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Thomas knows his hands are shaking.
His whole body is, really--he’s exhausted, hurting, and each step feels heavier than the last.
But he can’t stop now.
“Thomas.” Minho--no, Minho’s unconscious, bleeding--the only thing keeping him alive is makeshift bandages and Thomas’s hand, covered in rapidly-cooling blood.
He never wants to feel the texture of drying blood on his hands again.
Minho watches him. He thinks it might be getting a little creepy, but honestly, this is the first time he’s had a chance to really look at Thomas. (And, no, he doesn’t have a crush, Newt. Thomas is his soulmate, he’s pretty sure, but their marks haven’t appeared yet. He’s not sure Thomas even realizes it.)
He’s heard the story a hundred times from Sonya--how Thomas had carried him back, how he’d refused care until Minho was stable.
(Which was just stupid of him. It’s not like Minho was on the verge of death.)
Thomas hasn’t woken up since they convinced him to lay down.
“He was awake for at least a week, Minho. He’ll be out for a while yet.” Miyoko pauses. “He still thinks we can find a way out.”
She seems to think Thomas’s determination is out of place.
“He’s right,” Minho says. “They put us here to find a way out, and then put us back. What else could they want?”
“All their test subjects relatively safe in one spot? For the world at large not to know what they’re doing?”
“We’re just a bunch of orphaned kids, Miyoko, what makes you think they would care?”
“Well, maybe they have kids that WICKED would take. Stop watching him all the time. What do you think he’ll do when he wakes up?”
“Probably ask if I’m okay.” He’s always done that.
If Newt hadn’t noticed his ear bleeding after the lightning storm, he never would have said anything about not being able to hear out of one ear.
Minho finds the little scar, left by WICKED when they’d fixed it after he’d been shot.
He knows Thomas hates it.
“I think I’d like to be alone now.” He tells Miyoko.
“He can’t even do anything, Minho. He might not…”
“He’ll wake up.”
Thomas stares at Minho’s back. It’s been a while (none of them are sure how long), and the scars have faded some, but the thicker ones are eye-catching.
(He likes to trace the smaller ones with his eyes, the ones he can only find because he knows where they are.)
“Minho, are you coming or not?” Newt calls, impatient.
Where is Minho going?
“Thomas is fine, he can be left without a minder for a while. He doesn’t care anyway.” Minho turns to grab his shirt, and Thomas sees the bandages pasted to his side.
Oh, klunk, he’d nearly died--he’d thought they’d both die before they got back, but Minho’s fine. He’s safe.
Thomas realizes he doesn’t know if he’s alive. Sure, he feels okay, but wouldn’t a ghost also feel okay?
“Newt, I’m going to take a raincheck on that one.”
“Bloody hell, Minho, stop it! I know you want Thomas to wake up, but--” Newt flings the curtain open and stares at him.
Well, he must not be a ghost then.
“No, you’re not a ghost, Thomas. Just a shucking idiot.”
Thomas passes out again.
Minho would like to say he didn’t freak out when he turned around to see Thomas staring at him intently, only to have him collapse again a minute later.
“Out, Minho, Newt, out.” Clint waves them out so he and Harriet can make sure Thomas is okay.
“Newt, what was that?”
“That was Tommy proving that he’s really done it this time,” Newt says dryly. “He’ll be fine.”
That’s all they’ve been telling him about Thomas, but sleeping--nearly completely unmoving, which is so unlike Thomas--for a week and a half, waking up for maybe a minute, and then passing out again doesn’t seem very fine to Minho.
“Seriously, Minho, I’m banning you from seeing him for more than a few minutes.” Clint won’t let him in. Newt and Sonya get to go in, and even Miyoko (who doesn’t even like Thomas all that much) and Frankie (who encourages Thomas to do dumb things far more than he would like) have visited him.
“Why?”
“Because he hasn’t wanted to see anyone for more than a few minutes. And he’s still falling asleep pretty randomly.”
Minho doesn’t even mind if Thomas falls asleep. He kind of just wants to stare at him until he’s sure he’s okay again.
…Yeah, that’s a little creepy.
