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“I fucking hate you!” The growl ringing through the courtyard of the hospital.
“No you don’t Newt, come on, come back to me.”
Thomas stepped forward, a mistake, as Newt ran towards him, tackling Thomas and dragging him to the ground, dazing him.
Newt grabbed the hand that had held a gun in it for the better part of 20 minutes to protect them both from anyone from the riots, and pressed the barrel to his head, “Do it, you coward!”
Thomas pulled against the grip of madness and tore the barrel from Newt’s hand, flinging it to the side, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” words shaking as he spoke under Newt, both trembling in fear, in sorrow, in pain, words so low and soft he would be surprised if Newt had heard it. The little lies he wished to be true so hard. Newt reached to the back of his uniform, unsheathing a knife. Thomas rose his hands, grabbing the hilt, layering hands upon hands, pushing the madness back as he pushed the knife away from his heart. The blade dug into his chest and he looked away from the blade, flicking his eyes to Newt’s face, eyes dark and red-tinged, skin void of color, tears trailing over veins. He looked back to the knife, feeling it pierce the skin, watching red blossom around the blue. He yelled and pushed the knife away with a surge of strength, once again, ripping a weapon from the broken boy above him, throwing it towards the gun.
“You bloody idiot! I’ll kill you if you don’t kill me!” Thomas watched Newt’s internal battle, lunging forward to bite and snap and kill, then pulling away.
“Newt. Newt. Come back for a second.” Thomas reached out a hand, pulling Newt down to properly hold him as the world crumbled around them. “My blood is the cure, so just let go for a few seconds-“ and Newt knew what to do. He fit his head next to Thomas’ and bit.
Thomas screamed out, laying on the ground with your best friend going insane biting you, that’s a lot to take in. Thomas heard footsteps and gasps. Feeling the mouth release his shoulder and the body collapse on top of him.
“Thomas! Thomas! Are you okay?”
Minho, Brenda, Gally, and Fry surrounding both of them on the plaza ground.
Thomas grunted, feeling that the worst was over. “Yeah. He’s heavy for being so goddamn lanky.” Gally smirked and moved around, picking Newt off of Thomas, Minho helping Thomas up. “What did you give him?”
Brenda shook the empty vial, “One of the ones from the hospital.” Looking up, all-around feeling the dread fill the air. That is until a girl ran out of the hospital yelling.
“Thomas! We can make the cure, he will be fine! Just come on, just one vial will save him!”
Thomas looked at Minho, “Shuck, I hate her, but she’s right. Go get it.”
Thomas nodded, mock saluting the group, “Take care of him. I will be back.”
Gally chuckled, adjusting the unconscious guy in his shoulder, “Of course, Greenie.”
Thomas awoke to golden hair, almond eyes, freckled faces, tan skin and smiles so wide they could become all he needed to survive.
“I still bloody can’t believe you made me bite you. Goddamn dumbass.” Skin clear and full of warm color, not the cool pale and blue shades of sickness.
Thomas croaked out a laugh, “I can’t believe we’re alive.” You, I, alive.
Gally cackled at the rough voice, “Sounds like you had fun, Green.” He stood up, Thomas watching him get a glass of water. “Here, you need it. The smoke was a bitch on your lungs.” His eyebrows went up amused, “As for the bite, well, we always knew you were an impulsive ass. But the impulsiveness has saved our asses many times.”
Thomas looked back to the others, Minho nodding, a smile stretching across his face, the Mighty Gladers, plus the girl with a tendency to kick ass, alive, safe. Fry chuckled, “Mmm, and that’s why we go with his plans. They somehow work out.”
Brenda finally spoke up, “Kinda the reason he made the maze you know.” Patting Thomas’ leg and getting up, “I’m going to get you food. And you too, Newt.”
Thomas looked over to Newt, a little confused, “Wait, you haven’t ate?”
Newt smiled down at Thomas, “Well, I’ve been sitting with you. Waiting for you to wake up.”
Thomas looked to Minho, “And you let him just stay here and not eat?”
Newt and Minho laughed, “God no, he ate, just only when we brought it. Woke up yesterday. You’ve been out for a week, though.”
