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Alby is doing better. Newt notices first thing in the morning, when he heads to the Homestead to check on him. Alby is still asleep at that time, and for the first time in three days he finally looks like himself again, skin back to full brightness, weight back to filling his bones up. When Newt grazes his forehead with the tip of his fingers, Alby is back to being warm, instead of the clammy stone cold feeling of the previous days.
He's so caught up in the feeling that for a few seconds he misses Alby opening his eyes and staring. It startles him and he pulls his hand away, flushing at being caught in the middle of being so touchy, "Good morning, shank," He mutters, because he doesn't know what else to say, "You feelin' better?"
Alby stares for longer, even his eyes seem to be brighter than when he was sick, but even now they are vacant, unfocused even as he's looking straight at Newt, "I'm fine," He says, manages to sit up on his own. He really does seem fine. Physically, at least. Though Newt knows that inside Alby must feel like a different person altogether, "Where's Thomas?"
It takes a few seconds for Newt to register the question, "He's in the slammer," He immediately regrets telling him. He knows that all the Gladers that have been through the changing hate Thomas with a burning passion, so maybe it’s not a good idea to let them see each other just yet.
Alby frowns and stands up, stretching and groaning as his bones pop, "Why's that?" He asks.
"It's his punishment for going out into the maze," He explains, half paying attention, too distracted by the way Alby’s shirt rides up ever so slightly. His eyes dart away the moment he feels Alby glaring at him as he pulls down on the fabric with a huff.
Alby clicks his tongue, "Go easy on that shank. He saved me, didn't he? Whatever, I'll pick him up later. Where are the keys?"
Newt feels his stomach churn. Bitter. It's a good thing that Alby doesn’t seem to outright want to harm Thomas, but… Since when does Alby care about Thomas, of all people? Saying to go easy on him, picking him up, wanting to talk to him… alone…
Fine, he's still mad about it.
“Alright,” He tries to not let weariness slip into his tone, giving Alby his most shiny, charming smile, “He’s there until the doors close, we’ll pick him up then.”
“I don’t need ya to come with me, slinthead,” Alby grunts as he heads towards the door.
“I know, but I want to be there,” He insists, standing from where he was sitting next to the bed and following after the other boy.
Alby turns to look at him and twists his lips in a way Newt’s not used to seeing. He rarely bites his tongue, never does it when it’s just the two of them, “I want to talk to him one on one, get it?”
Of course I get it, he thinks to himself, but I hate that you want to do that.
"What did you remember?" He asks suddenly, "I mean, during the changing."
Alby looks away, "I don't think it's a good idea to talk about it, yeah? Last time I tried I almost killed myself."
Newt is annoyed. He shouldn't be, but he's really annoyed by this. The thought that Alby somehow trusts Thomas with information more than he trusts Newt irritates him, makes him want to tell Alby that he’s worried, that no matter what he remembered from his past life Newt still likes him better than Thomas ever could, that there’s nothing he could say that would scare him, that he wants to know every little thought that goes through Alby’s head, and that it’s driving him crazy that for the past ten minutes he hasn’t been able to read what’s going on behind those foggy dark eyes the way he usually can.
Instead, he says, "What, did you find out you and Tommy were best buddies back in the day?"
Alby snaps his head to look at him in a sharp motion, an oh so familiar scowl decorating his face as he points at Newt and says, "You're jealous."
"I'm not," He says that, but he can feel his face growing red at the accusation. Is he? He's not the jealous type, not really. But maybe that's because Alby never chooses anyone else over him, "You're just being weird."
Alby looks just as fed up as he feels. He rolls his eyes so hard that it must hurt and opens the door, "Slim it, we don't have time for this klunk. We'll talk later," With that, he slams the door shut behind him.
Newt lets out an exasperated sigh. He grabs the pillow at the head of the bed, presses it to his face and screams.
He tries to not make it obvious that he's upset for the rest of the day. Alby avoids him when he does his rounds, which only serves to make him feel even more enraged. But he’s holding up fine. It’s all good and dandy. It’s not like he depends on Alby to function normally, he can be normal about having an argument. He is being normal. He's just sitting on the grass, enjoying the shade, eating an apple. He's doing well, not looking bothered at all, when Minho stands by him and says, "What's got you so shucking mad?"
Newt glares up at him, then tries to school his expression into something softer, "What are you talking about?"
Minho rolls his eyes, and Newt knows that he can't really lie to him anymore. Minho's gotten good at reading him, which is mildly aggravating, "C'mon. You've been staring daggers into Alby's back ever since he's left the Homestead. Trouble in paradise?"
"Shut your hole," Newt grunts. He can already feel his face heating up.
"Honestly," He continues, as if Newt hadn't said anything, "With the way you two are acting, I thought Alby had already lost his klunk and was going off the deep end. But I don't think he's ever been more pleasant to be around," He snickers, "He almost looked happy to see me today!"
The heavy mass of resentment that had plunged deep into his chest slowly simmers out into an equally as heavy bundle of guilt. Alby had just gone through something terrible, his mind scarred forever, he probably feels like absolute klunk, and even now he's still putting on an effort to act otherwise. It's unusual to everyone else, but Newt knows better. He knows that under all the frowning and scowling, his yelling and impulsiveness, Alby is caring and gentle. Everyone needs to pretend a little bit to protect themselves, and Alby chose to make himself tough to get the Gladers’ respect, because who in their right mind would follow a weak leader?
