Chapter Text
Present
Middle of Nowhere
Thomas
Thomas stumbled out of the collapsing building with one shoulder dislocated and the other supporting an unconscious Newt. They'd only just made it, winding down many flights of stairs.
Teresa was on Thomas' heels, shouting at him to "keep going," and that they were "almost there." Thomas couldn't help but think that her words of encouragement were incredibly unhelpful.
They emerged into blinding sunlight, blinking frantically to clear away streaks of green cutting through their vision. Bianca's truck was the only vehicle remaining outside, the rest had already made a break for it while they could.
Minho was kneeling in the back of the army truck, extending his arm out towards Thomas to take Newt from him. Carefully, he pulled him into the truck, wrapping an arm protectively around his best friend's chest and dragging him backwards.
"C'mon!" Bianca shouted from where she was crouched over Crystal's body. "We need to move!"
Teresa gave Thomas – who was clambering into the truck ungracefully with only one working arm – a shove and hauled herself up, shutting the giant metal door behind her. They were momentarily locked in darkness as they sped away bumpily from the collapsing building until a sudden bright light shone in the middle of the truck.
Newt's head rested in Minho's lap while Teresa leaned over him, flashlight in his face as she checked his pulse. Her body rocked as the truck swung from side to side, presumably to avoid any large bits of shrapnel. In one almighty swing, her body was thrust forward so hard she had to catch herself on the floor, and Minho's hand shot out to steady her.
"I can't do anything until we've stopped!" she yelled over the explosions and revving engine. "I think the pain from his leg was too much for him and he blacked out."
Thomas barely caught her words over his own pain and laboured breathing, partly from running and carrying Newt, and partly from anxiety. A rush was building in his head, the noise too much and the pain in his shoulder screaming as he was thrown against the truck over and over again. He couldn't lift his hands to cover his ears so he squeezed his eyes shut and let hot tears flow down his cheeks.
His adrenaline wore off as anxiety built.
"Thomas?" Teresa's voice came from in front of him now, gentle enough so it didn't startle him. He didn't need to open his eyes to know she was staring at him with concern. "I can't put it back in place until we've stopped," she said. "I'm sorry. Just keep breathing through it, you'll be okay soon."
But Thomas didn't know if he could hold on. His head was swimming, a sick feeling rising in his throat, and his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. He held on to his dislocated shoulder, trying to steady it when it hit the truck, but he could feel his grip loosening as his consciousness dipped.
"It's okay," Teresa comforted him, her hand over his. Normally, he would have fought the touch, but the pain was too blinding and the noise so overbearingly loud that he couldn't feel her. "You're gonna be okay. Stay with me."
He pried his eyes open, fighting the urge to close them, his vision blurred with tears…
…and vertigo crept in…
…but cleared enough for him to see…
…Newt cradled in Minho's lap…
…and Teresa's eyes locked on his…
…before he blacked out.
***
Thomas woke with a stiff back and a dull ache in his right shoulder.
Slowly, and with a deep breath, he opened his eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight above him. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, and in that time he tried to rotate his shoulder, but a sudden shooting pain caused him to whimper and squeeze his eyes shut again. He breathed through the sensation, bile rising in his throat, and waited for the pulsing to die down.
"Thomas?" a voice asked gently. Teresa's. "Don't try to move your shoulder yet."
"Teresa…" Thomas' voice was scratchy. He opened his eyes again, finding her looming over him, hair hanging over her shoulder. He had a million questions at the ready; where's Newt? Is he hurt? Where are we? How long have I been out? But somehow, he couldn't force any of them out.
"Do you wanna sit up?" she asked patiently, and when Thomas slowly nodded his head in response, she took his good hand in one of hers, and placed the other on his back, below his good shoulder, and supported his weight as he hauled himself up. "How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Like shit," Thomas deadpanned. Teresa smiled lightly. "What happened?"
Once Thomas was steady, she sat back. They were still in the back of the truck, except now it was empty. There were blankets and sleeping bags rolled up at the sides, and some pillows dumped on top.
"You passed out a few days ago," she explained quietly, pausing to let Thomas absorb the information. "Once we stopped, I put your shoulder back in place and put your arm in a sling."
"Where's Newt?" Thomas asked next, not caring about himself or his injury.
"He's in the back of Gally's truck. His leg…" she paused momentarily, searching for the right words. "It's flared up again. Badly."
Thomas' heart sunk in his chest. He remembered the look on Newt's face when his leg gave out on the stairs. His panic was evident.
"He put too much stress on it," Teresa continued, softening her voice, "and it's not healing."
Thomas exhaled deeply through his nose. He saw this coming, the pain being so bad that recovery would become a steep slope. "Is there anything we can do?" Thomas asked hesitantly, knowing the answer before Teresa could shake her head.
