Newt/Thomas Sangster Oneshots

Adrienne's Side, Part One

A/N: this is my side of the story Graduation Day. I thought about it for a super long time and was like yup lets do it!! I wrote a good chunk of this while listening to "Exile on Mainstreet" which is rockish so if this gets really punkish no judging.

Ugh. This is soooo boring. I already know everything they're teaching me. My parents say if I get all A's, then I can skip the tenth grade. So far, so good. I don't have any friends. I had one, once apon a time. His name was Thomas. One day, he got moved up to the next grade early, and I never saw him again. He's good friends with a guy named Dylan now. I see them walking in the halls. He's the entire reason I want to skip a grade. I absentmindedly draw him. His sloping cheekbones, his soft, fluffy hair and his deep, deep eyes.
"Adrienne? Are you listening?" My teacher calls.
"No," I scoff.
"Could you solve this problem for me?" She gestures to the board.
"The answer is 543.576902. Duh," I sigh, rolling my eyes. The teacher goes through the problem, muttering and calculating.
"Correct! I'm surprised that you solved it!"
"It's such a simple problem! I'm surprised that you had to write it out!"
"That's it! Off to the office!" She always gets pissed when I sass her. I grumble and walk out.

I plunk down in a puffy armchair in the office. My usual seat. The principal pushes another student out the door. Thomas.
"Thomas? What're you doing here?" I exclaim. He sits down in a chair across from me.
"Awaiting my doom," he scoffs in his cute accent. The secretary looks up for a few seconds, then pages the principal.
"Sir, your nine-thirty is here!"
"Send her in!" His voice crackles through the intercom. The secretary looks at me for a second, and nods. I get up and walk into the office.

"Adrienne, you are very gifted, but you have a bit of an attitude. I don't want to punish someone as brilliant as you, for it may ruin your future." I roll my eyes at his speech. Everyday, I get this speech. Every. Freakin. Day.
"So, I'm hoping that we can reach a compromise." My head shoots up. This isn't part of the speech.
"Like what?" I ask, taking off my hat and running my fingers through my hair. Might as well play along.
"Well, I'd like to push you up to the next grade, but you'd have to cut the attitude. And, I'd need you to tutor a few students," he explains.
"So, I get extra work, have to mask my personality and help idiots?" I sigh.
"What's in it for me?"
"I thought you wanted to move up a grade?" He questions.
"Sure, but the negatives of this situation outweigh the positives," I state. If I'm gonna do this, I might as well get something out of it.
"We figured you'd want something, so we are willing to give you a big locker. And, you will be allowed to participate in any activities offered to the age group we are placing you into."
"Alright, what about my parents?" I decide I should humour him.
"We already talked to them. They're thrilled!"
"Hm, alright fine. When do I start, what's my schedule, do I get a buddy?" I ask.
"You'll start after lunch. I assigned you the same schedule as your buddy, and here," he hands me a piece of paper, "it is. Mister Sangster, could you come in here?" He calls. Thomas walks in.
"Are we suspended? Detention? Charity work?" He sighs.
"You're not in trouble, Mister Sangster," the principal insists. He sits down next to me, and we do a fist bump, accompanied by some sups. His hat is just like mine, one of those knit beanies with the pompom on it. Both of our hats are grey with a navy pompom and a Patriots logo.
"So, if I'm not in trouble, then why am I here?" He sighs. His accent. It's so freaking hot.
"You are to be Adrienne's buddy, she's joining your grade," the principal explains. He finishes telling him everything. Thomas and I roll our eyes in sync, letting out matching sighs.
"Gee. You two are like the exact same person," the principle laughs, "This is going to work out just fine." Pfft. Like we're similar. Sure, we have the same hat, similar personalities, matching band tees and track pants, matching glasses, big brains and occasionally talk in sync.... Okay, I see his point.
"When does this 'buddy' thing start?" Thomas questions, using giant air quotes.
"Right.... Now, actually." I look at the clock. It's already lunch time. We've been here for two hours.
"Okay, let's go," we sigh in sync. His accent blends perfectly with my voice, creating a beautiful harmony. We get up, displaying similar postures and walk out of the office. We go purchase our lunches and I begin to walk towards the cafeteria.
"Where are you going?" He asks, grabbing my wrist, sending a shock down my spine.
"Um, aren't we going to go sit with your friends?" I gesture to the tables full of kids and teens. He shakes his head.
"Haven't got any. Come'on." He begins to tow me away. We walk outside, him guiding me, holding my hand now. He sits down next to a log and across from a ring of rocks. He reaches into a backpack he's been carrying and pulls out some logs, twigs, paper and a box of matches. He sets up and lights a small fire, taking off his jacket to make a place for me to sit. I accept and sit down, dropping my lunch in the process. He stares at me sadly, and hands me the sandwich he bought. I rip off a piece and eat it.
"Any good?" He asks, examining the sandwich.
"Mm, ya. Really good," I grumble through my mouthful. He leans forward to wipe a bit of mayo off of my cheek, his hand resting there. I swallow my sandwich in surprise. He leans forward and kisses me softly. I forget to kiss back, but my eyes fling wide open. He pulls back suddenly, kicking out the fire and running away.
"Wait! Thomas! Come back!" I call out.
"I'm sorry!" He cries. He keeps running. I watch in horror as he runs up the hill, climbs up a giant tree and jumps more than one and a half stories to his doom.
"THOMAS!" I scream. I run forward, desperate to reach him. I don't make it in time. He splats onto the ground, blood pooling around him. I pull out my old flip-phone, dial 911 and begin CPR.
"Thomas, Thomas, Thomas, wake up! Please don't be dead!" The ambulance arrives and they take him away. I hop into the back with him, crying.
"Honey, calm down. Your boyfriend will be alright. Can you tell me what happened?" The nurse lady asks. I shake my head and sob harder. We arrive at the hospital, and they tell me that I can't see him unless he either dies or wakes up.

