"You okay?" Winston asks me at breakfast.

"Yeah. You?"

"I'm good. It's just... you're shaking. I don't know if–"

"Oh, no. My hands always shake." I look down at my glass and how the water is almost spilling because of my hands. "Don't worry."

With a smile, he nods, then turns back to his conversation with Fry.

I do have to admit that my hands are shaking heavier than normally, but that's because it's quite busy in the cafeteria. All the loud talking and so many people passing me makes me anxious. And Newt is taking a shower, so no one is next to me yet. I just hope he arrives soon.

I eat the rest of my breakfast in silence. It's stupid; I spent so much time hanging out with Newt, that I haven't really talked to the rest, and now it feels awkward, even though they are talking and involve me in it, too. I'm probably the only person who finds it awkward anyways.

Right when I've decided to leave, Lelia sits down across from me, and next to Minho. That sends a wave of comfort over me.

Minho immediately starts the drama with a heavy pout. "You're not wearing it."

"I will," she says, reaching in her pocket. "You just made the clasp weird."

He made her a bra?

Never mind. She reveals a necklace.

Sometimes I wonder why my mind is so weird.

"Alright, then." He takes the necklace from her. I see a jewel with her favorite flower in it. "Turn around."

Lelia obeys. I watch Minho move her hair away. His moves are so gentle that I have no complaints at all. Then he puts the necklace on. And yeah, it's a weird clasp. I don't really understand.

Though when do I ever?

"Thanks." Her face is red when she turns back around, and he looks at her like he's drunk, with fuzzy eyes and everything. As if he's high and just saw something amazing. Like he hasn't caught enough sleep.

As if he's Thomas looking at Teresa.

Then their eyes are suddenly on me. "See?" Minho says. "I made your brother smile. My apology for being rude to him."

I frown.

They chuckle in unison.

My eyebrows furrow even deeper. "Huh?"

"Watch out. You might become Thomas."

"When were you rude to me?"

"Uh, like two weeks ago? And in the first week I met you? The fruit comment? And the other shit I said about two weeks ago?"

"Oh. I didn't see it as rude comments," I tell him. "Don't worry."

"Well, you did kind of dislike me because of it."

"I disliked you because you made my sister do the wrong things," I say, still half frowning. "Now you're nice to her. Wait– were they meant rudely?"

"No, not at all," he says quickly. "But you have been repeating them in your mind and it made Newt upset."

It made Newt upset. It's wrong, but my heart warms up. "They weren't rude."

"You sometimes confuse me, Lyndon." Minho raises his eyebrows. "What did they mean to you, then? No one repeats comments unless they hate or love them."

"Uhm, I do," I say.

"Alright. Forget that."

The things he said were nothing compared to those boys in the past. My mind automatically repeats them. I don't know why either, because I didn't take them as rude.

"I'm starting to think Newt drowned in the shower." My frown stays. "He needs to eat breakfast."

"Newt sometimes needs some dramatic long showers and time for himself," Minho says softly. "Don't worry about it. He'll be– ah, there he is."

All clean and nice, Newt sits down next to me. I can smell his shampoo; either vanilla or coconut. It's really nice. I want to either ask what soap he uses or just bury my face in his neck.

Sonya looks up. "Why the shuck are you wearing a sweater?"

"Because I am cold," he says casually, then turns to me. "Hi, Lynn."

"Hey." I smile back, but something is wrong. He looks tired and I see red lines around his eyes. Not mentioning how pale he is. "You alright?"

He nods.

Then Sonya suddenly straightens her back. "Oh!" Her face fills with regret when she receives a few glares. "I mean– eh.."

Minho's eyes are also suddenly wide on Newt. "Oh. You okay, dude?"

I stare at him. "What's going o–"

"Jeez." Thomas gives both Minho and Sonya a slap. "Act normal. It's not a freaking holiday or special yearly event. Sorry, Newt."

Newt gives him some kind of smile, then turns to me. "I'll have to explain now. But not here. Come on."

"You haven't eaten," I point out.

"I will after this. If my appetite is still there, at least."

☀︎︎

"What do you want to explain?" I step over another stream of water. "Your place is really beautiful, Newt, and no offense, but I don't like the freaking adventure climb we have to make to get there every time."

"It's worth it though, isn't it?"

I shrug. "Sure."

When we finally do arrive at his place, with the river and the flowers and all, I'm kinda nervous. It's the fifth time I'm removing sweat off my hands, dirtying my pants.

"Why did Minho and Sonya act like they just realized it's your birthday and they forgot or something?" I question. "Your birthday is April fifth. It's not—"

"Don't be so nervous," he tells me as he sits me down. "It's not that bad."

I let go of a breath. "Thank God."

"Okay, never mind— it might be." He shakes his head. "Just don't panic."

"I already panic in normal situations."

"Try not to panic," he corrects. "Ready?"

"Don't flash me."

