Updating five days early cause I finished this and really wanted to update. Besides I'm still processing The Scorch Trials after yesterday and my Newtmas heart is just going crazy so.....

Newt had caught them. He was standing right there, just a little bit away, and his eyes were confused and shattered as he stared at the two in his room. However, what Thomas had focused on was not the fact that the blonde was in the room. It was the fact that he'd called him by a nickname that slipped from his lips so perfectly. As if he'd always been meant to call out to Thomas that way. It made his heart flutter, and he couldn't find the right words to speak in that moment.

"N-Newt." Was all he managed to speak out in a whisper, looking at Stiles with alert eyes whilst his brother was only standing there with a proud smirk, bouncing on his toes.

"Newton." Stiles said, and Thomas growled at him, staring at him coldly before he looked at the blonde once more, his eyes instantly softening.

"You c-called me T-Tommy." He stuttered, and his brother was laughing quietly as he bit his lower lip, looking intently at the scene that was unfolding before him.

The blonde whimpered, fear taking over him at the fact that the two twins were in his room, and they could take him on if they wanted to. He was weak, especially compared to them, and he knew Stiles well enough to know that he was never around for anything good. Newt's heart felt like it had stopped beating in that moment, and he put his hand on his chest to steady himself as he stumbled.

Thomas' breathing came out in ragged breaths just the same, and he felt his hearts pulse burst throughout his body like a bomb counting down, ready to go off. He couldn't look at Newt's eyes without a terrible amount of guilt washing over him, and he couldn't look at Stiles either, as he held nothing but a smile and the file that brought them into this mess.

And that's how he found himself running out of the blondes room as fast as he could. He hated himself in that particular moment, but he couldn't exactly think about it either as he ran, eventually coming to a stop when he collapsed. Thomas was out of breath and crying, and nothing made sense to him in that moment. Absolutely nothing.

Stiles put the papers down on the desk filled with books, faking concern as he looked at the blonde that was sat crying on the floor. He bit down on his lip once more, as if pretending to think about what his next step would be, when he already knew it in his head. He always had a plan.

"Newt?" Stiles said carefully, walking towards him in slow steps in case he moved too close. He didn't actually care much if he did, but he needed to pretend for this to work. Stiles crouched down so that he was eye level with Newt, even though the blonde was looking at the floor, not at him, and his vision was blurred as his heart pounded.

"I'm sorry, love." He tried, smirking in satisfaction when he noticed that Newt had a small blush on his cheeks. Stiles was careful with his words, speaking to him in an almost sickeningly sweet way, none of his words sincere. However, he managed to express them in a way that made it sound like he cared. Newt tried his hardest not to listen and not have it get to him, but the boy sounded so genuine that he didn't know what it was.

"W-why?" The blonde sobbed, scared to ask the question but doing it nevertheless. He had to know why they were in his room and what they were doing. Stiles sighed, sitting down with his legs crossed over one another, clearing his throat to add a certain drama to it. He once again looked at Newt with concerned eyes, but beneath them was a sense of satisfaction, and he was beaming at the blondes distress. He let tears fall from his own eyes, making sure that Newt saw it before he spoke to explain.

"I'm so sorry. Thomas was curious and wanted to see your documents. I told him it was a bad idea and came with to stop him. But you caught us, and god Newt, I'm so sorry." He finished, a wicked grin on the inside that threatened to show, and so he had to bite his tongue to contain it. Stiles couldn't break now.

On the other hand, Newt was falling apart, and the other boy in front of him could see that with perfectly clear eyes. The blonde couldn't grasp the idea of Thomas planning to do something like he had, and he'd believed that Thomas actually liked him.

Well, isn't that a funny thought.

Newt inhaled a sharp intake of breath, gasping when he heard it come back. He held his hands to his ears, trying to block out any sound, but it was right there, screaming at him and making his head hurt. Stiles watched in amazement, seeing the blonde freak out over something that no one else could pick up on, because it didn't even exist.

