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"They're sending you up there tomorrow."
Those words prickle at Newt's senses, the statement gripping him with terror. He turns away from the source of the sound, Thomas, who continues to stare at him with fingers trembling, playing at the hem of his dark grey hoodie.
"Is that so?" Newt finds himself saying.
"Yeah, says Thomas, finally looking down at his shoes. "I'm sorry."
A moment passes as the two find themselves at lost for words, because the situation is pretty fucked up already — Newt's going to be one of the first thirty people to enter the Maze and Thomas will have to stay on the other side of the glass, analyzing the boy's brain patterns for two years at the very least.
Why did I agree to this? Thomas thinks. Why did I ever say yes to those people?
Before he realizes it, Newt has turned around and is now walking towards Thomas, the distance setting them apart quickly decreasing. Newt stops just a few inches from him, his slightly taller build seeming to shrink a little, and his face shows a mixture of anger, terror, and sadness all at once. Thomas doesn't know what to say, doesn't know what to do, so he lets his hands find Newt's waist, pulling him closer.
Naturally, Newt succumbs to the embrace as he places his hands around Thomas, and tears begin to form in his eyes. He rests his head on Thomas' shoulder and tries to fight the tears back, he really does, but there's no stopping the liquid from streaming down his cheeks. He feels Thomas sobbing, saying I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry and Newt can only crack a tiny smile at the edge of his lips. A smile for Thomas, his Tommy, for being so brave and determined to find a cure for the Flare. He knows the disease is going to eat him out sooner than later, so he's grateful that there's a whole department dedicated in finding a cure, but he knows deep down that the cure is never going to be real. He just knows, and it hurts, but he will try to be strong, in front of Tommy at least, because they need to be strong for this to last.
"I'll make sure you don't get hurt up there," says Thomas in a low whisper against Newt's ear. "I'm going to keep you safe. I'm not going to let them hurt you. Ever."
"I know." He can only imagine how tomorrow will be — they'll put the Swipe on him and he'll never remember Thomas, he'll never remember his Tommy, and he won't be able to recall the taste of Tommy's lips when they first kissed, won't ever remember this.
"I'll sleep here tonight, alright? I'm going to stay with you 'til the time comes."
"Okay."
So they walk to the bed — which is getting smaller for two fourteen-year-olds — and the mattress dips slightly as they lay there, facing each other, with Thomas cradling Newt's lanky body, their heartbeats thumping at the same time. Newt buries his face in Thomas' hoodie as he inhales the smell, a scent that he'll have forgotten this time tomorrow.
Reality hurts.
"Tommy?" Newt's voice echoes throughout the room, an interruption to the tranquility they've created.
"Yeah?"
"I don't want to forget."
A wave of sorrow fills Thomas' heart at the statement and he can feel Newt's grip on his hoodie tighten. He starts to stroke the back of Newt's neck gently, soothing him with the touch, because words just aren't working right now. He wants to pounce the wall in frustration, wants to know why destiny has written such a massive tragedy to happen to them, but Newt's here and tonight is all the time they've got left and he can't waste this.
An idea pops into his mind — a stupid, pointless idea — but it intrigues him nonetheless.
"Newt," he says quietly. "Give me a sheet of paper. And a pen."
"What?" The confusion in his voice is noticeable.
"Just do it," says Thomas. "Please."
Newt carefully removes himself from Thomas' grasp and walks over to the steel-topped desk across the room, all the while muttering something Thomas can't hear. He quickly finds what he wants and walks back to the bed where Thomas is now sitting at the edge of. Newt gives him the paper and pen and he notices how Thomas' hand quivers a bit, how the boy gulps and closes his eyes for a split second, as if he's trying to compose himself, get himself together.
Thomas begins to tear the paper in half and throws one half of it away as the second half now rests on his lap. He writes something — just a mere ten words scribbled neatly — and folds the sheet of paper carefully.
"Do you have an envelope?"
"It's in there, I think. The left drawer."
An envelope is produced and Thomas silently folds the sheet of paper, inserting it to the tiny envelope afterwards. He takes Newt's hands and thrusts the envelope on him, along with a painful smile plastered on his face. Newt looks down at the envelope, and then up at Thomas, his expression changing as if he knows what Thomas is up to.
"This is for you," says Thomas slowly. "For your eyes only. Open it when you're up there."
"You want me to open up some stupid envelope with a bloody note inside it?" The bitterness in Newt's voice is clear and Thomas' heart falters.
"It's not stupid, Newt, it's —"
"You want me to hold on to some bloody note that I won't even understand when I'm up there? Is that it?"
"Newt, that's not what I mean, I swear —"
"You can't expect me to do that, Tommy."
Newt is positively fuming as he says those words and all Thomas can think of is I just don't want to let you go, even if you'll never remember me, even if we'll never be this way again, but what he does is let go of Newt's hands and cups the boy's cheeks in his hands, prodding Newt to look up at him. What he sees in Newt's eyes is agony and Thomas feels suffocated because he just wants Newt to understand.
"Just put this in your pocket, okay?" says Thomas in a voice that sounds foreign to himself. "Keep it safe and open it when you're up there. This note will be some sort of connection to kind of remind you of your past life, and I'll be there too soon enough."
"Two years isn't exactly what I'd call soon."
"That's not the point! What I'm saying is, at least you'll to your past after the Swipe is put on you. The Swipe isn't fail-proof anyway — some memories are bound to come back. Maybe the ones that come back will be memories... memories of us."
Newt smiles a little, a barely noticeable crack at the edge of his pale face. He stuffs the austere envelope in his pocket and looks up at Thomas, the smile still there because he really gets it now. He knows why Thomas wants to give him this thing even if he doesn't know yet what's written inside. But then he thinks of how he'll probably get fragments of his past by the time Thomas arrives and how Thomas wouldn't know a thing, wouldn't recognize him. But he keeps it all inside because he can't take that kind of pain right now seeing as this whole thing is agonizing enough.
As the night darkens, they find themselves laying down on bed side by side once again, Newt inhaling the smell of Thomas' hoodie once more as if nothing's happened. Thomas whispers a silent I love you and Newt nods, humming to the sound of their heartbeats as the void of sleepiness swallows them whole.
When they wake up, two WICKED officials are already by the door to tell Newt that it's time to go. Thomas does the only thing he can think of: he gives Newt his hoodie whilst whispering for you and a kiss goodbye, a kiss Newt cherishes because it's their last for now, and might possibly be the last for eternity.
"I'll still be loving you," says Newt hoarsely, eyes clearly wet with tears. "When I become one of them — I'll still love you because I'm still gonna be me, alright? I'll still —"
"Shh," whispers Thomas, wiping the tears off Newt's cheeks. Newt sighs and Thomas nods as he holds back the tears, trying to choke up the words that are better left unsaid. Seconds later, the WICKED officials finally take Newt away, leaving Thomas to feel the taste of Newt's lips linger as e stares at the empty bedroom before him.
***