Leaving You Pairings | Newt x reader (platonic), Newt x Thomas Warnings | Blood, gun use, death, suicide Word count | 381 Summary | You'd rather shoot yourself than die of the flare
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The gunshot was piercing. In more ways than one.
"Y/n!" Newt's shout rang about your ears as you slumped to the floor, the clang of metal against concrete echoing around your head as you lost grip on the gun.
His hurried footsteps crunched on the pavement, Newts knees scratched and scrapped by the time he'd knelt beside you.
Shaking hands grabbed at your body, his fingers tight as they grasped your face.
"Please." His voice was weak, uneven. "Please, you- you can't leave me." His eyes welled, and a small tear slid down Newt's face. You flinched say it dropped to your own cheek, your eyes fixated on his as you attempted a smile.
"This is a good way to go," you rasped, fingers somehow finding the strength to brush along his cheek. Newt shook his head, muttering a series of no no no no over and over, "looking at you."
His sob had your guy clenching, or maybe it was just the burning wound in your abdomen. His hand was pressed harshly to it, crimson blood pooling over his skin.
"You can't leave me," his voice cracked, "it's not fair."
"I couldn't bare to hurt you, Newt." You mumbled, eyes sliding shut as you relaxed into his hold. "Tell Thomas I said goodbye."
"No! No, no, no, no!" Newt kept saying, face flushed red as he held you to him.
"Newt?" Thomas murmured, stopped in his tracks. The boy's eyes had seen the gun, seen the blood. But when he saw the look on Newt's face, he crumbled.
His knees hit the ground with a thud, a dirty hand lifted to hide his own distraught sob. Newt was crying, weeping, ugly noises leaving him as he ran his hands through your blood-matted hair.
"She's gone, Tommy. She was my best friend and she left me." Thomas nodded, it was all he could do as he held Newt to his chest. "She told me to tell you goodbye." Newt whispered.
Thomas kissed Newt's temple, lips warm against cold skin as he rocked them back and forth.
