted to see, and Newt was one that would make him want to cry.

"That's messing with my plans, Thomas." Newt turned his head towards the other two, tilting his head curiously as he lifted his knees up in a protective stance. He was cautious of his whereabouts, not having said much so far to contribute to the conversation.

"I don't care about your stupid plans." Thomas growled, an anger possessing him from his protectiveness of Newt.

"You better remember your promise, Stiles." He snapped, and Stiles' demeanor seemed to change in an instant second, suddenly sad to hear any mention of a promise. As if he wanted to dismiss its existence entirely as he fumbled with his nimble fingers.

"I do." Stiles responded quietly, more quiet than he'd been before anyway. It was unlike Stiles to be like this, but lately everything had taken a wrong turn for all three of them, and so unusual behavior by all three was expected. Newt was the only one that seemed eerily normal, with the exception of doing the unusual thing of showing affection through holding Thomas' hand. Sure, they did it a lot, but months ago before Thomas had been here, Newt had never dreamed of it. Holding hands was a sign of intimacy, a connection by a warm touch that intertwined between their fingers. It was loving and gentle with a hint of reassurance for the blonde so that he knew that Thomas wasn't gone yet.

"I d-don't trust y-you." Newt spoke up, surprising both Stiles and Thomas as they both turned down to look at the blonde simultaneously, equally shocked. Neither of them had really expected something out of Newt in the first place, but something like that they'd expected even less.

"Who don't you trust, Newt?" Thomas gently spoke, rubbing his thumb along one of Newt's knuckles.

"S-Stiles. S-Stiles I don't t-trust you to be my f-friend." The blonde looked up with trembling lips and scared eyes, and Stiles' mouth was slightly agape as he gulped down and turned away. He couldn't meet Newt's eyes, feeling like a coward but knowing that looking would break a barrier within him.

"But I t-trust you not to h-hurt me." Hearing that from Newt's lips made Stiles cave and look at him again. When their eyes met the barrier that Stiles had been thinking about, broke down entirely, and he had an indescribable urge to hug Newt. He was going to keep Newt from harm, from himself, and he wished he could scream it out to Newt so that the blonde wouldn't have to worry about the other so much.

"Y-you really trust m-me with that?" Thomas seemed equally curious to hear the answer, to see if Newt would be taking back the statement or not, but he never did. He only nodded instead, standing behind his words that he'd normally never said.

"Sorry to interrupt you three. But Thomas, your appointment with Mrs Miller is now, and I'll be escorting Newt back to his room." The man from earlier had opened the ajar door again, waiting for the two boys to get up and leave, so they did. They both turned to Stiles one more time, who had also stood up now. He gave both of them a smile and a nod towards the door, showing them that they should get going.

Nothing was said, and so they all left it at that, without a goodbye.

"Thomas, are you sure there's nothing else?" Thomas was now in his therapists office, patiently waiting to leave the room so that he could find Newt one last time before he was gone. His dad was to come by tomorrow morning to pick him up, and he'd never dreaded anything more.

"T-there might be something." He started, leaning forwards as his hands were clutched together. Ten more minutes were left, and he wanted the time to tick by a lot faster than the pace it was going at.

"Well, Thomas, what would you like to inform me on before you leave tomorrow?" She asked him politely, holding Thomas' paperwork in her grasp as she was to give his dad everything she'd noted on him tomorrow, but not before having gone through it with Thomas for the past forty minutes.

"Can I stay with Newt tonight?" Thomas winced, his eyes squeezing shut as if he'd almost expected to be yelled at. Except he wasn't, because he received only silence.

"You already did that when he was in the hospital wing this week." Mrs Miller responded, and Thomas nodded along quickly to show that he understood what she was saying.

"I stayed for one night. Please, just give me a night where I don't have to go back to my room and leave him. That's really all I want if I have to go." He pleaded, looking at her with an indescribable sadness.

"Okay." She said.

"What? Really?" His eyes were wide, barely knowing how he was supposed to react to her accepting what he wanted. He hadn't thought she'd simply agree so fast, not with where they were.

