[ A frown finds his mouth to make up for the inability to bite at his nails, hand falling to his side. Ah, there's the blunt asshole he knows and adores on most occasions. Really, Newt's somewhat glad they're talking, he'd wanted to at least say something more to him, but Thomas lurking there made him clam up. Now that there are no children present, he guesses the adults can talk. The blond wets his lips while he tries to pick out the right words. ]

I thought I wasn't going to see you again. When we got separated. I didn't know what to do, I thought that was it.

[ He gave up. He'd already started mourning. They'd lost Nick, Alby, and then when Minho got taken, he'd just accepted he was gone. Resigned himself to it. Dark eyes stay on him despite looking like he wants to look anywhere but at Minho. It's like a trainwreck, he can't bear to watch to see if there's disappointment or judgement from Minho and yet, he keeps watching; he needs to watch.

But then something else seems to flash across his expression, and he opens his mouth before closing it again with an audible click of his teeth. The hand that had been swatted away to his side moved to rub at the back of his neck, under blond hair.

Whether or not Minho has one of those tattoos on his neck is something Newt both really wants to know and really doesn't at the same time. If he's the odd-man-out, what's wrong with him? If it's Thomas then what's wrong with Thomas? ]

You wouldn't have given up on me. [ Everything had just felt impossible. ]