*TIMESKIP TWO WEEKS*
He hasn't woken up. Why won't he wake up? I haven't started my classes, I've just been sitting at the hospital. I haven't left the waiting room, haven't changed my clothes, barley eaten. What the hell was he thinking? Was it my fault? It was totally my fault. I didn't kiss back. That upset him. He thought that he just ruined our friendship. I'm one of his only friends. There's Dylan, but he's been in France on an exchange for the past month. He's not coming back for another year. They're finally gonna let me see him. They say he's healed enough. I walk behind the nurse, bracing myself.

Nothing could've prepared me for what I am seeing. There are big white bandages around his head, with tubes popping out of him everywhere. They shaved his hair, his perfect, soft hair, in order to reconstruct his skull. I carefully take his hand, making sure not to bump his IV, and hold it. I kiss his knuckles softly.

FLASHBACK
Thomas and I are sitting next to each other in class. I hardly know him.
"Hello," he chides. Damn, that accent. He takes my hand and gently kisses my knuckles. He's wearing the same hat and glasses as me. So cute! I feel butterflies in my stomach. Don't think like that, he's just your friend. He'll never think about you like that. No one ever does. No one ever will. You're just an ugly, nerdy hipster. No one.

Well, that was intense. I don't know why that flashed into my mind. I kiss my best friend's knuckles again, hoping against hope that he'll wake up.
"Please, Tommy. Come back to me," I cry. His eyelids flutter. He wakes up slowly.
"You're here. You called me Tommy. I'm in heaven. Good," he smiles.
"Hate to burst your bubble, dream boy, but you didn't die. I saved your stupid butt," I grin. His face. His personality. His freaking accent. That accent will be the death of me. God, I think I love him.
"Oh. That's intense," he sighs.
"I would be in your heaven?" I blush.
"Mmhm," he mumbles, drowsy from his two-week nap.
"How long was I out?" He mutters softly.
"A couple weeks," I sigh, releasing his hand.
"Well, I'm just lucky that I don't have parents, or else this would be a living hell," he sighs.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
"W-what?" He says, drawn aback.
"I didn't kiss you back. I was surprised." I blush.
"All is forgiven."
"Wait - what was that you were saying? You don't have parents?" A tear rolls down his cheek. I reach up and wipe it away. He sighs softly.
"It's a long story."