"Unless Newt protests, I can arrange for it. It seemed to go well on Monday, I believe it was?" Thomas nodded, his lips wanting to form words and sentences but somehow not being able to.

"Don't act too surprised. I'm aware how much you mean to each other. You've helped Newt quite a lot even if it may not be so obvious, so I'm a bit concerned to see how he will take this. However, I'll give you tonight together, and then tomorrow morning he and Stiles will both be allowed to say goodbye to you in the lobby."

"That's going to be a really dreadful goodbye." She smiled sadly in understanding, but Thomas knew she'd never get it. He loved Newt, it wasn't as simple as everyone seemed to make it out to be. Thomas was terrified to see what may happen when he left, but he was helpless in that decision.

"It's already six thirty in the evening. Why don't you make your way to dinner and in the meantime, I will go see Newt to see if he agrees, okay?" Thomas rolled his eyes, almost wanting to scream at her that there was no point in doing that. Newt wouldn't decline to that, as far as he knew anyway. But he didn't want to ruin anything and lose his chance of being with the blonde, so he stayed quiet.

"Okay." He got up, making his way out the door and to the cafeteria. Thomas wasn't actually hungry, but he figured that there wasn't really anywhere else to go besides the library, and the library would make him think of Newt a lot more than the cafeteria would. The library was where he'd first approached Newt, amongst so many other things, and going there wasn't something he thought he could physically or mentally do.

His dinner was small, just consisting of a few noodles with cherry tomatoes and water. He hated that everything somehow led back to Newt, like the cherry tomatoes. He'd made Newt eat one once, and he'd been so proud when the blonde had successfully done it. But that was a very long time ago to him now, and the more he thought of the tomatoes on his plate, the less of an appetite he had.

When the time finally displayed a few minutes past seven, he got up from his chair in the corner of the lunch hall before taking his tray, placing it in its designated spot before he headed towards Newt's room. Halfway though, he figured he should change into his pajamas, even though he was already in a t-shirt and sweatpants. He changed nevertheless, leaving his room in a grey shirt and checkered pajama pants.

"Newt?" He called out as he knocked on the blondes door. He knew that he could've just glanced through the plastic window, but he refrained.

A few seconds passed and nothing had happened, so Thomas was about to knock again when the door suddenly opened, and the small boy stood there with tears in his eyes and his arms held out. Thomas didn't hesitate to let Newt fall into him, catching the boy as Newt clung onto him, desperate not to let him go because that meant that Thomas may be gone. He didn't want Thomas to disappear, not now or ever. Newt was aware that tomorrow was inevitable, which is why he wanted to stay awake as long as he could tonight to make it last.

"Hey, Newt. Newt, it's okay. Please don't cry. I'll cry." And Thomas did. He broke into tears once he'd heard Newt whimper as he sobbed, because Thomas was weak when it came to the blonde.

"I'll come back for you. This isn't going to be forever." Thomas insisted. This wasn't where he wanted it to all be over with Newt, even if he was trying to slowly come to terms with exactly that fact.

"Newt, this isn't a goodbye." He tried to assure, more so himself than the blonde that was clinging to him and staining his shirt with fresh tears. Thomas' head was rested on top of Newt's, wishing he could do more to comfort him.

"N-never say g-goodbye. Because goodbye m-means g-going a-away. And going a-away means f-forgetting." Newt whispered, wiping his eyes before he let his arms go around Thomas again. Thomas smiled slightly when he saw Newt do so, recognizing what he'd said.

"You read it again?" Thomas asked, talking about the book he'd given Newt as a late Christmas gift.

"Y-yea. But I've not r-read all the n-notes you left me w-within. I w-want to read t-those at my own p-pace. Is that o-okay?" The blonde hesitated, not sure if Thomas would be mad at him or not for wanting to do something else.

"Yes, of course, Newt. Whatever you want." Thomas gently spoke towards Newt, lifting the blondes chin lightly so that they were looking at each other. Newt flinched, the touches still being an odd addition to whatever they were, but he was comforted with it. Thomas' touches calmed him.

"Should we lie down?" Newt nodded, entangling himself from Thomas before he made his way into bed, Thomas shutting the door quietly before he sat at the edge of the bed. He didn't dare move before the blonde gave him permission to move closer.

