Chapter Text
PRESENT DAY
5 MONTHS AFTER THE BURNING OF WCKD
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Thomas felt as if there was a haze covering his every thought. Every moment that passed since Newt’s death didn’t seem right - didn’t seem real. He didn’t feel as if anything was real. Everything felt like a nightmare, almost as if he couldn’t seem to wake up.
He thought about Newt a lot. He thought about how Newt could make him smile in an situation. He thought how Newt stayed by his side, never doubting him and ever so trusting. Thomas knew that he didn’t deserve him, knew that he had Newt in his life by some miracle. He was the glue in his life, holding everything together.
Thomas could never get over the fact that his glue had dried out and had been scratched away.
It wasn’t until the moment that he had to be dragged away from Newt’s body that Thomas realized that he was the love of his life. It took him a while, unable to take the time to think of it before. It had always been survive, survive. It was never time to think about him and Newt. Sure, Thomas knew things were different with him - knew that there was always something just out of his reach. He knew that there had been something clinging to the back of his mind, after all this time.
He had seen Newt become one of them. He had seen the animalistic look in his eyes. Thomas knew he was gone.
He had been dragged away from his best friend. He had bled everywhere from a wound on his shoulder from Janson’s knife. He watched his own blood spill all over Newt, almost turning his WCKD uniform completely dark and soaked through.
That’s why, when Minho and Jorge sat him down, telling him that one of their men may have seen a glimpse of him on their night watch, he didn’t believe it for a moment.
“Thomas, did you hear what I said?”
The hazy thoughts in Thomas' mind seemed to shift slightly in order to let Minho’s voice flow through. Although he was listening, only just slightly, he couldn’t bring himself to look up from Minho and Jorge’s feet.
He studied their dirty boots as they sat across from him on the other bunk. Thomas, his mind scattered everywhere, couldn’t seem to think of anything else besides the dirt caked onto Minho’s shoe. Couldn’t he clean it?
Jorge and Minho glanced at each other, hesitant. They were getting used to Thomas not being all the way present. He seemed to only talk about the most mundane things, nothing of importance, when he bothered to speak at all. The fact that the two men were getting used to it scared them to death.
Thomas wasn’t who he was before. He hadn’t been in 5 months.
“Thomas,” Jorge said, gently and reassuringly. “Thomas, listen to me.”
Thomas nodded, signaling that he was. Even though what they were saying was a load of shit. Of course Newt wasn’t alive. He had left him to die on that burning roof - soaked in Thomas' blood.
“One of our men was on night watch last night. He said a group of people passed right by his lookout. There were about 5 of them. He specially heard...his name. Newt’s name. He said that it was a blonde, tall boy.”
Thomas had laughed at the sound of Newt's name. It was a quiet laugh, more of huffs of breath through his nose. He cocked his head, smiling a sad smile. Minho and Jorge shared another glance.
“Thomas, I’m going to go look for him, and I want you to come. I want you to come with me. They have to be close, they have to be somewhere around here. There’s an abandoned city close by, there are cabins near the mountains, there are so many places that the people here haven't explored. There are no threats out there besides the infected now, with WCKD gone. I want you to come with me.”
Thomas didn’t laugh this time.
Go with him? To look for a ghost?
”He’s dead, Minho.”
The sentence left the room silent for a moment. It hung in the air, almost suffocating, as if was threatening to collapse the whole building.
Thomas couldn’t seem to get it through his head that Minho lost his best friend too. Minho was grieving too. They may be dealing with it in different ways, Minho holding onto hope, and Thomas giving up completely. Anger flashed through Minho’s eyes, anger and hurt. Thomas didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in trying to retreat back into the haze that settled in his mind. Tried to retreat from himself, from everything around him. Tried not to feel anything.
He continued to stare at Minho’s boots.
Couldn’t he just cleanthem?
”We don’t know that. This was too specific of a coincidence. He said things that we have never told him about Newt, he knew what he looked-” Minho’s voice was cold and angry before he was cut off by Thomas.
”We would be going off of a night watch’s word...? Words mean nothing. There’s no proof. He’s dead.”
Jorge could feel Minho’s anger rising. As he looked back at Minho, who’s eyes were blazing as they glared at Thomas, he decided to take a turn.
Minho’s hands clenched onto the soft blanket that he was sitting on. He was beyond upset - beyond heartbroken .
He had already lost Newt, and he was losing Thomas with every day that passed. Every second that passed.
”You have been sitting around doing nothing for months. You need to get out and do something. You need to take the time and actually clear your mind. Try to heal . Go with Minho. You don’t have to believe him. Just go to actually get out. Go to try and find yourself. You won’t find yourself here, sitting around and wallowing,” Jorge advised, eyes trained onto Thomas. His voice had been gentle, comforting almost. He was worried how Thomas would react. He expected anger.
Thomas stood up and walked out of the cabin.