But Alby isn’t as tough as he makes it seem. Newt has never seen him cry, no matter how bad things get. But he knows that Alby needs a break when he gets too irritable, when he complains about headaches and he can't sleep. Newt will take him away then, to wherever the rest of the Glanders won't pester them. He can tell when Alby needs space and silence, and Newt is more than happy to sit by him, admiring his profile for as long as Alby allows him to. He also can tell when Alby wants more, but he's too stubborn to ask for anything, so Newt will hug him and cover his face is kisses, and Alby will pretend to be annoyed but he'll never say ‘no’, and if Newt tries to separate he'll scowl, say something like ‘where are you going, slinthead?’, hold him tighter.
He's always taken pride in being the only person who can get that out of Alby, the one that can comfort him and get him to let his walls down whenever he's feeling soft and sore on the inside. But here Newt is, sulking under a tree like a brat who couldn't get his way, and Alby is definitely feeling miserable after the first thing he got out of Newt when he woke up from the changing was mean accusations and suspicion. That makes his heart ache harder than the thought of Alby choosing someone else, the urge to make it up to him unbearable.
He stands up suddenly. Minho jumps beside him and Newt turns to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, "Thanks for the talk," He smiles, "I needed that."
Minho stares at him, wide eyed, "Dude, you haven't said a word in five whole minutes."
He doesn't know when to approach Alby. He wants to be in private, doesn't want to allow for the chance for anyone to interrupt. So he waits until night, standing by the hammock Alby usually goes to until he sees the boy approaching slowly.
“I let Thomas out already,” He says in a low voice, taking the keys from his pocket and thrusting his fist at Newt, who in response offers up his palm and accepts the keys back.
To anyone else, Alby doesn't look any different than usual, his neutral, mildly annoyed expression unwavering. Newt can tell he's exhausted anyway. They stare at each other for a while, and at some point Newt realizes that Alby isn't really looking at him, it's more like he's looking at something just behind him, eyes glazed over.
He snaps his fingers in Alby's face, "Come with me to the Homestead for tonight?"
Alby looks like he wants to argue, but he just shakes his head and says, "Fine."
Newt grabs him by the wrist and starts walking towards the dilapidated building. Alby follows at a snail's pace, so he eventually slows down too, and it takes about three minutes longer than usual to get to Alby's room, which in Newt's mind is just our room.
Newt wants to speak as soon as they enter the room, but Alby beats him to it, "I'm sorry for kickin’ you out to talk with Thomas," He says bluntly. He pauses for a little bit, looking around like he's reconsidering the words, "I mean, I still would've kicked you out... anyway. But... I'm sorry about the way I said it, I guess," He sighs, and looks down, scratching the back of his neck, like he's exasperated by the mere act of finding his words, "You were just tryin’ to help. I just... I was feeling... I don't know," He mutters. He's loosely holding Newt's hand at this point, rubbing his thumb against the palm of Newt's hand coyly, "I'll never fully like that shank. But he's not bad. I don't think so, at least… But I’d never choose him over you."
Newt feels like crying. Alby has never been good with words, especially when it comes to talking about feelings, but he's trying. Something curls in his stomach, like a warm wave spreading throughout his body, proud and a little selfish, knowing that Alby would only try this hard for him.
He swallows and finds that his throat is dry, "I don't care about that," The words stumble clumsily out of his lips.
Alby looks back up at him and frowns, "Could've fooled me. You made such a fuss about it this morning..."
"I mean, I did care," He feels heat crawling up his neck at the admission, "I... I did get jealous," When Alby doesn't say anything in return, he continues, "But... I mean... Shuck it," He sighs, "I'm bloody sorry, okay? It wasn't that big of a deal, but I decided to get all pissy because I felt hurt, and because I..." He bites his lip before taking a deep breath, "I was scared that I was loosin’ you already, and that whatever you saw would pull us apart."
They stand like that for a few moments. The longer time passes, Newt starts worrying that perhaps it's too late, that Alby will not accept his apology, that he'll kick him out of the room once more. But then Alby gives him a smile, tight lipped but sincere, "That won't happen. I'm not shucked enough just yet to start hatin’ you," his wispy eyes drift to the floorboards before flickering back to Newt's face, "I saw you, too... I think."
Newt's heart flutters in his chest, feels like it might skip away from his chest, "Really?" His voice cracks in the middle and he curses himself for how ridiculously eager he sounds.
Alby scratches the back of his neck, "The tiny details are a blur now... I think we knew each other as children. I don't remember what you looked like, but I remember the feeling..."
"The feeling?" He asks, pulling lightly at Alby's hand, "What do you mean?"
Now Alby looks embarrassed. He ducks his head and looks at the wall, "You know."
Newt leans down towards Alby's face, trying to meet his eyes, but Alby huffs and turns his face the other way, "I don't know, actually."
Alby gestures languidly with his free hand and mutters, "Like... warm and light inside. I could tell it was you because that's... how I felt..."
His face feels so hot he thinks there might actually be steam coming out of his ears. He looks away too, staring at his shoes as if they're suddenly the most interesting thing on earth, "Really?" He repeats, he can't help the smile creeping onto his lips as he lightly nudges Alby’s shoe with his own.
"Yes, really," Alby says, annoyed, but he squeezes Newt's hand, "There, I said it. Are you happy now?"
Newt laughs wholeheartedly, "I'm very happy," He admits, pushing Alby onto the bed before crawling on top of him to grab his face and plant a big kiss on his cheek. Alby groans, but his skin is scolding hot against Newt's lips, "I should've never doubted your love," He teases, even though the words are true.
"Damn right you shouldn't," Alby grumbles as he wraps his arms around Newt's neck to pull him even closer.
“Am I your love, too?”
"You're a pain in my butt, that's what you are," He hesitates for a second before giving him a quick peck and muttering, "I could never choose anyone other than you, though."
Newt's heart feels like it's in his throat, "Me neither. I don't want anyone else."
He pulls back ever so slightly, just enough to grab Alby by the cheeks and kiss him for real this time.