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“This will have’ta do.” Newt said.
How he managed to stay calm, at least outwardly, always illuded Thomas. He motioned an all clear for the trucks and then moved to the mouth of the cave, getting out of the way. Thomas stood by his side, wiping the sweat at his brow. The Scorch was unforgiving as ever, with the hard sun and incoming storm.
The cave they found wasn’t as wide as they’d like, and calling it a cave was a bit of a stretch. But, as Newt said, it would have to do. Thomas walked gratefully into the shade it offered once the trucks were carefully parked, wedged at an odd angle to give them extra protection from sand and wind.
From there, it was easy to set up camp. They’d done it so many times in their months of living in the wasteland that it was second nature by now. Blankets were passed out, extra to the unlucky ones who wouldn’t get to sleep in the vehicles – always decided by straws, because everyone hated the extra chill sleeping outside offered. Thomas didn’t tend to care; his sleep was always fitful and short. At least that way, he got to keep the fire smoldering. But Newt would get him a space in the trucks sometimes, just because he also wanted to sleep inside for once.
“Where you go, I go,” Newt would often say when Thomas argued that the older boy could sleep wherever. And that was that.
Thomas spoke with everyone he passed. Checking if their ride was smooth, if their vehicles needed maintenance, if they needed to make a stop to scavenge for more food or water. But the last question was always a resounding yes. You could never get enough water whilst in the Scorch.
Eventually, a chill started to ease into the cave as the sun set. The winds grew harsh, making a whistle constantly sound in their ears. The sand it brought beat against the trucks, but thankfully, their little space in the cave was mostly undisturbed. Little blessings, and all that. A small fire crackled as everyone huddled around, eating their canned dinner. Conversation was quiet and few between, most of them too tired. Thomas spied Brenda near the back, and took his seat next to her.
“How are you holding up?” He asked quietly. He didn’t need to specify with what. Her leg was always bandaged, though her wound was more a scar than anything else.
“Good.” She said. She eased back onto her hands, looking over at him with curious eyes. “You didn’t have to come over here just to ask.”
“I did, though.” Thomas smiled at her easily. She smiled back, looking over to the rest of their ragtag group. Secretly, he was relieved she was okay. He knew better than to tell her that.
They ate quietly, and Thomas watched their few allies. Vince and Jorge were speaking quietly, probably of their next stop would entail. They were getting closer and closer to Minho. To WICKED. Frypan and Newt were on the opposite end, and when Newt caught his eyes, he lifted his waterskin just slightly in acknowledgement. He’d been tense lately, quieter. Thomas wanted desperately to know what was on his mind, but every attempt led to Newt brushing him off. Thomas knew better than to pry, sometimes.
“Should I apologize to him?” Brenda asked, drawing Thomas out of his thoughts. He gave her a confused look, and she rolled her eyes. “Y’know. About that?”
“What?” Thomas asked. She raised her eyebrows up and down. “No, seriously, what?”
“About how I kissed you.” Brenda said. “Remember?”
Thomas tensed minutely at the reminder. A part of him had hoped she’d been too drugged to remember, but he knew he’d had the worst of it. If he remembered it, she did too.
He recalled how his head throbbed and everything around him felt like it was moving. He tripped over his feet with each step and constantly felt like the floor was falling out from under him. And there, in the middle of the bright lights and dancing bodies, had been Newt. He had whispered about his friends being gone, how he should just relax. Then he’d rose on his toes and pulled Thomas down into a kiss that tasted like that awful drink. Thomas had ran his hands over Newt’s scalp, trying to grab hold of the blond locks that weren’t there.
But that hadn’t been right. Newt was taller than Thomas, and his hair was long. When Thomas pulled away, Brenda was staring up at him with her wide eyes, glossy and unfocused.
“You aren’t him.” Thomas had whispered. Her face had fallen and then she retreated back into the crowd, just like that.
Thomas cleared his throat, “Um, why do you need to apologize to Newt?”
Brenda looked at him as though he were stupid. “Because you two are, like, a thing?”
“Erm, no.” Thomas said, his face hot. He waved his hand around in a panic. “No, no. We’re just close. Friends.”
“Uh-huh.” Brenda rolled her eyes, “Listen, I’m pretty sure everyone here knows. It’s okay. I dunno what those mazes were like, but we have a saying here. Take what love you can get.”
“We aren’t like that.” Thomas replied, though it felt like a lie. He wanted them to be like that, but really, they weren’t.
Brenda laughed after a moment. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Thomas nodded.
“Dude, you make moon eyes at each other all the time. Why haven’t you said anything?” Brenda asked once her laughter eased.
