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Thomas grit his teeth as he stumbled across the Scorch sand. The rest of the group were up ahead but him and Newt were trailing behind. Originally, Thomas was only at the back so he could watch over Newt, who seemed to be struggling because of his limp, but now, he himself wasn’t feeling so good.
The sun was starting to set but Minho had ordered that they continued walking whilst they could still see clearly. The sun pierced their eyes and a thick layer of grime clung to their skin. Thomas felt nauseous but forced it down, it was probably just sunstroke. But, as they pushed further, Thomas could feel his body getting weaker.
“Tommy?” Newt croaked, his voice barely audible. Thomas grunted in response, the effort of making a noise ripping at his throat. “You feeling alright?”
“Mhm.” Thomas lied. He felt like he was going to die at any moment but he didn’t want to trouble anyone around him. Newt saw right through his act and scowled.
“Don’t lie to me Tommy, you look like klunk.”
“Thanks.”
“No, seriously.” Newt paused and grabbed Thomas’s arm, “Is something wrong?”
Thomas blinked a few times, his head spinning. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.
Suddenly, he felt hot, but not just Scorch heat- a burning sensation filled his veins. “Tommy?” Newt sounded like he was underwater and black spots shrouded Thomas’s eyes. Through a haze of darkness, everything became numb. He could make out Newt’s voice through the chaos but didn’t recognise the words.
Was that his name? He shook his head and tried to lock his knees but it was too late. His legs buckled beneath him and he closed his eyes, pain shooting through his head. He was half aware of Newt’s arms reaching out and embracing him, catching him, stopping the fall.
As he blacked out, a pained groan fell from his lips.
When he woke up, the world was frozen. His first immediate words were, “Shuck it’s cold.” His eyes fluttered open and he came to his senses, only to immediately see Newt looking down at him with an amused expression.
“You gave us a fright shank.” Newt raised an eyebrow. Thomas didn’t register the words, too taken aback by how close Newt’s face was to his own and the fact that his head was lying in Newt’s lap. “Sorry.” He mumbled breathlessly. A smile tugged at Newt’s lips.
“It was odd though. You turned pale then just collapsed out of nowhere. I caught you and had to carry you until Minho bloody noticed what had happened. We settled down for the night once we found a scrap of shelter.”
“Ah.” Was all Thomas could respond with. Newt’s words echoed in his head.
Newt had, carried him?
Newt smirked as if reading Thomas’s mind, “Minho wouldn’t stop being a slinthead, joked about you swooning and he lifting you up bridal-style. I swear that idiot made us walk a bit further just to see me carrying you.” Newt snorted. Thomas stared up at him wide eyed.
“How are you feeling now?” Newt cleared his throat, changing the subject. “Shucking freezing.” Thomas grumbled, sitting up slowly and hugging his shoulders. “That’s strange,” Newt frowned, “I’m still sweltering here. Hey, take my jacket.” Before Thomas could politely refuse, Newt slid his jacket off and unwinded his scarf, handing them to Thomas.
Thomas hesitantly accepted them and Newt helped him put them on. “I’m still cold.” Thomas pouted, “But I’m thankful for the gear.”
Newt smiled, “Well what can I do for you then eh? Need a blanket?” Newt scoffed. He leant back against a crate and Thomas scanned his surroundings. They had stopped at what appeared to be a scrap dump. To his disappointment, there were no blankets or rags in sight.
“I’ll be fine.” Thomas pulled himself up to sit beside Newt and shut his eyes. The moon shone down on them and small bits of sand rustled all around. Despite his sleepy state, Thomas found himself shivering and his teeth chattering. Newt’s eyebrows creased and he glanced at Thomas worriedly.
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to warm you up? You seem really cold.”
“I am frozen…but I don’t know if there’s much you can do.”
“Sure there is.” Newt smiled and wrapped an arm over Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas paused but felt how warm Newt was and melted into the touch.
Newt noticed the gesture and pulled Thomas closer, “This alright?”
“Yeah.” Thomas yawned and rested his head on Newt’s shoulder. He felt disoriented but Newt was close to him, that was all that mattered. Thomas matched Newt’s breathing and pulled his knees up to his chest.
As his consciousness fleeted, he heard Newt murmur something before he passed out.
When he awoke again, it was the morning and he felt much better. However, even as he laid down with his eyes closed, he could feel the dull ache of endless exercise bearing into his bones.
When he opened his eyes, shock was the first thing that hit him. Newt was laid down on the sand still sleeping and Thomas was laying on his chest, Newt’s arms around his torso. Thomas felt himself blush and anxiety take over but he didn’t pull away. Newt’s eyes cracked open slowly and his eyes caught on Thomas.
“Sleep well?” The blonde asked. Thomas nodded sheepishly and gazed up Newt.
“Good to see that you two shanks are getting along nicely. Now pick yourselves up and get walking.” Minho appeared, standing over them with a stern face and his arms crossed.
Newt sat up and Thomas reluctantly copied. Minho darted off and the Scorch sun bore down hard on the boys but Thomas didn’t care anymore. Now, he knew that he had a boy who would catch him when he fell and would carry him when he was struggling.
Watching Newt brush sand off of himself, Thomas beamed. He was lucky to have Newt, so very lucky.