Bonus Chapter

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The Letters

'So, tell me

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'So, tell me... '

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Thomas searched through the things he had poured from Newt's bag, finally finding it in himself to do it. To go through his best friend's things. He refolded the clothes that could be worn and piled the ones to be burnt, tears sitting in his eyes as he did so. But as he came to the end of it, there sat only three things on the ground; a water canister, some cloth and a note.

His eyes flickered over the three things for a few seconds, before he placed the canister on the keep pile and the cloth in the burning pile; leaving only the note before him. Slowly, Thomas picked it up and unfolded it, tears finally dripping down his cheeks as he read the first line; Dear Blair. He didn't read any further, he just stared at those two words; reading them over and over. He jumped when a hand placed itself lightly on her shoulder, his head snapping up to find Aris' gaze.

'Is that for her?' The boy asked.

Thomas nodded as he wiped his nose, 'Yeh.'

'Blair wrote one for him as well.'

He looked up at Aris with slightly widened eyes, more tears dripping down his cheeks.

'I guess they both hoped the other would live,' Aris croaked.

'Did you read it?' He asked.

'No... I figured only they should.'

Thomas nodded as he stood, folding the paper back up before he looked at Aris; pulling him into a hug. The pair stood in each others arms, crying softly. It was a while before they moved away from one another, wiping their eyes before they gathered their friends and headed over to the cemetery. They slowly dug the grave open again, tears falling as they looked down at the bodies of their friends; Blair still laying with her head on Newt's chest, their entangled hands still on his chest.

'Can we read them?' Harriet asked quietly; 'Aloud.'

'I, uh... I thought no one should read them,' Aris stammered.

'We didn't get to have a proper funeral. Maybe... Maybe, this is how we do it,' Frypan sighed.

Aris looked at him with wide eyes before he sighed, shaking his head; 'We shouldn't. They wrote them for each other. Thomas, you wouldn't go around showing everyone Newt's letter to you, like I wouldn't show Blair's letter to me. We shouldn't show their letters to each other, they were written to each other.'

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