Work Text:
As Thomas was settling into the soft mattress for the night, he was interrupted.
"Hey, Thomas." Minho said from above him.
"Yeah?" Thomas was so tired the word barely came out.
"What do you think happened to the Gladers who stayed behind?"
Thomas hadn't thought about it. His mind had been occupied with Chuck, and now Teresa.
"I don't know. But based on how many of us died getting here, I wouldn't like to be one of them right now. Grievers are probably swarming all over them."
He couldn't believe how nonchalant his voice sounded as he said it.
"You think we're safe with these people?" He'd thought Newt asleep, he'd been so quiet. But the blonde's words were clear, un-slurred by sleep.
"Yeah," joined Minho, "are we?"
Thomas pondered the question for a moment. There was only one answer to hold onto.
"Yeah, i think we're safe."
Minho said something else, but Thomas didn't hear. Exhaustion consuming him, his mind wandered to his short time in the Maze, his time as a Runner and how much he'd wanted it - ever since that first night in the Glade. It felt like a hundred years ago. Like a dream.
Murmurs of conversation floated through the room, but to Thomas they seemed to come from another world. He stared at the crossed wooden boards of the bed above him, feeling the pull of sleep. But, wanting to talk to Teresa, he fought it off.
How's your room? Wish you were in here.
Oh yeah? she replied, With all those stinky boys? Think not.
Guess you're right. I think Minho's farted three times in the last minute.
He knew it was a lame attempt at a joke, but it was the best he could do. He sensed her laughing, wished he could do the same. There was a long pause.
I'm really sorry about Chuck. she finally said.
Thomas felt a sharp pang and closed his eyes as he sank deeper into the misery of the night.
He could be so annoying, he said.
He paused, thought of that night when Chuck had scared the crap out of Gally in the bathroom.
But it hurts. Feels like i lost a brother.
I know.
I promised-
Stop, Tom.
What?
He wanted Teresa to make him feel better, say something magic to make the pain go away.
Stop with the promise stuff. Half of us made it. We all would've died if we'd stayed in the Maze.
But Chuck didn't make it. Thomas said.
Guilt racked him because he knew for a certainty he would trade any one of the Gladers in that room for Chuck.
He died saving you. Teresa said, just as the lights went out. He made the choice himself. Just don't ever waste it.
Thomas felt tears swell under his eyelids; one escaped and trickled down his right temple, into his hair. He felt her words sinking into him, branding like a mark across his brain. He swallowed the choked sob that was trying to wrestle free, glad the others couldn't see and wishing the dark masked the sound.
There was almost a full minute of silence before he heard rustling from Newt's bunk as the boy turned over. When they'd first gone to bed Thomas had noticed how close together their bunks were compared to the others around the room. Minho and himself, FryPan and Newt had ended up in two sets of bunks that were almost touching. If he raised his arm and reached his hand back behind his pillow he would be able to touch Newt's face, his hair. The thought only amplified the horror in his stomach.
He'd lost Chuck that night, and could easily have lost Newt too. He wasn't sure how he could possibly go on with that knowledge in his head every day. That single moment at the Griever Hole had been awful enough, and it had only been a moment. The rustling continued as he tried to silence his cries, but the flow of tears just wouldn't quit. He turned away from the room, biting down on his bottom lip as hard as he could, struggling to turn each sob into a breath, his chest burning with the effort and the lump in his throat growing so wide he struggled to swallow.
The rustling turned to a slide of fabric on fabric and then stopped. Before Thomas could feel any relief that Newt seemed to have succumbed to sleep there was a dip in his mattress and a long-fingered hand brushed over his mouth, stilling his surprise. Lips brushed his ear. A breathy, familiar voice calmed him.
"Budge up, Tommy. It's freezin' out here."
Thomas did, shuffling until he was almost flush with the wall, surprise stilling his tongue. He opened his eyes, even though in the dark it wasn't much different. He didn't dare turn around as he felt a body slip under his covers, a gentle and soothing heat seeping from him. Thomas could feel the panic and awfulness in his stomach lesson, the lump in his throat shrinking. He dragged in a gulping breath and Newt removed his fingers, skimming them down his neck to rest gently on his shoulder. He turned his head.
In the darkness he could just make out the other boy's profile. Newt was lying on his back, staring up at the underside of Minho's bunk, his chest rising and falling pleasantly. He turned a little to look at Thomas, what was visible of his eyes filled with compassion and an understanding that crippled the younger boy. Thomas swallowed, reaching up to wipe tears from his cheeks. He could feel his face heat up.
