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Teresa is patient. Muted thoughts flick in from a boy whose face she barely recognizes and a girl whose voice she can't quite hear. It presses against the back of her eyes, distracting her long enough not to hear the telltale signs of the creak of the wooden floor as the boys come down.
The sound seemed to have become an extension of her, something that she anticipates due to Thomas being familiar with it. Or the comforting weight of Thomas drawing nearer; she can't explain it, but can feel the distance between them just as someone could feel the ghosting of the edges of something they're about to touch. They expect it, solidifying its existence - perhaps that is why she expects Thomas before she sees him. Maybe he had heard her thoughts, had been drawn to her eagerness to get this over and done with.
As it were, Thomas stomps down the steps all the same, but Teresa recognizes it. What he was familiar with, she recognizes, so she doesn't look up at the groan of wood beneath his feet. She's comfortable, pleased with the pleasant shift of Thomas' presence at the back of her mind.
Teresa only looks up when a clatter of markers and pens clatter against the tabletop. Minho is trudging right behind Thomas, and Newt after him. Thomas' ease with them still seems to be affecting her because she gives them a small smile. Newt stares at her, dark eyes hooded by his thick hair, and Minho only scowls, looking ready to launch at her throat. Thomas seems to be the only one truly comfortable with her presence, as he sits next to her at the worktable, although his unease with the situation outside makes him fidget with the blade he's holding.
"This better be good," Minho spits out venom but she feels as though it's directed towards her even though he's looking at Thomas. Teresa suspects - knows - that it had to do with Thomas asking for her to be there. Something like shame washes through her - she hadn't asked for any of this to happen, so why must he always be so hostile towards her?
Minho's disgust towards her is unmistakeable, and she'd like to think that in another life they could have been friends, or at least on better terms than they were now. He doesn't disguise his disgust when he sees her, doesn't try to soften the sneer. It almost makes her feel sad, but only because she knows how nice of a friend he is to Thomas.
"Get on with it, greenie," Newt says, but his voice is softer than Minho's biting retort. He doesn't look at Teresa except to nod in her general direction, which was far better than anything Minho had given her.
Teresa knows Newt is uncomfortable with her, though - she can tell by his guarded expression. He acts civil towards her, and she thinks that she could grow to like him and he her, but something stops the both of them. It's as if some unspoken agreement has placed distance between them. She doesn't know what it is, but she doesn't mind it.
Teresa sees Thomas relax, sees him flash an appreciative smile in Newt's direction. Him relaxing settles something in her chest, something that stills the panic inside of her.
"Okay," Thomas says, and Teresa feels relief pulse from him like a heartbeat. Perhaps it had been Newt's gentle assurance, his steadfast belief in her friend that had brought on this welcome change in him. She feels herself begin to warm up to Newt, already silently thanking him. "Minho, cut these into rectangles, uh - about as big as the maps." Thomas looks at Teresa, then Newt, although something feels a little odd when she notices how steady the gaze on the latter was. "You two will help me with the first of each map box, alright? Ten or so should be alright."
"Is this kiddie craft time?" Minho sounds exasperated, taking the offered knife from Thomas, twirling it in his grip. It glints in the light, catching off the sharp edge. For a brief moment, Teresa has the irrational fear that he means to stab her.
Thomas' weariness is evident on his face as he stands up to duck into the storage closet. "I'm done explaining," he says, and he sounds like he means it. He sounds tired, worn and about ready to give up on this. He shoots Teresa an almost pleading look, as if begging her to figure out what he's trying to explain. "If I'm wrong... We could just go back into the Maze then. But there's at least some sense in trying." She is just beginning to feel the edges of a thought at the edge of her mind, gently nudging, when Minho mutters darkly under his breath.
"Better that than waste our time."
She ignores him in favour of drawing at the mental image Thomas seems to be thinking of. Not for the first time is she thankful for their telepathy. I think I know what you're trying to do, and it's brilliant, actually, she says to him, and judging by the way he twitched, she knows he caught the message. Teresa beams at him, even when his expression changes to a look of constipation.
Whatever he was trying to do, he seems to have given up because he looks at her with a ruffled look, "Teresa, come in here with me for a second and help me, will you?" She gets up from her chair and enters the storage area.
The close proximity between them causes her heart to stutter in her chest delightfully. Teresa tries to get a reading on his feelings but he is like a closed book. She is careful to bump fingers with him, trying to see if he gets a rise out of it, if he tries to make a move and twines their hands together. He doesn't and instead they gather up the maps and head back out. She feels strangely empty, and ... resigned. As if she hadn't expected otherwise.
They return to find that Minho is a remarkably fast cutter, especially with a knife, and the sheets of wax paper are flat in a stack. Teresa sets down her stack of maps easily, noticing Newt watch her with a guarded expression. Suddenly she wishes she was telepathic with him, so she could know of his thoughts. But she wouldn't trade Thomas for anybody so she shrugs off the thoughts as easily as they come.
