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“ARGHHH.”
A ear piercing scream tore through the maze and into the Glade before ending in a gurgle. Thomas and the rest of the Gladers looked up from what they were doing and eyes frantically searching for the owner of his horrifying screech.
Thomas’s first thought was a griever sting. But in broad daylight? Was that even possible? Thomas wasn’t here for long but he knew well enough that the Gladers coexisted with these monstrosities for three years without anything of the sort happening.
“Somebody, anybody, help!”
The Gladers heard another shout and Thomas recognized it immediately.
“Minho! Where are you? Minho!” Thomas shouted back, his legs immediately carrying him to the doors of the maze. The moment his eyes fell on two figures—one half carrying, half dragging another figure into the maze, he sprinted towards them.
He noticed the figure being dragged leaving a trail of blood behind him and he shuddered. He managed to reach Minho and the other Glader, and his heart lurched when he saw who it was.
Newt.
Thomas fell to the floor beside Newt and felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. A single tear slid down from his warm, butterscotch eyes, followed by another one, and another one, until soon, a steady stream of salty tears flowed its way down his pale cheek.
“Newt, no, no, no, no,” Thomas chanted as he held onto Newt’s bloodied and bruised body. For a moment Thomas thought he was gone. But Newt seemed to have forced his eyes open to gaze back at Thomas.
Thomas felt a surge of relief flowed through Thomas and he clutched Newt tighter to him. “Oh God, Newt. Stay with me, baby, please.” The seemingly endless tears didn’t stop.
Thomas heard Minho talking in the background, but the world around him becomes a blur of color that melts to gray, and all Thomas saw was Newt. Newt never broke his gaze from Thomas’s, no matter how much it hurt. Newt lifted his hand and caressed Thomas’s cheek.
“Sing to me.” Newt whispered, barely audible.
Thomas swallowed, trying to think of something, anything, for his Newt. A song popped into his mind and he blurted the words out, without a second thought.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey,” Thomas sang, his eyes red and puffy. Newt smiled faintly and sang with Thomas, it was soft, but Thomas heard it anyway.
“You never know dear, how much I love you.”
Thomas took in a deep breath and chocked out the last line.
“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”
Newt coughed and Thomas felt Newt losing consciousness, slipping away from the world. Slipping away from him.
“Thank you.” Newt whispered and with all the life left in him, he smiled at Thomas. Thomas felt Newt’s hand on his cheek go slack.
He never learned to cry with style, silently, the pearl-shaped tears rolling down my cheeks from wide luminous eyes, as on the covers of True Love comics, leaving no smears or streaks. So when reality hit Thomas, hard in the face with Newt’s death, he bawled his eyes out in the maze, reluctant to ever let Newt go, as if his body would disappear when he did.
Thomas still refused to accept that Newt was gone, no longer by his side, reassuring him all the time.
And he would never forget Newt, his wry smile and goofy laugh.
He knew they would be lovers in another world again, someday.