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"What you afraid your little girlfriend's gonna get hurt? Hm? This has obviously never been just about rescuing Minho. Was it?" Newt's voice cuts through the air, taunting and cruel.
"Newt what're you talking about?" It's all Thomas can really think to say.
"Teresa." Newt sounds as if he'd had a revelation. As if he'd realized something truly earth shattering. He stands up and turns to face him. "She's the only reason that Minho's even missing in the first place. Now we finally have an opportunity to get 'im back, and what?" He's backing Thomas against the wall now. "You don't want to because of her? Because deep down inside you still care about her, don't you." He's speaking quieter now, a louder volume isn't necessary with how close they are. "Just admit it."
"Newt I—" Thomas starts. But he's cut off by Newt screaming in his face.
"Don't lie to me!!" The tips of their noses touch and Thomas is being slammed against the wall before he can finish speaking. Newt's fingers are curled in his collar, holding him harshly against the flat surface. Distinctly Thomas is aware of Brenda covering her mouth with her hand out of horror.
Newt repeats himself, enunciating every word like it's his last. "Don't. Lie. To. Me!" He hisses, he breath ghosts over Thomas' face.
Then he's silent. And for a deafening seven and a half seconds, nothing fills the silence but their combined heavy breathing.
Newt is looking him over, seemingly mortified and checking for any injuries. He mumbles a "Sorry."only Thomas can hear before turning and apologizing to the others in the room. He looks around and rushes out, holding his arm for a noticeable second.
Thomas quickly follows suit. Something had to be wrong. Newt was never that physically aggressive. He finds the other boy sat at the ledge of the building the group was currently inhabiting, facing the ruins of the city. His legs dangled over the ledge and the compromising position fills Thomas with a sort of dread. One he isn't quite sure how to name.
Newt turns as he hears Thomas approaching. He turns back momentarily, as if internally debating something, before twisting his head back to speak. "Sorry 'bout that. Back there." He looks forward again. Looking down at his arm and rolling up his sleeve as he continues. "Guess I can't hide this anymore."
His arm. The veins in Newt's arm were black. Thomas kneels to get a better view, he feels his throat tighten and tears pool at the corners of his eyes. Newt's hand is shaking.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Thomas is surprised at how wrecked he sounds.
"Didn't think it would make any difference." Newt mutters. His eyes focus on Thomas for a brief second before looking down at his arm again. "All I know is that WICKED must've put me in that maze for a reason." He's running his thumb over the black dot the darkened veins extend from. "Maybe it was literally just so they could tell the difference between immunes like you and people like me." His gaze focuses on Thomas. Once again. Newt's self-deprecating wording tugs at his heartstrings.
Thomas' line of sight flickers between dark brown eyes and Newt's arm. "You know we can still fix this, Newt." Thomas looks into his eyes again. "Okay? We can."
"Don't worry 'bout me. This is about Minho. And now he needs us." Newt sighs.
"Did I ever tell you 'bout how I broke my leg? It was way back in the maze, I'd just come up from the box. Just like all the other guys." He pauses. "Didn't know where I was," He rolls his eyes, as if the thought of a younger Newt being terrified in a new environment where he knew nothing but his own name was funny. "Didn't know who I was. You know." He looks down over the ledge again, his eyes glaze over, lost in his recollections.
"Even though all my memories were gone I could still feel.." His jaw clenches momentarily before carrying on. "That something was missing. Y'know? Felt empty. And I just— I couldn't hack that. Couldn't take it. So one morning, I— I got up early, an' I snuck out into the maze. And I went and I found the tallest wall I could." Newt looks up at the sky, hoping for the clouds to spell what he wanted to say, only so he could find the words necessary to continue. They didn't though, so he would have to manage on his own.
The dread that had only started to coil in Thomas' throat earlier only drew itself tighter and tighter, and he could feel himself start to choke on it. On the tears he held back and the sobs he wanted to set free. It was suffocating.
