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"Get your fat arse out of my chair!" Newt orders coldly at the now smirking brunet. His skin crawls as the boy raises his cup to drink innocently from it.
"You got out of it, so it’s not yours is it?" Thomas sasses boldly back at him, and Newt could honestly tear his throat out. He balls his hands into fists.
"I was sitting there for half an hour. I was gone for two minutes to get something to drink. Get out Greenie," Newt tries again with a stern look with an even tone to his voice. His toes curled trying to refrain from bolting for the Greenie when Thomas leans back and brings one leg over the other to get more comfortable. His smirk only grew, and it hinted for a challenge.
"No," Thomas plainly says. He props his head up with a hand resting on the chair’s armrest. A vein was ready to pop on Newt’s forehead. He didn’t even have to look around to find that the other gladers were watching their exchange of words.
He and Thomas had never gotten along. Ever since Thomas came out of the box, he took for cover under Minho’s wing. He was always with Minho. Watching that happen irked Newt because he was always the one that the Greenies would go to to ask questions, and to be calmed down. He always did that, and he loved it. He loved helping the new gladers get a hold of themselves and find a place in the glade. Everyone else accepted that. They accepted that Newt was the mentor and always will be.
But Minho had come out of the maze the second Thomas was let out of the pit. Alby, the slinthead, led him to Minho, and Thomas had run to him like he was some sort of beacon and he was a ship at stormy sea. Newt’s blood had boiled, and he never understood why.
He wasn’t jealous. It was his job. Not Minho’s.
The worst thing about it was the fact that Thomas was so nice. He was constantly making jokes, dancing around like a lunatic when they had bonfires, and just making everyone laugh and cheered up.
He wasn’t like that to Newt though. Thomas could be having a hilarious conversation with one person, and then Newt shows up and Thomas would just freeze. His face would falter and he would stare at Newt like he had just interrupted a plan to rule the world or something. Like he was the Greenie.
All he got from Thomas was annoyance. It was like Thomas did everything he could in order to vex Newt. The things he did wouldn’t even be that big of a deal. It would be things like purposely drinking all the water in a canteen, or ‘accidentally’ forgetting to wash his clothes, or taking his chair or seat whenever he leaves for just a bloody second. The fact that Thomas wasn’t even there in the glade for most of the day just made it worse. Thomas took advantage of every second he had in the glade before bedtime to irritate Newt, and the blonde could honestly pull his hair out.
After all the ruckus Thomas has put him through only today made him too tired to deal with what the shuckface was trying to do right now.
"Yeah okay, Tommy, I give. Take the bloody seat. I’m going to sleep,” he scoffs in defeat. He just sees Thomas scrunch up his eyebrows before he turns around to head to bed.
He heads through the crowd noticing all the disappointed looks from some of the gladers. They had wanted to see him and Thomas have an argument, not a one minute dispute.
He shoves some of the complaining ones, and heads for the sleeping bags. He sees a few already asleep as he tries to find his own bag. He looks in the section where his is normally, but he doesn’t see it. They had all decided that it would be easier if they carved their initials in the corner of their sleeping bags. He tries to find the one that says ‘N’, but he doesn’t see it. Irritation grows slowly as he walks faster around looking anxiously. He fails now at trying to be quiet around the sleeping boys.
"Newt? What the shuck are you doing? We’re trying to sleep here," one boy hisses. Newt freezes trying to contain his anger at the loss of his sleeping bag.
"I’m trying to find-" he first starts to explain when suddenly something clicks. His sleeping bag wasn’t missing. His sleeping bag was stolen.
Thomas stole and hid his sleeping bag he just knows it.
"Ugh!" he yells loudly causing the gladers to look at him from the bonfire. He cusses under his breath and kicks stones and sticks around as he makes his way back to the bonfire. He storms his way over and almost has the will to shove Thomas when he gets to him. Maybe shove him into the fire.
He instead jabs a finger into the brunet’s shoulder making him wince in surprise, and Newt almost rethinks over his determination not to push the boy into the fire when he sees Thomas grin.
"Something wrong Newt?" he asks with false politeness. Newt grinds his teeth together.
"You know what you did, you slinthead. Now give me back my bloody sleeping bag before I make sure you don’t make it back into the glade tomorrow," Newt threatens. Thomas gasps dramatically and grasps his chest.
"What? I didn’t do anything Newt," he responds looking hurt. Newt could punch him. He almost does. His mind is fogged up with fatigue, and he just wanted to go to sleep. He hears Thomas gasp for real this time when he angrily grabs hold of the brunet’s shirt bringing him close to his face.
"Give me-"
"Oh wait!" Thomas interrupts and Newt sees the obviously faked recognition. Thomas doesn’t do a good job hiding a grin.
"I think I saw your sleeping bag in the maze. Think it’s hanging in the vines. Yes, I think I did. Minho did you see it?" he says keeping from laughing as he looks at a stunned Minho.