"We need to get home," she said. "Being on the road for so long won't do anyone any favours."
Thomas' stomach growled loudly and Teresa laughed in surprise. "Once we get you some food," she said hopping to her feet and extending a hand towards Thomas. He gladly took it and allowed himself to be steadily pulled up.
***
"Thomas!" Frypan waved a hand at his friend as he approached the Gladers – well, the Gladers minus Newt. "You look like you've seen better days."
If Thomas' arm wasn't wrapped in a sling, he would have tossed a spoon at Frypan. Instead, he just offered a puff of laughter and a lop-sided smile. "I feel like I've seen better days," he said as he sat in a camping chair in front of the fire. It was smoking out but no one moved to reignite it.
"How are you holding up?" Gally asked as he handed him a bowl of still-warm oatmeal.
Thomas shrugged, a movement he should have thought twice about and cringed at the sudden thump of pain spreading through his shoulder.
"Fine, I guess," he said as he accepted the bowl from Gally. "What about you guys?"
Minho, Frypan and Gally shrugged. Thomas could see the bags under their eyes, their hunched shoulders, and the cuts and bruises that littered their arms and faces. Flying shrapnel had hit some of them, Minho explained when he caught Thomas' eyes exploring the harsh red lines across his cheeks.
"It doesn't hurt anymore," he said, reclining in the camping chair. "We all survived, that's all that matters."
Thomas nodded slowly, balancing the bowl on his knee while he scooped oatmeal into his mouth. "What about Newt?"
In answer, he received blank looks, each of his friends trying not to look like they pitied the blond.
"He's sleeping right now," Gally answered, deflecting the question. "He needs to rest."
Minho nodded in agreement. "I think shooting that doctor scarred him," he added in a low voice. "Or being back there brought back some memories."
Thomas remembered Aubreys' taunting, her sly voice persuading Newt to get his memories back. He saw the way he fought against it, against everything she was promising him.
"You're telling me you don't want him back? You're telling me you don't want to find that missing piece of yourself? You're telling me you're happy the way you are? He'll never replace that," Aubrey said, her voice quiet. Her eyes flickered to Thomas, and Newt couldn't help but follow. The brunette was staring back at him, the way he usually did when the subject of them was brought into conversation.
He'll never replace that.
"No," Newt agreed. "But he makes me feel whole again."
Aubrey could have given Newt his entire life back, she could have given him Thomas back, but he didn't want it. He didn't want his old life back, his old self, memories of Sonya – his sister – that she would never have. The life they had now wasn't a full life, but it was a life nonetheless, and they could make it a good life.
He makes me feel whole again.
The bottom line was that Newt still cared about Thomas. He knew it in the way he spoke about him; like Thomas was his saving grace, his lifeline, the way he became vulnerable but stable all at once like Thomas was the one keeping him together. He knew it in the way Newt kissed him; like he'd never been so sure about anything in his life, so deeply and passionate, meant for him and only him, like he couldn't possibly care for another person in the way he cared for Thomas.
He knew it in the way Newt came back to him; at the end of the world, against all odds, he came back to him.
He ate the rest of his oatmeal in silence, watching as the rest of the camp packed their tents and loaded everything into trucks. Thomas felt entirely useless, itching to help but being unable to.
Vince made his way over not long after. "Hey, Thomas," he said with a small wave. "Glad to see you up and running again." Thomas offered a small smile in return. "We're heading off soon, okay? Be ready in ten minutes."
"Thanks, Vince," Frypan said. "We'll check on Newt before we go, would you mind grabbing Teresa?"
"Sure, man." Vince nodded then stepped around Thomas. He rubbed a hand over his good shoulder. "It's really good to see you, Thomas. You can take the camp back from me now."
Thomas exhaled a small laugh and looked up at Newt. He smiled wider now at the older man, even though Thomas knew he was being serious. Thomas had never doubted his leadership, he'd known that it would be handed back to him once all of this was over, at least until they were back at the Safe Haven, then he could let the title go for good. He didn't want there to be a 'leader,' otherwise what would be the point in their community? They didn't have a hierarchy – they didn't need one, either – but they knew who their first points of contact were in a situation gone south.
Teresa joined them a few minutes later, leading the Gladers to Gally's truck. She opened the door and Thomas' heart caught in his throat when he saw Newt. The boy was spread across the back seat, his bad leg supported by blankets and pillows to ensure it moved as little as possible. She checked his pulse, nodding when she was satisfied, and studied his face a little closer.
"He needs to eat something," she said, leaning out of the car and stepping out of the way. Thomas peered closer – she was right, he was ghostly pale. An odd feeling rose in his throat again, but he swallowed it down as he looked away. "I can't sedate him again," she continued, and Thomas' gaze snapped back to her, fire in his eyes.
