A Romance on the Glade
Newt woke slowly, the warmth of the sunlight penetrating through the canopy, his only declination that morning was upon them. He pulled himself up slowly, careful not to wake the others, who lay in various positions along the floor. Smiling as he passed Minho, he pushed through the line of ferns and was greeted by light.
The sensation of warmth on his skin tingled as the sunlight danced and weaved through the open air. He brought his long arms up to cradle his shoulders before breathing out deeply in a sigh, mixed both with joy and loneliness.
He marched over to the fire pit that was all but a bed of ashes now; it's pungent scent filling his nasal cavity. He began to collect more firewood in the nearby forest, always keeping an eye on the shelter for any boys who happened to wake up early. But as he began to hack away at the wood with his small knife, he lost track of time and before he knew it the runners were getting ready. He smiled as Minho passed him, then returned to his work with high ambition for any sort of success the runners might have today.
"When did you sneak out this morning?" The voice of Thomas radiated behind Newt, causing him drop the small timber he had collected in his hand in the seemingly short while he had been at work. Turning to meet Thomas' gaze, Newt felt his heart flutter in his chest. He shook the odd feeling away dismissively.
"Early enough," Newt replied hastily, bending down to collect the variety of branches and logs that he had gathered momentarily in the past hour or two.
"Here let me help you," Thomas suggested, reaching down to give Newt a helping hand. His fingers brushed Newt's as he reached for a rather small piece of timber, and the other boy recoiled, but not before Thomas could feel the surge of static rush through his body; his hairs stood on end and he felt a shiver pass through from his head to his toes. What was that? he wondered.
"Thomas!" Minho started, "let's go. We're ready to head out." The Asian boy stood a few meters away from the tree line of the small woodland, his hands on his waist impatiently.
"I have to go, but can we talk later?" Thomas wondered. He gave Newt a warm smile, brought himself to his feet, and patted the younger boy's back before running off.
Newt finally allowed himself to exhale the air he had been keeping inside him since Thomas' fingers intertwined with his momentarily during their shuffle. He couldn't explain it, and he didn't want to either. He just knew that there was something going on between them. He couldn't let anybody else suspect anything, so Newt graciously turned back to his work. He made small time of collecting the rest of the timber, accumulating it in his hands and then rushing back to the fire pit. There he dropped the load of timber wood, started a fire and rushed off to get a bit more sleep. He had started early this morning and wanted to get a bit of shuteye before returning to the other tasks in camp that needed tending to.
He wasn't out for long at all. It felt like minutes before he could feel someone rubbing his side. Newt grunted and turned over in exhaustion. "Later," he said almost naturally, but the boy continued to prod into his back eagerly as ever.
"I said later—" The first thing Newt had noticed when his outburst was cut off was the sheer darkness. Then, he noticed the bodies around him, huddled together for warmth. The maze tended to get a little chilly at night. Night! Newt gasped when he realized how late he must have slept. It had only been noon or so when he went to rest. He went to check his watch, but then realized as evermore that it was not there. And he doubted that it would have worked anyways, after being in the maze for almost three years now.
Everything seemed to happen quickly after that. He noticed Thomas, who was still standing above him, had his finger to his lip, signaling for Newt to be quiet. Before long the two boys were able to exit the shelter, walk over to the fire, and take a seat on a giant oak log. It was the only oak tree in the camp, well, at least the only one he and the other boys had found.
Pushing away his thoughts he turned to look at Thomas, who was staring into the burning flames. His eyes lit up in a brilliance of oranges and swaths of fiery red ombrés. His warm glare seemed to be mesmerized by the wisps of flames that expelled from the fire. His voice sounded broken and rough when he finally brought himself to speak.
"Do you think we'll ever get out of here?" Newt was about to answer, but he could tell by Thomas' expression that it was rhetorical. And yet Newt could tell that the other boy needed something to keep him from losing himself to the wicked tricks of the maze.
"We have to be getting close," Newt began, "and now that the runners have you…." Newt trailed off in thought. It was only a few days now that Thomas had replaced Ben and another runner. The camp was still short one runner, but Minho was waiting to make his final decision on who that should be. "Wait a minute," Newt said, standing up from the log aghast.
"Newt…wait," Thomas said slowly, reaching his hand out to grasp Newt's hand. It felt cool to the touch, as if he were nervous. But it felt nice in respect to the smoldering heat that lay before them, now only a few feet away from Newt's position.
"Minho wants me, doesn't he?" Newt countered, his mind a whirl of thoughts and decisions. "Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?" Newt raged, his gaze fixing coldly on the boy below him.
"Yes," Thomas admitted. "But then there's this…" he started, swinging his arm only a degree. It was at this moment that Newt realized that despite his fiery rage, he had never once thought to let go of Thomas' hand. Blushing in embarrassment, he allowed his hand to drop slowly to his side. He could see that Thomas was hurt by his rejection, but Newt had greater things on his mind that some boy.
"Is everything okay out here?" Teresa called out from the shelter, wiping away the sleep from her eyes almost hysterically. She was lean and her hair as dark as the night itself. Under the moonlight she looked almost serene. But Newt knew better than to tread on that territory.
"Everything's fine. Go back to bed," Newt stated.