He stares at me for a good few seconds—I'm dead serious—then his anxious face breaks into laughs. "Oh my God, Lynn— that is not what I was rooting for. Nowhere near that."

"I'm sorry." I feel my cheeks get a color again. "But I have no idea what to expect."

"Okay. I'll just start. You can interrupt, tell me to stop speaking— just request anything and I'll wait, yeah?"

"Uhm... sure."

"Alright. I'm gonna tell you the reason I'm here, in this camp, in the first place. Got it?"

"I got it. I'm not a little kid."

Ew, that sounded rude. "Sorry—" I start quickly.

"It's okay. I'm nervous and am acting stupid." He gives me a smile. "I was about thirteen years old when I came here for the first time. Today, it's exactly six years ago."

I nod, listening.

"Wait, no. It's not six years ago that I came here for the first time. It's six years ago when... the reason happened. And I somehow get reminded by it every year, even when I try not to."

That doesn't sound good.

My chest heaves as he continues. "Back then, I wasn't in a nice school. Rude teachers, stupid classmates. Sonya was still at primary school back then. I didn't really have friends back then."

"Oh," is all I manage. I simply cannot imagine Newt without Thomas and Minho, and literally everyone else. It hurts to imagine.

"Primary is elementary, by the way," he adds. "So I was pretty alone. I was confused. Back then I was already struggling with the sexuality thing. I was a very insecure boy. I eventually figured out I was gay, yet I was scared my parents and Sonya wouldn't accept me. I told a teacher. She said I'm too young to know for sure, so I went on with my life for a few weeks.

"Then we visited who had been my favorite person in the world. My grandpa. I spent a few nights there before going back home, then called him everyday. I ended up telling him about my sexuality, and he accepted it. He gave advice on how I should just tell my parents. He said he'd help if I felt like I really couldn't do it.

"So then I slept at his house again. It was really fun. As if my grandpa was my best friend. Even school seemed better. One night, I called him to ask him if he wanted to visit in the weekend and help me come out to Mum and Dad."

Newt stops, lets go of a breath, inhales a deep one, then continues, sniffing as my heart is drumming against my ribs.

"He died the day he was driving to our house," the words come out so heartbroken that I nearly start sobbing on the spot. "That night, I remember Mum picking up the phone. I remember how she—" he stops, sniffing another time. "She— I— she dropped to... to— I'm sorry." Newt puts his head in his hands. His shoulders are shaking. He's sobbing, and the sounds feel like stabs in my ears.

"You don't have to continue," I say, trying not to cry myself and trying to hide how curious I am after all. My arms wrap around him. "It's okay."

He cries for a while, then shakes his head. "No. You deserve to know. When I heard what had happened— I have no idea how long I cried for. Maybe the whole night. My whole face was swollen. I nearly felt empty. The one thing left was guilt. Pure guilt, on how I should've invited him over another time. How I should've been able to handle it on my own. Should've come to his house. Should've, should've, should've." He breaks into another sob.

"And it wasn't an impulsive action. I waited weeks. I was making myself crazy before I did it. I couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. Wouldn't go to school. Couldn't stop crying. Then one day, I was suddenly motivated to go to school. That's what I said, at least.

"Mum dropped me off. Except I never entered the building. I walked to another building next to the school— some kind of business thing. I sneaked up the elevator, onto the highest balcony I could find."

I'm holding my breath. I know what's coming, but I'm holding my breath. I don't know if I can breathe even if I try to.

"And I jumped." He looks up at me, eyes still watery. "But failed. One of those stupid business men saw me and the tears in my eyes. Once he realized, I was already gone. So he called the firemen. That bloody building appeared to be right next to the one we were in. They got one of those nets before I hit the ground.

"They were too late. Not all of my body made it onto the net and they weren't holding it perfectly yet. My leg broke. Bones snapped in many pieces. It can't be fixed. Ever."

I only feel the tears running down my cheeks when he wipes one of them away, then wipes his own away.

Somehow, Newt manages a smile. "Now you know how I got my limp. My parents wanted me to get some friends and figured this camp would also make me feel better. I was angry at them back then, but couldn't be more grateful now.

"Most of my friends know about my limp. That's why they responded like that when they realized it's 'the day' it happened. Don't worry, though. I'm fine most of the time. Sometimes I'm a bit off, but I'll be okay the next day."

He wipes more tears of my cheeks with his sleeves. I can't stop them from coming and it feels like I'm making this about myself even though he probably doesn't agree and it probably isn't even the case but—

I've got to breathe. I inhale deeply, then exhale. Inhale, exhale. I do my best not to start hyperventilating. Then it turns out I can breathe just fine, even with a lump in my throat.

"There you go." He squeezes my hand. "So just so you know, I was happy I survived when I met Thomas and Minho."

"You're no longer happy about it?"

He snickers, eyes on my hand, which he's fidgeting with. "Nope. I'm... really happy now that I've met you. More than happy."

I only start crying again. It's all I can really do.