To Stiles it did though, not because he heard Newt's voice, but he heard his own. He'd learned to live with it, and it was only a hushed whisper with him most of the time, but he wondered if he resembled Newt when he freaked out over it.

Thomas liking you? Really? Have I never told you that you're supposed to be into girls?

"Y-yes. S-sorry." Newt cried, and Stiles gave him a small smile, taking on the role of being supportive when he wasn't at all. The blonde looked at the boy, seeing a smile that resembled Thomas' so much, that it almost felt like Thomas was in the room. He was aware that it wasn't, but that was all he could see. Newt could only see Thomas.

"Newt, I can't just leave you. I managed to take the file from Thomas before he told me too much, but its still made me worried. You don't eat enough, love." Stiles put his hand over his mouth, an action people tended to do as a nervous habit or worry, and it seemed to work as Newt looked at him, seeming to believe that the boy was concerned.

"Tommy saw everything and told you?" Stiles only looked down.

"Most of it." He said, studying Newt's reaction. He could tell that the blonde was crushed. Newt had really trusted Thomas, and he was now realizing how stupid of an idea that really was. But then again, why would he trust Stiles? Stiles had his ways of manipulating and lying his way through everyone to hurt them, and this could just be one of those times.

But why would he lie about Thomas? Thomas is horrible.

"Please leave." Newt stammered. He couldn't bare to have an exact copy of Thomas in the room. Not with everything he'd just been told, freshly etched into his mind and branded like a tattoo. He was hurt and devastated, and the fact that Thomas had just walked out and not even explained himself, killed him more than having to hear the truth. Newt felt an indescribable amount of pain make its way throughout his body, and no sharp object could ever come close to hurting him as much as this did.

"Heartbreak." Stiles whispered, but the blonde didn't catch it, and the other just let his signature smirk find its way back onto his face. Newt may've not known why it hurt so much, but Stiles could see it. He could see that the blonde was utterly heartbroken and shattered. Stiles chuckled, happy with what he'd done and that Thomas seemed to be the bad guy. And Thomas wasn't even aware of it yet, and when he'd find out, he'd be just as pained and enraged.

"Stiles, please. Leave." Newt's voice was still strained and weak from the tears, but he'd managed to say it in a somewhat harsher tone than before. And Stiles obeyed him, still playing along with his act. He stood up, but right before he walked out the still open door, he said something. It wasn't much, but it was enough to damage Newt for the entire night.

"It must be so, so awful to have those voices in your head Newt." Stiles mocked, walking out with his head held high, proud of what he'd achieved.

Back in Newt's room, the blonde was still on the floor, a new set of tears making its way down his face. Thomas did all of this to him, and it had been Stiles that explained it. He didn't want to believe it, he refused to, but the very thought alone was enough for him to stand up before looking everywhere around his room for anything that would hurt him.

The first thing he did, was slam his door shut to the hallway. Newt then proceeded to throw his body against the wall multiple times, hoping to at least leave one or two bruises before he slid down against it into a sitting position. He then moved onto slamming his head against it, making a loud bang echo throughout the room as his head started spinning, pain shooting through his tear stained face.

Newt felt pathetic, continuing to cry because everything overwhelmed him and it became too much. He looked over at his bed, thinking for a few minutes before he lifted the mattress, looking at the metal bed springs underneath whilst trying to figure out on how to remove some of them successfully without breaking the entire bed. He decided to just step on one until it snapped off, and when he tried it, it eventually did.

One end had a jagged edge, and a smile was formed on his face even though he still wasn't happy. He took it in his grasp, lifting his left sweater sleeve before holding the metal against it. Newt tried to find a spot that hadn't been cut before, but there was barely a clean surface as most of it was covered in very noticeable, white scars that made his skin uneven and bumpy, and there were some newer marks on his skin that had yet to heal if he'd let them. But he didn't, and he soon found himself viciously ripping his skin apart.

Finally you're up to something good. About bloody time.