Brenda came back in with food, food that was definitely not Fry’s, but fuck, it was good. Thomas watched Newt eye his bandaged shoulder and the gauze on his chest. Guilt clearly on his face, Thomas caught Minho’s gaze, Minho mouthing ‘I know’ and shrugging.
Everyone but Newt had left, as it was technically Newt’s med tent for the time being as well, to monitor his health and since being dragged a few blocks can cause fractures that never fully healed to crack and need to be set properly.
Thomas was able to sit up without bouts of nausea, leaning against the wall and checking his wounds. The bullet wound had been sewn shut, and the knife wound was scabbing over nicely. He lifted a hand to the bite on his shoulder, pulling gauze away, looking at the scabbing individual divots.
“Went a little deep, didn’t I?” Thomas pulled his hand away, as if he had been burned, and looked over the blond that he thought had gone to sleep. “I’m sorry about it, ya know. Wasn’t me talking and all. Or biting.”
The dim light offered by a lantern, showing the guilt wrinkling Newt’s face. Thomas shook his head, “Oh, I know, Newt. I could literally see you fighting to gain control. I know it wasn’t you.” He watched Newt get up and lean on a cane to hobble over. He sat down next to Thomas, next to the side he bit. “Well, I did cause you to open fractures, so a bite and a scab is a little payback.” Newt smiled soberly.
“Hm, but you also got shot for me.” Gesturing at the bullet wound with gauze upon it.
“Dude. I would die for you.”
“Same to you.” Newt looked away from the wounded torso. “Hey. You know, I have my memories. After the veins got darker, started to ‘member.”
Thomas looked up at him quizzically, “Wait, how?”
Newt shrugged, “I have a theory. Remember how Ben was angry and trying to kill you.” Thomas grimaced and nodded, “Well, he, anyone who got stung and didn’t get the serum, actually act pretty damn similar to a Crank. And with the griever juice,” He rose a brow, “You all got some memories back. I guess getting so close to the Gone… Woke up one day on the way to Denver, just started bloody sobbing.” Thomas put a hand on Newt’s arm, the one that Newt had shown to him when confronted, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly. “Kinda remembered everything. Sorta why I got so angry, too. I never hated you, but I was upset when you didn’t come with us. I hated the Creators, but even if you made the damn place, you weren’t the Creators, that would be Paige.”
“Do you know your name?”
“Mhm, Samuel.”
Newt had been able to walk out of the tent and into the sand for a week, getting used to the actual healing process, not what two teen boys slapped together.
He walked back into the hastily made tent, Thomas on his bed, crying at papers.
“Ah, fuck. I forgot about that.” Newt walked over and sat on the bed to embrace Thomas, “I meant for you to be happy, not cry, you sap.”
“I know. It’s just,” He leaned into the hold, “If I hadn’t gotten you to do something to keep you busy, you could be gone.”
Newt hummed, pulling Thomas closer, “Yes, and I could of killed you, or gotten you killed. But, we are alive. I’m pretty sure we both have heartbeats. And we have scars to prove our struggle.” He pulled an arm out from around Thomas and tapped his chest, the healing knife cut. “You’ve got two gun wounds, a knife wound, and a bite. I’ve got my cheek, my chest, and my leg. We deserve to be happy.” He pulled away, “You deserve to be happy, Tommy. So dry up those tears and let me check on the healing.” And Thomas smiled, and the world was okay again.
Thomas sat at the campfire, watching the flames dance, hearing the singing and scavenged instruments, a hand grip his shoulder, on top of the scar.
“Well hello, Newt.” Chuckling.
Newt laughed in a way that hadn’t happened before Paradise, “Good evening, Tommy.” And pulling up beside him, leaning on the log, a year older than the first night.
Both unaware of Gally and Min watching from afar.
“Well. I can officially say I’ve never seen to shucks so into each other that they literally have a love bite thing, but are also so oblivious to its meaning or their feelings.” Gally sighed, rubbing his head, “Like it’s super fucking obvious. Newt even wrote a goddamn love letter. They are going to end up killing me.”