"And I climbed up there and," Newt pauses again, his breath hitching. "I jumped off it." He looks back down at the ruins of the city. "Course I got completely tangled up in all the ivy." He laughs, attempting to make the story have even a semblance of humor. "Snapped my leg in three different places, like a proper shank." His eyes meet Thomas' again, who can only reply with a dry huffed out laugh of his own before looking down at the concrete he was kneeled on. "Landed hard on the floor." Thomas blinks a couple times before looking back up at the blond, who was staring straight ahead again.
Thomas finds himself pleading internally for Newt to look at him again. 'Look at me. Please. Please look at me and never look away.'
"I thought that was it." Newt resumes his story, sounding as if he were simply recalling a bad day, and not a time he'd almost died at his own hands. A time where he felt the need to do what he did. "And then Minho found me," Oh. That was why Newt was so dead set on finding him. "And he picked me up and he took me back to the Glade."
Newt is looking at him again, and a nauseating feeling of relief washes over Thomas.
"And he never told anyone the truth about what happened. He saved me and gave me a second chance. An' now he needs us. So if there is even the slightest chance," Thomas' heart aches and clenches as Newt's gaze focuses on his, for good this time. "That we can save him, that we can get 'im out of there then we have to take that."
"Okay. I hear you." Thomas acquiesces. Newt swallows and opens his mouth as if to say something before closing it and sparing a final glance at his arm and yanking the sleeve back down. All too quickly Thomas is too aware of how close to the ledge Newt is. He moves to sit cross legged next to him, close enough that he was within arm's reach.
Just in case.
Newt scoots closer and rests his head on Thomas' shoulder, who moves his hand to rub soothing circles onto the blond's back.
The casual gestures of affection were nothing new, to either of them, but now for some reason— maybe due to the all too real possibility he could and almost did lose Newt— it felt different.
Though different, it wasn't unfamiliar. The feelings he was now harboring didn't feel new, rather they felt as if they'd metaphorically stepped into the light.
Thomas felt a warm sensation wash over his entire body, and a flush settle onto his face, making it's home on the rises of his cheekbones and the tip of his nose. Alongside that, tears welled up more and more, slipping down his cheeks.
Newt didn't notice at first. Too lost in thought and the comfort Thomas' warm body pressed against him provided. But when he felt the other boy's whole body shudder with a sob it quickly yanked him out of his daydream-ish state.
"Tommy? What's wrong?" Newt pulls back to stare at him and all Thomas can do is resist reaching out to pull him closer, and never let go. His hands twitch as he feels sobs wrack his body harder now. "Tommy? Tommy what's wrong? Thomas, talk to me? Please?" Newt twists his body to kneel besides Thomas and lean in close, placing his hands on the brunette's shoulders. Their faces were so close.
Fuck it.
Thomas surges forward, capturing Newt's lips in his own. He earns a surprised gasp before he's being kissed back in earnest. It's sweet and filthy and reciprocated. He feels Newt's tongue run over his own. He feels Newt curse— his breath warm against their lips— and shift closer.
When he finally pulls away it's Newt's turn to be teary eyed.
"I love you." Thomas finds himself blurting out. Newt's loving gaze turns to one of fear, then anger.
"Don't say that." He hisses.
"What?" Thomas is confused, had Newt not just kissed him back? Vigorously, at that.
"Don't fucking say that." Newt's brows furrow, his tone borders on furious.
"But— Newt you just— you kissed me back. Fuck don't— don't do this."
"You're cruel, Thomas," Newt stands stares for a moment before turning to walk away. "You're fucking cruel." He mutters, storming off.
Thomas is left to sit and watch him go. Once Newt has left his line of sight he buries his face in his hands.
What the fuck.
He doesn't attempt to hold back his sobs now, crying freely into his sleeve.
Over the next week, they don't talk outside of polite exchanges. Always around other people.