"Actually, I'm on watch tonight. Back off," she called out rudely. Newt scoffed and shook his head, and then turned back to Thomas. He could see from his peripherals that Teresa had moved to take her post toward the other side of their small camp within the shelter of the maze's walls. Thomas was solemn, and his gaze was transfixed on the fire once more.
"Thomas," Newt spoke slowly and lightly, "I don't know if I can accept this." He couldn't bear thinking about being out there with the Grievers after everything he had heard about them. Besides, he wasn't the fastest boy here by any chance. There were a handful of others who could do the job far better than him. He started telling this to Thomas, but Thomas wouldn't hear any of it, brushing away his arguments with no prevail.
Standing to meet Newt's gaze headstrong, Thomas began to speak in a barely audible whisper. "Anybody could do this job just as well, I'm sure. But what you don't seem to understand is that I don't want anybody else. I want you." The way he spoke was clear, confident, and compelling. He stared back into Thomas' deep brown eyes with respect and a tinge of appreciation.
"Can I at least think about it?" Newt inquired, searching the older boy's eyes for any inkling of an answer.
Reaching to hold Newt's hands once more, Thomas looked into the boys eyes, then stated that he had until morning. "Minho will be expecting you to do a trial run tomorrow," he added. He started to walk away, but he turned back hastily to Newt and crashed his lips onto his.
Newt's heart fluttered out of his chest, and he thought for sure that he had stopped breathing. He brought his hands up to caress Thomas' face and pushed into his lips even further, intensifying their embrace. His hands slid down Thomas' chest, before resting along his waistline. He felt hot, both by the flames of the nearby fire and by Thomas' overpowering hold on him. What would Teresa think? he wondered. Teresa!
He pulled away from Thomas in an influx of movements, barreling over to crash onto the hard grassy terrain. He wiped his lip and looked up at Thomas, who's face was full of confusion. Thomas took one last look at him on the floor, and then ran off back to the shelter.
Newt's hands came up to cup his face and he shook his head violently. What was he thinking? He looked to see Teresa carving something into a piece of wood on the side of the camp, obviously unaware of the incident that just transpired. He blew out a rough sigh and rested his head beside the flames; sleep tugging at him. His excitement and thrill were all in vein, he thought. Before long his fatigue exhausted him and the world around him sunk into complete darkness.
Newt woke up suddenly, breathing heavily as he tried to figure out where he was. He had never slept anywhere but in the shelter with the others, so it took him a moment or two to remember last night's events. For a split second, Newt was happy for that blank slate. It gave him a sense of innocence. But he knew he could not face Thomas for any worth. But it wasn't long before Thomas and Minho joined him by the fire.
"I've been informed that Thomas let you know about your trial today?" Minho questioned. He look oddly tired this morning, Newt thought.
"Yes," was all that Newt could muster up from his lungs, which were tremendously dry, probably due to the smoke from the nearby kindling fire. He passed a glance over to Thomas, who was staring at him defiantly. Newt shook his head before getting to his feet. "Thomas…about last night," Newt began, but Thomas turned away, heading toward the northern side of the maze. Sighing, Newt joined him. He turned to look for Minho, but he noticed that he was nowhere in sight.
"Where's Minho?" Newt asked Thomas. He bit his lip in suspense, thinking that he would be greeted with a cold response. But to his surprise, Thomas answered casually:
"He won't be joining us this morning. Lucky for us," Thomas replied. Newt couldn't judge whether Thomas meant that cruelly or not, so he went with it. He'd be better to shut up and follow Thomas' lead. Besides, he had never been into the maze and now was not the time to start a fight with someone who knew the maze better than him.
"Run!" Thomas yelled, before taking off with an immense speed. Newt stood motionless for a while, gawking at the other boy's finesse and agility. Shaking himself, Newt bolted after him, trying eagerly to catch up.
The two boys took a few right turns, ran straight for a while, turned left, made another right, went straight and then took a few more sharp turns from there. When Newt was sure that they were lost, Thomas stopped dead in his tracks. He turned to face Newt, his expression unreadable. Newt could feel his pulse starting to race.
"What? It's not a griever is it?" Newt called out in a panic. A griever had killed Ben during the day, or so they assumed, after he never came back after leaving one morning a week or two ago.
Thomas just stood there. Newt was beginning to get scared, but he managed to approach Newt anyways. "Thomas, what is it?" he asked sympathetically.
"I hate this." Thomas' reply was brisk and short.
"We all hate the maze, Thomas," Newt replied, almost laughing bitterly.
"No, this," he said, raising both his hands and waving them about in the general direction between the two boys. Newt cocked his head, not sure what Thomas meant. "I hate how I feel when I'm around you. Teresa and I, what we have is amazing. But with you…it's…better," Thomas said slowly, ensuring that he made out each word through his nerves.
"Thomas, I—" Newt started, but he was taken by surprise as Thomas barreled into him again, throwing him against the wall. Newt thought that Thomas was angry, but instead he brought his lips down to his own and the two boys let the maze around them fade away in a moment of pure ecstasy.
Author's Note: Hope you guys liked it! Haven't written a story in a long time, but I felt like writing a small piece late tonight and this is what I came up with!
No copyright intended; all of The Maze Runner content belongs to James Dashner. This is simply a fan tribute to the wonderful characters he has provided for us readers.