PART 3 IS HERE. Don't kill me for the last names I gave them. (If anyone can guess what their based on gets my outmost respect.) Review, like and follow!

Thomas awoke first.

If that's what you really want to call it.

He was first vaguely aware of the sounds around him. There was shouts, a loud wailing and movement. Smell, then came to him. It was smoke.

He coughed and struggled to open his eyelids. What happened? Where was he?

A touch to his arm startled him and his instinct was to move away. Which wasn't a good idea; a pulse of pain ran down his spine, making him emit a loud gasp from his lips.

He licked over them and tasted the flavor of blood. They were split and dripping blood into his mouth.

Somehow, he managed to open his eyes; slowly and carefully, as just doing that hurt him. It was dark, but from somewhere to the side there were flashing lights. An ambulance, he supplied weakly. That must have been the wailing he had been hearing.

He felt someone tug on him just a bit but he turned his head just a bit to the other side. In between crunched metal was Newt.

Newt.

He could see Newt; resting against the airbag, blood leaked from a wound on his head and his arm was twisted in a weird way. The blond seemed to have got hit hard. He looked he was barely breathing.

Everything came back to him at once. The crash, the screams and destruction of metal against metal. The fire must have been put out because he didn't see any flames in his blurry vision.

"Newt..." His voice was scratchy, has if he hasn't talked in years. He itched to move his hand closer, but he couldn't.

"Son, we are going to get you out, can you tell us your name?" The voice was beside him, on his other side, a mans; soothing and calm. A paramedic.

The darker haired boy shook his head, tears seemed easily to well up in his eyes. "I-Is...he okay?" He rasped, and felt the seatbelt around him finally tug away. He kept eyes on Newt. He then noticed a couple more people on Newt's side trying to help him and pull the metal away. They were firefighters.

"We are going to make sure he is, but first can you tell us your names?" The man's voice said again, still calm. He was an older man, bald but with a gentle face that just showed he's witnessed a lot.

"I-I'm Thomas...W-Wicket." He coughed, and finally turned his head painfully to the paramedic. "H-His n-name is Isaac Salam." He managed to feel a bit proud knowing Newt's real name. Even though no one called him it. It had been something they had exchanged at each others houses.

He started to feel his eyelids become increasinly heavy as he was lifted from his seat carefully. He gave a pained sound as he was set down on a stretcher. "Newt...Newt...I-I need to m-make sure he's okay! Stop!" He begged. He /ached/ was the better word. Was Newt even still breathing? Was he near death? Was something permanent?

These thoughts send him in panic to move despite the searing pain surrounding him. "Sir, we're going to do all he can."

Thomas didn't hear him, but that was because darkness was slowly taking over. Spots were appearing in his vision despite his wants.

"No...Newt..." His voice was trailed off as his eyes fell shut.

The past thought he had was that this wasn't what their first date was suppose to be like.

White.

That's what Thomas saw when he opened his eyes again many hours later.

He was laying in the hospital. Soft sounds of machines filled his ears. From what he could point out. He had a cast on his arm and a bandage wrapped around his head.

Turning to the side a little, he caught sight of his mom sitting in a chair next to the bed. She held a book in her hands, but it was obvious she was tired and looked like she has been crying.

"Mom..." He whispered. The sound exited from the small parting of his lips.

His mom quickly looked up and stood, "Oh, sweetie." She gasped and moved foreword. Grabbing something and pushing down on what must have been a button to call the doctors.

"W-...here's Dad?" His mom looked at him as she moved closer to the bed. "He's getting coffee. He'll be right back. " She lifted a hand and brushed some of his hair back from his face. "Oh, Thomas, I was so worried. We got the call and rushed over as soon as we could."

Thomas didn't say anything but leaned into the comforting touch.

Wait.

"Where's Newt?" He suddenly asked, his voice seemed to become just a little louder; though it was still raspy. He felt groggy, probably from the ton of medicine he was probably given.

His mom must have noticed because he grabbed a cup filled with water and lifted it to his lips. He allowed himself to take a small sip.

"He's...okay, sweetie...he's in the room next to you." Her voice was quiet, but hesitant.

What did that /mean/?

"He was hurt a bit worse, but they said he's stable and should be fine." She continued, soothing him.

Thomas relaxed, but only a bit. He had to see to believe.

"I don't know what happened..." The boy said quietly, "W-We were driving...then-" He cut himself off as he sniffled. He felt his eyes water again, threatening to spill over.

Shit.

His mom shushed him softly but he tried to continue, "-It came out of nowhere. T-Then it all went black." His voice was choked, filled with emotion. It didn't take long before tears made down his scratched, bruised cheeks.

Before his mom could respond, "It's all my f-fault, he's hurt because of me. I-I should have seen s-somthing at least." He said quickly, guilty as he let his eyes fall shut.

"Thomas, this is no way your fault, do you understand?" He heard his mom said firmly.

"But-"

"No buts, mister."

Thomas's lips quirked up for the first time it seemed in a long time. The last time being with Newt.

"When can can I see him?" He responded instead. Smiling again when his mother reached up to wipe his tears when he couldn't reach.

"It might be a while, sweetie. He's...still unconscious, and you shouldn't be moved right now."

The boy immediately opened his mouth to protest when the door to his room opened, his father and the doctor entering.

In the next room, a boy laid on a hospital bed; still, and almost dead looking.

He had a similar look to Thomas, a cast around his arm, and a bandage wrapped around his head.

A heartbeat monitor also rested on his right side, beeping continuously and in a slow steady rhythm.

There was also another machine connected to the wall. It made a whooshing sound, and it was connected to a long tube that led into the blond boys mouth and down his throat.

The boys chest moved up and down. When it almost seemed like it wouldn't rise again, it did.

No one was in the room. No one sat in the chair.

The boy was alone.

His parents were outside though, talking to the doctor. Their voices were hushed and soft, even if they really didn't need to be.

Back inside the room, the boy dreamed. And if you were able to look inside the dream, you would immediately want to leave.

It was private, so tender, you also couldn't look away.

The boy was dreaming of something he hasn't done yet but wants to. Kissing a darker haired boy he's liked for so long, laying in the grass all wide smiles and no worries. It was a perfect dream and it seemed like everything anyones ever dreamed of.

Then it stopped suddenly; without reason. Fading into darkness. The only way you could tell something was wrong was looking outside the boys dream and to his body.

Instead of a steady heartbeat of the machine, it slowed dangerously.

Then halted. Instead of beats, there now was a wailing that didn't stop.

Instead of seeing lines bump on the screen, it was a line.

Alarms and lights loudly went off immediately.

A door burst open, it hit the wall so hard one would think it would fall off, or maybe dent. But that wasn't on anyones mind.

There was hurried footsteps into the room, but that was covered over easily by a scream.

So... :(