I'm watching Scorch Trials next Friday and like I can't even right now. I swear when he says Tommy I will just break down into a thousand million pieces and eat my emotions with the popcorn I have and then later if there's an emotional scene, everyone else will be crying and I'll be like "Well, this is sad. But... DID YOU HEAR HIM SAY TOMMY?"

Newtmas really fucks me up. And now you shall be allowed to read the actual story.

Newt looked down, ashamed of the fact that Thomas knew. He could tell by the look of the other boys face, that he'd figured it out. The blonde kept his eyes fixated on his shoes, embarrassment washing through his body and making him squirm in discomfort at every thought that went through his mind at that moment.

He started to get up then, set on leaving and going back to his room, locking himself inside for however long he needed to. It's not like he and Thomas ever had to talk again unless he willed it, and maybe it was better that way for him. For both of them. It was better for him not to let Thomas be his only friend.

He proceeded to walk out into the hallway and up the stairs, only to find a presence beside him that was none other than Thomas. He was following him, which was just what Newt needed now in a moment like this. The blonde hated the fact that he was being followed, but he didn't have the guts to yell at Thomas to go away and leave him alone.

They eventually stopped in front of his room, which surprisingly enough was only seventeen doors away from Thomas'. And yes, he'd indeed counted the distance as soon as he saw his own room. Newt didn't open his door though, he just stood there with his eyes focused on the door handle to open it up.

"Could I come inside? To talk?" Newt shook his head, not wanting to have any sort of conversation with the other at the moment, but Thomas' facial expression showed that he wasn't going to back down. Besides, he was too scared to stand his own ground and say no. He was weak.

And because of his weakness, he opened the door without a single word spoken, stepping aside to let Thomas in first, before he followed and locked the door. The other boy sat down on the chair by the blondes desk, slightly hesitant at first but doing it anyway. Newt just went and sat with his legs crossed on his bed, facing Thomas.

"I'm gonna get straight to the point, because it's no idea for me to dance around the issue before saying it. You're in here because of an eating disorder, aren't you?" Thomas said, and Newt wanted to hide under his blanket and make himself invisible due to the huge amount of shame he felt. He felt sick and disgusting, and having to sit right in front of Thomas in this state didn't make things better for him. He only felt worse.

Newt found himself breaking down into tears, leaving them to fall from his eyes and down his cheeks freely before he rubbed furiously at his eyes, trying to get it to stop. But it wouldn't, and he kept crying as his whole body shook from the motion. And then he whispered to Thomas.

"Partly." The blonde got up then, and Thomas watched him with curious and heartbroken eyes as Newt walked over to the window right above the dresser, the one that looked back into the hallway. His reflection was faded, but could be seen, and he lightly touched the plastic as if he was looking to make sure that he was really there. To make sure that he was real.

And he was. Newt was really there, his reflection being the perfect representation of himself. Frail, beaten, small, terrified, and all in all, a mess. What he never managed to see was how skinny he was, not in the way that Thomas could at least. He was blinded by the thought of perfection, making him unaware of how close he was to falling apart because his weight was too low and his body was too delicate.

Thomas saw it. He saw that Newt's sweater wasn't even close to fitting his body, and he saw how thin his thighs were hidden beneath his sweatpants. What Newt saw was more things about his body that he could fix. He'd completely forgotten that Thomas was in the room, starting to poke at his stomach that was still covered in fabric. Thomas just watched in horror, but also amazement at seeing how the blonde worked and how he thought.

He continued prodding at his skin that he had yet to reveal to Thomas, and he let his lower lip tremble at the thought of needing to lose more weight. The blonde was still not skinny enough. He could feel the little fat that was still covering his already visible bones, and he needed them gone. Newt then proceeded to look at his face, and he wanted to sob at how sunken in and dead his eyes looked. It made him cry more before he fell to the floor.

Thomas didn't want to push the matter of Newt having more issues than one, even if the blonde had admitted to the eating disorder only being a part of his reasons for being there. Instead, he walked over to the smaller boy, sitting beside him before he found the right words to say.

