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For every word he cannot bring himself to say, he pens it down with shaking fingers. With that piece of folded paper, stuck on the recipient's door, Thomas begs Minho to forgive him.

With all the thoughts he could have – should have – voiced, he casts a searching glance at the blue, blue sky. And he begs Newt to forgive him too.

Paradise is at the very edge of the world. On that cliff, overlooking what used to be called 'the Cape of Good Hope', Thomas watches the glittering water.

When he jumps, he hears Newt's voice welcoming him and berating him, as he crosses to the other side.

"Welcome home Tommy you stupid shank. I didn't ask you to kill me for you to follow my example!"

Guilt was a dark, dark thing. To live with, to carry, to hold. The gunshot echoes in Thomas' mind, all day, all the time. He slides down the wall of his room as a faraway door slams.

Newt's body jerks; falls limp to the side.

Silent tears run down Thomas' cheeks.

Murderer. He was your best friend.

The voice in his head has a British accent. He hasn't looked Minho in the eye since he did it. Because Minho would have killed him. Slowly. Torturously. And Thomas would have let him.

When Minho read the letter, he rages.

When Thomas dies, too, he cries. Because he's lost both his best friends. Because he's lost two people too many.

Thomas. Newt. Minho. The Ivy Trio.

Newt. Thomas. Minho. They lost a brother. They lost a friend.

Minho. Thomas. They'll stick together. Until the end.

Thomas. Minho. He lost another.

Minho. He was alone.