"You've been sedating him?" he asked, anger in his voice.
Teresa opened her mouth to speak, but Minho cut her off. "We had to." Thomas looked to him, his brows furrowed. "The first time he woke up, he wouldn't stop screaming. I don't know if it was the pain or memories of…what happened in the Maze. Or maybe it was both, I don't know, but he was just…"
"Screaming," Gally supplied unhelpfully. "We tried to talk him out of it, we thought about letting him just-" his voice thickened and he waved a hand "-cry it out, but it felt cruel."
"The last time he was like this was when he threw himself off that Wall in the Maze," Minho continued. "He wouldn't stop crying, and then, when he did, he went quiet and didn't speak to anyone. He didn't eat, didn't leave his bed, it was like he'd just stopped existing."
"If he's relapsing, it's not going to be pretty," Gally said. He narrowed his eyes at Thomas. "You can't give up on him, okay? No matter what happens, no matter what he says or does, you can't give up on him."
Thomas furrowed his brows, hurt. "I would never-"
"I know," Gally interrupted, raising his hand to stop Thomas. "I know you wouldn't, but you don't know how bad this can get. You need to be prepared."
Thomas nodded slowly. He knew he hadn't seen Newt at his lowest – sure, he'd been with him when he had low moods, when he said stupid shit, when he threatened to leave, but he hadn't seen him at his worst. The rest of the Gladers had, they'd been with him during the toughest part of his life, they knew what to expect, but Thomas could still see the fear behind their eyes.
Gally knew that Thomas would never give up on Newt. He knew that Thomas was Newts; he was his through thick and thin, through his best and his worst, he was Newts. He had to – wanted to – stick by him, by the person who was more than his best friend, who was someone and something he wasn't quite sure how to put into words.
And Newt would come back to him, like he always did. At the end of the world, against all odds, he would come back to him.
***
Thomas found himself in the front seat of Gally's truck, body twisted so he was leaning more on his left shoulder than his right. He sat rigidly for the first part of the drive, terrified of hurting his shoulder, but soon eased when he realised Gally was driving carefully for his sake as well as Newt's.
"He's been asking for you, you know," Gally said, eyes flickering to the rear-view mirror, checking in on Newt. It was just the three of them in the car. "Both times he's woken up, and in his sleep." He said that last part with a faint smile.
Thomas craned his neck to peer at the sleeping boy, eyes trailing his body before turning around. "How many times have you sedated him?"
"Twice," Gally answered honestly, but before Thomas could ask why, he carried on. "We were more equipped for his reaction the second time he woke up, but I think the pain was still too much for him. I think he was having a trauma response, like he thought he was back in the Maze, and he was coming out of sedation too."
WCKD had sedated him for close to six months, how could his friends do that to him? How could they put him through that again?
"Don't do it again," Thomas ordered. "We can't keep doing that to him."
Gally shook his head. "No," he agreed. "We needed you, too. He responds to you."
Thomas huffed a sigh and sat back, resting his head against the seat, and letting his body relax. His eyes began to drift, only jerking awake when Gally hit a bump, to which he'd apologise and check the rear-view mirror. Thomas slowly twisted his neck, making sure Newt hadn't fallen off the back seat, and closed his eyes again.
***
Thomas woke as the sky turned orange. He blinked his eyes open slowly, groaning at the crick in his neck. He'd fallen asleep watching Newt, the blond in question still stretched along the back seat unconscious.
The truck was parked beside Jorge's, and when Thomas looked out the back window, he could see the rest of the camp surrounding a fire. He took one last look at Newt before getting out of the car, closing the door every so gently behind him.
"Hey," he said as he approached his friends, taking a seat between Minho and Brenda. The latter of which greeted him with enthusiasm and placed a friendly hand on his knee.
"You could probably have Teresa take that thing off now," she said. "It's been, what, three days?"
"Nice to see you too, Brenda," Thomas chuckled, leaning his head on her shoulder as a way of hugging her. "Anything left to eat?"
"Ration pack of soup?" Minho offered, holding the silver packet up. Thomas nodded, Frypan took it from him.
"I don't trust you around food, Minho," Frypan said, hopping to his feet. "I'll make it."
Minho adorned a look of fake hurt, but he shrugged in agreement. "How's Newt?" he asked. "He was still out of it when we stopped."
"No different," Thomas said. "He's pale, though. He needs to eat something, and soon."
"Do you want the sling off?"
"God, yes," Thomas said with a laugh.
They called for Teresa, who turned from her conversation with Bianca and Crystal, and Thomas gave the girls a wave. She made her way around the circle and crouched next to Thomas, working the sling off of his arm.
