Chapter Text
One thing Thomas always hated about working in the city all those years ago was light pollution. He loved lights, but the fluorescent lights of the city gave him headaches, too much of an eyesore to truly be appreciated. Which is why now in Safe Haven he would slip out of his bunk in the dead of night to go stargaze on the beach. When he was lifted up to the Glade by W.I.C.K.E.D. he found comfort in the synthetic stars, and even now after everything he’s been through, he still does, and considering now that he remembers why it brings even more solace.
Because Thomas has always hated light pollution.
He confessed this to Newt once, while they were in the city trying to kidnap Teresa. As he furled his toes into the sand the memory came wading back like the waves in front of him.
“God, I hate light pollution.” Thomas mumbled, leaning on the railings of the terrace they were perched upon, waiting on Gally to show up with a telescope. Newt laughed,
“Light pollution? What is that, are you just making up stuff Tommy or is this some more science mumbo jumbo that I don’t know about.” Thomas rolled his eyes and turned to face Newt before explaining his ‘science mumbo jumbo’,
“Unfortunately, it’s very real science mumbo jumbo that has been affecting the world since the first candle was lit. Before all these yucky LED lights came about you could actually see stars in the sky-”
“Like we could back in the Scorch?”
“Yes! Exactly like we could back in the Scorch.”
“Well, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re a right and proper nerd Tommy. No wonder you wouldn’t shut up about constellations every night once you got all your memories back.” Thomas pushed Newt’s shoulder as they both shared and chuckle,
“Shut up, you thought it was interesting. Even asked me a bunch of questions.”
“Questions ‘bout what?” Gally said entering the terrace and interrupting the conversation Newt and Thomas were having.
“Oh nothing, they were just questions about a bunch of science mumbo jumbo.” Thomas looked away from Newt and back out at the city he hated, looking away from the boy he loved.
A sharp pain jolted through his body. Not just at remembering Newt but at feeling the jagged edge of a random seashell pierce through his foot. Thomas hobbled away from his current spot in the sand and towards the bitter cold ocean to keep the wound somewhat clean, and to feel the sting of the salt and the icy bite of the water. It was a nice distraction from remembering Newt some more.
Thomas loved the stars, but more than anything, he loved Newt. Having to kill him was the greatest pain he had ever known; he tries to tell himself it wasn’t him; it was a cranked-out monster and not Newt, but the breathless ‘ Tommy’ that was said will always remind him that he was still in there. Brenda, rushing through the flames to bring the cure, let him know there was almost a chance. The implied confirmation from Dr. Ava Paige that he could have saved Newt haunts him to this day. The only thing that remains is the stars. Constant, familiar, forever, like what Newt was supposed to be, could have been.
It’s a sick and sadistic way to bring a person comfort, but Thomas didn’t care, he’d rather spend his sleepless nights moping on the beach comparing Newt to the stars instead of stifling his sobs, so Minho won’t hear. It’s more poetic to imagine Newt still around, still alive, as a star blinking in the night than to picture his death over and over in nightmares.
As Thomas continued to stargaze, he witnessed a rarity, a shooting star. Of course, his scientist mind immediately told him it wasn’t actually a star and that it was a meteor but the newly discovered poet in him closed his eyes and made a wish. Wished that it was Newt passing by in the night and not some stupid space rock, he wished that Newt would stand with him and be his glue again, to put all these shattered pieces of his back together again.
Thomas opened his eyes and let his tears fall into the frothy water below. Wishing his friend back from the dead was almost as delusional as seeing him in the stars. Maybe Thomas wasn’t a scientist, or a poet. Maybe he was just insane. He wrapped his bomber jacket tighter around him, in semblance to a strait jacket or to combat the freezing wind that had picked up, he wasn’t sure.
“Life sucks without you Newt. It really does.” Thomas said to the now faded shooting star, “There’s been no good in my life since that shitty flight inside the burg where I left you to die and-” He stopped. He didn’t want to admit the part where he fought the medics with what little strength he had before passing out. Prying their working hands off of him to prevent the preservation of his life, so he could see Newt, be with him again.
He remembers Minho asking him about it, asking him why he did that.
“The scientist in me wanted to see if there really was an afterlife, I guess it was all a little overwhelming especially after being in that lab again.” Was the lie Thomas told Minho.
