Chapter Text
It was a usual day in the Glade; except the Runners don’t have to run today. Yesterday’s run was the most strenuous and Minho decided it was day off for all the Runners. It was extremely hot yesterday, and to be running around an endless maze, that could get anyone tired out.
Thomas felt warm hands push him off his sleeping bag. His eyes fluttered and opened, just to be met by the piercing glared of the sun, deep brown eyes and an all too familiar grin. Oh, that grin. The grin that sent Thomas’s heart flying out of his chest, the same one that gave him butterflies in his stomach.
“Get up, you lazy shank. Frypan’s mad at you for being late for breakfast.” Newt said in his calm, soothing voice. Thomas groaned and covered his face with his pillow.
“I don’t want to get up. What’s he making anyway?” Thomas mumbled, voice barely audible through his pillow, but Newt heard him nonetheless.
“French toast, your favorite. Now get up.” Newt stressed on the last word as he grabbed Thomas’s hand to pull him up into a sitting position, causing his pillow to drop. The touch sent electric shocks up Thomas’s arm, settling in a warm pit in his gut. Thomas felt a smile crack across his face. Newt remembered his favorite food.
“Alright. I’ll get up.” Thomas finally murmured. Newt smiled, clearly satisfied with himself.
Walking with Newt to the dining room was quiet. But the silence was more comforting than awkward. Newt took a seat beside Minho while Thomas sat next to Chuck, across from Minho. He’d silently hoped that he would get a seat next to Newt but the odds were against him.
Minho and Newt were gazing at each other, smiling, their eyes filled with something Thomas can’t quite put his finger on. More than once Thomas felt a leg hit his own and he glanced down to take a peak, frustrated he could not eat in peace. Thomas felt a wave of jealousy and rage overwhelm him when he realized Minho and Newt were playing footsie with each other under the table.
Thomas kept his mouth shut, though countless questions filled his mind. Were they together? Since when? How has he not seen it before? Thomas shook his head to clear the questions from his mind, as if it would help.
“Um hello? Earth to Tommy.” Thomas jerked his head up in surprise. Were they talking to him?
“I said, come help us at the apple farm later.” Us. Not me and Minho. Thomas felt it again. That pang of jealousy.
Newt wasn’t even his. Why was he so scared to lose him?
“Yeah, sure. Good that. Excuse me please.” Thomas said to his friends and stalked off to the Cliff. Sitting at the edge of the Cliff, gazing up at the cloudless sky, helped Thomas clear his mind. This time, something was pulling at the back of his brain.
Newt.
He thought Newt had felt the same way for him. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. But why Minho? He shook his head again, brushing away his concerns. He has much more important things to deal with at the moment, and that was getting through the day with Minho and Newt making goggling eyes at each other.