"Tommy, h-hold me?" Thomas smiled, moving behind Newt as he lay down and wrapped a shaking arm around the blondes thin waist. Newt's sweater clung to his body where Thomas had laid his arm, and so it showed how small the blonde really was underneath the fabric. It broke Thomas' heart almost, wishing he could do more to help Newt.

It was silent for a while, but then Newt's chest begun to rapidly move, and Thomas realized that the blonde was crying again. Thomas quickly hovered over Newt, and the blonde turned his head to glance up at the boy above him.

"Newt? Love, please don't be sad." He knew that saying those words were useless, they held no meaning that would make Newt listen and stop crying.

"I d-don't want you to l-leave." The sight of Newt looking up at him with his broken brown eyes and shaky lips whilst his body was still laying to the side, made him so fragile. And with Thomas hovering over him, almost in a dominating stance, reflected that even further. But Thomas wasn't trying to seem to be in control, he was far from it anyway.

"I wish I could stay." Thomas confessed, although it wasn't exactly unknown that he wished he could remain here for a little longer. He gently brought his hand out to touch Newt's cheek, wiping away a tear that remained. The blonde closed his eyes, wallowing in the touch as he gave a beaten smile.

"Newt, promise me you'll try to get better. At least fake it so that you can eventually leave. I want you to be with me. Newt, I want to protect you so badly." The blondes eyes had reopened, meeting Thomas' teary ones before he nodded and bit his lip.

"P-promise." Thomas genuinely smiled, although it was far from happy when he did. It meant a lot to him though, and he had the urge to lean down and kiss Newt to show just how much.

"Newt, can I... am I allowed to k-kiss you?" Newt took a few seconds to gather what was said, and so he was entirely still for a short amount of time before he slowly nodded. Thomas took a hold of one of Newt's hand, slipping their fingers together, linking them before he leaned down to meet Newt's lips.

Newt froze from Thomas' touch, his whole body tensing before it heated up again and he was brought back to life. He kissed back slowly, pressing his lips against Thomas' lovingly before both of them pulled back. It wasn't a very deep kiss, but it didn't have to be for both of them to know that it meant everything. It was sadness mixed with confusion, along with care and love. They were both clueless, being each others first loves, and they were sad for it to come to a close. But the love and care was still there, despite Newt only being aware that he was confused and sad, really.

"I love you, Newt." Newt didn't dare respond, he knew that it would only result in more tears. But it was in that moment that he realized, he loved Thomas too. Realizing that, reminded him of the conversation he and Thomas had had where he'd asked the other what love was.

It's when your heart races around them for no particular reason and you can't get it to stop, but at the same time, you don't wish for it to. And it's when they're constantly on your mind, and they drive you crazy, but you're not exactly looking to be sane anymore. It's knowing that they have flaws but not letting them get in the way, they only become more special to you. Love is when it hurts you to be with the person just as much as it does when you're not.

Remembering those words, along with what he was feeling now by simply looking at Thomas, confirmed that he loved him too. His heart was racing fast, his mind was hazy, Thomas was all he could think about as he was driven to insanity. And he didn't want any of it to stop. Newt wanted this. He wanted his chest to hurt from being with Thomas because he loved him so much. He wanted his heart to race for no other reason than for seeing Thomas or thinking about him. And he wanted to lose himself entirely to love.

Yet he did not find the courage to say it back, to show that he reciprocated those feelings. But he didn't really have to, because one look at Newt gave it all away. Thomas saw the love in Newt's eyes, and so it was perfectly okay that the blonde hadn't spoken, because he'd unintentionally done so silently. He'd silently shown Thomas that he loved him through his eyes. They gave him away.

Thomas leaned down again, placing a last gentle peck onto Newt's tender and awaiting lips, before he laid back down, bringing the blondes body to his chest as he held onto him for one final night.

Waking up the next morning was dreadful, because when both of them had opened their eyes, they knew that that was it. Newt had turned his body during his sleep and was now facing Thomas' sleepy figure with half lidded eyes. Both of them were sleepy and sad, but Thomas managed a smile for Newt despite of it all, bringing his hand up to hold the blondes free one before them.

