The magizoologist didn't have particularly healthy ways of coping. While he certainly didn't wallow in self pity or sorrow, he also didn't take the time to let himself grieve proper over it. He kept them close to his heart like a wound that wouldn't heal and focused on moving forward, without actually being able to do so.

Seeing Theseus' anguish is gut wrenching. It's a reminder that his brother had lost potentially someone who he had considered the love of his life. That he wouldn't get to see Leta walk down the aisle and he wouldn't get to make vows to her. To kiss her again.

He could ignore the empty feeling he held himself for the moment. His brother had deserved better than the lot he had been given.

Newt turns his body towards the other before wrapping his arms around Theseus. It's awkward and stiff and very much a hug one would expect from the awkward man. Still, there's warmth and care in it. That Newt's love for his brother was worth his fumbling to try and comfort the other physically. "It's okay, Theese. We won't very much have the time back at home to mourn. We can take our time here," Newt says softly. "You don't have to be strong."