10 MONTHS BEFORE PRESENT TIME
3:48 AM
5 MONTHS BEFORE THE BURNING OF WCKD/NEWT'S "DEATH"
They had been on the road for two days now, driving non-stop through the blazing heat of The Scorch. They had only stopped for a refill of gas at an abandoned town, then were back on their way. Everyone was beyond exhausted, unable to get a proper nights sleep. They were only allowed a small space of time to nap as they drove, which wasn't enough. When they finally found a good enough spot to camp out in, hidden between a few mountains, they decided to finally rest.
Newt unraveled his sleeping bag on Thomas' left side, as he always did every night. He was sloppy in his movements as Thomas watched him, obviously overcome with exhaustion. Thomas' eyes were already halfway shut with his own tiredness. As soon as Newt adjusted himself, sliding his long limbs into the sleeping bag, he pulled his legs to his chest. He was now facing Thomas, blonde locks spilling all over his head.
Newt adjusted his head slowly onto the sleeping bag, his eyes glazed over and extremely red. The moonlight spilled over the features on his face, making them look sharp and defined. From stress, lack of food, or lack of sleep, Thomas wasn’t sure. He didn’t like the look of Newt’s face like this. Surely, it hadn’t always been this sharp, right?
Thomas lifted an arm to tuck under his head, elevating it a bit higher than Newt’s. He had to turn his head down slightly to stare down at the blonde.
“You know what?” Thomas said into the night, almost to himself. He stared down at Newt as he stayed silent, relishing in Thomas' words. He paid so much attention to the brunette, and Thomas wasn’t used to that. “I think you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
Newt’s jaw clenched the slightest bit. If the moonlight wasn’t illuminating his face, Thomas wouldn’t even have been able to tell. The blondes eyes were locked to his, expression unreadable. “Yeah?”
“Before the maze. I believe you were my best friend there too. At least the best friend I’ve ever had before whatever shitty thing happened to this world. Before the Flare. I feel as if you’ll always be the best friend I could ever ask for. Forever, you will be, Newt.”
Newt seemed shocked at the boys declaration. His brows furrowed slightly in the darkness, dark eyes switching quickly back and forth between Thomas'. His lips parted slightly, as if to speak, but no words came out. The night breeze ruffled the two boys’ hair, the wind sliding into their sleeping bags and around the sleeping bodies next to them. Thomas was so tired, he was feeling his eyes close on him in the warm breeze. He had almost forgotten that he was speaking to Newt.
Sleep was trying to overwhelm him, and it fogged his brain the slightest bit. They had stayed awake for almost two days straight, and Thomas had been practically hallucinating the whole day today. For some reason, though, Thomas felt as if he needed to tell Newt. Brenda was right. The words she had spoken earlier swam through his exhausted brain. Tell the people now how much they mean. Don’t regret not telling them when it’s too late.
When they aren’t there anymore for you to tell them.
“Yeah?” Newt whispered once more into the light breeze, his word almost being carried away into the night along with it. Thomas' eyes were halfway closed, but he nodded into the soft sleeping bag.
“Yeah.”
Thomas' eyes were fully closed then. He felt the warm breeze drift him closer and closer to slumber. Finally, he would sleep. Finally.
“I think so too,” Newt muttered. His voice was deep and unsure. Thomas could feel his unease even a foot away from him. It was as if the blonde was contemplating each word.
Had they been that close a few moments ago?
“Yeah?” Thomas took his turn on the question, took his turn on the word.
“Yeah.” There was a pause. There was a hesitation. It hung in the air like a rubber band, about to snap. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Tommy. You know that.”
His breath was so close that it fanned across Thomas' face. It tickled his face and sent chills down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold. Thomas opened his eyes slowly, hesitantly. Newt’s face was so close, much closer than it had been a few moments ago. Thomas glanced down, realizing it was him who had moved. He was sliding onto Newt’s sleeping bag. He was very far from Brenda now, who lay on his right side. Thomas' eyes flickered back into those dark eyes in front of him, lit up in the moonlight.
‘I never want to leave this moment,’ Thomas thought. His thoughts ran a million miles in his head, the realization pressing deep into his chest and spreading like a flame. He never wanted to let this moment go.
“I don’t either,” The words were spilling onto Thomas' face then, too close. Too close. Oh, he had spoken his thought aloud. Newt had answered him. Thomas ignored his slight embarrassment and realized his eyes had closed again on their own accord, sleep tugging them closed once again. When he opened his eyes, Newt was closer than he had ever been before. He could see the light, barely there freckles spilling under the boys eyes. Thomas had never noticed them before. He has never been this close before. Thomas vaguely wondered if anyone had been this close to Newt’s face before. The weight on his chest pressed tighter.
Thomas felt his hand move outward on its own accord, fingertips gently brushing against the blondes knuckles. Newt glanced down, the movement of his head making the sleeping bag release a scratching noise that seemed much too loud for this moment. His eyes were trained on the soft movements of Thomas' fingers, which gently traced and felt the soft skin. Thomas had never touched anyone this gently before. This cold, awful world was filled with hatred and violence. Thomas wondered if Newt had ever been touched this softly before.