"Are you coming with me?" It was a stupid question, Thomas realized it as soon as he'd asked. Newt nodded though, watching Thomas sit up to stretch his limbs. The blonde blushed and hid his face in the pillow when he saw part of Thomas' shirt lift up, a response he hadn't expected. Thomas had seen him without a shirt before, even Stiles had, but he couldn't remember a time he saw Thomas without one. The very thought made him heat up, his cheeks reddening as he bit his lip and turned away. It was weird to him, being nervous about seeing just a glimpse of skin that was beneath someone else's clothes, because before he'd never really been bothered by it. He didn't care, it never evoked a reaction out of him, but right now, it had.

Thomas had gotten up in the meantime, and Newt eventually followed in a depressed stance as he dragged himself out of bed, his limp feeling heavier than ever. He walked out of his room first, Thomas walking behind towards his own. The blonde didn't want to say anything, he didn't dare disrupt the silence. Besides, the lump in his throat grew and he figured that if he spoke, he'd crack and fall apart. He knew that Thomas would catch him if he did, but Newt didn't want it to happen now already.

The other boy didn't ask any questions though when Newt stayed by the doorframe of Thomas' room, not walking inside. It was hard for Thomas to do it, knowing that once he'd walk out, he'd never return. He couldn't even begin to imagine how the blonde felt, being perfectly aware of the fact that he'd be alone once Thomas was gone in less than an hour.

Thomas had slung his duffel bag over his shoulder as he scanned the room a final time, eventually landing on Newt. He gave a sad smile as he headed towards the blonde, knowing that any words exchanged now would make them weep.

"That's it." Thomas quickly rushed out, informing that he was done with what was in his room. Or, not his anymore. He briefly wondered who would be here after him, but then he decided that he didn't want to know. This would always be his room in his mind.

They walked downstairs, and Thomas brought a hand to Newt's back, almost guiding him but also to show that the blonde was with him. It was an excuse to reveal how protective he was of the blonde, but if Newt had any protests, he didn't really show it. The boy was shaky, his fingernails dug into his palms as he moved them around, and his teeth were sunken into his lower lip enough to draw blood, but none of it had to do with the hand he barely even felt on his back. It was feather like.

When they were past the small hallway, they emerged in the front entrance, seeing Thomas' dad already sitting there with none other than Stiles. Mrs Miller was there too, the first to be aware of Thomas' and Newt's presence. She gave a smile, but she knew that to them this was far from a good thing. Thomas slowed as he emerged with the blonde, not wanting to move any faster than he needed to if it meant he'd be gone.

The blonde seemed to understand that, slowing his pace as well, although it hadn't been that fast to begin with. Stiles finally saw them, and then so did their dad. The Sheriff smiled warmly at the two approaching boys, but it faded when he felt the gloom atmosphere that they brought with.

"Dad, this is Newt. Newt, this is my dad." Newt nodded, remembering seeing the man when he'd first laid eyes on Thomas this past autumn.

"He's very shy." Stiles said, and Thomas felt how Newt moved further into him, wanting to be protected. Thomas' hand on the blondes back became more prominent, letting Newt know that he was right here with him.

"Well, are you ready to go?" Thomas bitterly shook his head, feeling his eyes sting as he began to cry.

"N-no. I'm really not. I don't wanna leave h-him." Newt looked down, embarrassed and nervous about all the attention that was directed at him. He hated it, but he couldn't run out when this was the last time he'd see Thomas in a while.

"You missed a lot dad." Stiles chimed in, smiling lively, a complete contrast of yesterdays demeanor that he had portrayed. Thomas started to wonder which part of Stiles really was an act, and which was real. He couldn't have pretended to be insane, or could he have?

"I can see that. Listen son, I have to get to the station, so we have to go within the next ten minutes or so." Thomas agreed, turning to Newt to see that the blonde was still looking downwards.

"Will you give me a sec with him, please?" His dad nodded, and Thomas was grateful when he made Stiles move away as well. At least Stiles wouldn't be listening in too much. Their father respected privacy.

