Train Rides-On Hiatus

10-Newt's POV

It had all happened so quickly. One minute Thomas had been standing in front of him, embarrassed, and Newt was just about to tell him that there was no need for his mortification, when Thomas shoved his bag into his shoulder and sprinted out of the room, with no warning. Newt had instantly jumped off his stool to follow him, uneasiness swimming through his head. But there was no way that Newt would be able to keep up. He had never really been a fast runner, and with his leg, any measure of speed was basically nonexistent. He tried though. He tried the hardest he ever had since his 'accident', but it still wasn't enough. Thomas disappeared down a side street, and Newt hadn't been enough and he hated himself for it. He had collapsed on a bench after twenty minutes of sprinting to attempt to catch Thomas, wheezing and letting out laboured, ragged breaths. Then he pulled his knees up to his chest ignoring the spikes of pain coming from his leg, and texted Teresa, asking for Thomas' number. He had ignored her questions on why both her brother and Newt had both ran out of her studio.
What had he done wrong? With trembling hands, either from exhaustion or anxiety, Newt pulled out his phone and dialed the number Teresa had given him.
"Come on, pick up, pick up" Newt muttered to himself as it rang. After eight rings the voicemail message activated. "Hey this is Thomas, I can't get to the phone right now, so leave a message after the tone. Bye"
Newt let out a shuddering breath at the sound of Thomas' voice. They had barely spoken , and on the short times they had exchanged words (or rather, Newt had said something, and Thomas had stuttered a reply) it wasn't enough for Newt to grasp an idea of Thomas' voice sounded like.
Low. Not as low as Newt's voice, but still quite deep. And it seemed to have an underlying level of tease and sarcasm. Newt loved it. He then realised then that he should be leaving a message instead of day dreaming about Thomas' voice. Cursing himself for not thinking about what he would say beforehand, Newt stupidly said whatever popped into his head.

"Hey Tommy,"
Newt wondered where Tommy had come from, but it just seemed right. Fitting.
"It's Newt, Teresa gave me your number. Listen, where are you? I want to talk. Sorry for...whatever I did back at the studio. Hope you'll forgive me, or at least explain to me what I did wrong. Call me back, okay? Bye"
Ending the voicemail, Newt silently chastised himself in his head. He must of sounded is stupid, and desperate. He had to have done something to drive Thomas away. Sighing and pulling himself off the bench, Newt walked to the next bus stop, phone ready in hand, waiting anxiously for it to ring.

Author's Notes:
I am so sorry guys! I know I promised fluff in this chapter but I just couldn't think of a way to include it. It will most definitely be in the next chapter or maybe the one after. Also sorry this chapter is so short :(
Sorry,
-@slim_it_shuck_face