Newt felt dizzy, wooziness taking over him slowly as he stumbled over to his door, dropping the bed spring in the process. Something came over him, as if he was possessed, and a part of him always felt like he was because of the voices he tried so hard to kill. But whatever did take over him in that second, clearly wasn't the usual unbearable voice in his head. Because this faint and distant voice led him out into the hall. It was empty, as most of the patients were at dinner this time around. However, it was good that they were. Seeing a blonde boy stumbling with his left sleeve lifted up, blood running down from fresh wounds, wouldn't have gone well. He was still sober enough in his thoughts to know that.

The blonde stopped abruptly though, because as he passed all the windows looking inside the rooms, he noticed that someone very familiar was in one. And not only was he familiar, he was also shirtless. Thomas' back was to him, and he was bent down looking through his duffel bag, and Newt couldn't help but stare at his toned back before blushing.

You're disgusting. Blushing at him? Sick freak.

The blonde lost his footing and fell back against the wall on the opposite side of Thomas, whimpering as he got attacked again by something nonexistent. He felt so weak, and more tears blurred his vision before he glanced down at his arm. His flesh contrasted greatly with his open and bloody wounds, and all he could do was bite his lip as he looked down, ashamed of himself.

Stop caring so much. Thomas hates you anyway.

"Tommy doesn't h-hate me." Newt responded, but it wasn't very convincing, even to himself.

He looked up again, only to see shocked brown eyes staring back at him. Thomas' mouth was agape, and he now had a t-shirt on. But then he snapped out of his shocked state and rushed to the door to open it, tripping on some things along the way. He opened it in a rush, taking all of Newt in as he stared. The first thing he noticed was the very visible and bloody arm, and the second thing he noticed were the tears on the blondes face. Thomas wanted to take him in his arms and hold him, but he didn't dare to after what he'd done.

"I did that, didn't I? You hurt yourself because of me?" He asked, not exactly wanting to hear the answer because he knew that he was correct. Newt didn't reply. All he did was stare into space, almost as if he was dead and his soul had left his body.

"Newt, come inside. Please?" Thomas was desperate at that point, needing Newt around him to know that the blonde would be safe. The blonde didn't move, and Thomas' lower lip quivered as he ran his hands nervously through his hair.

"Newt, please?" He tried again, and Newt looked at him before walking into the room as best as he could. His limp and disoriented movement slowed him down, and Thomas took a hold of his back at one point to steady him. The blonde would've normally pushed it away, hating the touch, but it brought him some sense of comfort that he rarely had.

"Lie down, okay? I'm gonna get a towel from the showers to get you cleaned up. Then I'll go get you a warm tea from the cafeteria, okay?" Newt could only nod, his eyes trying to find Thomas in focus, but everything was currently too blurry to make out.

Thomas bolted out the door in no time, forgetting to close it as he ran to the cafeteria first. It was full, something that he wasn't all too surprised upon, but he managed to get mint flavored tea in records time. He had no clue on how Newt liked to drink the beverage, so he decided on keeping it pure before he went to the showers.

In the meantime, Stiles was walking past Thomas' room to get to Newt's, only to see his brothers door open, and the blonde was lying on the bed with his eyes closed and a bloodied arm. The boy at the doorway smirked at his success, shaking his head as he laughed.

"What my brother does to you, my poor Newt." Stiles said, knowing that he probably wasn't heard because Newt seemed pretty out of it. But he'd spoken anyway, and he slipped away a second later, skipping slightly from the joy he felt.

Thomas was back in his room just a few minutes after Stiles had left, of course unaware that he'd been there. All he could focus on was Newt, and he shut his door before rushing over to the blonde, sitting down on the floor in front of his bed before shaking the smaller boy lying before him. The blonde stirred, his eyes opening again before he groaned. Thomas felt relief wash over him, not realizing until then that he'd been scared that the blonde may've not woken up that easily.

"Newt, I'm not gonna ask you to sit up, but I'm gonna clean your arm, okay? If you need me to stop, I will." The blonde looked at him, confused at his kindness when Stiles had told him how horrible Thomas had been earlier.

