((TW: mentions of death, grief, basiclly Minho finding out Newt died))

The snow fell softly around Minho as he packed the items he needed in his bag.

It was almost the holiday season in the safe haven.

Food, water, clothes, etc.

He was standing outside the remnants of the flat-trans. He desperately hoped it still worked.

As Minho hefted the bag in one hand, testing the weight, he heard Thomas's tentative voice from behind him.

"Minho? What are you doing?"

Minho's expression was determined.

"Newt's still out there. I'm going to find him."

A look of pure sadness and shock crossed Thomas's face, and he actually took a step back. Minho looked worriedly at him

"What? Is something wrong?"

Thomas swallowed hard.

"Well, um, about that. There's something I should probably tell you. . ."

Minho shrugged.

"Okay, but can you make it quick?"

I don't think he'll still go after I tell him. . .

"Y-You know when he left the note, in the berg? Well, he kind of left me a separate one. . ."

"What did it say?"

Thomas drew in a deep breath of the crisp air.

"I-It said 'kill me, if you were ever my friend, kill me.'"

Minho stared at him, panic and sadness rising in his chest.

"Are-are you sure?"

Thomas slowly nodded.

They were the words that haunted him at night, that echoed through his head.

Minho's voice was almost hysterical.

"B-But you didn't, right?"

Thomas looked at his feet.

"No, not at first. . .remember at the crank palace? I kind of saw him again after that. In a street, with other cranks. He told me to. A-A-And, I did. I-I shot him."

The bag fell from Minho's hands.

Minho stared at Thomas. Minho had tears welling in his eyes and running down his cheeks. Then suddenly he laughed.

"Haha. Okay, you got me! Haha, so funny! Hahaha! Now where is Newt? Is he here?"

Minho swiveled his head around, desperately hoping to see his lover hiding somewhere, even as tears streamed down his cheeks falling to the ground.

"I-It's a joke, right? Right?"

When Thomas didn't answer, Minho sobbed out another question.

"Right?"

Thomas had tears in his own eyes.

He doesn't get to cry. Minho thought. If it's true, he doesn't get to cry.

Thomas spoke softly.

"I-I-no, no Minho. No."

Minho just stared at Thomas as tears fell down his cheeks.

Then a gunshot sounded in Minho's head, and suddenly he was on the ground, all the color sucked out of everything.

Minho sobbed Newt's name, screamed it.

"Newt! No, no, no, no, no, no!"

He whipped his head back and forth, desperately hoping to see his boyfriend.

The only thing he saw was white and black nothingness.

"No! No! No!"

The softly falling snow seemed to intensify, swirling, wrapping around Minho in a horrible tornado of icy sadness.

The world blurs, unfocuse's, and spins before Minho's eyes as the image of Newt fills his mind.

"Newt. . ."

Minho sobbed out.

Something told him that it wouldn't be a very merry holiday for him.