"I'm only doing this if you promise to do physiotherapy," she chided. "No heavy lifting either, or you'll put it back out again."
"Pinky promise," Thomas agreed, offering her his pinky, which she hesitated to take.
"Fine," she said, "but Minho will beat your ass if we catch you doing anything you're not supposed to." She removed the sling, and Thomas rotated his shoulder, stretching out his arm slowly to get some movement back into it. "You need to tell me if it's bothering you, okay?"
"Okay."
She gave him a quick smile. "Good," she said, and left again, reclaiming her space beside Bianca.
"How is she settling in?" Thomas asked Minho and Brenda in a hushed voice. "Crystal."
"She woke up yesterday," Brenda said, eyes casting on the group of girls quickly before finding Thomas again. "She hasn't left her mom's side. She's not eaten a lot, though. Teresa's been monitoring her."
"She's going through the same thing as Newt," Minho added. "They sedated her for six months, too, experimenting on her."
Thomas shook his head. "She's safe with us now."
Frypan returned with a bowl of ration-pack soup. It was watery with chunks of odd-looking carrots that Thomas thought looked plastic, but he ate it regardless. It felt good to get some form of food in his stomach, even if it wasn't anywhere near as pleasant as Frypan's cooking. God, he missed that stuff.
He ate in silence, taking in the conversation around him, watching as the sky darkened and his breath formed a white mist. They agreed to call it a night, and Thomas and Gally returned to their truck, driving it past Jorge's a few metres.
"Privacy," Gally said, reclining his chair slightly. Thomas did the same, pulling it forward first and then tucked his knees into his chest. He slept on his good shoulder, facing Gally but able to keep an eye on Newt.
He fought the urge to turn over. There was no way he could sleep on his bad shoulder, so he closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep. And just when he thought he was drifting off, a whimper sounded from the back seat.
His eyes snapped open and he lurched upright, Gally following suit. He locked eyes with Thomas as Newt's breathing began to labour. They got out of the truck and pushed the seats in as far as possible, folding them forward to allow some room on the floor in the back. Thomas swung open the back door and climbed in, ignoring the shooting pains in his shoulder and kneeled on the floor in front of Newt.
"Newt?" he asked gently.
Gally came to stand behind him, reassuring Minho and Frypan as they clambered out of Jorge's truck. Jorge and Brenda stood outside, looking concerned, but Gally said "Newt," and they seemed to understand.
"Hey," he tried again, threading a hand through the blonde's hair. "You're okay."
Newt sucked in a deep breath and began to cry. His eyes opened then closed just as quickly, glassed over and unseeing. His crying got louder, his breathing harder, panic setting in. He looked so terrified in the whiteness of the inside car lights. His chest rose and fell too quickly, cries strangled, his hand weakly gripping the edge of the seat.
"Newt," Thomas coaxed a little bit louder, but still keeping his voice soft. "Newt, you're okay. You're not back there."
He didn't know where 'there' was, whether it was the Maze or back at the Lab. He didn't even know if Newt's mind was elsewhere, but it was worth trying. Newt breathed harshly, knuckles turning white.
"No," he whimpered, struggling to get the word out. "No," he kept repeating, gradually getting louder, tears spilling down his cheek. Thomas wiped them away with his thumb, his touch caressing Newt's cheekbones.
"Newt." He fought the panic in his voice. "Hey." His voice thickened and he swallowed it down. "Come back," he said eventually. "Come back to us."
Newt's body jerked and a scream followed. Thomas looked up to his friends, concerned. Their faces were stuck on a tight cringe, knowing that the movement had sent a spark of pain flying down his leg. Thomas turned back to Newt and hesitantly pushed away the mop of golden hair falling in his face. He ran his fingers through the locks gently, showing Newt that there was nothing there that could hurt him.
"Come back to me," Thomas whispered, barely audible, biting his lip to suppress his own tears. He had to be strong for Newt. "Come back…"
"Tommy."
The word was broken, said on the tail end of a breath.
"T-"
He was cut off by another scream.
"I'm here," Thomas said, leaning closer to Newt, continuing to thread his fingers through his hair. "We're here, Newt. You're okay."
Gally crouched by the back door, letting the night air breeze through.
"We're here," Minho echoed Thomas' words.
"You're safe, you're here with us," Thomas kept coaxing, encouraging Newt to wake up. The blonde's eyes fluttered rapidly, finding Thomas in the dim light but still not focussing on him. His hand moved jerkily as he uncurled his fingers and reached for Thomas. He removed his hand from his hair to clasp Newts, letting him squeeze it as hard as he needed to.
Gally reached up and took over Thomas' previous actions, continuing to comfort Newt like that. Thomas brought the boy's hand to his lips and ghosted his lips over his knuckles.