“Hey, Thomas. I hear you saved my life.” I hear you saved my life? That’s so lame. It’s dumb. And Thomas knows that already, anyway.
Minho thinks he might be glad when Clint kicks him out, right now.
“Was I… not supposed to?” Thomas squints at him.
“No, that’s--” He starts over. “Thomas, what I meant was thank you. I don’t know how you did it, but you dragged me back.” It’s something Thomas would do for anyone, he thinks; he’d done it for Alby without knowing him.
“I’m surprised Clint’s let you out yet.” Thomas gestures weakly to his side.
“You did well with that, too, Thomas.” Hasn’t anyone told him that? “I’m already mostly healed.”
The awkwardness of seeing Minho doesn’t fade when he’s allowed to move around. Minho doesn’t seem to know what to say or do around him anymore.
It wasn’t, in retrospect, the worst life-or-death experience they’ve had together. Nowhere near it.
Thomas doesn’t tell Minho that his hands still shake nearly constantly.
Clint can’t figure out what it is, but Newt keeps trying to talk to him about soulmates.
He and Alby had been soulmates, but Thomas doesn’t know *what* that means. He doesn’t know if they were marked, or anything about it.
That’s one of the things WICKED decided they didn’t need to keep, beyond the fact that soulmates exist.
Asking Harriet or Sonya would just be weird; he likes them, but it feels too… personal for them.
Maybe he should actually start listening to Newt.
“Minho, go move Thomas’s things to your room. He’s still shaky all the time.”
Thomas is going to get Clint for this. He really is.
When, he doesn’t know, but it’ll happen.
“Thomas, I didn’t know things were still that bad.” Minho frowns at him, and Thomas hates that look.
“Clint can’t figure it out.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. Newt keeps trying to tell me things about him and Alby, but I can’t think of why.” Minho freezes when he says that, like he’s just figured it out.
“I’ll talk to Newt, okay? You look tired.”
It was only two flights of stairs.
He is tired.
Why does Minho always know these things?
“I’ll come and check on you before dinner,” Minho promises. “Don’t worry about taking over the bed.”
He doesn’t know why, but it feels easier, better, to sleep here.
Minho almost decks Newt when he sees him.
“Newt, he didn’t know about soulmates. What were you doing?”
“He knew about me and Alby.” Newt counters, calm as always. “It’s not my fault he hasn’t realized yet. Sonya has an idea of what it could be. He shouldn’t still be this bad off. I thought if he figured it out, things might get better.”
“Clint doesn’t know what it is, why hasn’t Sonya told him?”
“He didn’t believe her. You know my mark is all but gone, because Alby’s dead. Harriet and Sonya are marked, but don’t spread it around. We don’t have many soulmate pairs, Minho.”
He knows. It had been a big deal when Newt and Alby got their marks.
None of them understand anything about them, and that was years ago.
“I’m going to talk to Sonya.”
“Soulmate sickness.” She tells him, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Harriet and I have learned how to work with it, to use it and not get sick, but Thomas didn’t know he was doing it. The marks need conscious acknowledgment of the bond to assume their final forms.”
“I know that,” Minho says.
“Let me explain everything.” Sonya waits a minute. He’s not stupid enough to say anything else.
“Thomas saved your life. You should have died, Minho, and you know it. You lost too much blood.”
“No, he got me back in time.”
“He only did that because he was helping you the whole time. Harriet and I can transfer energy between each other. We have to be touching, and we only do it sparingly. Harriet told me you healed a lot faster than normal. Thomas, meanwhile, should be okay, right? He’s not. He’s shaky and weak, he’s not eating enough, and he sleeps way more than he should be at this point.”
“He didn’t have a limit.” Minho whispers. Thomas had been so focused on keeping him alive that he’d managed to force himself to do it.
At the expense of his own health.
“How can I fix it? How can I help him?” Sonya shakes her head.
“You can’t give it back, it doesn’t work like that. Be around him. It only works with physical contact, like I said. Harriet and I, we’ve both overdone it a few times. In the aftermath, touching each other a lot, skin-to-skin contact, leveled things out without us thinking about it.”
“I’m going to bring dinner up to him tonight. Thanks, Sonya.”