"Sorry." he whispered, as close to silent as he could. His voice still cracked. Newt just continued to look at him. Thomas could see that familiar frown appear between the eyes he knew to be the dark mahogany brown he'd grown to love. Ever so gently, Newt shook his head.
"Don't you apologise, Tommy, not for anything, d'you hear?"
Thomas closed his eyes, images of Chuck smiling and laughing swirling behind his eyelids, only to be replaced by the look of sheer terror he'd given him in the Maze, right before they'd jumped. Fresh tears burned hot trails down his face and he felt the shame and guilt flaring painfully in his gut. Newt whispered harshly to him. The room's other occupants were blissfully silent, and Thomas held out an irrational hope that they were all asleep already.
"I mean it, Greenie. You saved us. We all followed ya, we didn't have to but we did. You are not responsible for what those bastards put us through, for what they did to Alby, to Gally and the others. Look at me, Tommy."
Thomas forced his eyes open, the confidence in Newt's fierce whispering a small flicker of cool hope amongst the roiling fire consuming his insides. Newt looked at him with a determination that only made Thomas love him more.
"You are not responsible for what happened to Chuck, understand? It wasn't your fault. Don't ya bloody dare believe that, because if ya do then they've won. Don't you dare let them, not after every shucking thing we've been through."
He squeezed Thomas's shoulder hard enough to leave bruises, Newt's fingerprints on his skin. Thomas opened his eyes without knowing when he'd closed them again.
"Tommy? Promise me you'll try not to. Promise me."
He caved, nodding his head as a sob finally escaped. Newt drew him close, their bodies aligning as the older boy tugged him into a fierce and unforgiving embrace. He finally broke, sobbing into Newt's shoulder, his chest heaving with the torture of it. Chuck was never coming back, and Thomas could feel his heart breaking all over again, the terror and awfulness a bitter sharp taste rising up his throat and releasing into the darkness as tortured moans. All the while Newt was holding him together as he let it all out, a rushing outpour that drained him, emptied him of everything.
He felt numb as he choked out the last cry, his breathing ragged and hitching as he began to fall back under control, still clinging tightly to Newt, his lifeline to sanity.
Eventually he grew still, trembling in Newt's arms as the exhausting coldness washed over him. He shivered and Newt shifted closer, tangling them together in a way that comforted Thomas, soothing the discomfort that swam in his blood.
"Newt-" he croaked, his throat dry and voice devastated.
Newt only nodded, tucking his head in the curve of Thomas's throat, one arm slipping around Thomas's shoulders and the other thrown across his waist.
"Thank you." he whispered.
Newt didn't move, but he flicked his eyes upwards to meet Thomas's in the dark and they looked at each other. For a moment that's all they did. Thomas simply breathed and watched Newt and Newt just watched him right back.
And then Newt smiled. An expression so gentle and fragile that Thomas felt his heart miss its next beat.
"Thank you for everything, for all of it. I- I never seemed to find the chance to say so before-"
Bizarrely, Newt let out a soft and gentle chuckle against the exposed skin of Thomas's neck. Thomas decided then and there that there was no better sensation in the world that Newt's laugh against his skin.
"So many words, Greenie. If it's not questions it's complaints and if it's not that then it's saying the things that don't need to be said."
His eyes gleamed in the dark nonetheless. Thomas was sure he was blushing fiercely, his face hot. But maybe that was just from crying. He rolled his eyes at the older boy, curling his fingers bravely in the other's blonde curls, turning his face a little towards him. They settled into a comfortable silence, and Thomas felt the pull of sleep return to settle its heavy hold into each of his exhausted limbs. He was pleasantly relaxed when Newt's whispers surprised him again.
"I always knew there was something odd about you. Even before you ran head-first into the buggin' Maze that night like a bloody shuckface."
Thomas could hear the grin, and it made his chest warm.
"I'll take that as a compliment." he returned, loving the way that Newt sniggered into his neck.
"About what you said before, about us being friends before, well… I think you were right. I dunno what it is but i feel it, and i'm almost sure you know."
Thomas looked down at him through sleep-bleared eyes but Newt didn't look up. Instead he curled further against Thomas. Thomas waited, but that seemed to be the end of what his friend had to say, and Thomas settled further into the mattress to sleep, turning his face into Newt's temple and placing a soft kiss against his hair before he'd realised what he was doing. He froze, awaiting Newt's outburst, but the blonde simply hummed pleasantly and returned it with a breathy press of lips to Thomas's shoulder. Even through the fabric he could feel the warmth of his touch. He shivered.
Newt looked up at him then, and Thomas strained in the darkness to make out the look in his dark eyes, his stomach swooping as he looked back. His tongue felt heavy as he spoke, his voice dry. He realised his hands were shaking as he ran one through Newt's hair. The magnitude of the moment weighed heavy on him, making sure he picked out just the right words. Newt's words.
