Work Text:
Thomas' POV
It was like looking in a mirror to be greeted by an empty, open space. No reflection, no idea of what you used to look like. It was all a haze. Working with WCKD, watching all my friends die one by one... Those painful memories are all I have left of who I used to be. Who I was before I found myself on the other side of the glass.
When we escaped the maze, a pre recorded message played, that was left for us some time ago. The person speaking was a woman. She told us we had passed the maze trial, but it was only the first of many tests. She claimed that though we may not remember it, years ago, our earth was scorched ravaged by a deadly disease. A disease our generation had an immunity to. It was a miracle, she said. She told us our generation was the only way they could find a cure. A cure which would save thousands, no millions, of lives.
She parted with the words, "WCKD is good." and shot herself in the head.
My head was spinning, blood rushing to my head. It had all happened so fast. I didn't have time to process, the loss of Chuck was enough to make me feel like I'd lost a part of my soul, without all of this klunk playing in my head too.
The video and her violent goodbye left us all with a sick feeling in our stomachs.
For a moment, I feared for the worst. What if we escaped the maze, only to find ourselves in a much worse situation? What if we'd made a mistake leaving? We'd already lost Chuck, we couldn't lose anyone else. I felt like I was drowning in an ocean of my own struggles and the people screaming at me to come up for the air were the same people holding my head underwater.
Chuck was almost my little brother, in fact, maybe we were brothers before this all. My heart weighed heavy in my chest just thinking of him.
Then, I looked over at Newt. It's not as if he had looked any less troubled than me. His face painted a constellation of emotions and worries, just as mine did, but I realised I could handle anything they threw at us if I was by his side. I could always count of him to pull me out of the waters, and I'd make sure he knew he could count on me too.
He's been my best friend since I first met him. The thought of him hurting is enough to make me tremble with rage. Newt and I connected almost immediately, even before we officially met, I felt drawn to him. I think him being around makes me feel weirdly safe, when I see him smile it's like there's still hope. Maybe that's stupid, but it doesn't matter to me, it's a good feeling.
His smile always sends this wave of reassurance through me.
Newt looked angry and confused, or maybe scared. Maybe all of the above. It was hard to tell. I don't blame him, I was too.
The tension hung thick in the air, nobody spoke a single word. I guess we were all trying to process what we'd heard. There was a moment of despair. We had believed all this suffering would end, if we only escaped. We thought there would be peace. Now the city we had built of dreams and hopes for our knew life crumbled before our very eyes.
Not more than a minute or so later, an alarm started blaring and we were rescued by an organisation I still don't fully understand. They claimed that they understood WCKD was dangerous and they were against them.
That's where I am now. Not a brilliant recap, I know, but I'm not merited on behalf of my storytelling skills.
They ran tests on us and gave us injections of some kind, I'm not sure what they were, but I don't think I trust it.
After all that, they wanted to interrogate me about my time working at WCKD. I couldn't give them much, only what I could remember from dreams I've been having, and I didn't want to tell them about most of those. They seem to distrust me, asking who's side I'm really on. Without a doubt I'm on the side of my friends.
Like Newt said to me before, it doesn't matter who I was before or why they sent me to the maze. I'm not that person anymore. What matters is that I was sent there.
I still feel guilty for all of this. Like it's my fault everyone's suffering. But I also know that guilt doesn't mean I can slack, in fact, it means I have to work twice as hard. Make up for everything I've caused, or at least begin to try. So what I'm trying to say, is that my friends suffered at the hands of WKCD, and above all, my loyalties lie with them.
Especially Newt. I can't imagine betraying him now, not after what we've been through. He's everything to me. I can't explain why, but my heart pounds when he's with me.
It's like I can feel him in the core of my being, nestled into some quiet corner of my soul, humming a gentle lullaby to help me be at ease.
Honestly, it doesn't work, he sets my heart on edge. I can't explain it. It's like he's the only one I care to impress.
As of right now, I'm walking down the corridor with the other Gladers, looking for our room. Two men are walking behind us, and another in front, escorting us. Something feels off about this whole situation, I almost feel like a prisoner.
The halls of this facility are cold, every area looks the same, like somebody forgot to add colour.
Minho is walking closely behind the guard, who stops at a grey metal door, one door from the end of the hallway. He slides a hand down the smooth door and briefly tampers with the lock, before finally unlocking it and pushing the heavy door open. He stands to the side, making room for us to enter.
Minho immediately jumps on to one of the two bunkbeds. "I call top!" He grins, already at the top.
"Bloody hell Minho." Newt walks in behind him. "This ain't so bad."
