Work Text:
Thomas woke in his hammock in the glade with a start. He sat up straight, and put his hands to his face. He felt a wetness. His eyes felt sore and droopy. Yes, that was right, he had been crying. But why?
A dream. It had been a dream.
Wedding! He was at a wedding.
It was… his own wedding? The man in front of him looked eerily like him. No. He knew that he was himself in his dream, standing in the front row, hand in hand with another person, watching an absolute replica of himself walk down the aisle. Who was this mysterious replica getting married to? Another man. Tall, brooding, handsome. He had the largest smile on his face as he had stared at Stiles. Stiles? Where did that come from? Stiles! The copy! His… brother?!
He had turned his attention to the man holding his hand, beside himself. Newt? What was Newt doing in his dream? Why was Newt holding his hand?
Newt gazed at him with pure adoration in his eyes before speaking. “Tommy, baby. I love you.”
“I love you too. Forever. Don’t ever let me forget it.” He had heard himself softly reply.
“As if you ever could.” Came Newt’s heartfelt answer.
He felt a fresh bout of tears appear in his eyes. Why did he feel so empty? It’s not like he really was in love with Newt and had a twin brother who married another man in another life. It was just a dream, after all.