"Tommy."
"I'm here," Thomas answered instantly. "Come back to me."
It took a long time for Newt to become aware of his surroundings, to pull himself out of wherever his head had gone, and his eyes started to focus on Thomas – only Thomas. Slowly, the tears subsided, his breathing deepening with them. He was coming out of it – excruciatingly slowly, but coming out of it nonetheless.
"Hey," Thomas whispered when Newt was able to focus on him. He pressed the smallest kiss to his knuckles before dropping their hands back to the seat. Gally removed his hand from Newt's hair and visibly relaxed, shoulders untensing and stepping back to give them room.
"We'll go find some water," Gally said, turning to Minho and Frypan. "And maybe some food?"
They left without another word and Gally shut the door behind them.
"Hey," Thomas said again. "Can you hear me?" Newt nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet. "We're going home," Thomas continued gently, "we're gonna be okay."
"Tommy-" Newt said, still breathing shakily. "What…?" He looked down at his body, frowning as he did so, then looked back up to Thomas, fear evident in his eyes. His breathing picked up again and he tried to sit up, letting out a cry of pain as he did so. Thomas untangled their hands and moved them up to his face, guiding him back down.
He shushed him gently. "You're hurt," he explained quickly, squashing his own hurt. "You're gonna be okay."
"What did I do?" Newt asked brokenly, his eyes filling with tears. "Did I break it again?"
"It's not broken," Thomas answered. "Just injured." Newt tried to move his leg again but gasped at the pain, his face whitening. "Don't try to move it."
Newt's tears started again and he put an arm over his face, processing the information. The back door opened again but Newt still didn't look up. Sobs shook his body and Minho glanced at Thomas in concern, but the brunet simply shook his head. Minho handed him a canteen of water and a tin of food. He passed a spoon to Thomas quietly. It wasn't nice, not by a long shot, but it would give Newt the nutrients he needed.
"Newt?" Minho tried, crouching beside his friend. "Hey, buddy." When no reply came, his gaze flickered to Thomas. "We're gonna leave you with Thomas, alright? He's gonna take care of you."
He nodded as he stood back up, running a hand through Newt's hair briefly, and Newt choked on a breath. They backed away, gently closing the door behind them.
"I'm still here," Thomas comforted. "I'm not leaving you."
He sat before Newt, stroking his cheekbone, until the boy calmed. When his breathing evened out, he removed his arm from over his face and looked Thomas in the eye.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, and Thomas was taken aback slightly.
"You can't give up on him, okay? No matter what happens, no matter what he says or does, you can't give up on him."
"Because-"
Because I love you.
Thomas took a deep breath. "Because," he answered simply.
Because I'd never give up on you. Because seeing you like this might be the worst pain I've ever felt. Because you need my support, even if you don't want to admit it.
"Do you think you could sit up? You've been out of it for a few days and need to eat."
"You sedated me."
Thomas' neutral expression faltered for a split second but he regained himself before Newt could catch it. "That wasn't me," he said, "but they did what they had to at the time. No more though, okay? I won't let them."
"Good that," Newt whispered and reached out to Thomas, allowing him to guide him into a sitting position.
He winced every few seconds at the pain in his leg, closing his eyes and holding his breath when it became too much, but eventually, he was upright. Thomas shifted beside him, his body providing support to lean against. He peeled back the lid on the tin of food, his nose wrinkling at the overwhelming smell of processed meat, and handed it along with a utensil to Newt.
Newt stared at it for a long moment, a faraway look in his eyes.
"It's not great," Thomas admitted, breaking the silence, "but you need to eat."
Newt nodded softly, knowing that Thomas was right but not having the energy to do anything about it. On cue, his stomach grumbled, his hunger and fatigue finally catching up to him. He ate slowly, small bites stopping his stomach from cramping after days of not eating. When he was finished, not bothering to scoop out the sauce lining the sides, he passed it back to Thomas, who reached forward with his good arm and placed it in the cup holder between the front seats.
"Better?" Thomas asked as he sat back, biting down at the stiffness in his arm. Newt caught the tension in his jaw and narrowed his eyes at Thomas.
"What was that?" he asked quizzically.
"What was what?" Thomas replied, trying to sound confused but failing miserably.
"That," he repeated pointedly, seeing straight through Thomas' façade.
Thomas swallowed thickly and rotated his shoulder, holding onto it with his other hand. "I popped my shoulder out," he answered, not meeting Newt's eyes. "When the building was collapsing and I had you on my shoulder. It gave out." He caught the worry in Newt's eyes and forced a smile before adding; "I'm okay though. It just hurts a bit."