"How did this happen?" The blonde cried harder at the question, and Thomas slowly went to wrap and arm around Newt, but he only pulled back at the touch and tried to move further away.

"Do y-you not see the w-way I look?" He cried out, leaning his head against the dresser before looking at Thomas with tearful eyes. Thomas looked at him quizzically, trying to decide how he was supposed to answer the question.

"I see quite a bit." He internally groaned at how stupid it sounded out of his lips, but he nevertheless waited for Newt to say the next word.

"I'm not p-perfect. Not even close." Thomas shouldn't have been surprised to hear those words from the blondes lips, but he couldn't help his eyes from widening at the sudden statement.

"Newt..."

"Don't. I'm unattractive. Not s-skinny enough. My eyes are h-horrid. I'm disgusting." He finished, and Thomas was stunned silent. He couldn't believe his ears, but they had not deceived him as Newt had really spoken those words.

"I hate myself more than anyone could ever hate me." Were the last words that left his trembling and chapped lips, before he let himself fall limp to the floor. He was still awake, his eyes were open, but all that indicated that he hadn't fallen unconscious were his cries.

Thomas eventually managed to say something, but his voice was raspy and foreign, and his eyes were glazed over, making everything blurry in front of him.

"Your imperfections make you beautiful, Newt." The words said made the blonde look up at him, and his face had heated up whilst turning red at the compliment that he'd never had directed towards him before.

"Don't s-say something like t-that." He stammered out, his eyes lingering onto Thomas' as neither turned away.

"Newt, I know you don't think I'm telling you the honest truth, but I am." The blonde shook his head once more, set in his own belief.

He's just lying to you. You could never be beautiful looking the way you do now.

Newt's body started to visibly shake, and his lower lip quivered as more tears streamed down his tinted cheeks. He knew that Thomas was lying, because there was no way that he could've just told the truth. Newt wasn't anything special, and the other was just too nice to tell him the truth.

"Do you wanna know what I first thought when I saw you?" Thomas asked, his eyes working on figuring out Newt's thoughts, but he was closed off to him. The blonde nodded along though, agreeing to hear what he had to say.

Don't get your hopes up. It won't be good.

"The first time we had group therapy, I remember thinking that you must have it really bad, because you looked so frightened and broken and god knows what else. I felt selfish for complaining so much when you clearly have it so much worse than me. But then you looked at me, and the one thing I thought of was how I really thought you were beautiful, Newt. And I couldn't make something like that up. Even Stiles picked up on it." The blonde had sat up again whilst Thomas had spoken, his gaze hesitant as he thought. His ears had perked up at the mention of Stiles, and he focused on the wall behind Thomas before he said something again.

"S-Stiles doesn't l-like me. I don't blame him." He whispered, and Thomas wanted to envelope the boy into a hug, but he didn't.

"Stiles doesn't really like anyone." He tried, a laugh escaping his own lips at the thought of his brother. Newt forced a smile, but it didn't make him feel better that Thomas basically just told the blonde that the other really didn't like him.

"I never did anything and he just h-hates me." Newt continued, and he now had Thomas' full attention once more.

"Has he done something? I swear if he did something then I'll find him and kick his ass." His voice had risen, anger laced between his voice as images of his brother hurting Newt, clouded his vision.

"And end up l-locked in a room for t-three weeks again?" The blonde said, and Thomas groaned when he realized that it was true. They'd lock him up if he did something else. He was still angry at his brother though, and his knuckles clenched as he bit his tongue.

"What the hell did he do?" Thomas spoke with more authority now, his voice strong and loud as it boomed through the small room. The smaller boy cowered back into the corner, suddenly afraid at the resemblance of Stiles.

"He just likes to s-say things. Taunts me tills I break and c-cry. Simple things." He finished, and it was safe to say that Thomas wasn't even close to pleased. Thomas stood up in a rage, but he stopped as soon as he saw the others terrified features, and he let himself calm down before the blonde would be completely afraid.

