setting sun (aka that newtmas travelling au i’ll probably never write)
↬ ‘his mind, getting all clear suddenly, focused only on newt; freckles, golden hair like a sun on summer’s day, pale arms, soft voice, all that and something else, something he couldn’t quite name, popped in his mind, like an old song; the one where you can remember the rhythm but not the words. something familiar but foreign at the same time. that was newt; something old and new. something thomas kept replaying, in his mind, each day, over and over.’
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