♡ Dark Paradise ♡ ; newtmas fanfic.

t h o m a s

☯✕ Thomas' POV ✕☯

My mind is racing as I step on stage. I don't know how to feel. Part of me is excited; I may finally get to meet the people who took care of me throughout most of my life. But part of me is nervous as hell. What if my parents don't want me?
I take the microphone from Alby's hand and clear my throat.
"Hello," I start, trying to swallow the lump forming in my throat. "My name is Thomas. I don't know my last name, so I know that's not much help, and I don't remember my parents, since they got taken away from me - or I got taken away from them - I don't remember that, either."
I take a look at the crowd, all serious faces starring at me. "I guess I'll just try to describe myself . ."
I look at Newt in the crowd, and he gives me a reassuring grin.
"I care about my friends a lot, and I guess you'd say I like a good adventure. I have a hatred for bugs, and I'm seventeen years old."
My eyes scan the crowd. Nobody is moving.
"So, um, I guess that's all."
I hand Alby back the microphone and step down the stairs, standing by Newt again.
He pats me on the back. "I'm sorry, Tommy."
"It's all right," I say, "I guess I wasn't meant to find them."
Newt bites his lip and looks at the ground. "I've really been thinking, about what you said. About WICKED planting bad thoughts inside of my bloody head."
"Yeah?" I ask, listening closely.
"Mhm," he nods, "and I'm just thinking, like, I can't base my entire opinion on my parents only by a few memories that I don't even know if I really believe. I need to get over this. The only way these bloody memories will possibly go away is if I replace them with good ones."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I want to find my parents, Tommy."

I could tell Newt was nervous.
I asked him if he wanted me to come on stage with him, and he told me that this is something he wants to do by himself.
Newt walked on stage, and for the first time I noticed that his limp was gone. Did the Afterlife take it away?
"I'm Newt," he said into the microphone, "I'm eighteen years old, and I'm looking for my parents."
I felt so proud of him. If I had all of those bad memories of people who supposedly were my parents, I wouldn't try to find them. Ever. But Newt is trying. He's stronger than I ever could be.
"I don't remember anything, really . . about myself, about my past life. All of my memories have been wiped since I got taken away from my family. Sometimes when I try thinking about my parents it's only bad memories, but I know that might not be true.
So that's what I'm trying to do now; discover the truth."
Newt frantically scanned the crowd with his eyes, but failed to find the people he was searching for. Instead, he met my gaze. I flashed him a small smile, which he returned and then looked away sadly, hopping down the stairs.
Seeing that look of disappointment that crossed Newt's face as he stepped off of the stage broke my heart. If one of us had to find our parents, I wish it was him.
But maybe it's for the best. What if Newt's memories were real?

After Newt and I were finished on stage, we said goodbye to our friends and skipped the actual eating part of the banquet. Then we decided to go for a walk around the park.
The park was empty of people other than Newt and I. Fog casted over the water, illuminated by the orange sunset.
Newt settled down on the bench, and I sat beside him.
"So," Newt sighed, "I guess it's just you and me now, Tommy."
"Sorry you couldn't find your parents." I said, tracing circles with my fingers on his knee.
"It's probably for the best," Newt bit his lip, leaning his head on my shoulder.
I looked at the pond in front of us, at the darkness of the fading sun. Then I heard a quiet crackling sound; like the sound of stepping on crunchy leaves.
I looked at Newt, who seemed alert. He raised his eyebrows at me. He heard it, too.
I turned my head around, and to my surprise, a tall shadow was printed on the ground.
"Someone's there," I whispered to Newt. "But . . they're hiding."
"Hiding?" He asked, his thick english accent wavering. He turned his head and looked at the dark shadow. "Reveal yourself! Come out, ya' bloody shank!" Newt yelled, making me flinch.
I was about to open my mouth to speak, but all of my words were lost when the shadow man stepped out from behind the tree.
He was a tall man. Dressed in a long, black trenchcoat, a black top hat, with a completely clean-shaven face.
"Who is that?" I heard Newt whisper, but I couldn't reply. My jaw had fallen open, and my mind was racing. I swear I've seen this weird man before . .
The man was coming closer to us, and I could feel Newt tugging on my arm, telling me to get up so that we can leave. But I couldn't move.
The man was standing in front of us now. He tilted his hat as a greeting.
"Hello," said the man. "I apoligize if I frightened either of you."
"Who the hell are you?" Demanded Newt.
"I do suppose I should've introduced myself first. I'm Paul." The man, Paul, grinned, revealing a crooked smile.
"I'm sorry," I managed to choke out, "but should we recognize you?"
"You should, but I know that you don't." Said Paul, scratching his nose.
"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" Newt raised his voice, getting angrier ever second. I took notice that Newt was leaning over me, as if he was protecting me from this strange man.
"Oh, sit down, Newt!" Paul yelled back.
"How do you know my name?" Newt asked, shocked.
"You just introduced yourself on stage, did you not? Don't act like an idiot."
"Hey!" I yelled, standing up, then hitting the man on the shoulder. "Don't you ever shucking talk to Newt like that again! Who do you think you are? You just came here, knowing our names, creeping on us?"
Paul flicked his head back to the sky as if he was laughing. "Oh, Thomas . . that is no way to be speaking to your father."
I felt my heart pounding. My brain was alive, buzzing with thoughts. "What are you talking about?"
"Thomas," Paul sighed, "I am your father."