Re: adrian's room: adrian m/newt p
[As comforting as the light was, Newt's presence, close-by, was much moreso. Something in the air smelled a little acrid, like wet ashes.
There was plenty of room for Newt on the bed.] A memory? I saw someone die. [His voice cracked.] I killed someone. [He slid his hand over the back of Newt's, eyes searching for his face as his eyes adjusted to the dimness.]
I won't let anything happen. [A thin reassurance, but firm. He sounded tired, less half-awake than awake far too long. He might not have seen the hint of black, but the mirror was still cracked, and the lightbulb was still a spray of glass on the carpet.] When it gets to be a little too much. I breathe. And it helps. [His grip on Newt's hand loosened, briefly.] You're safe. I would ne-never -
[He stopped, and he slid a little closer to Newt, unable to finish the thought. His fingertips were cool, and for all his determined brushing off, his voice still hadn't made it to steady. It made him feel small when he wanted to feel as if he had the situation under control, so he cleared his throat and pushed it down, pushed it down harder.] Did you see anything? [Hopefully.] Anything good?