"Alright," Thomas taps his uncapped marker against the table and the lid bounces off, skidding and rolling away into some unforseen corner. "So, the last ten days of each copy should be traced onto the wax paper. I think we might begin to see something." He sounds so hopeful that Teresa immediately reaches for another section, touching hands with Newt along the way.
Minho looks up from where's he's still cutting some wax paper, hand at an awkward angle to scrape along the sheet. "What-"
Newt looks up sharply, startling Teresa so badly that she has to look at him. His eyes are brightening with respect - it's warm and bright and so reassuring that something warms in her gut without prompting from Thomas' embarassed duck of his head. "Just bloody keep cutting, I think I know where he is going with this." Then a smile, something soft and genuine that eases his usual stoic expression, "Good job, Tommy."
Then there were the twinges of relief flooding along their telepathic connection, hints of something subtle along it that makes her feel joy just because Thomas was. For a moment, she was blinded by her own wariness - something inside of her shifts, curdling with unease because hadn't she figured it out too?
"Thanks, Newt," Thomas says, quietly. Teresa looks over at him, seeing his expression twitch. There was more than relief in his eyes, something tender and vulnerable as he looks at Newt, eyes locking before he ducks his head again, tongue darting out and sticking beneath his teeth as he worked.
Teresa looks down, feeling something prickle inside of her. Thomas had looked happy when she had complimented him, but it had been nothing compared to the shy smile and the embarassed look that Newt received. With Newt it had been a bit of a gut reaction - it seemed like it, anyways - to feel embarassed, that perhaps it meant something more to him coming from Newt than when she had uttered the same words to him.
Instead of pondering over it further, she gets to work on her own papers, making up for lost time. She had full confidence in Thomas' abilities, more trust in him than he seemed to place in her, so she works diligently, working on it until Newt's voice breaks the silence.
"I've had enough. My fingers are bloody burning like a mother. See if it works." There's something that spreads inside of her like uneasy sadness at how quick Thomas drops his own marker at the second in command's words, how ready he was for it - it had been as if he had been waiting for his very word.
"Alright, give me what you've got," Thomas says, and he looks steady despite the fierce waver to his voice, the way his eyes dart nervously at each of them. He lines up the papers and they make a solid F in the middle.
"Could be a concidence," she begins to say, "We should do more and quickly." They shuffle through the papers with renewed vigor, even having Minho set the knife down with the handle exposed to them to start tracing some lines. Gradually, they gathered enough to form words.
F L O A T C A T
"Float cat? Doesn't sound like a bloody rescue code to me," Newt sighs.
"There could be more," Thomas objects, and something inside of Teresa twinges at the eagerness of his voice, at proving to Newt that .... that ... she wasn't sure what, but she had a feeling that Thomas wanted to prove to Newt that he could save him.
Them.
Although it didn't really feel like a 'them', but more like a 'him'.
They work, and the more that they do, the slower she does. Teresa can't help but think back to all that Thomas has said, all that he had reacted to. That eagerness just then - had it really been directed to Newt or to all of them? When Thomas was the only boy who actually talked with her rather than stare at her, it would be hard not to nurse affections for him. And how he compliments her, accidentally broadcasts his thoughts about how pretty he thinks she is. He seems to like her, even acts embarassed around her.
But then .. all of that amounted to nothing compared to how he acts around some of the others, namely Newt. The easygoing trust, how he always turns to them and seemingly never to her. She had to seek him out and not the other way around. It was as if... As if...
"Definitely not a coincidence," Minho and Thomas sigh and her head snaps up.
She is glad for the distraction, glad to move her thoughts away from the edge. Teresa knows that she was close to discovering the truth, but she almost wills herself to believe that it would be better if she were blind to it. "We need to go through all those boxes in there," she points to the storage chests.
Thomas nods, seemingly eager to please her, but doubt has already crept into her mind. "Let's get on it."
"Not us," Minho snaps, more bite than bark, and they all snap their heads to look at him. The Asian puckers his lips into a distasteful look, "Thomas and I have to get back to the Maze. We can't miss a day. Not now."
"But you said that the pattern has been repeating for days! What's one more day?"
Minho slammed his hand against the table and she startles badly; she sees Newt frown distastefully at the Keeper from the corner of her eyes. "That's bullcrap, Thomas! Of all days, this might be the most important to get out there. Something might've changed, something might've opened up. In fact, with the freaking walls not closing anymore, I think we should try your idea — stay out there overnight and do some deeper exploring."
Teresa saw the open conflict on his face.
"But what about this code? What about-?"