"Uh…"
"You slinthead! You put my sleeping bag in the bloody maze?” Newt asks with disgust and his hands start to shake in anger. He groans pushing Thomas away almost making the now laughing boy fall on the ground. He turns around with fisted hands, and storms off. Everyone’s eyes were on him as he goes, and he wishes someone would stop him. He’ll have a good enough reason to start throwing punches.
He goes back to where all the sleeping bags were and sees that the sleeping gladers were staring at him cautiously like he was going to explode. Fury floods his body and he glares at them.
"What?" he hisses. The gladers immediately shake their heads and lay back down tensely. Newt huffs as he grabs hold of a random sleeping bag and pulls it away from the others. When he gets around ten meters away he lays down on the bed. He closes his eyes breathing in fast. He has a half a mind to go back to the bonfire and scream at Thomas. He would scream and kick and punch the brunet until his face was permanently damaged. The boy made his blood boil every time he sees him, and he wouldn’t regret doing it.
He lets himself relax after imagining Thomas’s death a few times, and falls asleep.
~*~
Okay so he didn’t mean of that.
He couldn’t think of Thomas’s death and not feel remorse.
He would give himself willingly before Thomas to keep the boy safe. He would jump in front of a bullet for him.
These thoughts flooded his mind as he and the other gladers wait outside of the maze. Minho had gotten back just two minutes ago, and didn’t know where the bubbly brunet was. He had thought Thomas was right behind him, but he was obviously wrong.
They all wait at the entrance quietly listening for movements or screams coming from within to show that Thomas was close. They waited for footsteps to echo, but instead they heard the familiar sound of the maze changing like it usually does before the doors close.
Newt had his eyes widened, trying to keep hold of his jumping nerves, and his leg seemed to be hurting ten times as worse than it normally does.
He felt so guilty.
The last thing he said to Thomas was calling him a slinthead and bloody saying that he would make sure he didn’t make it back into the maze. Thomas had done a simple joke on him, and he was having death fantasies about the boy.
Now said boy could actually die in a matter of hours by being stuck in the maze.
Guilt and regret rotted his brain like a disease.
He eyes the corridor they saw into the maze. He notices every detail and prays repeatedly that he’d see a shadow coming around the corner. That maybe he’d hear a scream, a yell, a cry for help, or something.
Screw the rules.
He didn’t care how irritating, obnoxious, nagging, and annoying the boy was. He would go into the maze, that held his deepest, darkest thoughts, to save him. He would go in there and bring Thomas back without a scratch.
His heart stops when he hears machines in the walls start to move. They were going to close in a matter of minutes.
"Do you hear that?"
Newt jerks his head in the direction of the voice almost giving himself whiplash. It was Ben, and he was observing into the maze with a squint. His mouth and eyes widen and he points forward.
"Look!"
Newt looks down the hall and his whole body freezes when he sees Thomas run around the corner and sprint to them. His legs looked off balance and it made Newt shake in nervousness knowing that Thomas could faint in exhaustion any minute now. He was sweating bullets, and the rest of his body just grew more careless and his steps grew sloppy. Newt stood there frozen listening to the other gladers scream for him to get here now.
The doors were starting to close when Thomas finally makes his way through the entrance. Some gladers were cheering, some were calling him stupid, but Newt didn’t hear any of them. They were drowned out in his mind as he runs to Thomas, who was standing there shaking trying to catch a breath. People move out of his way as he runs up to the fatigued runner. He doesn’t realize until seconds later that he had his arms wrapped tightly around Thomas’s neck embracing him.
Newt goes to his knees following Thomas when he seems to have lost all of his energy. He pulls Thomas close to let him lean on him. He grunts when Thomas leans all of his weight on him, but he adjusts to hold him up.
"You stupid shank exhausting yourself like this and letting yourself almost get bloody killed," Newt scolds as he holds Thomas’s face with both of his hands. Thomas looked completely out of it, but his eyes were on him showing that he was listening slightly. Thomas’s eyebrows furrow.
Newt doesn’t really know how his lips suddenly smashed against the fatigue boy’s lips. He doesn’t know how his hands ended up in Thomas’s sweaty hair. He didn’t stop himself though, because the tired boy was kissing back. Not much energy was being put into the kiss by him, but Newt was fine with that. He tasted the sweat on the boy’s lips, and he couldn’t careless.
Thomas was okay and he was here.
He’s pulled back in reality when he doesn’t hear anything around them. He pulls away causing Thomas to lean his head against his shoulder for support. Newt looks around to find the other gladers staring and gawking at him. His face reddens, and he couldn’t recall what exactly happened just now.
His second in command instincts shot up his spine, and his face hardens while his body still stayed lax to keep Thomas comfortable in his arms.
"Is someone going to get Thomas here some water and food, or am I going to have to do this all by myself?"
He turns his head looking at Thomas to check for injuries to hide his smirk from them as they move to follow his orders.