"I've thought about a million things I could tell you right now, and now that I can finally speak, I can't even seem to form a sentence to begin to tell you how much you mean to me." Thomas looked down at Newt, and the blonde was looking back up at him. Both of them were crying again, something they'd done a lot ever since Thomas had found out that he was to go home. But it didn't feel like he was going home anymore, because he felt more at home with Newt in his arms. It was comforting, but that comfort would be taken away from him in just a few minutes.

"It's o-okay. You'll be b-back, r-right?" The blonde was full on crying now, and Thomas kissed his forehead affectionately in an attempt to make Newt feel alright. But it didn't work, and instead he begun crying more himself.

"Yea. Yea, of course, love." He whispered, leaning down to Newt's shoulder as he hugged the frail boy. Newt stood on his toes, overwhelmed with every emotion he was feeling and couldn't take control over. His arms begun to itch, and he knew that once Thomas was gone, he'd probably run on upstairs to rip his skin apart and scream.

"I'll wait." Newt whispered into Thomas' ear, and Thomas' heart felt like it was tearing out of his constricting chest as it raced faster and faster in pace. The blonde wanted to wait for him.

"O'Brien, time to go." Stiles chuckled as he said it, and Thomas pulled away from Newt in time to see his dad lightly shove his twin brother. Thomas was appreciative of that.

"I t-thought your n-name was S-Stilinski?" Newt questioned, his eyebrows furrowed cutely as Thomas chuckled lowly.

"Oh, no that Stiles' last name." He responded.

"Y-you're twins." The blonde retorted awkwardly, confused and lost more than anything.

"I know. He has our dads last name. I have mums." Newt nodded, tempted to ask about where his mums whereabouts were anyway, but he decided not to ask in a time like this. Especially if the answer wouldn't be a good one. He sighed though, realizing that this was slowly becoming it for them.

Thomas gently kissed Newt's cheek one last time, letting it linger a lot longer than normal because that was where it would end. When he pulled away, he smiled before moving onto Stiles. They stared at each other for a brief second, almost as if neither knew what they were supposed to do, but then Thomas brought his arms out and engulfed his brother in a loving hug. It was unlike them as they weren't exactly on friendly terms or affectionate, but they were still related by blood, and nothing would ever change that.

Thomas moved to stand with his dad, giving a long sigh before they nodded at each other and they begun to move towards the front door. Thomas glanced back at Newt multiple times, watching as the blonde had walked over to Stiles so that they stood next to each other. Visible tears were falling from Newt's tender bright brown eyes, and he held his hand over his mouth to hide how much he was really crumbling into pieces.

Thomas didn't manage to smile back, he just cried as well, watching as the other two became smaller and smaller, disappearing slowly. But he couldn't look away, resulting in him almost walking into the door that led him outside. It made Newt giggle, and Thomas hid a small laugh before he turned serious again. Once he was outside and the wind hit him, he realized fully what this meant. He barely responded as his dad took his duffel bag from his shoulder, placing it in the car. Thomas himself was too busy looking at Newt.

He saw Newt say something at one point, but he couldn't exactly make out what the words were. Stiles had heard them though, and Thomas was wretched because he couldn't run back inside and ask the blonde to say it again.

Newt had watched Thomas leave, watched as he almost walked into the door, and watched as the duffel bag was taken from Thomas' shoulder by his dad. He'd seen it all, and his heart begun hurting so bad that it began to feel like someone had stabbed him in the chest. The rain outside did nothing to brighten his mood, reminding him of the weather the day he'd seen Thomas first walk in. Everything seemed to flash through his mind, every single memory that he had and forever shared with the other. It all hurt him, but the care that was there and what every memory was, made him oddly happy. He wanted to always remember it, for it to never go away.

Newt looked straight at Thomas, wanting to run out, to say the words he hadn't dared speak the night before. He knew though, that rushing out into the rain just to say it, would make it harder to say goodbye for both of them. So, instead, he said it in place.

"I love you, Tommy." Newt noticed Thomas furrow his eyebrows, as if he wanted to understand what the blonde had said. The blonde knew that Thomas' eyes were curious, even though he wasn't close enough to look into them. He was aware though, that Thomas wanted to know.