Minho snickered from beneath his hand, “Besides Tomboy and myself, you’re also Newt’s best friend, go make him see that he’s being romantic.”
Gally rocked his shoulder into Minho’s, “You know damn well that Newt will reject any idea of someone liking him. That’s just how he is. Still thinks he has to be the mom.”
“Ah, I will talk to Thomas, you talk to Newt.”
Gally shrugged, “If I get a kiss, sure.”
Minho chuckled, “Of course, should of known with your ulterior motives.”
Fry and Brenda walked up to the couple, Brenda coughing, “So, gross couple number 2, any idea when gross couple number 3 is getting together? Like they literally gave each other nicknames as soon as they knew their names. I swear I sometimes see Thomas look at Newt from across a room or something and he sighs, he actually sighs from happiness and says Sammy. I’m about to lock them in handcuffs and throw them into a room.”
Minho scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, “Me too, but who’s gross couple number 1?”
Fry smirked from behind Brenda, stepping up and putting arms around her center, “Us I think. There’s also the gross throuple.” Glancing over at Harriet holding two sleeping people to her sides, waving at her, and watching her struggle to wave without waking one of the sleeping teens.
“God. As soon as life calms down, people start falling in love.”
“Well, yeah. We aren’t about to die, makes sense.”
“It’s still gross.”
“We are literally one of the gross couples.”
“Thomas. As much as you are impulsive and smart, you’re also oblivious and dumb. He looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. You saved my life, three times mind you, and I don’t go around giving you smooches where you got shot and you don’t lovingly trace where I was struck by lightning. You’ve gotta face the facts, dude. He loves you, and you love him.” He slapped Thomas on the back, “Tell me if I’m wrong, but if we hadn’t shown up, you would’ve let him literally eat you if it meant getting the cure to his system.”
“Damn you, Minho.”
“And he lets you call him Sammy, only Sonya can call him Sam. And he calls you Tommy. I’ve seen the look you get when the kids say it. It’s reserved for him.”
“I got your point. How the hell do I tell him, though? If you know me, I don’t have a good track record of the people liking me.”
“I don’t know, one day Gally just grabbed my hand and asked if he could kiss me.”
“Didn’t know he had it in him.”
“Blah, blah, blah, not listening.” Newt was stalking away from Gally.
“Dude. He literally let you bite him to give you a chance to one, have more time, two, get a chance to give you some blood if it got carried away, three, if it didn’t go well in the opposite direction, have a physical piece on you on him.” Gally followed Newt, “You’d die for each other, you’ve fought for each other, you’ve killed for each other. The Glader bonds we have are strong, and you may be our glue, but he needs you to breathe.” Newt stopped stomping in the field, turning around to Gally, “Also, he keeps staring at your butt and it’s distracting him from work.”
Newt let Gally walk up to him, “Gal. You know that I wrote that letter so he would know how I felt. I walked in to see him sobbing. Not inspiring to tell a person that the letter was missing a phrase.”
“Newt. He cried because he knows that he could of lost you. That would’ve broken him.” Gally shook his head, “Just talk to him. Can’t keep seeing your biting thing without some reason besides it’s nice to do.”
“Someday I will. Maybe write another letter.”
“That’s so cheesy, I will actually vomit.”
Thomas had left before Newt woke up, a note on his small table Gally made, telling him to meet him at the field where they had found a real ladybug, not the beetle blades they were used to.
He’d run around, getting food and drinks from Fry and the other cooks, mostly fruit and vegetables grown on the island, and repurposed a scratchy blanket no one slept with, and the sunflowers Vince had found. Thomas had gotten the idea of a picnic from one of the books that was on the ship.
Thomas had been standing, making sure the arrangement looked nice when he felt the familiar pressure on his back and a mouth on his shoulder, humming, he turned around, showing off the picnic with a wave of his hand.
“God, you’re such a sap.” A laugh from Newt and a smile that conveyed so many words, finally, thank god, I love it, I love you.
“Yup, and it’s all for you.” Thomas held out a hand, a grin stretching wide, “Now, let’s have breakfast.” Newt grabbing the hand and going around to sit down. Resting in the field, a year had passed, and they were safe, laughter ringing between the trees.