Chapter Text
Violent, ripping screams, fire, tall buildings collapsing and erased like they’d never even existed from the beginning, distant voices were shouting at him to let go, to finally release the body he was still clinging on so tightly, a sharp, biting pain in his abdomen.
And then….nothing.
Thomas eyes fluttered close, leaving him in the absoluteness of dark, his body went limp and his frantic breathing came to an halt. Minho could finally pull the boy away from the puddle of blood, thick drops spreading across the floor. A tight knot formed itself in his stomach at the stiff feeling from Thomas’s body, lying in his clenched grip.
Left in the corner, like a distant memory, was the fragile body of a boy. But to Thomas, it wasn’t just a boy. It was Newt. His best friend, his…
Frypan and Gally stood over Newt, watching his face with careful eyes, trying to figure out whether the crank had actually passed out or was just waiting for the right moment to attack. The silence was thick with unspoken fears and questions…
They didn’t want to think of him like that, like a crank, an animal. But it was hard not to. They all knew deep within, that he was still their friend. But was he really the same? Was the body lying in front of them, really their friend? The one who had always been offered a listening ear? The one, always wearing a sly smile on his face? The one who always reached out a hand, pulling them back from whatever nightmare they’d been dealing with? Now he was lashing out, full of violence and anger, all the time. Screaming at them, attacking everyone who dared come near him. Well, everyone, except Thomas.
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Thomas wary eyes shot open, and he scrambled up as fast as he could, as if he’d just awoken from a horrible nightmare. But it hadn’t been a nightmare, right? It was all real… He saw Minho sitting in a corner, crouched onto the wall, in a light sleep. He looked exhausted, blood still scattered across his wrinkled shirt, dark circles under his eyes. Thomas wondered whether it was Minho’s blood or his own. Not wanting to wake Minho, his mind formed the decision to try and find Frypan or Gally.
His light footsteps echoed across the berg, as he walked out of the small room Thomas had found himself in. Behind his eyes, a stern voice made itself known.
„Don’t even think about leaving your room Greenie! You just got shot, you need to rest.”
Thomas turned around slowly, already sensing agony against whatever Gally was going to tell him. „Where is he?”, he asked with a scratchy voice, he was visibly trembling at the thought of Newt.
„Thomas, I said lay your ass back down.”, Gally tried scurrying Thomas away, „You can’t go to him anyways you shank.”
„ What do you mean!? Is Newt okay? Let me see him.” Thomas could feel his eyes sting, water filling them and threatening to spill.
„Ne he’s not! What do you think?! He’s a shucking crank!”
„Don’t call him that!”, Thomas snarled at him. He started to feel dizzy, a ringing sound came to his ears, drowning Gally’s voice out completely.
„Shuck! Fry, come and help me. The greenie is passing out again.”, Gally called out, frantic, sharp and with a strong voice. But if you knew him, you could hear that it was filled with fear.
Frypan rushed to their side, feet slipping on the cool floor. He gripped at Thomas at his waist gently, as not to hurt him, before guiding him to sit. „Thomas, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”, he added.
„No, no! I need to see him. Please…”. Thomas breaths got ragged, cutting of the air. He could feel the raw panic practically rising up in his chest and clawing at his throat. Loud sobs, full of pure, and gut wrenching pain, left his mouth. He noticed the burning pain that was brewing up deep in his stomach. Hissing, he moved his hand to the carefully bandaged wound.
„Thomas you need to calm down this isn’t gonna help anyone!”
„No Gally, I can’t. Please! Please…”, his voice quieted down, like he had let out to much, showed too much of his once contained emotions. Tears dropped down on his and Frypans shirt, creating a watery stain, a reflection of his heart.
„Okay, okay. That’s good Thomas, just keep breathing. You can’t go to Newt if you’re this shaken up.”, Frypan exclaimed, at an attempt to calm Thomas down, to get back the usually strong and present boy. But he guessed that boy was gone now, replaced with only the shell of a soul.
„Fry, you can’t be serious! You know we can’t let him get to Newt. He’s still to weak, what if Newt hurts him?”, Gally said with a bewildered look on his face, sharp enough to cut air.
He felt the words leaving his mouth, before he could bend the truth to a more comfortable sentence. But the realistic part of his brain knew he was right, it was just for the safety of everyone. Even if that meant locking up one of his closest friends, like a wild animal would be locked up in a shelter, screeching on the doors to be released.
„No, he wouldn’t! Newt would never hurt me!”, Thomas shot out from the floor, where he had weakly slumped down. He looked miserable, like a drop of water running down a cars window, knowing it’s going to pool into one big puddle soon.
„Okay fine! But calm down Greenie, before I tie you to your shucking bed!”
Thomas finally released a deep breath he didn’t even realise he was holding in, at the thought of being able to see Newt. The weight pressing on his heart lightened a little, the deep panic settled in his chest loosened up.
Thomas took deep breaths, raked through his damp hair and slowly straightened up.