They don't talk about what happened. As much as Thomas wants to, Newt just..keeps slipping out of his grasp.
It leaves Thomas with plenty of time to overanalyze every single detail. Every time Newt's lips had moved against his own, every time Thomas' tongue had been allowed to lave over the other boy's canines, every breath he could feel against his face.
Newt had appeared to want Thomas as much as Thomas had wanted Newt.
Why was it so cruel for Thomas to vocalize what he felt? He briefly considered Newt had viewed it as nothing more than simple pleasure, some stress relief maybe. But he didn't seem to be the sort of guy very into..hookups. He'd frowned upon the other boys insinuating as such when talking about the girls in Group B.
It was eating Thomas alive. He found himself barely able to eat or sleep with how much the entire thing consumed him.
He finds his chance one night, after everyone had gone to sleep, or so he assumed.
He shared a tent with Frypan and Newt. He didn't dare to look over at Newt's sleeping bag, but he knew Frypan was fast asleep in his.
As he's making his way to the cliff he's found himself sitting at more often than sleeping when he should, he notices a lithe figure sat at the ledge; looking up at the stars.
Newt.
He walks quietly, as if not to startle him.
When Thomas within a mere three feet of him, Newt still hadn't turned his attention towards the him, and he feels himself internally begging for those eyes to stare through his soul; to spread him open and analyze every bit of him. Like they had previously.
"Newt." He murmurs, his voice hoarse from disuse.
"Thomas."
"What're— what're you doin' here?"
"Relax, you bloody idiot. I'm not going to jump."
Thomas winces, he hadn't been thinking that. It had creeped at the corners of his mind, but it wasn't his main focus.
His main focus had been how golden hair turned nearly brown under the veil of night.
"I wasn't— I wasn't thinking that.."
He can't see, but he knows Newt had rolled his eyes. "M'just watching the stars. What're you doing up here?"
"I've been coming up here when I can't sleep."
"You've been up here every night. We share a tent, Thomas." Thomas feels the stomach curdling feeling of anger slowly rising.
"Who's fault is that?" He knows he sounds irrational and accusatory, but he can't help it.
"Excuse me?" Newt twists his head to glare up at him, one hand raising from the patch of grass it had been fiddling with. "What's that supposed to mean?" Once again, Thomas feels the nauseating relief cascading over him as Newt's eyes land on his.
"You know what that means." Thomas crosses his arms, he feels like a petulant child, but he was in too deep to back out now.
"I don't, actually, Thomas." Newt turns and stands, his stance defensive.
"You fucking—" Thomas chokes over his own words, and his voice dissolves into something soft. "You kissed me back. And I know you did," He raises both of his hands to take in his already mussed hair. "Because I've gone over it in my head a million times. Every single day since it happened." He lets his hands fall by his sides. "And I don't get it. You kiss me back, you call me cruel, and you run instead of just— just telling me— that you're not interested?? Jesus Newt, don't leave a guy like that. Just— just tell me." Thomas' shoulders slump. "That you don't love me back. Not in that way." He averts his gaze to the ground, biting at the inside of his lip to keep from crying, like some pathetic child.
Newt is staring now, seemingly flabbergasted. "You..you really don't get it." He takes a step towards Thomas. "I have loved you in 'that way' since you came up from that shuck box and nearly instantly begged for the position of runner."
Thomas' head snaps up, his mouth opening and closing a few times before finally speaking. "So then, what's— what's the.. the issue?" He manages to mumble.
"The cruelty of it all." Newt's eyes narrowed. "I have wanted you since probably before I can remember. And now that I don't have a lot of time left, you finally want me back. Now that my time here is limited. And Thomas I—" He raises his hands to look at them. "Thomas I can't fall even more in love with you than I already am. I apologize for snapping at you, my anger was misplaced, but it is still cruel."