"You're a terrible liar, Tommy," Newt said quietly, and Thomas' smile slipped, because okay, it did hurt, more than he was letting on. It was an uncomfortable pain, like an itch he couldn't scratch.
Thomas clenched his jaw and swallowed, his eyes flitting away from Newt's to his lap. He shrugged, immediately regretting it when a dull throb echoed through his shoulder. He sucked in a sharp breath and closed his eyes as he waited for it to pass.
"Don't worry about me," he said, voice strained and unbothered. "It'll heal."
Newt didn't say anything, he just stared at Thomas, and Thomas burned under his scrutiny. He fought the urge to look at the blonde, but there was an almighty pull between them, something others could so plainly see but only they could feel, and it tugged at Thomas. His heart sped up in the moments before he lifted his gaze, and the silence became overbearing when he tore his eyes from his lap and found Newts.
I couldn't be more in love with you.
Newt's eyes were heavy and Thomas' chest felt like it was being crushed by a weight.
"I'll always worry about you, Tommy," Newt whispered, slicing through the silence. His neck was craned to look up at Thomas, his body half-twisted in his back seat, and Thomas reached a hand up to tentatively brush his fingers along Newt's jaw, and he didn't miss the way Newt swallowed nervously before leaning into the touch.
"I don't want you to worry," Thomas replied, equally as quiet.
"Then stop doing stupid shit."
Thomas huffed a small laugh, and the realness of the situation kicked in. They had grown closer in the harsh light, their angle still awkward but their noses managing to brush.
"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" Thomas asked, stuck in the moment, voice gravelly and cracking. Newt didn't respond, just looked at Thomas with an unreadable expression. Thomas pushed on. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."
"You haven't met a lot of people," Newt said, sounding unsure. Neither of them was used to compliments, none as raw, as soft, as this, anyway, and they didn't know how to respond to them.
"I don't need to."
Thomas punctuated his point by steadying his grip on Newt's jaw and pressing his lips to Newt's.
Present
The Middle of Nowhere
Newt
Newt's recovery was stilted.
He had good days and bad days, moments where the pain was bearable, and moments where it came back so fully, so suddenly, that it took him by surprise. Thomas always caught him during those moments and gave him a place to self-destruct safely.
Memories of his suicide attempt almost four years ago came flooding back, flashing so vividly in his mind that he thought he was there again. The physical pain intensified and he had to wait for Thomas' voice to pierce through his muffled ears before the memories began to clear and he could realise he wasn't there. He was safe, that was all in the past, and he was with Thomas.
Thomas, who kissed him gently each night in the privacy of their truck before they fell asleep, Newt's head on his lap and Thomas brushing his fingers through the blonde's hair. He always fell asleep last – Newt knew he always ensured that he was okay before letting himself drift off.
And when one of them woke from nightmares a few hours later, they would comfort the other; convince them that what happened in their heads wasn't real and they were safe.
Newt wasn't a monster, and Thomas' blood saved him.
This night was different; Newt was restless, his leg acting up and he didn't know why. Maybe it was because he hadn't walked on it properly in almost a week. He'd been spread across the backseat of the truck as they journeyed over bumpy terrain and sandy dunes, and when they finally stopped, Thomas and his friends carried him from place to place.
He could stand on his good leg and had done so a few times, but he needed their support to steady him. Fatigue would take over pretty quickly, his physical and mental energy draining with every second.
Thomas worked through the physiotherapy that Teresa had prescribed him, helping him to bend his knee and move his leg on his own. The change was slow, excruciatingly slow, but there was change nonetheless.
Newt could see the fear and heartbreak in Thomas' eyes when Newt cried out from the pain.
It sent him into a spiral – he didn't want Thomas to see him like this, he didn't want him to keep picking up his pieces, so he kept pushing him away, but no matter how hard he pushed, Thomas didn't budge. He stayed by his side and held him through the bad moments.
On this night – a good night – Newt sat close to Thomas, his legs draped over the brunette's lap and his head resting on Thomas' shoulder. His head was feeling clearer than it had on previous days, and it gave him confidence.
"We never talked about it," he said, lifting his head to look at Thomas.
Thomas pulled back to look at Newt fully. Thomas' gaze made Newt nervous in a good way.
"I think we should," Newt continued. "Before we get back to the Safe Haven."
He looked at Thomas without expectation, not wanting to pressurise him into talking about it. He didn't know what Thomas had to say, and he didn't know what he was thinking either. Thomas worked his jaw and Newt traced his fingers along the stubble there.
"I want there to be an us to go back to, Thomas," he whispered, the words meant for him only.
The unspoken thing between them didn't need a label, but Newt felt out of his depths without one. He didn't know how much Thomas wanted from him, if it was only surface feelings or something deeper.
