Chapter Text
The lights were too much. Red. And glowing. Just too much.
Thomas was catching his breath. Newt’s body shaking uncontrollably from all the strength he had used.
He was still sick. Still not cured.
Thomas had the weird blue liquid in his poket, he grabbed it through his trousers now to make sure it was still in the right place. God, it was. He exhaled with the last bit of relief he had found in himself.
He grabbed Newt by his arms, slender and weak arms.
In a few minutes they would walk out of this place.
Without their friends. Without anyone. Just the two of them.
But now – Thomas was looking around, hoping he would find an exit door for them both. He knew this was the government, they couldn’t be that stupid to just put the door in front of his face.
They walked from wall to wall, room to room. Door to door.
Or to put it in better words, Thomas walked holding onto Newt just so the older boy would not fall to the ground.
Well, he thought WCKD couldn’t be more stupid. But they could.
He found it. Exit door.
He didn’t even think about consequences if that was a goddamn trap. He didn’t care. He knew what he had to do though. Get Newt outta here.
Right now.
That’s what mattered.
And so he did.
Last thing Thomas remembered from this place was how desperately Newt was breathing to his face. He was reaching the Heavens for those breaths. Just to stay a bit more in this cruel world. Just to not abandon Thomas.
Although, he was almost unconscious, he could see the ground. The world was spinning around him. He could see how his feet dragged across the floor as he couldn’t really control his own body anymore. He couldn’t pull his head up.
He heard Thomas begging the people above – “God” or some other mystical creatures – to help him. He never heard Thomas plea for anything, not for mercy nor for his life.
The life that was so precious. Too precious.
Maybe Thomas thought the Saints have helped him. Or whoever was there with him as he begged for help.
But Newt knew it was Thomas’ own actions that saved him.
Saved both of them.
And he can never forget that.
That’s how Newt found himself in the wooden cabin they – Thomas - found in the middle of the mountains. In the middle of literal nowhere.
Still hurt and still coughing but from day to day, he was feeling much better.
The cure was making big changes in his body as he wasn’t that sensitive and angry.
Thomas wasn’t in the cabin now but if he were – Newt would make sure to never pull him from his embrace.
Newt didn’t know how Thomas made it that far with him almost being gone to the Flare. But he was glad. He was more than glad. He promised himself that he would make some effort to show Thomas how glad he actually was.
No more fear for Newt. No more fear.
Time was passing by, Thomas found his way back to their new space.
Newt was laying on the sofa – which actually was very comfortable, but he couldn’t be fussy about any of his surroundings since it was luxury for him and his companion. He turned around to look at Thomas as he entered the cabin.
The cabin was small, but not too small for Newt and Thomas.
Actually, Thomas thought it was perfect. He imagined a normal life without all the weird shit that has happened to them.
Maybe in a world like before, Newt could be his mate. He started to use British slang because of Newt.
That shank.
Thomas looked over him. Seeing him melt in the blanket he found upstairs in the cabin was a cute view. He noticed Newt was looking better too. He smiled.
"Hey. Feeling any better? " Thomas’ voice was soothing, like it could wear off Newt’s every scar just by hearing it.
Newt noticed the boy laid some of the hunting tools on the ground.
Has he been hunting? How long was I laying here?
Newt found the words to answer him.
"Yeah, a bit. But I still smell like shit." Newt chuckled and Thomas was glad the boy did not lose his weird sense of humor. He sat on the couch next to his friend.
"Oh sorry, I forgot to clean you in the bathtub when we got here. Next time when you pass out I’ll make a better job." he replied just as sarcastic as Newt. He could see that the joke amused Newt by the look on his face. Thomas scratched his own nose and huffed.
Newt supported himself to sit down next to Thomas and he could hear Thomas blur a quick “Lay down, Newt” but he was too slow for Newt anyway. They were sitting arm-to-arm now.
"Is anyone with us? Minho? Anyone?" Newt asked. Thomas looked down at his knees. He hated that he had to tell him the bad news. When Newt noticed the look on Thomas' face, he knew immediately. "Oh." Was all he could say.
Yeah, Oh.
They were alone.
In the middle of nowhere.
Without anything.
Just each other.
Could it be worse?
Actually it could, Thomas thought. Newt could not make it. But he did.
He did. So it wasn’t that bad.
