Chapter Text
Thomas was dreaming again.
It was the same dream he had last night, and the night before. It was a vision in his mind that he seldom was able to escape from anymore. He didn't particularly understand why he was having this dream, or why he was having it play on repeat every night, but he knew that he was probably going to be having this dream over and over for a while. It wasn't necessarily a bad dream, just confusing. It seemed far too real for his own personal liking, considering how the dream always blurred the lines between fiction and reality. Thomas could only tell it was a dream based on the simple fact that his eyesight was just slightly too blurry and his body felt just a bit too heavy.
It always started the same way.
Thomas stood in a large field of dirt. No, it was sand. Thomas was standing in a desert, land stretching out farther than what he could see. There was a constant stream of wind, kicking up the sand just enough so that there were always grains hitting irritatingly against his skin. His skin itched, and he swore he could actually feel the sun beating down atop him, a small sweat already forming on his brow. When he eventually began to look around, despite the protest his limbs gave at the thought of moving, he saw Newt.
Well, it wasn't just Newt, it was never only Newt. Minho, Winston, and a few other Gladers were there too. A girl, as well. Thomas felt as though he recognized this girl, like her name was on the tip of his tongue, but he could never seem to figure it out. Newt was his main focus, though, as that was who was looking towards him. Everyone else had already begun to walk away, their backs turned away from the two boys, but Newt was waiting for Thomas.
So, despite the way Thomas's legs ached and his body urged him to just lay down in the sand forever, he also began to walk. He didn't want him or Newt to fall too far behind after all, not that the abandoned buildings that the other Gladers were moving towards looked much more appealing than the harsh desert. He makes his way to Newt, the other boy at his side as they begin their trek behind the rest of the group. Not much was said between the two boys, the sound of the conversation many feet ahead of them ringing in Thomas's ears.
The city they made their way to was intimidating, large and destroyed and frightening, and the heat above them sweltering, but it all felt a little less heavy with Newt at his side. Thomas could see the boy out of the corner of his eye, the two of them walking side-by-side quietly as the other Gladers chat and mess around in front of them.
Thomas found himself watching Newt, though he wasn't quite sure as to why. Newt admittedly seemed fine, and Thomas should have no reason to worry about his friend. It would be a lie to say that Thomas hadn't always found himself a bit more drawn to Newt than he was to any of the other people in the maze. That's how it had been ever since he arrived, when he first awoke in the clunking box feeling more scared and lonely than he ever could have imagined. Newt was the first person Thomas had seen in the crowd of boys, very quickly turning into the first person Thomas looked for in a crowd of people.
He supposed it was because Newt was a brave person, someone Thomas could easily look up to, but he also was not quite stupid enough to truly believe that was the actual reason. Minho was brave too, same with Alby, and Thomas never found himself so wanting of their attention as he was with Newt.
"Are you scared?" Thomas found himself asking before he could truly think about it. His voice came out in a low tone, like he didn't want the other boys to accidentally overhear the conversation. For a moment, he's almost certain he was speaking so quietly that even Newt couldn't hear him, until the other boy turns to look at Thomas.
Thomas never could figure out why that, of all things, was what he asked. Every night, it was the same question, a question Thomas could hardly find the explanation for, one he didn't even know he wanted the answer for. Every night, Newt gave him the same response.
"Being scared is what's kept us all alive for so long, no? If we were running around fearless all the time, we would've been dead ages ago." Newt takes a second to look over at Thomas as he speaks before returning his gaze back to the sand in front of him. He speaks with a certain confidence that makes Thomas believe he has rehearsed this answer, like it was something Newt has had to tell himself many times to try and ease the weight of the situation they were in. "If you're not scared, then you're stupid."
A silence falls over the two for a while and Thomas tries to focus on simply dragging his feet through the coarse sand below him, the sight of the chared city in front of them growing unfortunately close with every step. Thomas was almost sure he preferred the desert compared to whatever was waiting for them in the city.
The wind was still whistling in his ears and he could swear that they had been walking for hours. Everything about his body felt like it was too much, with each step he found himself worrying about simply sinking into the sand and being absorbed by the desert forever. He knew that wouldn't happen, but maybe he was hoping it would so that he could escape the tense moment that he caused between himself and his friend.
Thomas figured that he was probably the only one feeling the awkwardness. Newt had been in the maze for much longer than he had, seen a new greenie each month for years. Surely he had been asked plenty of questions similar to the one that Thomas had asked, given the same answer to everyone who had come before Thomas. There was still a part of Thomas that couldn't help feeling a bit stupid though. Of course Newt was scared, anyone in their right mind would be. They had all been wiped of their memories and placed into a maze where they had to adapt to a totally new way of survival, and now they were wandering through the desert going fuck knows where.
That wasn't what scared Thomas though. He had made it this far, right? He had virtually nothing to lose if this was truly as far as he was able to make it.
Well, that wasn't exactly true. Thomas definitely had something to lose. The fuzzy sound of his friends laughing away in front of him painfully reminded him that there was always something to lose. He had his friends, if nothing else, and that was maybe the worst thing he could lose. He had the other Gladers, and he had Minho, and he had Newt.
He thought that it was probably Newt that scared him the most. Thomas had seen how quick—how easy—it was to lose someone in this harsh reality he lived in. He wasn't sure what he would do if he lost Newt. He didn't necessarily want to imagine what it would be like without Newt, but there was a small part of his mind that let the thought plague him. Newt was his friend, his best friend even, and he was the reason Thomas had been able to come as far as he had.
Thomas realized that being scared wasn't what was keeping him alive, it was what helped him keep his friends alive. It might be stupid, and it would probably end up with Thomas in an early grave, but there was never a moment when he felt more concern for his own well-being than he did for his friends'. Maybe he was just a good friend, or maybe there was something a bit deeper to it.
Thomas never had much time to think about it though, because that was where the dream ended each and every night. It always ended the same way.
Thomas flinched, his whole body jolting slightly as he was brought suddenly out of sleep, his elbows catching against the fabric underneath him as he props up. There was a heavy weight on his heart, and it felt like there were rocks in his lungs. He could still feel the heat of the desert from the dream despite it being only dawn, the sun not even rising over the walls of the Glade yet. Most people were still asleep, only Alby and maybe a few runners being up at this time in the morning. Thomas glances around before his eyes settle on Chuck still curled up in his hammock, sleeping peacefully.
Thomas takes a deep breath, his breathing steadying back out to normal as he lays back down. He still was unsure of why he was having such a dream, and why it was happening every night. Nothing particularly exciting happened, only a short conversation between him and Newt. Despite it all, each morning he woke up with a single thought in his mind.
Newt.
He figures that maybe his brain is trying to tell him something, using subtly encrypted dreams to get him to realize something.