Thomas couldn’t admit that it was only a couple of weeks ago in that he came to the realization of his feelings when Brenda kissed him. It was even worse to say that, really, they hadn't known each other for long prior to that anyways. But, he couldn’t stop thinking of what it would really feel like to kiss Newt, not his hallucination of it. He’d come to terms with his feelings for Newt, as much as he could at least, but he still kept his lips seal shut and to himself.
“It’s stressful right now.” Thomas said. “I don’t want to get in the way of our mission.”
Brenda laughed at him again. She was good at that.
“There’s another saying on the Scorch.” She said. “Live every day like it’s your last.”
“No regrets.” Thomas nodded. He’d heard it. He didn't tell her it wasn't exclusively a Scorch saying. “It’s different–”
“No, it isn’t.” Brenda cut him off, her look sharp. “Tell him. I bet the only reason he hasn’t said something is because of the same thing.”
Thomas wanted to deny it again. They had many more things to worry about than this, but he saw the way she genuinely cared about this, for whatever reason.
“Have you ever...” Thomas cringed and didn’t finish the question.
“No.” Brenda said, she looked out over the fire. “Not like you and him.”
He didn’t know what it was like really living in the Scorch where he had to constantly be on top of his game. He had a few odd memories, living in WICKED’S compound as a child, but all of his clear memories were of the Maze. He'd never gone into anything alone. He'd always had Newt and the other's at his back, ready to lift him when he fell. Just a few months ago, his life had started. He doubted her life was easy, even with Jorge watching over her.
She smiled at him, just slightly. “Tell him.” She said again. Then, she leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “Or he’s gonna keep looking at me like that.”
Then she got up and walked over to Jorge, who welcomed her eagerly. Thomas looked over to where Newt sat, just across from them. His face was hard as he quickly got up and limped away from the group. Thomas watched him for just a moment before he jumped up to follow him.
The wind was harsher in front of the trucks, but not nearly as bad as he had thought originally. Sand danced at the lip of the cave and whispered against the glass of the trucks’ windows. Maybe the storm was already passing. Newt stood off to the side, protected from the elements by a indent in the cave.
“You okay?” Thomas asked.
Newt gave him a look. “What do you want, Tommy?”
“Can’t I check in?” Thomas groused, and nestled himself closer to hide from the wind. “What’s wrong?”
“My leg.” Newt said, though he sounded stiff. “Cold, y’know?”
Thomas frowned in sympathy. “Shouldn’t you be by the fire?”
“Why aren’t you with Brenda?” Newt asked, “A ladies' man, you are, mate.”
“I’m not.” Thomas replied, eyes rolling. “Brenda’s just a friend.”
Newt didn’t relax, but he leaned against Thomas just a little bit. They watched the sand dance in the wind and heard the echo of the others getting ready for bed.
“Brenda kissed me.” Thomas blurted out. “When we were at Marcus’ party.”
Newt righted himself again. “Slim it, why are you tellin’ me that?”
“I kissed her because I thought it was you.” Thomas said. He dug his nails into his palm, anxiety getting the better of him. Newt looked at him with wide eyes.
“What?”
“I kissed her because I thought it was you.” Thomas repeated, “I-I was out of it. Hallucinating, I guess. But. Yeah. I thought you should know.”
“Okay.” Newt said. “Do you, uh, still want to kiss me? Or was Brenda-me enough?”
“Shank.” Thomas said, laughing just a little.
He leaned closer into Newt’s space and saw the way his lips curled into a crooked grin. It looked real: his eyes crinkled and laughter in his throat. Thomas missed that look. He leaned in, and Newt’s breath stuttered in the little space between them. But the older boy leaned forward nonetheless and sealed their lips together.
Unlike his hallucination, Thomas had to tilt his head back. Newt was taller than him, and he could almost be described as lanky if not for the way he was all taught muscle. Farm work and later training to fight had done him wonders. Thomas dug his fingers into the blond hair at the nape of his neck, letting it tangle between his fingers.
Newt’s hands were framing his face, his touch soft yet somehow desperate. How long had Newt wanted this, Thomas wondered. How often did he think about pulling Thomas aside like they were now, and kissing him?
Thomas thought about it often enough.
“As good as your dream?” Newt whispered against his lips. His pupils were blown wide, his breath against Thomas’ mouth.
“Better.” Thomas replied.
“Good that.”
Then they were kissing again. Thomas pressed Newt deeper into their crevice, opening his mouth with a soft sound when the blond asked with a flick of tongue. He wondered if Newt had kissed anyone before, but quickly lost the thought when Newt trailed his hand down his neck, his back, lower still until his fingers teased under his shirt.
“I’m never leaving your side.” Thomas breathed.
Newt stilled. He knew what Thomas meant, he always did. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Thomas said. He looked up, nervous for the first time since their lips met. “That okay?”