"Yeah," he croaked out, his eyes never leaving Newt's, "I reckon i know."
Newt moved faster than Thomas could have anticipated, his mouth crashing into Thomas's with a fierceness that made Thomas dizzy. Newt's lips sealed against his own almost harshly, moving against him, pressing into his flesh.
The feeling was glorious.
The way he'd felt in the Glade that first night was nothing compared to the searing rightness he felt in that moment. As Newt kissed him he kissed back just as feverishly, and the pair clung to each other like they were back in the Maze and could be torn apart any second.
Kissing Newt, the feeling of the older boy's mouth moving so gorgeously against his own, was like coming home.
He ran the hand in Newt's hair soothingly through the locks, eliciting minute, breathy sounds that made Thomas's heart pound so hard in his chest that the blood rushing in his ears sounded like the Doors closing. He kissed Newt ferociously, capturing the blonde's lips in forceful sweeps, trying to say what his words couldn't. Newt retaliated just as brutally, his sharp breaths against Thomas's face making him tremble.
It was perfection, equal parts fierce and tender and filled with such emotion that Thomas could feel old memories tugging at his consciousness; darkened corridors and stolen, breathy kisses that turned him to pliable mush. He gasped as one struck him full force, a painfully young-looking Newt sprawled across a pale sofa in soft green pyjamas, the colour vivid and warm against his skin, his eyes glowing amber under the halo of blonde hair that curled around his ears and floated over his eyes. He remembered the feeling of skin on skin as Newt drew him close with a lopsided half-smile that took his breath away. He remembered the feeling of a trail of butterfly kisses dancing from his fingertips to his cheek. He remembered whispered declarations in the darkness of night. The wave of memory rolled over him, drowning him in the most beautiful way.
"Tommy-"
Newt's strained, broken whisper made him groan as he pulled back, the nickname sweet and special between them in the night. His breathing was laboured, the heat of Newt's mouth still buzzing on his lips. His head was swimming. He drew a breath.
"Newt- there's- i remember-"
Newt cut him off with another kiss, this one so slow and heartfelt that Thomas could feel his eyes pricking with tears as they fluttered closed. His heart swelled, his skin tingling all over as he melted under Newt's gentle touch. If there was such a thing as Paradise, this was it. It was over before he was ready, Newt's mouth staying close and his breaths puffs of sweet air against Thomas's skin. Thomas's fingers clutched the back of Newt's shirt. Newt touched his nose to Thomas's jaw, running the gentle touch up to meet Thomas's nose, their eyes locking.
"I know." he whispered back.
Thomas swallowed and looked at Newt's face. He could feel words bubbling up inside, a wash of a warm and buoyant feeling that he somehow knew he had never expected to feel again after-
He frowned as clouded sensations and snatches of memory gathered in his brain. They'd put Newt in the Maze. He'd watched every day for three years as Newt fought for survival. He could feel the dread again, the cold terror he'd lived in for three years, anticipating the worst and wishing as hard as anything against it. How could he have forgotten that?
"You- They… Three years. You were a Runner, you- I-"
Newt's cheek pressed against his as the other boy pulled him closer, sealing their bodies together, tangled in the best way.
"Tomorrow, Tommy, Tomorrow. Not now, okay? Not now."
He pressed a soft kiss to Thomas's ear, his touch dancing down Thomas's arm, their fingers curling together. The brunette swallowed, nodded, tried to shake the lingering, dreadful feeling. Now was not the time for more awfulness. Now was a good moment, and he couldn't ruin it.
The warm bubble of emotion from before returned in force and he looked over at Newt, seeing the sentiment returned in his eyes. He opened his mouth but Newt shook his head, stopping him with another kiss.
Thomas was growing to realise that he'd do absolutely anything for the feeling Newt's kisses gave him.
The blonde drew back, and smiled the blazing smile that Thomas loved so much.
"Again with the words that don't need to be said, Greenie."
His eyes shone with humour and Thomas felt himself loose a breathy laugh, a surprising feeling after everything they'd been through that day. He stretched to Newt and kissed him softly once more before settling down again, the blonde's weight a warm comfort that Thomas could feel unraveling the tension in every muscle. Thomas relaxed into the embrace again, feeling himself drift off into sleep. The words would go unsaid tonight, but he was sure they'd return.
As he fell over the edge into sleep he felt Newt's lips press a gentle kiss into the skin of his shoulder.
If any of the other Gladers thought it strange that Newt awoke in Thomas's bunk, or if they had seen or heard any of what had transpired since lights out, nobody said anything.