Thomas swallows his nerves. "You know we'll do something. We'll figure it out. Please Newt. Just— please. Even if we don't find a way, isn't it worth it to be loved in the time you have left rather than..not?" Tears track steadily down his cheeks now, and he hears the way his voice had begun to shake halfway through.
Newt just stares, Thomas is faintly aware of the trembles wracking his own body.
"You still don't fucking get it." Newt's tone is harsh. "I finally have the chance to—" He throws his hands up and rolls his shoulders. "To have you, Thomas. And now I have to die knowing I will never get to grow old with you. I have to die knowing what I've wanted for as long as I've known you is going to be ripped from me." He lets out a shuddery, barely containing tears. "It isn't fucking fair. You said that and now I want. I want you more than ever. And Thomas. I know you. You love fully and devotedly. It wouldn't be fair to you either."
"No, Newt. No. You don't have to do that. We will— we'll figure it out. I promise, we'll figure something out. Because I am not going to lose you, not you too." Thomas steps closer, whispering the last part, he hesitates before wrapping Newt in a tight embrace.
"You're only proving my point." The blond's words are muffled against Thomas' neck as he finally submits to the touch, wrapping his own arms around him.
"Then let me. Let me prove your point. Let me love you. Fully and devotedly. Whatever that means.." He grabs Newt by the shoulders. "Newt, please." His voice breaks when he pleas, tears only coming faster and harder now.
Newt can only stare at him, wide eyed and wondrous in his gaze. How could someone like Thomas— his Tommy— exist? Someone who, despite attaining the knowledge that Newt didn't have much time left, promises to love him no matter what.
"Okay." He chokes out.
"Okay?"
"Okay. You can— You can love me. I love you. I really do Tomm—"
Newt feels Thomas' lips against his, cutting off his ramble. It was softer than the first time they'd kissed.
This time the soft kisses placed against chapped lips held promises and adoration unable to be measured in words.
"I love you. I love you. Thank you. Thank you so fucking much." Thomas is mumbling these phrases and thanks and words of adoration and love against his lips, and it's too much. Newt finds himself joining Thomas in his sobs, trembling as he breaks down into the other boy's arms.
Thomas guides them to sit against a rock wall, sitting them both down, guiding Newt onto his lap and rocking him back and forth while running his hand over his back in circles and patterns comfortingly and offering reassurances against his neck and collarbone.
And Newt just sobs. He sobs into Thomas' shoulder for what feels like hours.
When he finally calms down enough to be semi-coherent, he's made painfully aware of the harsh desert night sinking into his bones and sending a chill throughout his body.
"Tommy. S'cold." Thomas hums and Newt feels the vibrations against his cheek, where it's pressed into the crook between other boy's neck and shoulder.
"You wanna go back to the tent?"
"Not too much. Quite enjoying my time here, actually. Just really bloody cold." He hears Thomas huff a small laugh out beneath him.
"Hm." He wraps his arms around Newt, pulling him closer and farther down onto his lap. "Any better?" There wasn't even an inch of space between them now, and it felt better than they both had ever imagined.
Thomas was like a human furnace, and the warmth that surrounded him was comforting. Newt wraps his legs around Thomas' waist the best he can— further seeking the heat Thomas always seemed to give off— though it was an awkward position, Newt was taller, after all. He nods; finally remembering to respond.
He doesn't want to move. Ever. For the first time he could remember he felt okay, happy even. He wraps his arms around Thomas' neck, burying his nose into the crook of the other boy's neck and sighing contentedly.
He doesn't remember falling asleep in Thomas' lap, but when he wakes up the next morning curled into the other boy's side, laid on the ground in the shade the rock wall provided, and half drenched from sweat the harsh heat caused, he knows he must have.
He can't find it in himself to care too much though, only enough to pull his jacket off writhe close to Thomas again.
When they wake up, his head is in Thomas' lap, who's fingers tangle in his hair and run through soft blond locks. He looks down at Newt with such adoration in his eyes, it makes the blond choke up.
"Hi."
"Hi, love."