“Yes.” Newt replied. He kissed Thomas again, deep and devouring. “I won’t leave your side either.”
Thomas laughed, completely content for the first time in his memory. He touched the leather that bound Newt’s hair, his collar bone, his arms. He could touch, now. They kissed and touched, exploring this new world that was just theirs, in the dark corner of a cave. It felt easy to transition their relationship to this, they didn’t need words to know what they wanted. Maybe they’d always known, deep down, and nothing really changed this night.
Thomas would still follow Newt anywhere.
“Where are we sleeping?” Thomas asked.
Newt grinned against his lips. “Outside.” Thomas groaned in dismay. Newt laughed, light and easy, “I thought you liked sleeping outside, Tommy.”
“Not tonight.” Thomas replied, kissing Newt’s jawline.
Newt’s laugh hitched, and he stretched his head to the side, giving Thomas more access to his throat.
“Why did you tell me tonight?” Newt asked breathlessly.
“Brenda wanted to apologize to you for kissing me.” Thomas murmured against pale skin.
Long fingers dug into Thomas’ hair. “Apology accepted.”
Their mouths molded together again. It felt like a perfect fit, the way their bodies pressed together. Newt's fingers were nimble as they held onto Thomas' hips, digging into the fabric of his jeans to get a proper feel of him. Thomas spread his fingers under Newt's shirt in return, and reveled in the hitched breaths he got in return.
Then, there was a knock against the side of the truck before Frypan loudly announced that he was going to go to bed, just like everyone else, and y’know, maybe they should too. At least move away from the truck he’d be sleeping in.
Newt and Thomas laughed, feeling oddly shamed for getting caught but much too giddy to let it affect them. They slipped back into the cave, ignoring Frypan’s oddly soft grin as he loaded into the truck. The fire had gone down significantly, and Newt worked to get it back up as Thomas laid out their sleeping bags. Usually, they had a straggler sleeping out with them, so at least one person could be on watch at all times, but everyone had loaded into a truck tonight.
“Maybe they don’t want to look us in the eyes.” Newt offered.
Thomas laughed. Newt quickly got into his bedding and looked over at Thomas. His eyebrows were quirked, his eyes crinkled, and his smile small. He looked soft. Intimate. Newt looked at him like that quite often. Thomas leaned down to kiss him. Newt held him there with a hand to the back of his head, cradling him like he was something precious.
“Tommy.” Newt whispered. There was a new intensity to his voice that made Thomas stop from going in for another kiss. “Tommy, I need you to do something for me.”
“What?” Thomas asked, lead in his stomach.
“If I turn, you need to kill–”
“What? No.” Thomas cut him off, sitting upright. “No.”
“Tommy, I can’t become one of those things.” Newt said. “I - please.”
“You won’t.” Thomas said fiercely.
“I’m not like you,” Newt said, his voice strained, “I’m not immune. If I get infected, you need to kill me.”
Thomas shook his head in disbelief. “What part of tonight jumped out and said I’d do that?” He snapped.
“None of it.” Newt smiled mirthlessly. He raised a hand to cup Thomas’ cheek before he paused and let his hand drop. His expression became serious. “Thomas. Please.”
Newt never called him Thomas. His breath stuttered and he closed his eyes.
“No.” Thomas said again, his voice wavering. “I can’t.”
Newt took his hands, finally. “I can’t hurt you. I couldn't live with myself. Do you get it?”
Thomas’ jaw worked. “Then you need to go to the Safe Haven.”
“No. Where you go, I go.” Newt said, sounding upset for the first time. His nostrils flared with anger.
“You don’t go anywhere if it means you die.” Thomas replied, bitter. “I won’t kill you. If you do – do get infected. We’ll save you. We’ll find a cure.”
Newt shook his head. “Tommy...”
“I will find a cure.” Thomas swore with all his being. He realized distantly that this is what left Newt so withdrawn lately. He’d been worrying about getting infected. All this time, he'd been riddled with the fear that he'd become a monster. “I will.”
Newt laid down, and Thomas thought he had upset him further. It wasn't unheard of for Newt to go to bed just to spite Thomas. But he couldn’t agree to it – the idea of Newt dying was hard enough without it being from his own hands. But Newt spread his arm out in his usual invitation of cuddling. Before it had been under the guise of keeping the cold at bay, but Thomas knew better now. Maybe he had always known.
He laid his head gently onto Newt’s arm, and the other boy curled closer to him. His fingers shook. Thomas hugged him back. For the first time, he wished he would grow bigger, taller, wider. He wanted to shield Newt from the broken world around him. He wanted Newt to feel safe.
“I’ll follow you anywhere.” Newt said, muffled against his temple.
Thomas knew what he was saying. He always did.
“I love you too, Newt.”