"You seem confused." Thomas spoke as he started to clean his arm with cold water. Newt winced, and a whine erupted from the back of his throat, making Thomas look at him, pained and concerned.

"Is it true?" The blonde asked softly, Thomas continuing to wash away the red color tainting his skin.

"What is?" Thomas asked carefully whilst trying to figure out how to bandage up Newt's cuts when he had nothing as a bandage.

"What Stiles said." The other boy stood still then, and the blonde took that as a yes, and he had to bite his lip as a whole new sensation of pain burst through him.

"W-what did he say?" Thomas asked, and he didn't know in that moment wether to be angry or upset with his brother.

"You w-wanted to find my files. All your i-idea." Thomas clenched his fists out of rage, and it was completely silent for seven exact seconds before he lost it, throwing the towel across the room as he screamed out. Newt jumped, the sudden outburst of Thomas being something he hadn't seen before, and therefore hadn't expected. His whole body shook, and he was horrified at how mad the other seemed.

"I can't believe he'd fucking say that! And you believed him!?" Newt wanted to say no in that moment, but a part of him had believed it, and he was not one to lie. Well, actually he was, but not to Thomas.

"You believe him." Thomas whispered, a look of disbelief shown on his face before one single tear drop fell from his eye. He shook his head, and he looked at the ground as his body trembled. It felt like he'd been torn apart and ripped into shreds by the blonde in front of him. His heart hurt, and Stiles himself may as well have been stabbing it multiple times.

"Give me the truth, Tommy. I'll believe you." And Newt really would. It made him vulnerable to trust Thomas like that, but he knew that it was true. Thomas ignored the tug at his heart when the nickname was uttered by Newt again, it really wasn't the time to focus on that.

"Stiles said we should. It was his idea. I never wanted to, Newt. I couldn't do that to you because I knew that if you found out, you'd never forgive me for it. And trust me, I never looked at the file, but Stiles read it out loud to me. That's why I'm not all too surprised to see your arm right now, even though I normally should be." It felt good to tell Newt, and he looked at the boy to see if he believed Thomas. Thomas really hoped that he would, because it was the truth.

"Tommy." The blonde muttered, and Thomas looked him straight in the eyes. They were bloodshot from all the crying, and it felt like he could look into Newt's lost soul, but he didn't look away. And then the smaller broke into a smile, and Thomas felt like he'd had the air knocked out of him. That one smile alone showed him that the blonde believed him, and he let out a huge sigh of relief.

He then realized that he still had the tea that was probably cold by now, and he held it in front of Newt's face as the other looked at it quizzically. Thomas gestured for him to take it, only he never did.

"Just a sip, Newt. It'll do you good." He bit the inside of his cheek, watching Newt with intent eyes. Thomas held the cup to Newt's lips, and the blonde took a hesitant sip. Thomas urged for him to have a little more, and the blonde obeyed despite the usual sense of disgust trying to stop him.

Wonder how many calories that is.

Newt spit out what he'd had in his mouth when he'd heard that, and Thomas looked at him with his lips in a pout. He couldn't understand why the other boy would suddenly spit out his drink, and all he could do was worry about the blondes well being.

"Does it not taste good? Should I put milk in it? I should've done that, shouldn't I? Tastes better." Thomas rambled, and Newt would've smiled if he hadn't felt the usual contraction in his throat. Thomas seemed to have caught on then, and he quickly grabbed a hold of the trash can under his desk, giving it to the other right before he threw up.

Well, that's attractive.

Newt wanted to tell the voice to shut up, but he couldn't say anything before he coughed and spit out into the trash can. He looked at Thomas when he was done, ashamed and embarrassed, but Thomas seemed more worried than anything else. He looked genuinely afraid of his well being. Newt went to put the trash can back under the desk, sealing it shut before he collapsed back on the bed, only to realize that it wasn't his own and that he'd have to move again anyway. He got up again, but Thomas quickly made him stop his movement.