Newt was also painfully aware of how real everything became when Thomas got into the Sheriffs'  car, driving away from both Stiles and the blonde.

"He knows Newt." Stiles spoke up, having heard Newt declare his love just seconds ago.

"K-knows what?" The blonde sobbed, wiping the tears from his eyes desperately, but it didn't help. As soon as he wiped them away, new ones emerged and fell down his cheeks.

"Thomas didn't leave not knowing that you loved him. He knew. He does know." Stiles awkwardly slung an arm over Newt's shoulder, trying to comfort him because he'd promised Thomas that much.

"He may've been too far gone to hear it, but he knew." Stiles confirmed again. He knew his brother well enough to know that Thomas had an idea of the blondes feelings.

"P-promise?" Newt stammered out, his voice croaky as he kept glancing down. Stiles reached for Newt's hand, but only to cover it. He didn't intertwine them like Thomas would have done, because that wasn't his right, and he wasn't messing with Newt now. Newt flinched slightly, but when he noticed that the other wasn't doing anything more than holding his hand, he calmed just a little bit. It wasn't Thomas' touch, and he hated being touched generally, but in a moment like this, Thomas' brother was enough. And Stiles was to stick to his plan, so he didn't push anything further. It was the same plan that was interlocked with the promise to Thomas. The same promise that instilled such a terrifying sense of fear within him, but he was ready for it regardless.

"Promise, Newt."

____________________________________________________________________________________

This wasn't the last chapter guys, don't worry :) And ugh, I listened to Fool for you and Where's my love whilst writing this chapter and it was not a good idea. It really wasn't.

This isn't the end though, so don't hate me too much yet. Also, I reallyyyyy want to go to GladerCon but I'm European and it's in the States. Everything always seems to happen over there XD

Alsooo, I was tagged by antisocial-shuckface to do something where I apparently talk about the first fanfictions I wrote? Well, you're looking at one of them. Or well, reading it. My first proper story was The Beginning of the End, which, for a first story, I thought turned out okay.

Second was my Dylmas O'Sangster and Newtmas One-Shots, which are still ongoing and I have some new ideas that I'll start writing on this week because I haven't been updating that book.

My second proper story if you don't count my One-Shots, was Lurk. Yea, not too fond about it. The plot was nice, but damn it was a chore to write in the end. However, I keep having a sequel idea and it's making me very conflicted. I already have a bloody title :/

The third was the one you're currently reading. Yes, indeed, The Devil Within is my third ever full story and the one I am most proud of. I think it turned out quite well, if I'm honest. Newt and Stiles are both very difficult to write, but it's a fun task to get right.

Sinner is the fourth, and whilst I liked the plot, I feel like it's turned into such a mess. However, I'm very excited to get started on the newest chapter.

And there you have it. If you've ever wondered how I got started writing (you probably didn't), well, here it is. I first read The Maze Runner series five years ago, and Newt was always my favorite and damn did I ship Newtmas. Then I watched the first film in the theater with some people along with a lovely guy who ships Newtmas with me, he's honestly the best and reads Dylmas fanfictions with me when I'm sad. We have a bunch of marathons and he already agreed to watch Deepwater Horizon with me and The Death Cure (since we watched the first two together). Anyways, off topic. I came out of the cinema and I was like "Okay, calm down. All you gotta do is write about the obvious love between Newt and Thomas." And the guy I just mentioned told me to go for it, and so The Beginning of the End was born. You can all thank him.

Besides, Thomas Brodie-Sangster was my first celebrity crush at seven years old (I drew us getting married. I was very dedicated with those stick figure drawings), and Dylan O'Brien was my crush at ten, so the fact that they were cast as Newt and Thomas together made me so happy. Their chemistry and everything just works together so well. They've caused me pain for so many years now though. I'm sixteen now so, yea, long time ago.

Hopefully I did this tag right. Apparently I tag someone? I don't know, but I'll tag sourstiles too, just cause I can. I don't actually have a reason other than seeing her in my newsfeed just now again and I talked to her once or twice and she was sweet so why not?

I'm bloody awful at tags. It's horrendous.