Newt's right, the room seems nice enough. There's nothing special about it, but it's better than what we had in the Glade.
Homestead kept us warm and safe, but it wasn't exactly quality. The wallpaper peeled off the walls and the floorboards were cracked. Often, you'd wake up to the drip drop of leaking water on your forehead. I don't even know where it came from, it doesn't rain in the Glade.
This room has glacier grey walls, with a checkered tile floor that isn't much darker for the most part. There's only one small window in the back of the room, lined with rice paper, obscuring our view. I can vaguely make out the shape of bars outside the window. The lights give off a dim white glow.
Newt climbs onto the top bunk of the second bed. That's when the realisation hits me.
Two bunk beds. Four beds.
Minho, one.
Newt, two.
Winston, three.
Frypan, four.
Me.
That makes five.
I turn to the guard. "There's only four beds," I say plainly, as if this was news.
"Nice work, genius." Minho chimes in. "You learned to count."
"You guys aren't the only group to come here recently. You're lucky there was extra rooms for the rest of you. We'll move one of you to another room tomorrow, when more evacuate."
"Hard luck Tommy." Newt smiles at me, "If you hadn't been complaining about the beds, you might've taken the chance to actually get one."
I look down from Newt's bunk.
Damnit.
Winston and Frypan had claimed the remaining beds on bottom while I had been too preoccupied pointing them out. I groan and set myself down on the floor.
"What are you doing?" Winston asks, he has a confused look on his face, with furrowed eyebrows as if it was obvious.
"There's no beds left, so I'm sleeping on the floor."
"God you really are a dumb shank huh?" Minho laughs. "Somebody here's gonna have to share."
My cheeks heat up. "What? Nono."
Newt rolls his eyes. "You can share with me so long as you don't steal the covers."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. The ground isn't exactly a five star option, at least it's a bit warmer up here."
"Yeah, warmer sounds good." I nod, swallowing thickly. Why am I so flustered? "Thanks Newt."
I place a hand on the metal ladder, and climb up onto the bed. My body is exhausted from today, my muscles feel weak as they pull my own weight.
The guard speaks suddenly. "If you need anything," he pauses, "You can get it in the morning."
As he leaves the room, he is followed by the other guards who slam the door behind him. A moment later it locks with a click. Everyone seems to be settling down pretty quickly for once, which is surprising giving the situation. I guess we're all exhausted from the day we've had. Frypan turns over with a creak in his bed, pulling the covers over him. Minho yawns and puts his arms behind his head. Winston seems lost in thought.
I climb under the covers and pull them over Newt too, who shifts around in an attempt make space. I'm acutely aware of how little room we have, in order to have any kind of comfort we'd have to be practically pressed up against each other. I try to ignore the voice in my head telling me to hold him. I also try to ignore the thoughts of Teresa.
"Pretty tight, but it beats the floor, yeah?" Newt whispers. "Besides, it's kinda nice to have the extra warmth."
I blush a little at that. I don't know why. Newt always makes me get this fluffy feeling inside my chest. That's just because I trust him. I know him. He's safe. ..Right?
Shut up Thomas.
"Yeah." I hesitate. "I'm glad I'm sharing with you, instead of anybody else."
"Oh yeah?"
I can't see Newt's face, but I could hear the grin in his voice.
"Yeah."
I shuffle a little, trying to get comfortable. The sheets are cold on my skin, but it's better to cover myself with them than have the draft in the room pummeling my bare back.
"You're pulling the covers off me, Tommy." He groans. "Don't make me banish you back to the ground again."
We both laugh a little.
"I can't help the fact you have to spread out like a starfish!" I giggle. "Come here." I wrap a hand around his waist and pull him into my chest. "Now there's enough for both of us."
I didn't just do that.
"Wow. Excellent problem solving skills, genius."
"Shut up and go to sleep."
"I second that!" Minho calls from the bunk opposite us.
We must have been talking louder than we thought.
I let my head rest against Newt's shoulder and close my eyes. Whatever happens, we'll get through it together.
......
3rd person POV, 4 hours later
Thomas jolts awake, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. He sits up. He's disorientated and trying to catch his breath.
Another night awoken by a flashback about WCKD. He can't help feeling like this facility isn't the rescue they thought it was, something just feels.. off.
The room is quiet, almost ambient, other than Minho's quiet snoring. Although, in it's own way, that familiarity is comforting. Thomas looks to his left. Newt is comfortably curled up, his blonde hair sticking up in places. He can't bring himself to wake up the boy, not when he's sleeping so peacefully. He leans his head back, resting it against the wall and places his hands over his face. He's wrestling his thoughts.
