Dylmas/Newtmas One-Shots

Newtmas - 5AM

Okay, so, I'm gonna put a huge *TRIGGER WARNING* here because this one-shot is slightly descriptive and had references to Depression, Self-Harm, Eating Disorders and Suicide. I need to put this here and to say, please don't read if you're prone to being effected by this as I would absolutely hate to cause any harm to any of you lovely people.

Now that I've warned you all, I hope you all enjoy this one-shot. I actually quite like it, it was nice to write, oddly. It was largely inspired by a random drawing I scrolled past on Facebook, which I'll try to post at the top here, although it's not 100% like the drawing as I've changed roles/events etc. Also, this one-shot is open to many different interpretations that you may have, as I purposefully didn't go into in-depth detail.

Based on: 5AM by Amber Run (a really chill song).

3rd Person POV

Thomas sighed as he sat, his back against the chilly window pane, legs tucked up to his chest. His eyes didn't leave the boy on the bed in front of him; eyelids slid shut, body curled up into a tight ball. His messy blonde hair, unwashed, covered the majority of his face - where his cheekbones jutted out unhealthily and dark bruises sagged under his eyes. His skin was pale and yellowish under the dim moonlight. It stretched tightly over his prominent bones, hiding nothing but the red masterpieces left behind from the boy's frequent submersions to his mind.

Newt.

In Thomas' mind, he was beautiful. No matter what the other thought.

Nights like this were not unusual for Thomas; he often visited the blonde - whom he had never spoken to - during the night. Usually to check up on him or comfort him. Because, although Newt was unaware of the other's presence, Thomas found that he felt better when he was there for him. It helped Newt as well, whether the blonde knew why or not didn't matter to Thomas. Seeing the small remnants of a smile ghosting over the blonde boy's thin and chapped lips was all Thomas needed to return the following night - again and again.

21/01/15:

Under the watchful eye of Thomas, Newt barged into his bedroom, slamming the door against the wall and stumbling over his feet. A half-empty bottle of beer dangled loosely between his fingers, the liquid inside sloshing with each unsteady step forward.

Eventually, Newt reached his empty double bed, and placing the bottle onto the shelf to the right of his bed, he allowed his body - exhausted and cold - to fall onto the soft mattress below, the often tear-stained pillows engulfing his being. A low, muffled sigh escaped his lips. He closed his eyes, bringing a shaking hand up to meet his heated skin, rubbing gently at his brows as he nursed away a headache.

All Thomas could do was watch as the broken angel curled up from the world, shielding himself from the nightmares that swarmed him daily. With fresh tears trickling silently down his cheeks, his breath coming in short bursts. Thomas wanted to go up to him, to tell him everything would be okay and that he was there for him, but he knew that he couldn't. It was useless even if he did; Newt couldn't see him.

Eventually, Newt drifted into a fitful sleep. Thomas watched over him all night, finding comfort in the knowledge that at least he was sleeping. At least he could rest. Nothing can hurt him whilst he's here.

18/09/15:

Newt looked so peaceful whilst he slept. Thomas didn't know what he dreamt about, although, sometimes he didn't want to know - not after the way the blonde would often wake up drenched in cold sweat, his heart hammering unnaturally fast so that it deafened Thomas.

Small, gentle bursts of air slipped past the gap between Newt's lips as he slept, brushing over Thomas' face, causing him to shudder, a tingly feeling shooting through his being. The blonde's long eyelashes gracefully fluttered above his sharp cheekbones, grazing over the top of them. His brows furrowed ever so slightly - a natural expression of Newt's face.