"Newt, does he know why you're in here?" Newt shrugged, his body hitting the ground once more as he was too weak to hold himself in an upright position on the floor. Thomas wanted to carry him to bed, but he didn't want to touch him without permission.

"Partly he does. S-stupid group t-therapist may've mentioned some things." The blonde laughed, but it wasn't real. It was bitter, cruel and strained, and Thomas knew that he had to find something to keep himself composed, because Stiles was currently doing exactly what he wanted, without even being present in the room.

"Group therapy is stupid. I don't like it either." Newt's eyes looked into his, as if staring him down. But Thomas didn't dare to look away, and so he let his eyes be fixated on the blondes own.

"It s-sucks. But they force us." Thomas nodded, agreeing with Newt's words. It wasn't like they got a choice between going or not, and he hated that. But it was a part of it all, and he would just have to get through it.

"Newt?" Thomas spoke, waiting for the blonde to show that he could carry on speaking. When he got a nod, he decided to continue.

"Should I talk to Stiles?" He was surprised to see how quickly Newt shook his head, panic visible on his face as his eyes were wide in horror.

"N-no." His eyes mirrored that of utter fear, and Thomas knew that it would be even harder not to say something to his brother now.

"He really scares you, doesn't he?" Thomas received a timid nod.

"Scares e-everyone. Look, I've been handling it for a y-year. I'll be okay." Thomas could see that Newt was lying, and he wondered more and more about what havoc Stiles had caused for the year he'd now been here. However, the blonde also indirectly told him that he'd also been here before Stiles. It made Thomas wonder just how long he had been.

"Okay. I'll take your word for it. But if he says or does anything then I want you to tell me. I'm not asking you to. I need you to." Newt nodded, but his lips were in a pout and his eyes were clearly confused. He couldn't quite grasp that this was so important to Thomas. And that's why he asked the obvious question before thinking about it.

"Why is this i-important?" Thomas sighed, walking over to Newt before sitting down right in front of him.

"May I?" He gestured for Newt's hand, and Newt slowly held it out to him as Thomas placed it in his.

"It's important to me. Because if you aren't gonna be taking care of yourself, then I want to be the one that does. I want to make sure you're okay, and I can only do that if you tell me whatever Stiles is up to." Now it was Newt's turn to sigh, because he knew that Thomas wasn't aware of what would happen if the blonde let him. So, he knew that he couldn't let Thomas in. He'd have to push him away, despite not having resisted much so far.

"I c-can't ask y-you to do that." The taller chewed his lower lip raw, anxiously wondering and trying to come up with a good argument. But he found nothing, and went the simpler route.

"Why can't I?" He whispered as Newt slowly pulled his hand away from Thomas'. Thomas let him, but he frowned at the action anyway.

"Because if I l-let you do that, you'll end up h-hating me."

"I could never hate you." The blonde scoffed, getting up to limp over to his bed before his body collapsed onto the mattress.

"If you s-stay around and s-see what I'm like, y-you will." Thomas crawled over to reach the end of Newt's bed, resting his head on the mattress as he stared up at the other boy.

"And how do you know that?" He asked after a minute of silence.

"Because I see h-how I am. And I h-hate m-myself." A tear trickled down from his eye, and Thomas was surprised to feel tears of his own, falling from his cheeks.

"I won't hate you." It took everything in him to say that with some sense of certainty, because even Newt was making him doubt his own words now, but he managed to say it well enough.

"Come b-back to me in a few weeks and t-tell me how you feel about me then." The blonde stated, his eyes falling shut as the lack of nutrition was catching up to him, and he was now too tired to stay awake.

Thomas slipped out of the room quietly, careful not to wake the boy. But he was sure he wouldn't anyway, as Newt seemed to be out cold. He finally managed to get to his room after taking ages to close the blondes own, and he laid down on his bed with one thought circling his mind.

How could I ever hate Newt?