Minho didn’t believe him. However, Minho never brought it up with Thomas again.
“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that you changed me, kept me glued together, and nothing can stop me the same you did. And now I just feel...” He picked up the shell shard that gave his foot a good stab earlier and was currently washing up next to him looking for another round, “Like a shell of myself.” He said sardonically chucking the shell out into the sea hoping it would get buried somewhere deep and never reaches shore again.
He was starting to lose feeling in his toes so he waded out of the water and dug around in his pocket for a convenient piece of cloth he might have stuffed in there ages ago. Fortunately, Thomas knew himself too well and found said abandoned cloth and quickly wrapped his foot to prevent any more debris from entering the wound.
Suddenly a small speck of white landed on the tip of his big toe. More of the same substance started fluttering down before either making purchase on the sand or disintegrating in the ocean.
“Snow...” Thomas whispered, catching a piece in his hand before it melted from the heat of his palm.
Thomas didn’t have too many fond memories of snow; the last time he saw his mother it had been snowing. During the battle at W.I.C.K.E.D. it had been snowing. The little pieces of ice falling down enveloping Newt’s body, attempting to bury him prematurely.
So, while normal, not insane, people found an odd enchantment in snow, Thomas saw nothing but another reminder of everything he’d lost. Of all the love he lost. However, that sadistic poet in him still stood, careful not to injure his foot further, and watched as the flakes danced around each other. As devastating as the reminder was, he couldn’t help but find the sight beautiful. The contrast of (usually) warm beach to powdery snow was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It should have been weird; it should have sent him spiraling either down a scientific rabbit hole on how the Flare forever fucked the climate for the world to be able to produce this phenomenon or into a massive breakdown that brought the kind of hurt the seashell’s damage couldn’t compare too.
Instead, he continued to marvel at the scene before him, feeling like he was in a dream world, one where he could fly, or one where Newt was alive, and nothing was awful, and they could be together and look at the stars and be happy, they could be whole.
Of course, all of that was just that, a stupid, impossible, far-fetched dream. Newt died, and he wasn’t going to come back, no matter how much Thomas wanted him to.
The flurry started picking up in pace and now there was an actual layer of snow covering the sand, and Thomas still didn’t have any shoes. He had been so enraptured by his own thoughts and the snow he hadn’t noticed his feet slowly going numb. Thomas carefully treaded back to Safe Haven’s huts to... to what? To retrieve his shoes and come back? To sit in his bed and continue to watch the snow fall from the warmth of his covers? All of it felt so silly, but he really didn’t feel like losing any toes not after what happened to-
Thomas stopped dead in his tracks, ignoring the searing numbness of his feet. There were footprints leading away from the forest way off to Thomas’ right. Abandoning his quest for shoes, Thomas curiously followed the impressions wanting to know who else is out at this time of night. It wasn’t too long before he caught sight of a lanky figure standing on one of the larger boulders that overlook the coast. As Thomas crept closer to whoever it was, he could start to make out more than just a standing shadow. He could see the shape of a wind breaker, the jagged outline of cargo pants and combat boots. A cloud shifted and put light on them, and Thomas could now see the amicable golden glow of unruly blonde hair.
There’s no way it could be him.
“Newt?” Thomas exhaled, the words practically just fog that left his lungs. He was in such a state of shock and disbelief he was almost certain this was his lack of sleep finally catching up to him, taking his fantasies and turning them into a physical manifestation.
The figure whipped around and that same beam of moonlight cast shadows all across familiar sharp features.
Newt was fucking alive.
“Tommy?”
Thomas stumbled back, once, twice, finally landing on his bottom before wincing at the sudden impact.
There’s no fucking way. There’s just no fucking way!
Newt, alive, standing just in front of him, looking the same and well and no trace of black ooze that was an excuse for blood in his veins.
He was the most hauntingly beautiful thing Thomas had ever witnessed.
Newt crept closer almost in a state of disbelief himself.
“Tommy is that really you?” Thomas nodded at Newt’s question, his windpipes suddenly rivaling the Scorch in dryness. Newt let out this symphony of a laugh before kneeling in front of him.
