Thomas Sangster/ Newt Imagines& GIFs

189. With You pt. 2

( Reader ) P.O.V.

After Thomas had left, I rested in my bed for a while. My mind flies through topics; When should I apply for jobs? Newt. Should I buy groceries? Newt. Maybe I’ll just lay around for a while longer. Oh! I’ll go take a quick shower. 

So, that’s what I do. Thankfully, that calms me down and that means that Newt stays out of my thoughts for a while. My mind navigates the businesses from the city yesterday, trying to think of jobs.

When I dry off and get dressed, I walk (yes, walk) down stairs to put my clothes in the hamper. Just as I re-enter the living room, my stomach growls loudly. So, I heat up some leftovers from last night.

The thing is, I’m so caught up in my thoughts and actions that I forgot about Newt. Well, that was until he comes waltzing into the living room. It would have been fine if he hadn’t had messy hair, paired with a lazy smile. “‘Morning, love.” He says, voice groggy from sleep. 

“G…go…” I try to greet but my voice hurts. Dang it! This is what I get for being an idiot.

Newt suddenly looks awake and he sits down beside me, “What’s wrong, y/n?” He asks, concern laced in his voice.

Raising my head, I turn and look at him. “Voi-ce. Gon-e.” I croak, sounding very choppy. Even so, Newt seems to understand this and he stands before walking away.

My eyes follow him as he brings back a bottle of water and a dry erase board. “Drink this, it’ll make you feel a bit better. You need to not strain your voice, so you can talk to me through this.” He says, corner of his mouth turning up.

Taking them from him, I sip the drink before writing 'thank you’ down for him. “You’re welcome.” He replies before returning to his morning routine. 

Weird, my voice didn’t hurt earlier this morning. I guess it’s because I was whispering and didn’t put full power in my voice. Of course… The first time I’m alone with Newt and I can’t even talk to him. I don’t know how but Thomas planned this!!

Newt comes back and sits down beside me. A thought comes to mind, so I write it down for him to see. Why do you have a dry erase board laying around? “Oh, sometimes we play Pictionary with our friends or we use it for other little games.” He explains to me.

That sounds like fun. Do you have friends over often? I write. “It is. Yeah, about twice a week if we can manage it.” I nod once he’s finished talking and erase the board.

“It seems like you hit it off with Brenda last night.” He points out. “I think you guys will be good friends." 

Yeah, she’s sweet. I hope so. That’d be lovely. When I show him, he takes the marker from me and doodles a smiley face on the corner of the board. I stick my tongue out at him and his nose scrunches up as he copies me.

The way the morning light leaks in through the windows, hitting his eyes in a way that makes them shine, I find butterflies erupting in my stomach. Looking away, I brush my hair out of my eyes and try to preoccupy myself.

But when my eyes return to him, he’s looking at me. His lips parted ever so slightly as he watches. My cheeks flush as I look down. I probably look weird because my hair is damp. I’m sorry.