Minho’s not going to let Thomas suffer if he can help it.
Frypan gives him a knowing look when he asks for a tray.
“Gally and I are soulmates, you know. We kept it quieter than Newt and Alby. Our marks aren’t exactly obvious, either. How long have you known?”
“I don’t think I realized what it was until very recently. Thomas just doesn’t know more than the basics.”
“And you do? Newt and Alby kept a lot of that private, you know. Just… it’s the sort of thing you figure out as you go.”
Yeah, Minho thinks pretty much everything he and Thomas have done is ‘figuring it out as they go.’ They’ll be fine.
That thought doesn’t last long, because by the time he reaches his room, Thomas is already asleep. He doesn’t want to wake him up to eat.
“Minho?” Thomas rolls over when he shuts the door, blinking at him.
“I got us dinner. You can go back to sleep, after.” Minho sets the tray down and resists the urge to help Thomas sit up. Now that he’s paying attention, he can see the way Thomas struggling to hold his own weight up, that even moving a little bit is taking all his energy.
“Thanks, Minho.” He tries to get up, to move to the little table, but Minho doesn’t let him.
“Stay in bed, Thomas, you’re going to fall back asleep right away anyway.”
He lays out the tray on Thomas’s lap, letting him pick what he wants to eat first. It’s worrying little.
Thomas wouldn’t be doing this badly if it weren’t for him. But no, Thomas had to decide to save his life and now he can’t move without tiring himself out.
“Minho?” Thomas whispers, like speaking any louder would be too much. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, Thomas, I’m fine. I’ve healed up well, didn’t even need my stitches for that long. Clint thinks he can take the bandages off next week.”
“Good that.”
“Thomas, what about you? You were out for so long, are you sure you’re not hurt anywhere?”
“I like to think that Clint and Harriet would have noticed that.” Thomas leans back against the bed. “No, I’m not. I’m just… tired.”
“Then sleep.” Minho tells him, moving the tray. “Do you want the other pillow?”
Minho goes to take the tray back to Frypan, but Thomas’s voice stops him. “Don’t leave. Please.”
“I’m not leaving, Thomas.” He sits on the empty spot on the bed--it’s not that big, it will be a tight fit if they share. “Why did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Save me.”
“I couldn’t lose you, Minho.” Thomas mumbles, more into the pillow than anything. “Please don’t leave.”
“I’m not leaving,” He repeats, throat feeling tight. “I’m not leaving. Do you want me to lay down with you?”
“Yes.” Thomas turns and reaches for him, and seeing his arm shake, even just from that, makes Minho feel even worse. Thomas has done all this, sacrificing his strength and his health, because he loved Minho so much. And there’s nothing Minho can do about it but give it time and comfort, if Thomas will let him.
Thomas doesn’t even know about soulmates. He doesn’t know about how they work, or anything. What if he rejects the bond?
Why would he do that, though, when he’s already used it?
As soon as Minho is under the blanket, Thomas is trying to curl into him, and, shuck, he’s so *cold*. Minho knows he runs hot, but he doesn’t think humans are meant to be this temperature.
“Thomas, are you feeling okay?”
“Yes. Just want you near.” Thomas’s speech is half-slurred, his head on Minho’s shoulder.
“Okay, Thomas. We can do that.” He puts an arm around Thomas’s waist, pulling him a little closer. “If you need anything, wake me up, okay? I’ve got you, Thomas.” There’s no answer, but when he looks down, Thomas has already fallen asleep.
Minho knows it won’t be that easy for him.
Minho wakes up before Thomas, which he guesses is to be expected. Thomas needs a lot of rest to regain his energy.
Somehow during the night, however, Thomas’s cold hands slid under his shirt, and Thomas himself is no longer half on top of Minho--now he’s under him, like they rolled in their sleep or something.
Thomas’s face is less tense than it was the day before.
Minho can move, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to stay here and talk to Thomas and figure everything out.
So he does.
Thomas wakes up to find that at some point, Minho’s rolled on top of him. The pressure is actually… kind of nice? He doesn’t mind that.
And then he realizes his hands are warm for the first time in days, which means…
He stuck his hands under Minho’s shirt.