"I don’t know what happened. With them or with WCKD. Maybe they’re alive." Thomas tried not to blame himself but he damn well knew he could look after them when he had the chance. He was just so scared there. "I thought maybe WCKD would chase after us, but no. Weird. I didn’t see any bodies on our way out. Any blood. Anything. This was all so fucking weird, Newt." he sighed and closed his eyes to gather his thoughts and words. "Maybe they were there, behind some wall, in some room, scared. Fuck. Now that I’m thinking about it, I could’ve done something, I..."
His intrusive thoughts were interrupted by Newt in this exact moment.
"Fuck you, you saved me! That’s all that matters. We are here," He looked at Thomas’ freckled cheeks. Thomas was shocked that he still got it, even when healing.
He still got his vicious tongue.
But that was one of the things Thomas liked so much about him. He continued his speech. "Maybe all the gladers are there, but for now we can’t think like this. You can’t just blame yourself, Tommy. We are alive, thanks to you."
Thomas shook himself from his deep thoughts and looked over at Newt.
Tommy. Tommy.
This nickname would wake him up from a coma. Only Newt would call him that. And now, only he could.
He breathed out, trying to cool down. He nodded and said a quiet “alright” under his breath.
Newt took his hand. No more fear.
"I owe you my life, you prick. So don’t ever blame yourself for something so.." – he couldn’t find words for this situation. He missed his friends and was scared for them but deep down in his chest he felt, no, he knew they had to be okay. They had to. - "bizzare."
Thomas shivered but Newt’s touch somehow made him more conscious. His skin was soft, like he just applied hand cream. Warm and long fingers. Thomas noted all of the details about it in just one touch. He wanted to squeeze Newt’s hand, he didn’t know why he felt that sudden urge.
Thomas’ hand lingered there for a while.
But Newt took his hand away, so he didn’t do it.
He didn’t took Newt’s hand in his.
That empty feeling.
The room was filled with their loud breathing. Then again, Newt had the courage to speak out. Just like always.
"Thank you, Tommy. You saved my life. Not just by dragging me out of there but also the cure," he looked down at his arm where his veins - vivid colors of blue and purple now started to look more weathered. The infection was drifting away from Newt’s body and Thomas couldn’t imagine hearing better news now. - "your blood saved me. Your blood."
Thomas only know acknowledged it, he was the cure for Newt’s disease. For the World’s disease. For the Flare.
He was so selfish. He still is so selfish.
But now only Newt mattered to him.
He looked at the wooden wall in front of him and stood up. Thomas knew he had to take better care of Newt from now on.
"You’re probably hungry. I’ll make you something" and with that he almost walked out of the room to enter the kitchen. There was something he had to ask him first though.
"What if this place is just another challenge organized by these sick fucks?" he breathed out looking at Newt. "I found this place but it couldn't be a coincidence. This is the only cabin I could find in miles and trust me, I've been walking for a long time with you being almost unconscious." Thomas shook his head.
And then he saw Newt looking right through his soul.
With these damn dark eyes – in which Thomas could’ve sworn he melted in by every second while looking at them.
Newt didn’t say anything, he only shifted on the sofa and pouted his lips at Thomas.
The tension in the room was thicker than they could’ve ever imagine.
Why did it feel this way?
They both had no idea.
Maybe it was the silence of them both just thinking about the situation they had found themselves in.
Alone. With each other.
They’ve been with the gladers since they can remember – no, literally. They couldn’t remember anything before that.
The strands of Newt’s shiny, long hair were almost reflecting from the sun that was now sneaking in through the windows of their little house.
He looked like he was kissed by the sun from Thomas’ point of view.
Thomas could only stare at him, until he realized how weird he was acting.
He always saw Newt as a handsome boy in the Glade and in the Scorch. But now his face was fully bathed in the sunset and it was different.
Newt was beautiful. Looked like an Angel.
Thomas snapped out of it – but if he only could, he would’ve stare at Newt till it was dark. And even then, he would've kept staring at him.
Thomas turned around, headed to kitchen without a single word.
It was weird. He was acting weird.
He just hoped Newt hasn’t noticed that.
He turned on the stove and grabbed some of the canned soup from the counter he had found while Newt was still in his coma.
He started thinking. Things had to change for the better now.
Thomas really tried hard to believe in that.
He found himself thinking about the Glade again – when he had just met Newt and the others. When he was just a Greenie.
Minho, Teresa, Alby. Chuck.
They were gone. Never coming back.
He fought the tears that had gathered in the corners of both of his eyes now.
Newt needs you. Get your shit together.