This is one I've been working on for a while and I really like it. there will definitely be more added! Hope you like it to, comment or email your thoughts!
The Second Chance
Thomas had been Newt's best friend since, well, forever. Newt's family had moved into their house when Newt was only two. He grew up with the boy next door, Thomas, who was only one year younger then him, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. They had instantly become best friends, one of Newt's first memories is crawling from his bedroom window into Thomas's to avoid getting in trouble. Thomas was also like a second brother to his little sister, Sonya. Now Newt was 18, getting ready for college, and that meant leaving Thomas behind.
They were driving home from a concert, Thomas at the wheel. Newt had been trying to find the guts to say this for a long time, and he'd promised himself he would say it by the end of the night. It was now or never.
"Hey Thomas?" Newt finally squeaked out.
"Yeah?" Thomas kept his eyes on the road, car lights and street lamps the only things lighting their way.
"We're friends, right?" Newt had gone over what he would say a thousand times, but that had all washed away the moment he started talking.
"Um, yeah Newt, you know this," Thomas frowned, keeping his eyes glued to the road.
"I know this sounds crazy, and I don't know where these feelings came from, but, I've, I've been feeling this for a long time," Newt started rambling.
"Come on, spit it out man!"
"Ok, um. I think, I like you. I. Like. You-" Newt stopped talking, Thomas had snapped his head around and stared at Newt, his expression impossible to read in the dim light.
"Newt," Thomas breathed out.
"Tommy, look out!" Newt shouted, and then everything went black.
---
"Newt."
"Newt, can you hear me?" Someone's voice rang through Newt's head. A woman's voice. His mom's voice. Slowly, Newt opened his eyes, squinting at the bright light. His mom's face hung over him.
"Honey! Honey he's awake!" She called over her shoulder.
"Oh, thank God!" A man, his father, ran over to Newt's side. Newt tried to sit up and groaned, as pain surged through his head.
"Where am I?" Newt croaked out.
"You're in the hospital,” Sonya stood from her chair and rushed to the bedside.
"You guys got in a car crash last night, ran straight into a tree. You've got a concussion, so take it easy," his dad told him. The events of last night all came crashing back to Newt. The concert, the car, telling Thomas. Thomas!
"Where, where's Tommy? Is he ok?" Newt shot up, ignoring the pain that coursed through his body. His family shared a nervous glance before answering.
"Um, Thomas, he..."
"He what? What happened to him?" Newt started to panic, what if? No, no that couldn't have happened, it couldn't have.
"Calm down Newt," his dad put his hand on Newt's arm.
"What happened to him!" Newt almost yelled. Why wouldn't they just tell him?
"Newt, I'm sorry. Thomas is in a coma," Newt was silent. The most important person in the world to him, his best friend, was in a coma. And it was all because of him.
"Sweetie, I'm sorry. Just lay back down, try and get some sleep," Newt's mom put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
"Where is he? What's Thomas's room number?"
"Hey, slow down there son, you need to rest. Thomas isn't going to go anywhere."
"No, I need to see him. Please," Newt pleaded.
His sister sighed, "He's in room 250," Newt ran out into the hall. 250, right next to his room. Newt opened the door and walked in without knocking. The room was identical to his, a small couch and two rolling chairs along with the bed and a little table. Newt stopped short in the doorway, Thomas lay in bed with the covers pulled all the way up. The only sign of life his rising and falling chest. Thomas's parents, who were sitting next to the bed, looked up at the newcomer.
"Oh, Newt. Come here, I'm so sorry," Newt slowly made his way across the room and stood at the side of the bed, taking a deep breath.
"Don't be sorry, it wasn't your fault," Newt stared at Thomas's pale face, and held his breath.
"It's not your fault either, Newt," They got up and walked out of the room, giving Newt some time alone with his best friend. He sat down and leaned over Thomas.
"Oh, shuck Tommy. This is all my fault, why couldn't I have kept my bloody mouth shut? I'm sorry, Tommy," a tear rolled down Newts cheek and he wiped it away, but they just kept coming. He mumbled, "it should have been me. It should have been me," over and over until finally, sleep took him away.
The next few weeks were all a big blur for Newt. He stopped going to school, and just sat in Thomas's hospital room all day talking to him. Telling him how much he missed him. In a way the coma was just as bad as death would have been, if not worse, for Newt. When visiting hours were closed Newt locked himself in his bedroom, closed the window shades so he wouldn't be able to see Thomas's empty room, and lay in his bed; staring up at the white ceiling. Newt's parents had given up on trying to get him to talk about the night of the crash. And his sister didn't know what to do. No one blamed him for what happened but himself. Newt had sunken into a deep depression that he didn't think could ever be lifted.
Until one day, it was.