Despite his careful efforts not to wake the sleeping boy, Newt's eyes flutter open, groggily waking up. He turns over to notice Thomas.
"Hey.. Tommy what's wrong?" He asks, yawning.
"Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?"
"No," he says, almost matter of a factly. "Now talk to me."
Thomas hesitates.
He doesn't want to weigh on Newt, he's already dealing with his own demons. But also, he doesn't want Newt to slam his head into the metal bedpost for being stubborn.
"I don't trust this place. I don't think these people are the saviours they want us to think they are." He whispers, gruffly. "I'm.. I'm scared. I can't shake these memories, Newt. And I can't help but think about what WCKD did to us. It's like they're still here, lurking in the shadows, I'm haunted by them, even when I sleep. The Grievers, the thoughts of Chuck's body in my arms.."
Newt pushes himself up so he's sitting up too. "You're not alone in this. We're all haunted by something." He pauses, rubbing a hand against Thomas's arm reassuringly. "Listen. If there's one thing I've learned from this whole experience, it's what Alby always said is the best advice. If you ain't scared, you ain't human."
Newt adjusts himself again, laying his head against Thomas's chest.
"I'm scared of the world that waits for all of us out there." He swallows thickly. "I'm scared of losing more friends, scared of what's coming for us. It's bloody awful what they did to us already, but we're in this together, yeah? We won't lose anybody else."
"Yeah," Thomas whispers, taking a slow breath. "No matter what, we'll get through this together."
Newt nods in silent agreement.
The room felt suspended in a hushed intimacy as Thomas, his gaze unwavering, found the courage to speak the words that had been lingering on the edge of his thoughts.
"Newt?"
"Yeah Tommy?"
The air seemed heavy with a newfound tension as Thomas took a steadying breath. It had finally hit him, why he felt the way he did about Newt.
"I love you."
Newt's eyes widened in genuine surprise, the weight of Thomas's words settling between them. It was a revelation that neither of them had expected in the midst of the chaos surrounding them.
Newt spoke softly. "Bloody hell, Tommy."
Thomas's heart skipped a beat. Had saying anything been a mistake?
The atmosphere shifted, the weight of the revelation creating a space for something unspoken yet deeply felt. Without a word, Newt
"Tommy, I never thought... I mean, I've never..."
Thomas nodded, trying to avoid the anxiety gnawing at the back of his brain like Minho eating his dinner. In the quiet exchange of glances and the shared vulnerability, an unspoken understanding passed between them. Silently, Newt takes Thomas's hand and holds it in a gentle grasp.
"It's okay you don't have to say anything, it just, felt right," he assures him.
Although honestly, he really hoped Newt would say something. A rejection would be better than a prolonged hope, even if it made this whole sharing a bed situation much more awkward.
Newt's fingers traced absent patterns on the back of Thomas's hand as he considered the gravity of the confession.
"Yeah, it does." Newt said, softly. "I love you too."
The revelation hung in the air, a delicate thread connecting Newt and Thomas in a way that was more... real. In the muted glow of the room, they held hands, a silent pact in the face of uncertainty and fear.
Newt, still wearing that surprised smile, leaned in slightly, his eyes flickering between Thomas's gaze and his lips.
"And in honesty, I think I always have."
Thomas, sensing the unspoken invitation, met Newt halfway. Their lips brushed in a gentle kiss. They pulled away, staring into each other's eyes briefly. Thomas cupped Newt's face in his hand and leaned in for another kiss. This time, it was yearning and needy, but still in the same soft manner.
Newt crawled a little closer, wrapping his arms around the nape of the brunettes neck. He wanted to be pressed against him, he's waited for this moment for a while now. Thomas placed a hand on Newt's waist, slowing moving it up his back and pulling him in.
Time seemed to suspend as they lingered in that shared moment, in their own little world, a heartbeat that echoed louder than the distant hum of this fucked up place.
"I've wanted to do that for a while now." Thomas whispered softly, his lips curving into a gentle smile.
"I'm not opposed to you doing it more often." He grinned cheekily.
The tension that had filled the room slowly disintegrated. They sat in silence for a moment, Newt laying on Thomas's chest, still with his arms around him, he let his head rest.
"We should get some rest, we have a lot ahead of us tomorrow."
Thomas nodded, and ever the protector, he held Newt tightly in his arms. He wouldn't let anyone take him away. The two dazed off in the safety of each others comfort. It didn't matter what the world threw at them anymore, as long as they were together.
Thomas and Newt.
Newt and Thomas.