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Fry was Newt’s confidant. Had been for a while. Survivor’s guilt rubbing at his soul and obvious depression weighing it down. Since even the glade Fry had known of Newt’s ‘interest’ in Thomas. Newt told him things that he didn’t want Minho to hear quite yet, for how confidant he acts with pep talks and talk downs, he’s actually quite shy and self doubting. Fry could see Thomas watching back.
And now they were out. Life was okay. Only thing wrong was a missing boy. A hole shaped like an angry hulk of a teen in each of the Glader’s hearts.
Newt had notice that Fry always went with Thomas’ reckless ideas as soon as anyone knew, and took it to his advantage.
“So, what do I say when he gets here?” Newt and Fry starring in the dark, eyes adjusting and waiting.
“Well, something quick and powerful. Maybe a hint flirty?”
Newt laughed, “like what? And where do you think you’re going?”
Fry smiled in the inky blackness, “If you put the right emphasis, yeah.”
“You did so well, until you called him a twat. That is so obscenely British and hilarious.” They were walking around the outskirts of Denver, the last city, and Newt had flung himself to Fry to vent.
“Well, gotta make him think I’m not entirely interested.” Newt smirked over at him and Fry chuckled. The calm came back down. “So. I’m gonna write a letter.” He watched Fry quizzically glance at him, “Not sure what I’m gonna say in it, to be honest.”
Fry stepped forward, hand on Newt’s shoulder, “Dude, are you sure? You can’t even face the severity of your feelings and you want him to know?”
Newt shrugged, “Just want him to know I care, ya know.”
Fry pulled away and shook his head, “So a love letter without saying I love you?”
“Kinda.”
“So how do you feel about him. I remember when you waited all night for them and slept at the doors, wanted to pry them open to get them all, wanna talk about that?”
Newt smiled, oddly bittersweet, “Yeah, I guess in that moment, I knew I’d follow him anywhere.” He turned to Fry, “I’ve told him that everyone else would follow him anywhere, he told me they would follow me, too. Guess I can tie it to that.”
Fry nodded, “Good that.” He paused, “Just don’t say ‘I love you’, bit too strong, right now.”
Newt just nodded and they fell to silence.
Fry saw the fight, he was right there, he was shocked at the least. He watched Thomas follow him, and he learned two things, Thomas would follow him anywhere, and that Newt was infected.
The letter. Newt’s letter. The bittersweet tone made sense know, and he looked to Gally. “Gal. You know that-“
“Newt’s infected or they are having couple issues.”
“Um, just if, it Newt doesn’t make it out alright, convince me to say his thoughts to Thomas.”
“Uh, alright.”
Fry saw Newt on the ground. He saw Thomas clutching a gun, Newt’s gun. He saw the fury, agony, and sorrow in his face. He saw Brenda fall beside Newt as Thomas walked off. He saw the useless attempt to give him the cure. He saw Minho sobbing as Gally lifted the broken body into his arms. He did not see the necklace.
He watched Minho give Thomas Newt’s necklace. They were the mighty three, the impulsive three. And now it was the lost two.
He watched Thomas cry over what he assumed he helped make. And walked over to him. “See he gave you the love letter.”
“W-what.” Thomas wiped tears from his face and looked from Fry to the letter. Thomas had sworn he heard Newt’s voice as he had read and now he was dizzy with emotion.
“He said he wanted to write you a letter. He always talked to me about you, ya know. He asked for help. I thought he wanted to confess. Never knew it’d end like this.” Fry sighed, looking out the boat in the sea, where Newt’s body lay, waiting for Thomas to awake. “He loved you, ya know. Head over heels. And I saw that you love him, too. And now I regret telling him not to tell you.”
Thomas nodded, “I do, and thank you for telling me. It means a lot.” Fry just got up and saluted him, leaving the boy to ponder his thoughts.
Fry watched Sonya run up to him, “Fry. Don’t say a fucking word. Come with me.”
Fry was obviously shaken, the girl never cursed, when she did it was their Group B slang or oddly enough British slang, but either she or one of the Gladers would fall into sadness so deep it was hard to pull out of. Fry guesses that, like others, she was slowly gaining memories, and that a friend or family member of her’s was British.
They arrived at the boat and Fry gasped, watching a frail, but alive blond boy stare out at the island.
“Newt. Oh my god.” He turned and smiled, holding on to the rail for support, “How? How did you?”
“Well, I have a puncture wound in my chest. Guessing that was it. The one next to the knife wound.” He shrugged and Fry noticed the opened button up and a patchwork chest of skin and gauze, but no poisoned veins for stitching.
Fry felt reality hit him like a train, “Shit. I thought, I thought you were gone and told Thomas. Fuck.” The laughter from Newt filled the salty air.
“It’s alright, mate. Never thought I’d be alive to see his reaction to that one. How was that revelation?”
“He kinda said he loves you. Well, I said I could tell that he loves you and he said yes.” Fry shrugged, “So well I suppose. Now, can you hug your confidant?”
“Of bloody course.”
Newt leaned against Fry on the rowboat, feeling Fry’s back muscles work, he explained waking up and screaming til someone started to work on his wounds and sedate him. Turns out it was Sonya. Aka, Lizzy. Aka, aka, Newt’s sister. He had gained memories while he fell from Thomas’ grasp. He had told Fry his birth name, Toby, and smiled recalling his own, and the others. He remembered while searching for Sonya, the list of the true and fake names.
“So how we gonna surprise those who saw me die?”
“I guess pull a Thomas and wing it.” And Sonya chuckled.
Newt walked up behind two boys sitting on a log, not expecting Gally to walk up from in front of them and stop, when seeing him there. Well shit.
Gally’s mouth was wide open, “I haven’t had any drugs or alcohol, what the fuck?”
And Min and Tommy turned to see what he was gaping at. They turned to see Fry letting Newt lean on him, “Well, bloody hell, Gal. Had to ruin the surprise.”
Then he was tackled by two strong teens, laughing as they held him, leaning into the touch.
Newt repeated the story to the other Mighty Gladers, Fry noticing Thomas holding him protectively, Fry noticing Minho with a hand on Thomas’ back, Fry noticing Newt, Minho, and Thomas all look at each other like they were the stars. The impulsive three were back together.