Thomas shifted and turned to face Newt, keeping a gentle hand on his knee and tickling his skin from over his joggies. Newt could have crumbled at the touch and it took every ounce of effort in his body not to shiver.
"It doesn't matter how much I apologise because I know you'll never forgive me," Thomas started, and Newt swallowed thickly, surprised and without an answer – because no, he could never forgive Thomas for what he'd done. "But I'll always tell you how sorry I am for it. I shouldn't have kept that from you, Newt. You didn't deserve that.
"I just wanted to protect you," Thomas' voice cracked on the last part. "I thought that if I didn't tell you, you wouldn't feel pressured into…liking me like that again."
"Pressured?" Newt asked, and his tongue felt foreign in his mouth as he spoke.
"We didn't remember each other," Thomas said with a shrug. "I couldn't just tell you what we'd been to each other before we went into the Maze. I don't think I could have lived with myself if I thought you were with me because you felt like you had to be or because you pitied me." He looked at Newt, his shoulders tense. "…or something," he added, mumbling.
"Tommy…" Newt said sadly, voice trailing, and he started to frown.
"Like that," Thomas said, the snap in his voice a jarring contrast to what it had been a second ago. "The way you're looking at me right now."
"I'm pretty sure I liked you from the moment we met." Newt leaned back to take Thomas in fully. "I always felt safe with you. I always trusted you. I think I always knew that you meant something to me, even if I didn't know what that something was."
"I just-" Thomas inhaled sharply. "I wanted to know that it wasn't just me – and I know that I was wrong for doing that but-" a stray tear fell from his eye and he wiped it away before Newt could register it "-I didn't know what else to do. A lot was going on and I didn't want to put more stress on you."
"I wish you'd told me," Newt said slowly, stroking his thumb along Thomas' cheekbone soothingly. "I don't know what I'd have done, mind you. I probably would have had a full-on crisis, but at least we'd be on the same page." Newt chuckled to himself. "We could have had so much time together, Thomas, and I wish it didn't feel like that had been taken away from me."
Thomas flinched at Newt's honesty and for a second, Newt felt guilty. He didn't want to hurt Thomas, but he wanted to talk so he had to be prepared for anything to evoke.
"Why did you send me up?" Newt asked after a moment of silence.
Thomas tensed and looked away, clenching his jaw as he fought tears. His eyes glazed over with memories – traumatic ones – and it took Newt cupping Thomas' face to bring him back.
"You don't know what it was like," Thomas' voice cracked as he began, "seeing you destroy yourself. After I sent Alby up, you changed. You weren't yourself anymore and it was killing me. I knew that if I kept sending people up, you would do something stupid. I couldn't stand to see you suffer."
Another tear escaped his eye and this time, Newt caught it. Gently, he turned Thomas back to face him, and his expression faltered when he saw Thomas' jaw clenched, willing himself not to cry, not to break down in front of him.
"Selfishly," Thomas continued, voice thick, "I didn't want to watch you suffer for three years. Everyone we knew would forget us and eventually, I'd have to send you up. I didn't want to start something we could never finish. I couldn't let us have something for it to be ripped away. We'd both know it would be coming and I'd be the one to suffer it."
Thomas was crying silent tears now. "I'm sorry I never told you," he choked out. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I was going to tell you-"
Newt shushed him gently and pulled him into a hug, letting him bury his face in his neck. "I think I could have forgiven you if you had just told me," he said, stroking a hand through Thomas' hair. "But that doesn't mean I'm angry at you." Newt pulled back from the embrace and wiped Thomas' tears away, his heart breaking at the sight. "Not anymore, and I'll never hold it against you."
"I don't deserve you, Newt," Thomas said through tears as he pulled Newt back in for another hug, wrapping his arms tightly around the boy.
"I'm sorry you've been living with this." He circled Thomas' back with his palm, letting the boy cry out everything he had been holding in. Newt could understand the pressure of it, why he felt like he couldn't talk to him and why time would make it harder to talk about.
Newt let slip his own tears, sniffling quietly alongside Thomas as they held on to each other like the world was about to end again. They'd already had their lives ripped out from under them multiple times - they couldn't go through that again.
They wouldn't.
"I want you to be honest with me," Newt said eventually, once the tears slowed to a stop and their breathing evened out.
"Always," Thomas promised, and Newt could feel his jaw grazing his forehead as he nodded.
Slowly, he lifted his head to look at Thomas, meeting his eyes, and as he spoke, he did it with confidence; "Tell me how you feel about me now."
Without missing a beat, Thomas responded.
The electricity of the kiss surged through Newt and sent his head spinning. He responded easily, curling a hand around the back of Thomas' head and twisting the hair at the nape of his neck in his fingers.
