flaunt your growth | newtmas au

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"We? Excuse me! I did all the work!" the girl piped up as she got next to Thomas, seemingly winded from the work she had just done, sweat glistening on her forehead. Newt grasped the hand he was offering, lifting himself up with a skeptical look plastered on his face. Everything was so fucking weird, and he was scared to admit the throbbing headache pounding against his skull.
Aunt Jane would never believe that I'm apparently half god.
"Sorry, let me correct myself. Her name is actually Jackass Bitch, and I'm The One That Strategized That Whole Thing," the boy remarked again, grinning as he shifted to see Brenda's reaction. She scoffed, lightly punching him. It seemed that neither were fazed by the now dead giant monster that had cornered Newt into a storage closet of his flower shop that dissolved next to them. He tried to speak but no words came out. His mouth was dry. His head spun even more.
"Do we have a fainter? What's your name, Greenie?"
"Let's get him in the van with Argus before he loses consciousness. I hate when they do this."
Thomas rolled his eyes, putting his hand on Newt's shoulder to steady him. Once he had slung his arm around the brunettes waist to half carry his weight, Newt blacked out completely.

...

He woke up in the back of a van, convinced two teenagers had somehow drugged him to thinking mythology was real and then kidnapped  him. It made more sense than the actual events that happened. Monsters were myths. Gods were myths. It was all some fairytale made up by some insane ancient civilizations who wanted to comfort themselves with the thought of deities guiding them through life.
Brenda sat on his left, looking through the front window with a look of pure boredom on her face. Thomas, on the other hand, had a softened glance, concentrating on Newt or the floor. He held his hand lightly, as if any harder would've made him wake up, sitting to his right.
Newt started to gain more consciousness as he lifted himself up onto his elbows, letting go of Thomas' hand. The man driving, who he assumed was Argus, had his head focused on the road.
Where are we going?
He started to panic, not wanting to leave his stepmom alone and worried, or his job, no matter how much PTSD he had from this experience. His arms started thrashing as he tried to get away from the two crazies next to him. Argus noticed, turning slightly to see what the commotion was. By now Thomas was sitting on his stomach, holding down his flailing limbs, but the only thing Newt noticed were the eyes the driver had. There were more than two.
Argus' was covered in human-like eyes. Newt couldn't believe it, shutting his own (two) with so much force that it made his head ache even more. He was dreaming, he was sure of it. When he opened his eyes again, Thomas was still on top of him, looking more concerned than before. Newt would've thought more of it if he hadn't blacked out again, his head rolling back to the floor of the van, his arms and legs losing all their strength.