"Where are you going?" The blonde shrugged, thinking the answer was obvious enough on its own.

"Stay, Newt." Newt didn't have the strength in him to say no, despite wanting to desperately. Staying was not something he'd ever planned on, and he was letting his guard down more and more, and his feelings were all over the place. There wasn't much more he could take.

Thomas made Newt lie back down, wrapping him up in his own blanket, before lying right beside the blonde. Newt made an effort at a smile, but it came out forced as he turned to the other. Thomas smiled, asking with his eyes if he could take part of the blanket for himself. He hesitantly did so, and when Newt didn't protest, he slipped inside into their newly shared warmth.

"Thanks Tommy." Thomas smiled, not knowing the exact reason for Newt suddenly thanking him, but accepting it nevertheless.

Sometime during the night, when they were both sound asleep, Thomas' arm had slipped over Newt's waist protectively, securing him in place. And both of them were entirely unaware of the chaos going on outside the door that lead into the hall, as the workers had been alerted of the blondes whereabouts being unknown, as he was no longer in his room.

It was only until someone came into Thomas' room, that they awoke, Newt sleepier than Thomas, but somehow more aware of the fact that the other boy had his arms around the blonde. Thomas was awake within a matter of seconds, his grip tightening on the blonde even if he hadn't known that it was there just before. It was one of the guys that came around to check on them every night to see if they were in bed, Thomas recognized him, but he had no idea what he wanted in his room at eleven at night.

"Found him." He heard the guy say, presumably into a walkie talkie, or something to signify other people.

"Wake him up and take him back to his room." The guy was about to walk back out, but he stopped dead in his tracks when a really sharp one worded answer sounded throughout the room.

"No." Newt was fully awake then, and he made eye contact with Thomas for a split second before a familiar sense of fear went through him. He'd been in this situation with Thomas before, where they were separated and locked up, and the thought of it happening again was insufferable.

The blonde got up, knowing that if he didn't go, one of them would end up in trouble. At least that's what he assumed. Thomas didn't want Newt to leave, and he reached out to take Newt's hand, stopping himself last minute in case the blonde would freak out.

"I want Newt to stay with me. I need to know he's safe. He can't be alone. I heard some patients have roommates. Can't he be? I need him with me." Newt was shocked to hear all of that slip past Thomas' lips so fast, as if he didn't even need to step back to think about it, because his mind had already been made up a long time ago.

"If you want a roommate, you will have to take it up with your therapist. Now is not the time for something like that. If Newt would follow me back to his room now." Newt looked at Thomas, a broken smile on his lips to reassure the boy. However, it was anything but that.

"It's okay, Tommy." Thomas seemed to be conflicted between fighting for Newt to stay or letting him go, both of which had consequences. He knew that Newt wouldn't be okay on his own, despite saying so, and so he couldn't just give him away. But what else was he supposed to do when he was so powerless?

"Can I at least go with?" The worker shook his head, and Thomas had a great urge to punch him. He kept it together though, for Newt's sake, and he walked up to said boy before looking into his eyes.

"I want you to listen to me." The shorter nodded, waiting for Thomas to give him whatever instructions that were on his mind.

"Don't do anything tonight. I'm begging you, Newt." He pulled the blondes sleeve down, the bleeding having stopped a long time ago now. His fingers lingered at the end of Newt's sleeve, and their hands almost touched before he pulled away entirely.

"I'll see you at the library tomorrow. And I'm gonna stay with you until you tell me to go away. But you need to promise me that you won't do anything. Because I won't be able to sleep if I'm thinking about you hurting yourself. I can't keep you safe tonight, but I'm trusting you enough not to do this." Newt felt a tear slip from his eye as he frantically nodded, and Thomas wiped it away with his thumb before the blonde was escorted out. They looked at each other once more as he walked past the plastic window, a ghost of a smile on his lips that Thomas tried his best to mirror.

But then Newt was gone, and Thomas didn't sleep that night, because he knew deep down that Newt hadn't been able to keep his promise. And he'd been right to assume so.