Hold Me Down // Newtmas [Sequel to Gasoline] {NO LONGER UPDATING}

Prologue

My demons are begging me to open up my mouth; I need them, mechanically make the words come out

The boy with the brown eyes was cursed, haunted. He saw the ghosts at night, when all he heard was the echoes of chaos that traveled through the halls. The small chubby boy, blood blooming from his chest. The tall boy with the square jaw, a burning hole in his head. 

The skinny boy with the feather-like hair, a single tear streaming down his face as the verdict was repeated over and over. 

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. 

But yet, as much as he hated them, he needed them. They helped him find peace, if such a thing was even possible. 

They fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce

The blonde boy was in a constant battle. Whether it was with his sister, his friends, or himself, there was always a fight. One that he didn't think he would ever win. Sometimes, he just felt like a passerby, an out of body experience as he watched himself battle with his own emotions. 

He wanted to go and visit, but he knew it would break his heart. Knowing he had been lied to, knowing that he didn't really love him. Of course, he had never said that but surely it was clear enough. 

He would wake up screaming, the arms of his sister pinning him back in an attempt to calm him down. It never worked. 

Maybe he should have just stayed there, after all.

Ignite me, licking up the flames they bring about

The boy with the brown eyes had plenty of time to spend thinking. He thought about the boy he had left behind, the one with the hair made of feathers, with the eyes filled with melted chocolate. How he had hurt him. How he had loved him. 

How that spark had burned into a fantastic fire. 

The blonde boy thought about the honey-brown eyes of the boy behind bars, caramel covering the sun. He thought about how he had fallen for him, for his lies, for his heart. It made him cry, it made him laugh. 

It made his heart burn. 

I sold my soul to a three-piece, and he told me I was holy

The boy with the brown eyes had never really been one for cliches, never one for romance, for falling in love. And yet, here he was, pining over someone that would most likely hate him for the rest of his life. He didn't blame him. 

His love was something out of a fairy-tale; he was devoted, hating every moment they were apart. He had enjoyed the sense of being cherished, of being wanted, of being loved. It made him feel special. 

It made him feel holy. 

But now, all that was gone. Maybe it was what he deserved. 

He's got me down on both knees, but it's the devil that's tryna

The blonde boy was supposed to be free, but in truth, he had never felt more imprisoned in his life. His mind was haunted, not by unknown voices this time, but by memories of his mistakes, if that's what the other boy really was. If he wasn't one, if he was the right choice, why did it hurt so much?

He could still hear his voice, the look in his eyes as he told the truth, the anger in his tone. He didn't have the right to be angry, not when he was the one who had committed the crime. 

And yet, the blonde boy still wanted to hold him close, to feel his lips against his own.

It was like being in love with the devil. 

Hold me down, hold me down

The boy with the brown eyes hated the feeling of the handcuffs around his wrists; he hated feeling shackled, hated not being in control. But then, when had he ever been in control of his life? That had been taken away from him the day Chuck died. 

The only time he had been was when he was with his love, holding hands in an attempt to keep each other grounded. 

The blonde boy hated his monthly check ups; he hated being back in that place, too many memories bringing up too many bad feelings. He needed someone to bring him back down to earth, someone to make it all go away. 

Unfortunately, that person was behind bars, never to be released. 

Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown

The boy with the brown eyes felt like he was suffocating, the pressure of what was now everyday life holding him under until he couldn't breathe. He needed drugs, drink, anything to take it away. 

He needed the other boy to kiss his cheek and to tell him that everything was going to be okay. He needed the cheeky smile of his best friend to make him laugh.

But they were all gone. 

They were never coming back. 

Knock me out, knock me out

The blonde boy didn't like being off his medication. He no longer slept, his dreams keeping him awake, much to his sister's disgust. She had stopped trying to help him now, just threatening to knock him out if he carried on with what she called insipid behaviour. 

Stuck-up tart. 

But maybe that was what he needed. Someone to really knock him out, to take away all the pain and the heartbreak that came with being in love with someone who didn't really love you back. 

He had finally learned to realise that no-one would ever want him. 

Saying that I want more, this is what I live for

The boy with the brown eyes wanted one thing. It wasn't to get out of the hell hole that he was stuck in, no matter how horrible it may have been. It was only one thing, one impossible thing that was just out of his grasp. 

He wanted his Newt. 

The blonde boy wanted one thing. It wasn't to finally feel in control, no matter how much he hated living with his sister. It was only one thing, one impossible thing that was just out of his grasp. 

He wanted his Tommy.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey guys, 

Here's the prologue! Hope you guys liked it xx

LJ xx