Thomas felt his heartbeat in his ears, felt it in his throat. Newt’s breath was still spilling against his own mouth, the shivers in his spine overwhelming. Thomas felt as if his whole entire body was in flames. With the light warm breeze and the close proximity of the boy, Thomas felt exhaustion pull his eyes closed once more. Thomas' fingers stopped their motion slowly. Thomas felt Newt’s breathing become slower along with his, sleep finding the other boy as well.
Thomas' head, since it was slightly more elevated than the blondes, tilted downwards towards the boy. Slowly, so slowly that he didn’t even register it doing so.
Thomas felt a warm pressure against his mouth. His lips parted slightly without his knowledge, without his consent. Newt’s breath mixed with his, the boys becoming one. Thomas didn’t know who had leaned in first - maybe both boys together. He wasn’t sure, and he was very sure he didn’t care. Did he really feel Newt’s mouth graze against his, or was it his hallucinations from his exhaustion again like earlier? Thomas realized that he wished more than anything that this was really happening.
Both boys seemed to slowly and softly move at the same time. Both boys lips were parted, and gently closed around each other. Newt’s mouth was open for him, warm and inviting. It was so gentle and so careful; so hesitant. Neither boy had the slightest idea if it was really happening, or if the exhaustion had creeped from their eyelids to the edge of their brain, tugging at all the wrong strings and desires that were hanging in that tight rubber band between them in the night sky.
Thomas couldn’t help but think how real it felt. Newt’s mouth was so warm and soft. So so warm. He smelled the usual scent of vanilla that seemed to follow Newt around all the time. He also finally seemed to taste a bit as well. It was the most beautiful feeling, the most beautiful taste. Thomas was sure that in all of his years of living, before the maze, before the scorch, before the flare, he had never experienced anything this amazing and gentle in his life.
The boys gently parted after their brief meeting. The silent and gentle kiss had lasted less time than a breath of air. In the night sky, the rubber band softened in the stars above them. Although they barely kissed, just a brush of lips, both boys couldn’t help a small smile pull at the edge of their mouths. Newt was still so close to Thomas that he felt the slight motion of the small smile against his lips. The exhaustion won, Thomas finally falling asleep, an inch away from Newt. In the night, without his knowledge, Thomas' fingers had found Newt’s once more. The boys fell asleep, noses brushing against each other with every slight movement. Their bodies remained a foot apart, although it seemed miles away in the night sky under the stars.
Neither boy brought it up the next day. Both assumed it was the exhaustion setting in, both assuming that the moment wasn’t real.
The thought of it alone sent Thomas' head spinning with confusion and left his heart and chest heavy.
Thomas pushed it down, deep into his mind, knowing he was unable to think of it again. He couldn’t think about it, couldn’t question the thoughts running through his mind. WCKD made sure of that.
5 MONTHS BEFORE PRESENT TIME
11:32 PM
THE BURNING OF WCKD/NEWT'S "DEATH"
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Thomas awoke slowly. He felt bumps every once in a while, jostling him slowly from his deep slumber. He hadn’t even known that he had fallen unconscious, due to the bleeding in his shoulder. The sticky, thick substance was heavy all around the wound. There was a pressure on it, as if there was something there to hold it tight. He heard the berg - felt the cold floor of it rumbling underneath his back.
As soon as his eyes opened, everything came crashing down. All of the previous events that just happened flooded back into his brain. The burning of WCKD. Flames all around, shooting Ava Paige in the head...The Flare finally taking over Newt.
The last thing that he remembered seeing before he went unconscious was Newt's dying body.
A gasping noise arose in his throat, unable to help himself. He felt Minho’s hands gently patting his back, heard his comforting voice. Everything was tuned out, though, anxiety and fear too busy overwhelming him. The edges of his brain felt fuzzy and in complete shambles. How could he have let this happen, how could he have let his best friend die? How could he ever get over this? Thomas began to shake, began to have what he could only assume was a panic attack.
“We’re safe now.” Minho. “Thomas, we’re finally safe.”
Thomas felt anything but safe. He felt himself shove Minho away from him. He had passed out from blood loss as he was dragged away from Newt's body. If he hadn't fallen unconscious, he would have fought until his last breath to stay there with him. He wouldn't have left without Newt.
Here Minho was, though, perfectly safe and not bleeding out.
He didn't bring Newt.
He could hear someone talking to him, although the voice seemed as if it was trapped in a bubble. All noise, even the loud roaring of the berg, seemed distant and off. He felt hands on his bleeding shoulder - felt more pressure. His vision once more became hazy, a weight building on his chest and constructing his heart.
Randomly, the memory of the boys’ kissing made its way into the front of Thomas' mind - for the first time since it had happened. He couldn’t help but think about it. He still wasn’t sure if it had happened - if it was truly a dream or not, but the thought alone sent his mind into even more chaos. The thought of their lips together made the confusion in his mind swirl and feel as if they were pressing into all the corners of his head.
At the same time that the memory of the boys kissing arose, so did the memories of Newt not remembering who he was at times when the Flare seemed to take over.
“We are safe Thomas. Please, come back to us. We are all here for you. Please.”
They weren’t safe.
Thomas felt himself throw up, his stomach heaving, although everything was still distant and hazy. He began falling out of consciousness once more.
They could never be safe again.
Not without Newt.