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Teresa’s voice gets cut-off the intercom.
Her voice echoes within the city’s cold walls. Thomas looked around his surroundings in disbelief, could he really save everyone? He looks down at his feet, before turning around slowly to check up on Newt. A sudden brightness interrupts his thoughts, he sees a silhouette in front of him.
“Newt?” Thomas questions, blinking quickly to adjust to the sudden light around him.
Newt stood in front of him, limp, leaning to one side. He faced away from him for a moment, before turning around, his veins pumped black venom around his body. Skin paler than usual, his blue lips twitched, and his hair scruffy, stuck to parts of his skin due to blood and other substances. Newt looks unrecognisable.
Thomas had slight fear, mainly concern, in his eyes.
“Kill me,” Newt’s expression softens, “Please, Tommy.” He almost slumps forwards, black liquid dripping down his mouth.
“Newt, you don't know what you're saying,” Thomas spoke, as if he were reassuring himself. One of his arms reached out to Newt, his breath stuttered as he now looked at the state of what he previously thought was human in front of him.
His eyes met with another pair, covered in the glossy, black venom, which stared straight at him. Newt let out a deep grumble before he lunged towards Thomas, thrashing around and biting at the air. His teeth threatened to nip at Thomas’ skin. Newt pushes Thomas off balance, sending him tumbling across stone panes on the ground. Newt is quick to follow his direction—desperate to eat. He’s stopped by Thomas, who grabs his forearms and attempts to pin them up in the air as Newt tries to bite him.
“Newt.” Thomas spoke worryingly. Newt groaned lowly, the noises Newt made sounding increasingly animal-like. Frantically, trying to get up from underneath Newt, Thomas moves his body around. Eventually, he is able to kick him off. Newt rolls and immediately gets back up, he is on his knees. Thomas scrambles up, slowly backs away, and breathes in deeply.
He didn't know what to say, nor think. He stared in a state of disbelief. Even though he’d known something would happen, Thomas just hoped it hadn't happened so soon.
Newt heaves forwards, vomiting up more of the toxin, his body slowly trying to fight against the virus. Thomas could now see the prominent veins in his forearm. How he had found out. He felt sick just thinking about it, it didn't make it any better when he looked Newt in the eyes. Newt looked at Thomas in desperation.
“Tommy,” he spoke sternly, his voice had a slight growl, “Kill me. Kill me now.” He swayed slightly, head down, as though his body went limp, before picking himself up on his hands again. Newt had grown progressively angrier the more he spoke.
“You should’ve done so when I told you!”
He rises up to his feet, the black gunk flew out of his mouth as he snarled at Thomas, “I hate you. I hate you, why haven't you killed me yet.”
“Newt, stop.” Thomas fought back tears, a sad yet angry frown plastered on his face.
“No you don't understand, I trusted you! Oh for Christ's sake Thomas,” Newt reached over to his waistband, “You knew what I wanted, you knew what to do.”
Newt whips out his dagger, pointing it at Thomas as he spewed nonsense. He coughed, choking on his spit, the rising feeling in his throat made him turn away for a moment. Newt looks back at Thomas again, this time shakily pointing his dagger.
“I should’ve known,” Newt spat out, “Fuck you, Thomas.” Newt’s throat became hoarse, Thomas’ guilt worsened. Through the built up anger, Newt started to swing the dagger. Thomas had no idea whether Newt actually wanted to injure him, or if this was a way to frighten him—Despite Newt's occasional softened gaze, Thomas didn't know his true intentions. Thomas hated to admit it, but it hurt him. Hurt knowing that maybe, deep down, Newt had actually wanted to do something. He backed away from the blonde in front of him.
Thomas’ chest hurt.
His heart ached, saliva pooled in his mouth as if he were about to throw up. He couldn't stand watching how Newt was acting, but he fought through the discomfort, he had to. He couldn't run away from this.
“Newt please,” His voice croaked as he spoke, dodging the slashing of the blade in front of him, “Please, just listen to me.”
Newt manages to stumble forward, too quick for Thomas to react, throwing them both to the floor once again. Newt sat on top of Thomas and bare his teeth at him.
“You can live, Newt,” Thomas shields himself as the dagger edged dangerously close to his skin.
“You can stay with me,” hands pressed at Newts chest, “We’ll be safe.”
Thomas tries to push Newt back with full force, but to no avail. Newt stayed put in his place. He raised the dagger, with both his hands, diving it into Thomas’ chest. Thomas grabbed ahold of Newt’s wrists, continuing to push and fight against Newt’s weight.
Thomas yells. He feels the dagger’s blade pinch at his skin, Newt pushing it in deeper and harder than before. The pain was unbearable, the blade having dug in past his skin, it pierced his heart. Out of shock and adrenaline, Thomas shoved Newt backwards. He gasped for air, propping himself up on his elbows before looking over at Newt.
Newt coughed once again, blinking quickly as though a part of him changed. He turned around, frowning. He felt himself tear up as he looked at what he’d done.
“I’m sorry,” Newt let tears spill down his cheeks, shocked with how he had acted moments before. He crawled back over.
“I’m so sorry, Tommy.”
“It's okay,” a few tears rolled down Thomas’ cheeks. His body shook when he took in a deep breath, he let himself relax into the cold pavement. Newt presses a hand to the wound, letting out choked sobs as he tried his best to limit the blood loss.
“Newt, I want you to eat.” Thomas pleads, locking eyes with Newt—his darkened orbs widening.
“No, I can't. I won't.” Instead, Thomas brings Newt closer. Thomas had felt himself slipping away.
“I love you,” Thomas hazily reaches out to cup Newt’s face with one hand, “I want you to eat me.” Thomas’ speech was slurred, desperate to communicate. Newt’s tears mixed with Thomas’, sliding down his bloody chest. Newt let out choked sobs, leaning down to Thomas’ collarbone, then laying his ear down to hear Thomas’ now slowing heartbeat. Thomas lovingly grips onto Newt’s hand before whispering,
“Eat me.”
Newt, despite wanting to fight the hunger, inevitably gives in. His teeth sink into the flesh. Thomas’ face shows a feeling of discomfort, rather than pain. Newt slowly eats away at his chest, not daring to look up. He sobs in between each bite, each movement, holding onto Thomas’ hand tighter. Blood dries on Newt’s face, a mixture of his saliva and tears dropping down into the wound beneath him. He weeps. Newt holds onto his lover, clinging onto him unbelievably close.
Eventually, Thomas’ heart stops, whether that may be from prior injuries or from Newt, it did not matter.
Thomas knew it would happen. He wanted it to. And in a way, Newt had known about it too.