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The night in the glade was quiet. Very quiet. Not even grievers dared to disturb the perfect peace that was set upon the gladers. Most of them. For Newt it was just another sleepless night, he sat in his bed with his breathing being the only, barely audible, sound in the darkness of his room.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
He was still too afraid to fall asleep because of the nightmares he had pretty frequently for the last couple of weeks. It never seemed to go away. He dreamed of people, a lot of them, but they never had faces. The bullets were flying everywhere and there was a little girl crying.
Every time he woke up from such a dream, he would find himself gasping for air and choking on his own tears. Those nights were terrifying and he didn't want it to happen again. But he was also very, very tired.
His eyelids were becoming really heavy. He closed them for just a moment. His consciousness almost slipped away into dark abyss of scary images and sounds, but then someone knocked on his door.
Two firm knocks broke the silence and Newt let out a breath that he didn't even realize was holding. "Who's there?" He whispered. But the person obviously couldn't hear him. He sucked the air deeply into his lungs, letting it out as a shaky breath, and stood up making quick movement towards the wooden door.
He wrapped his cold fingers around the doorknob and twisted it. Door made a shrieking noise that made Newt flinch. Once opened ajar, it revealed a tall boy with dark messy hair. Boy's breathing was as heavy as Newts, never settling down.
Just for a moment they exchanged gazes, but Thomas finally spoke up. "Can I stay with you tonight?" He questioned, his voice was raspy from the sleep, sending a chill down Newt's spine.
"Sure. Come in." Newt whispered, trying his best not to stutter. He didn't want to expose himself. But this was Thomas, his best friend. He could tell him anything, right?
No, he couldn't. Because he loved Thomas and he couldn't let his feelings ruin their friendship. It was just not right. Thomas was crazy after Teresa, anyways.
Thomas rubbed his eyes, walking into Newt's cold room, perfectly silent. The only problem was that Newt only had one bed, a desk and a wooden chair that was buried into clothes that blonde boy wore days ago.
"I can sleep on the ground, you can take the bed." Newt whispered as he shut the door closed. He was freezing and it will probably be even colder on the ground, but he would do absolutely anything for Tommy.
Newt pulled out an extra blanket that he kept in his drawer for any kind of emergency, and tried laying down on the ground but his best friend caught his wrist and pulled him up. He gasped at how cold Newt's arm was. "You can't sleep on the ground, Newt. You're freezing." He stated.
"Tommy take the bloody bed, I'm not going to argue with you now." Newt murmured grumpily. He was tired and he couldn't have an argument with Thomas. Besides, being on the ground wouldn't matter to him, he wasn't even going to sleep.
Thomas refused to let him. "Why don't we both sleep in bed then?" He asked, that sounded like a good solution. But Newt's heart skipped a beat. If they slept together, he probably wouldn't be able to stop himself from hugging or kissing Thomas, and if he did so their whole friendship would be ruined. "Or I'm sleeping on the floor." Thomas added after a brief pause.
Newt sighed, "Fine." He replied. "You're so bloody stubborn sometimes." He added and laid down in his bed as Thomas smiled, taking pride in the victory over this small argument.
Thomas settled next to Newt, their backs touching. Newt relaxed as he felt Thomas' warmth on his body. His presence was so soothing, he always calmed Newt down.
But the dark haired boy suddenly felt the need to warm Newt up. Newt's back was rather cold, barely warming up from him. He shifted and Newt moved little bit away, making him miss the touch.
Few more moments like that passed and Thomas couldn't hold back anymore. He quickly turned around pulling Newt into him, his chest against Newt's back. Thomas' hands were wrapped around Newt and he held him with caution, as if Newt was going to brake under his touch.
The blonde boy wanted to speak, ask Thomas what the bloody hell was he doing, but something about the whole situation was so satisfying he didn't want to break it. And something told him this wasn't okay, that he was letting himself seem weaker than Thomas. He was second-in-command, this behaviour was unacceptable.
But nothing of that even mattered. He forgot about the nightmares, he didn't care about how he had to be strong, he didn't think of the friendship between him and Thomas. Because this was maybe their last moment like this.
Newt calmed down and let himself sink further into Thomas. "Goodnight, Tommy." He whispered softly.
Thomas planted a shy kiss on the back of Newt's head. "Goodnight, Newt."