It had taken a while for us to break out of that nuthouse, but eventually Minho did it.

"Hey, Thomas. We gotta go if you don't wanna get caught."

"Give it a minute, Min."

"Why?"

"Because Newt's not here yet."

And I promised him. I promised him he'd have a night of freedom and that he'd love it. I can't let him down.

I won't.

"Since when do you care?"

Since I met him.

It's true, I do care about him. More than I should.

The more time I spend with him, the less I want to use him as a tool for revenge. I really like him.

I really like Newt, and I know he really likes me too.

"Shut up, Minho. You know you care too."

"Yeah, alright. He's a good kid, I'll give him that."

I smile, and I hear a voice behind us.

"Sorry, I'm late. Couldn't remember where you said to meet."

Newt. He's here.

I turn to face him, and am met by those brown eyes. I sense excitement in them, excitement at seeing the world outside of four walls. But there's fear in them too.

There's nothing to be scared of, I promise.

"You okay, buddy?"

He smiles, the fear somehow dissipating at the sight of me. Me, of all people.

"I'm fine. So what's first on the agenda?"

Minho is the one to respond to Newt's question, my mind still on the fact that I seem to be the one who can comfort him.

And for the first time I consider that maybe I see him as a more than just a friend.

Maybe I see him as more.

I push the thought away as Minho places his arm around Newt's shoulders, leading him away from his prison. I run to catch up.

"First, my dear friend," I've never missed the satire that Minho provides more, "we find somewhere to crash, and then we get absolutely smashed."

"Smashed?"

Newt, your confusion is so entertaining, it does make me laugh.

"You know, drugs, alcohol. Tonight, my friend, you are going to learn how to live."

Newt turns to look at me.

For reassurance?

I nod, and he seems to accept it confidently.

"Sounds like fun."

"Oh, you have no idea."

We eventually find a bus shelter. It's covered in graffiti, the type of artwork I'm used to. For Newt, it is a new experience. For me, it is home.

I climb on top, and look down at Newt, whose fear has returned.

"Scared of heights?"

"You could say that."

Shit. His accident. How could I forget?

I lean down, giving him my hand.

"Just hold on. I'll pull you up."

Newt grabs my hand, the feeling of my skin on his sending a sudden warmth to my heart. I pull him up, and he sits down next to me, our legs almost touching.

"Min, you coming up?"

"No, you're alright. I've got some whiskey stashed in that warehouse downtown. I'm gonna go grab it. See you two in a bit?"

"Yeah sure."

Before he leaves, he tosses a bag of green leaves at me. I inhale, breathing in the scent that used to be my natural one. It smells familiar.

It smells of home.

I feel Newt peering over my shoulder, obviously intrigued.

"What's that?"

"Drugs."

"And you eat it?"

The confused look that I've grown to like crosses his face once again

Normally there'd be a sarcastic comment to follow, but now there isn't.

Normally you'd be asking why, but now you know.

Now you know that you like him.

Maybe even more than that.

I laugh.

"You don't eat it, you smoke it. And Minho, being the complete asshole that he is, hasn't given me anything to smoke it with. Guess we'll just have to leave it."

I sigh, remembering the high I used to feel.

"Tommy?"

Tommy.

"So this is your life, huh?"

"Yeah."

"So what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it seems you had it pretty bloody good. Freedom. A best friend. Even those drugs. How did you end up... you know... hearing voices?"

Shit. I forgot about that. Time to ruin a perfectly good evening by fabricating some eccentric story.

"Um, I guess it was after Chuck."

"Your brother?"

"Yeah. My brother."

Are you serious? You're using your little brother, your dead little brother, as an excuse? As part of a lie.

A lie you're telling to Newt. Possibly one of the nicest guys you've ever met.

You ass. This is low, even for you.

"I'm sorry," Newt places his hand on my shoulder, his attempt at comforting me.

You really are a complete ass Thomas. I hope you're happy with yourself.

"I don't-I don't really talk about it to anyone. But my voices started after my best friend died. His name was Ben."

Stop being honest with me, Newt. Please, I don't deserve it. Not after what I've done. What I'm going to do.

"Newt, you don't have to tell me this," I try to stop him, scared that reminding him of his bad memories could break him.

"No, no. I do," his confidence saddens me, even though it shouldn't.

"Ben drowned. He was my only friend at school, besides my sister. Lizzy was too young to understand, and we've never known our parents, so I guess the voices were my form of talking it out. They just showed up at the right time."

He stops talking, and I look at him. He's looking at the floor, his eyes trained on the concrete below.

I study him. I start to notice the flecks of gold in his chocolate brown eyes, ones I can't believe I haven't seen before.  I start to notice the way his lips turn up at the corners, and how feather-light his hair appears to be.

Poor guy. And you're probably making his life worse.

"Newt, you okay?"

He looks at me, and for the first time since I've known him, I see the real Newt. The boy from the broken home, who relies on things that don't exist.

"I'm fine, Tommy. Really, I'm fine."

And then he kisses me.

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I did it. I updated.

I'm literally the worst person in the world because I haven't updated in so long, but my life has been taken over by school and applying for university.

I hope you guys liked this chapter, and I'm gonna try and update again when I can, thanks guys for all the support.

Love,
LJ xx