This moment truly felt like something out of a movie, one of the cheesy ones Brenda stole from a warehouse somewhere and secretly watched when she thought no one was around. The two just kind of sat there, on the frozen sand just looking at each other, Newt practically glowing with delight and Thomas still dumbfounded and his throat rendered useless.
Some flash of light caught Thomas’ eye and he flicked them upwards noticing a new phenomena occurring in this film esque scene.
“Aurora borealis.” Thomas stated, finally finding his voice.
“What?” Newt snorted.
“Aurora borealis, that’s uh, that’s what that is. That green flashy light stuff up in the sky right now.” Newt turned over his shoulder to see what Thomas was talking about and Thomas stared at the light being reflected in Newt’s dark eyes. Everything else around him blurred in that moment, his sole focus being Newt and his delicate jaw and pointed nose and high cheekbones and his round wide eyes that are so full of mesmerism he could practically drown in it. The sheer tangibility of his wonder was something Thomas wanted to bottle up and keep forever, afraid he would never get this again.
Newt still felt like a dream, even though he was very very real.
Thomas then reached out to touch Newt’s hair, he needed to feel him, to know for sure that he wasn’t just a really convincing mirage.
He definitely wasn’t. From what Thomas could tell just by carding his hands through the fine hairs at the nape of Newt’s neck he was incredibly warm, even though Newt was always the one with cold hands.
Thomas was so caught up in the realness of Newt he didn’t notice that he had stopped looking at the sky and was now looking at Thomas. Newt always thought Thomas was beautiful, every quip about him being an ugly shank was just Newt ignoring the fact that Thomas was truly beautiful. His pageant winning smile and his perfect nose and the beauty mark on the left side of his face that Newt always wanted to kiss when Thomas laughed.
Thomas noticed Newt’s staring a pulled his hand out of his hair and turned away from Newt, now smiling shyly.
“What? Why are so you embarrassed all of a sudden?” Newt asked, his voice low and accent just as thick as it was before. Thomas shook his head laughing to himself a little, teetering on the edge of hysterics.
“I just can’t believe you’re real, I’m still trying to wrap my head around you being alive. How are you alive? I-I killed you,” Thomas was really losing it now, “I killed you and W.I.C.K.E.D. blew up, and now you’re here and I’m smiling for the first time in months and you’re alive .” Newt saw now that Thomas was crying, still smiling that award worthy smile, but tears streaming down his face none the less.
“No, no, Tommy you didn’t kill me. That was... that wasn’t me, and as for living and escaping... I’m still not quite sure of the details myself. I vaguely remember someone standing over me, injecting me with something. It was blue I think. They were a girl too, had a girly voice at least and they told me to, ‘Stand the fuck up and get out before it was too late.’ so with some freak adrenaline and blue juice-”
“Ew, Newt that’s what they put in toilets” Thomas sniffled regaining himself a bit.
“Well hell if I know, I just came back from the dead!” Newt defended, not really upset because he knew Thomas wasn’t making fun of him.
“You’re completely right, I apologize, please continue.”
“I’m always right you shank, and thank you, however I was basically finished. Powered by adrenaline and blue juice,” Newt narrowed his eyes at Thomas and Thomas giggled, it sounded wrong, unpracticed, like it really had been months since his Tommy was happy, “I ran, or hobbled, for the hills. I stumbled out of that bloody city and watched as some terrorist blew the place up. Some of the fellows who didn’t feeling like killing themselves asked me to join them while they went to search for a new life, and I said yes. They patched me up and now I’m here. I really only got here maybe yesterday, time’s a bit of a fuzzy concept for me still but I was always able to have some idea thanks to you and your science mumbo jumbo about stars.” Thomas flushed under the praise, even if it wasn’t delivered that way. Newt also noticed that Thomas was grinning again, and according to Thomas that wasn’t an action he was capable of performing since the day Newt technically died.
“Have I ever told you that I love your smile?” Newt said, breaking the small moment of silence.
“No, you haven’t...”
“Well, I love your smile. There, now I have.” Thomas’ grin widened at that, and Newt wanted to kiss that stupid mole on his left cheek again. Instead, he got decked by a handful of snow and sand, “What the bloody hell?” Another fistful came at him, and Thomas was laughing mercilessly, “Oh you little shit, you’ll pay for this!”