It’s a good thing he woke up before Minho, because he’s not sure he’ll live that down anytime soon.
He doesn’t try to push Minho off of him, just pulls his hands away, tucking them under the pillow instead.
This wakes Minho up, unfortunately.
“Thomas?” Why is he even cuter when he’s just waking up? That’s not fair. “Are you okay? No nightmares or anything?” Minho doesn’t even seem to realize how they were sleeping, so focused on checking on Thomas.
“No, no nightmares. I slept fine.” Better than usual, actually. He can’t remember the last time he slept this well.
Minho rolls off of him, keeping an arm around his waist.
Minho’s not… Minho doesn’t know. He can’t know.
“It must be nearly lunchtime, we slept in so late.”
“Why didn’t anyone come to get us?”
“Because I’m still healing and you’ve looked like you’re about to fall over for the past few days? You look a little better today, but I’ll go grab us food.”
“I can come with you, Minho, I’m fine.” Thomas pushes himself up, purposefully pulling away from Minho’s arm. “You don’t need to baby me.”
“I’m not, but you’re still exhausted, Thomas. Look at your arms.”
He doesn’t need to look, he can feel it. They’re shaking again, better than yesterday, but it’s still bad.
“I can do it, Minho.” He knows he sounds pitiful, but he just wants things to go back to normal again.
As if he ever knew what normal is.
Minho lets Thomas borrow some of his clothes and he’s pretty sure the only thing stopping him from offering to help put them on is Thomas’s glare.
He gets down the stairs and outside just fine on his own, but on the walk to the kitchens, he starts feeling ill again. Not like he’s going to be sick, just… bad.
Minho grabs him around the waist and pulls him close, taking most of his weight.
He shouldn’t be. Minho’s injured himself, he doesn’t need to be helping Thomas.
“Hey, Sonya, watch him for a minute while I grab lunch? He started looking like he was gonna fall over about halfway here and even sitting down I think he still might.”
“Oh, it’s worse than I thought,” Sonya murmurs, studying his face. “Why didn’t you stay inside, Thomas?”
“I thought I could make it.” He whispers. He knows the shaking has gotten worse again, and that she’s tracking every movement. “I don’t want Minho to have to be with me all the time. I don’t know when this will go away.”
“What if he wants to be with you all the time?” She asks. “He’s your friend, Thomas, and he likes you. Why wouldn’t he want to help you?”
Because I’m the reason he’s stuck here in the first place?
He doesn’t know if she knows that, though, and he doesn’t want to tell her.
He doesn’t want to lose anyone else.
“Is Harriet around? I don’t want to take him back without someone checking him over.” Minho sets a plate of food down--toast, applesauce, and water.
He’s not going to be able to eat the applesauce, his hands are shaking too much. He’ll just spill it everywhere.
He breaks the toast into pieces and chews slowly while Minho and Sonya talk. He doesn’t have the energy to join the conversation.
At some point, Harriet comes over and watches him for a minute, then takes his pulse.
“He really just needs rest. Thomas, don’t make me make it an order. Eat your applesauce and you can go back to sleep.”
He can’t sleep out here. That’s ridiculous.
And he can’t eat his applesauce, either.
“Minho, you should have locked him in.”
“I’ll remember that tomorrow,” Minho says. “Come on, let’s get you back.”
After Sonya leaves, it’s hard to convince Thomas to eat the applesauce.
“I can’t.”
“Why not? You won’t spill it if I’m holding it, Thomas.”
He’s already half-asleep again, and Minho might just let him sleep if he’d eaten anything more than toast in the past day.
“Please, Thomas.”
Eventually, he settles for feeding Thomas half the applesauce before letting him sleep. Minho doesn’t have anything else to do, so when Thomas reaches for him again, he goes. He wraps himself around Thomas and watches as his face smoothes out.
He looks so young when he’s asleep.
Minho doesn’t sleep himself, but knowing he’s helping Thomas is enough.
Harriet stops by again--Clint doesn’t know why Thomas is like this, and it seems she hasn’t told him.
“Being soulmates is a private thing. Forming the bond and soulmate sicknesses isn’t something we deal with a lot anyway. He doesn’t need to know unless you want to tell him.”
