Chapter Text
Things have been hard since the burning of W.I.C.K.E.D.
Since Thomas stabbed Newt and left him there to burn, along with Teresa who went down with the crumbling building just after saving his life. Mostly after he stabbed Newt, feeling the blade plunge into his stomach and hearing his breathless and croaky “ Tommy” as black blood oozed out onto his palms making them slippery. The rush of blood that he could hear in his ears, the wild and sporadic thumping of his heart he could feel ready to burst. He had fought and for what, just to be responsible for his death? He remembered cradling him and listening to his staggered breaths. He can’t be dead. He’s not dead.
Thomas stopped and ran towards the sea now feeling sick recalling the memory. He usually took strolls on the beach to try and bring him to a better place when he wasn’t feeling like himself. It was hard to remember how to be himself when he spent most of his days barely sleeping and barely eating. He did the bare minimum to keep himself alive, but it was hard too. It was hard because he knew it wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair that he was here and Newt wasn’t.
“Look at the stars Tommy, aren’t they beautiful?” Newt said lying on the ground, he turned to look at Thomas who was also on the ground already staring at him. Thomas quickly looked up at the sky he wasn’t paying much attention to and replied.
“Yeah, gorgeous, the moon’s huge too. Like biggest I’ve seen it out here.” They had lost count of the days they’d spent out in The Scorch so all they had to really tell them time was passing out in this endless heat was the changing of the ‘constellations’ and the moon. Thomas was sure Newt was making stuff up about all the star crap, how they make shapes in the sky and how he’s sure they have to have meanings. But he let him make up his own definitions and his own ‘constellations’ because it kept them busy, it kept them distracted from all the horrible shit that’s happening around them.
“You’re right, it does seem bigger than some of the full moons we’ve seen.” Thomas scoffed at his ‘full moon’ remark, “Don’t laugh, I can feel it somewhere in here,” he brought his index finger up to his temple and tapped, “that I’m right.” Thomas rolled his eyes.
“Whatever you say Sir Newton.” Newt shoved him at his remark and Thomas shoved back. This back and forth led to a play fight that Newt had won, because Thomas let him obviously. Thomas was pinned and Newt was straddled on top of him, usually something like this would have Thomas reeling but he was too breathless and too awestruck by Newt’s beauty. The moonlight reflecting beautifully off his golden hair and the glow of his eyes rivaled the stars he was so obsessed with.
That was when Thomas decided that the stars really were stupid because nothing said to be that stunning could compare to Newt.
The change of memory was nice and left him feeling a little less numb as he stared at the sky finding all the constellations he could and naming every one of them. The texture of the sand and the sparkling of the stars were as close as he could get to Newt these days, as pathetic as it is it should explain why he spent most of his sleepless nights here.
Somewhere in the distance he heard a crack of a shell being stomped on, he whipped his head up towards where woods and beach converge, nothing was there other than gangly trees and the moon casting odd shadows. Shadows that he had thought were a person. Nobody should be out at this hour, especially not if they saw Thomas. Most people avoided him whenever he would fall deeper into this hole of warped memories and conflicting emotions.