“Uh huh, sure try and hit more, or is that still a bit fuzzy for you-” Thomas took a hit right to the gut, both of them trying to avoid each other’s faces. Because they were still aware of their beach surroundings or because they were both stupid in love with each other and were still trying to play nice even while chucking balls of sand and snow at each other, the answer will forever remain unclear. However in this moment Thomas has never felt more true to himself, for the first time in months he isn't faking smiles. Thomas is finally, truly, happy again.
And it's all because of Newt.
Thomas eventually remembers he's at an extreme disadvantage because of the wound in his foot and the fact he still has no shoes on. So, he does what any normal person would do in this situation and he trips. Newt laughs at him and tosses his wad of sand/snow towards the ocean and extends a hand to help Thomas up. Thomas fights the playful urge within him to tug Newt down as well and accepts the hand in front of him. Apparently in Newt's absence (which was previously known as his death) Thomas forgot how strong Newt was. Underneath his lithe figure was a hidden strength that many people ignored or simply didn't notice.
How could have Thomas forgotten one of his favorite things about him?
Especially now as their noses barely brush against each other and they're both left speechless and looking into each other's eyes. Eyes that Thomas loved so much, eyes that Thomas missed getting lost in. And Newt, equally as dumbfounded at getting to see the tiny specks of green and gold in Thomas' eyes.
Both boys were in fear of speaking, both bewitched by each other's gravity and afraid to break this spell neither knew the other cast on each other. For so long both spent too much time wishing for chances like this and now that it was here every wish that was made was suddenly as delicate as glass, if one of them closed their eyes and wished for the other to do something, anything it just might jinx what's been created.
But Thomas never could help himself.
So, he took a deep breath through his nose, let his eyes flicker downwards to look at Newt's lips before looking back up into his eyes, those beautiful other worldly eyes. That were currently trained on him, and only him.
Thomas was unsure of a lot of things, but the way he felt about Newt right now was the surest he had ever felt about anything, so with a slow exhale, he spoke,
"I'm in love with you." His words barely a whisper, but with their near nonexistent distance Newt heard them clear as the dawn rising before them.
"I'm in love with you too."
Silence. Thomas shuddered. He still had no shoes on.
"Can I kiss you?"
Newt's expression remained the same. Breathless and gentle, still scared to shatter this moment.
"Please."
Then Thomas did. He rushed in being pulled in by the magenetic force that is Newt and Newt returned with the same fervor. It wasn't rough however, it still contained that same tentative energy that they had earlier, but new ground was being paved as they slowly melded into each other.
Familiar, safe, comfortable.
Cold.
Newt stopped kissing Thomas because he simply would not stop shuddering. Concerned, Newt gave Thomas a once over before landing on his bare feet.
"Tommy... you've got no shoes on." Newt stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world, Newt looked back up at Thomas and saw the guilty look on his face.
"I wasn't expecting snow?"
"Tommy, you idiot, I thought you were supposed to be a scientist, shouldn't you be able to predict the weather?" Thomas laughed.
"Just because I studied multiple fields of science doesn't mean I studied them all. I don't know everything you know."
"Yes, you do Tommy, just like how I'm always right." They looked at each other in silence again, letting the snow continue to fall and Thomas' feet continue to freeze.
"Yeah, I guess, you're right."
"Exactly, now let's get you and your feet warm, then we can surprise everyone tomorrow." The pair began walking off towards Safe Haven.
"Surprise them with what, you? Or us." Thomas asked, not really expecting an answer, he knew it was going to be about Newt being alive, but his scientist curiosity couldn't help but need to know what they were. Yes, they kissed, yes, they said they were in love with each other, but does that make them an us?
"Both." Newt said after considering Thomas' words, "Yeah, definitely both."
Thomas couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, Newt quickly dove in and kissed his left cheek.
"What was that for?" Thomas exclaimed, gasping as Newt lifted him off his cold feet, letting his footprints taper off while Newt's continued.
"Just something I'd been wanting to do for a long time 's all" Thomas tucked himself into Newt as he was carried away bridal style. Thomas glanced back up at the sky one last time taking note that the Aurora borealis light show was over, but one last star winked by, and this time Thomas didn't feel the need to make a wish.
All of them had already come true.