“Thomas doesn't even know. At least, I don’t think he does. Newt was trying to tell him, in a roundabout way, but it didn’t click.”
“Well, you’re helping. His color’s better and his pulse isn’t so slow anymore. Hopefully, when he wakes up again he’ll eat more.”
They talk quietly for a few more minutes before Harriet has to leave.
“How’s that going for you, Min?” Newt startles him from his gazing at Thomas daze.
“I haven’t said anything to him yet. He’s been sleeping a lot.”
“Well, wake him up. I brought food.” Newt sits on the edge of the bed, putting the plate right on Thomas’s chest.
“Hmm? Minho? Do I have to get up again?”
“No, and I told you to stay here the first time, shank. Newt brought us food.” Thomas is able to prop himself up, leaving Minho to catch the plate before it falls.
“Thanks, Newt.” Thomas yawns. He looks a lot better. Maybe they can talk before dinner.
“You better eat all of it, now.” Newt fakes being stern.
“I can try, Newt.” Thomas laughs a little. “I haven’t wanted to do anything but sleep for a while.” He doesn’t pull away from Minho as he eats, which he takes as a win.
Maybe this won’t be such a hard conversation to start after all.
“That’s what you get when you don’t sleep for days.”
“Hey, we’re both alive, aren’t we?” Thomas leans into Minho a little more.
“Yes, you bloody well are.” Newt looks like he wants to say something more, but he stops himself. “Well, Tommy, it was nice seeing you awake, but you know how it is.”
“Have fun being in charge, Newt!” Thomas loves to make fun of him for that. Like there hadn’t been signs everywhere in the Scorch proclaiming him the leader.
“I won’t!”
When they’re alone, Thomas offers some of the food to Minho.
It’s not even half-gone.
“Sure, I’ll take a bite.” He only takes a small piece.
“Minho?”
“Yeah, shank?”
“Newt was telling me about him and Alby being soulmates because we’re soulmates, wasn’t he?”
Well. That’s not where he was expecting this to go.
“Yes, he was.”
“How long have you known?”
“I haven’t been sure for very long, but before that, I was hoping that if I had a soulmate it was you.”
Thomas tilts his head back to look at him. “Really?”
“Really, Thomas. I kind of wanted to kiss you when we all got out, but that wasn’t the time.”
“Why haven’t you done it since?”
“I didn’t know how you felt, and I didn’t want to say anything.”
“The soulmate thing--that’s why you healed so quickly.”
“That’s what Harriet thinks. You were only able to get me back in time because of soulmate bond stuff. She and Sonya have their marks, too. ”
“I’m glad we’re soulmates, then.” Thomas twists, studying his face intently.
“May I-?” Minho whispers, bringing a hand up to Thomas’s face, the other on his back, keeping him steady.
Thomas nods, and this isn’t the time to count the freckles on his face, so Minho kisses him instead.
When Thomas pulls away, it’s to set the plate down.
He’s not trembling anymore.
“Minho,” Thomas’s fingers run across the inside of his right wrist, and Minho reciprocates the action with his opposite hand. “What do we do now?”
“Nothing.” There’s nothing they can do, unless they want to make a big deal out of it. “We’re soulmates, Thomas, and no one can do anything about it.” There’s a lightness where Thomas’s fingers are, and when he glances down, he can see their mark forming: It’s a dark green heart overlaid with a square blue maze.
On Thomas’s left wrist, the mark is the same.
“Well, at least we’ll always know how to hold hands.” Thomas grabs Minho’s hand tightly. “Minho?”
“Yeah, Thomas?”
“Do we have to tell anyone else about this?”
“Nah, let’s let them think we haven’t talked about it yet.” Thomas giggles and Minho wants to hear that sound forever. He wants to memorize it.
He has the rest of his life to do that.
(It takes a month before anyone actually sees their wrists. Newt and Sonya lock them in no fewer than five bedrooms during this time. Thomas grins the whole time when they realize they’ve been had, and Minho can’t stop himself from laughing.
Coming back here had felt like his worst nightmare.
Turns out, it’s a fever dream--but the best kind, because it’s real.)