Then there's Newt's gentle voice, and a reassuring hand finds its way on her friend's shoulder. She sees Thomas relax, sees him turn curious eyes on the blond - open and willing for negotiation. It suddenly feels so terribly intimate that Teresa suddenly has to glance away. "Tommy. Minho's right. You shanks go out and get goin'. I'll fetch some Gladers we can trust and get workin' on this."
"Me too," Teresa agreed. "I'll stay and help Newt." Her voice is quiet, meek against Newt's confidence, but Thomas spares her a glance and that is enough.
"Are you sure?" He sounds sceptical, but his mouth twitches all the same.
"I'm pretty sure you're going to need a girl's brain to handle this," she jokes, crossing her arms to fight the freshly vulnerable feeling she has. She feels Newt's amused gaze land on her and she glances at him for a moment - he's difficult to read, as always, but he seems thankful that she's supplying support to get Thomas out of there.
"If you say so." He smiles at her, but it's quiet and kept tight - not as real or as friendly or carefree as the smiles that she sees him give Newt, though. Was she truly second best to the blond?
"Good that; everything is good and dandy. Let's go." Minho sounds exasperated again, probably fed up with the looks Teresa is giving Thomas. He turns sharply, making for the door but he stops abruptly. "Thomas." Still, the boy with the sandy brown hair hesitates, eyes still trained on her.
"Don't worry, Tommy," Newt's voice is gentle, reassuring, "Your girlfriend will be fine." Thomas' expression is enough to keep her eyes trained on him.
This time, Teresa does not stray her eyes from his face, does not look away. She sees him duck his head again, eyes going astray, and a flush creep up on his neck. The embarassment from him is red-hot and burns at the back of her mind. But she sees the truth where he sees the lies.
There's the embarassment at being teased for dating Teresa, but there's also the guilt and the misguided disgust that she feels pouring from him. The latter was soft, unsure, tentative, having not yet reached fruitation. Teresa understands in that moment all the trailing glances, all the yearning looks of approval that Thomas sends to Newt. It is not embarassment at having been caught oogling Teresa, but rather that Newt thought it was in the first place. It was obvious who Thomas wanted to date, and it wasn't her - but he didn't seem to realize it yet. It wasn't just about respecting the older boy anymore, anyways.
It was about the feeling - the trust, the companionship. Suddenly she understands the little things that Thomas has told her of his friends, understands how bright his eyes get, how animated his hands move, how pleased and shy he seems at the mere mention of Newt. Because Newt makes him happy.
Perhaps it had been the fact that Newt was that unwavering beacon, that signal for hope and trust, the kindness and the loyalty. Perhaps it had been the fact that Newt had been there when she wasn't. It could have been many reasons, but the fact remains that Thomas held more than friendly affection for the blond.
Oh. Oh, she thinks as the numbness defeats her in one fell swoop. Teresa is still trying to come to terms with this fact. So that's why... She suddenly understands his obliviousness to her gentle affections.
I'm just second to Newt right now, she thinks, but she strangely isn't that offended. She knows that her affection for him runs deeper than his for her right now, even if he doesn't know it. Even if you don't see it.
But which of us is the fool? You for tricking yourself into thinking you liked me more, or I, for not considering there was another?
So she smiles politely, even as her nails dig crescents into her palms and watches them. Thomas and Minho leave without a goodbye, and their shadows dart across the walls as they creep up the stairs. She watches them from beyond her curtain of hair, feeling forlorn that Thomas hadn't said goodbye to either of them.
"Bloody rude," Teresa hears Newt mutter from her other side and she looks at him. He doesn't look up at her, instead he's still hunched over his own map and wax paper, redrawing them with neater marker strokes. "Can't even say goodbye to his bleeding girlfriend." The blond sounds bitter, and his expression is carefully blank aside from the fact that his eyebrows are knitted together. His posture gives away his discomfort with his own words though, and something like pity washes through her at the sight.
"Aren't you going to get some Gladers you can trust?" She asks him, and he glances at her. Do you not know? she realizes and for some reason that thought seems very sad but oh, so plausible. Was everyone oblivious to what was going on between the two?
Something in Newt's expression softens, "Well, I trust ya, don't I? You're good enough for me." There's something homely to his words, something that stills the erratic beating of her heart. Teresa thinks she understands now why Thomas is interested in him - he makes it seem as though he was solely focused on her.
Suddenly she wonders if Thomas' attraction to Newt is one-sided, because Newt has no reason to trust her - and wonders if because Thomas trusts her that trust extends to Newt, too. Her heart gives out at the fact and she has to stop herself for a moment. Not now, she figures, later, I'll figure it out. So she leans back down over her paper and continues to correct it, quietly thanking him.
Later, I will have all the time in the world to figure out what they mean to each other and where my place is in all of it. But then Newt makes some small talk and she already has her answer.