[ well--at least thomas doesn't know, either. what he remembers from the changing is fuzzy, and he could ask teresa about it but. he won't.
thomas lifts his little deer head and presses his fuzzy cheek into minho's shoulder, near where the scars from the lightning strike had nearly killed him. thomas had refused to leave him, and if he had to go back, he'd do it all again. after all? minho was the best friend thomas could ever ask for, the only person in the world thomas truly trusted. ]
Yeah. I get it. [ he bleats again, but it's quieter. at least he can make little animal noises for things he can't say. ]
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thomas lifts his little deer head and presses his fuzzy cheek into minho's shoulder, near where the scars from the lightning strike had nearly killed him. thomas had refused to leave him, and if he had to go back, he'd do it all again. after all? minho was the best friend thomas could ever ask for, the only person in the world thomas truly trusted. ]
Yeah. I get it. [ he bleats again, but it's quieter. at least he can make little animal noises for things he can't say. ]