Thomas broke the kiss off briefly, breathing sharply as he did so. "I think I've loved you for a long time," he said, and Newt thought he'd heard incorrectly until Thomas repeated himself. "I know I have – I've loved you for as long as I can remember, even if I can't remember all of it." His hands were shaking as he brought them up to cup Newt's jaw. "I've loved you through everything."
Newt pulled Thomas in at the same time he turned off the car light, plunging them into darkness. With Thomas' help, they manoeuvred Newt's legs so they were parted enough for Thomas to slide between them, and Newt lay back when they got the position right. There was a pillow underneath Newt's bad knee, keeping him comfortable, and Thomas made sure not to lean towards that side of his body.
He liked Thomas' protective side, his caring side, the soft side reserved in full for Newt. He'd never felt more comfortable with another person than he did with Thomas. After everything they'd been through and despite everything they were still going through, this was right.
They were right.
Thomas kissed Newt with a desperation and passion that only Newt could translate to love. He felt it all back, gave it all back, and he hoped he was showing Thomas how loved he was in return.
His good leg was slung over Thomas' hips, dragging them down against his own, sending them reeling from the friction caused by it. They broke off the kiss as they gasped in surprise. Newt let out a small laugh, muffling it with a hand over his mouth. Thomas rested his forehead against Newt's as he caught his breath, a chuckle escaping his lips, warmth spreading through Newt's chest at the sound.
"You really are beautiful, Newt," Thomas said, and Newt could practically hear the smile in his voice.
He rolled his eyes and swatted Thomas' chest as he pulled back to give Newt some breathing room. "You are, too, Tommy," following Thomas up, finding his lips and pulling him back down. The fingers splayed across Thomas' waist shyly travelled up to the skin above the hem of his trousers, and Thomas' body shivered at the touch, foreign and ticklish.
His fingers kept travelling upwards, and even though they couldn't see it in the dark, Newt knew they were staring deeply into each other's eyes, the moment hot and tense and terrifying for both of them.
"Newt," Thomas moaned, resting his forehead against Newts as the blond tentatively explored his body.
Very quickly, Thomas gave in to the temptation and dove for Newt's neck, biting and sucking at the skin there while Newt raked his nails along Thomas' sides, then over his back, where they sunk into his smooth skin, and it was enough to tip Thomas over the edge. He groaned lowly as he removed his mouth from Newt's neck and attached them to his lips again.
"You're beautiful," Newt said between kisses. Thomas slipped a hand under Newt's shirt, giving him a taste of his own medicine, and butterflies swarmed in Newt's stomach. Thomas' fingers traced Newt's chest teasingly, sliding his palms over every inch of skin possible. Once, twice, three times, until Newt couldn't count anymore. Newt's nails bit into Thomas's' back in return, leaving crescent moons in their wake.
"We shouldn't," Newt said hurriedly as Thomas toyed with the hem of Newt's shirt. "Not while our friends are in the car over there." He nodded towards Jorge's truck even though Thomas couldn't see him.
"You're right," Thomas agreed and pressed a kiss to Newt's forehead. "We'll be home in a few days."
"Doesn't mean we'll get much privacy."
"Gally can make a 'keep out' sign for the door."
Newt's nose wrinkled, and Thomas stiffened. "Are you sure you want to ask Gally to make that? He might find it…odd."
"You're right," Thomas said with a short laugh. "That would be awkward."
"Uh-huh."
Thomas pushed himself up onto his knees and offered Newt a hand. He helped the blond up and shifted him onto his side, working together to find a comfortable position for him to sleep in. Newt hissed at the pain in his leg and immediately, Thomas stopped what he was doing.
"You okay?" he asked after a tense few seconds, hands still on Newt's leg.
"Mhm," Newt hummed, voice strained. "I'm good. Carry on."
Slower, Thomas continued, eyes flicking between Newt's eyes and his leg every few seconds, causing Newt to huff a tired laugh at him. "I'm not fragile, Tommy."
He tried to sound strong as he spoke but Thomas heard the uncertainty behind it.
"I know," Thomas replied reassuringly. "I don't want to hurt you though."
Newt smiled weakly but didn't say anything, and when he was comfortable, Thomas lay down next to him, back against Newt so he could sleep on his good shoulder. Newt rested a hand on his hip, thumbing the skin there. The silence that passed over them was nice, they were basking in their own company with no interruptions.
Newt listened to Thomas' breathing soften. It brought comfort to him; when nightmares plagued his sleep and he was forced to relive the moment he tried to kill Thomas (or, in some of his dreams, the moment where he succeeded in doing so), he'd feel around for Thomas' chest and place his hands there as it rose and fell, letting it ground him, bringing him back, reminding him that they were both alive.
"Tommy?" he said into the darkness.
"Yeah?"
"I love you, too."