Thomas buried his face in his pillow as another quiet sob escaped his throat. He had managed to distract himself from thoughts of Chuck with the delicious, gooey taste of pizza and his first warm shower. The ideal of normalcy was enough to make him believe that things could be okay.
But then they turned the lights off. Now the former Gladers were asleep, and it was just him, the pillow, and his thoughts.
He tried to fall asleep, but that was quickly followed by nightmares; visions of Chuck getting shot, the life slipping from his eyes. Thomas did everything he could to make those thoughts go away, but no matter what he did, his mind kept slipping back to Chuck. Innocent, brave little Chuck. He wasn't sure he could take it.
Thomas was getting desperate for someone to talk to. He tried contacting Teresa.
Teresa. He thought. Are you awake? I really need to talk to you.
He waited a minute, then two. No response. She must be asleep, he thought. He sighed and turned, attempting once again at falling asleep, if only for a minute.
He had just found the courage to close his eyes again when he heard a bump from down the hall.
"Oh, bloody hell," a voice whispered. Thomas sat up, attempting to find the source of the noise.
A few seconds later, Newt came down the hall, rubbing his right knee. His hair was ruffled and matted, like he had been sleeping on it, and his eyes were squinted and red. He had clearly woken up not too long ago.
Newt noticed Thomas sitting up and stopped.
"Hey there, Tommy," Newt said sheepishly. "Did I wake you up?"
"No, no," Thomas answered, shaking his head. "I was awake. Can't sleep, really."
Newt moved towards the edge of the bed.
"Can't say I'm surprised," he smiled. "We've had one hell of a day."
"Yeah, we have," Thomas whispered, trying to hide the shakiness of his voice.
It clearly didn't work. Newt started looking closely at Thomas' face. The room was dark, with only dim blue light from the windows to illuminate it, but Thomas could still see enough of Newt's features.
"Are you okay, Tommy?" Newt asked. "You look like you've been crying."
Thomas didn't say anything; he couldn't find the courage to.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Newt whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. Thomas looked down, avoiding his eyes. He felt like a little kid who had a bad nightmare. In a way, he was. But it was embarrassing. He didn't want Newt to think of him like that.
"No, Newt, it's not," Thomas said through shaky sobs he tried, and failed, to conceal. "Chuck is dead, okay? And so is Alby, and who knows how many others we haven't accounted for. And it's all my fault."
"But you saved us, too," Newt whispered, leaning in slightly closer, but enough that Thomas could feel the warmth of his body next to his. It made him shiver.
"Yeah, but are we really better off?" Thomas asked. "I mean yeah, the pizza was delicious, and it's nice to sleep on sheets for once. But everything Alby said...about The Flare, the sun scorching the Earth. Is it really any better out there?"
"Well, at least now we have the option to decide for ourselves," Newt answered, his eyes fierce and bright in the blue darkness. Thomas gazed into them and felt a sense of comfort rush over him, but also a sense of nervousness that he couldn't quite place.
Newt looked over at the sleeping boys. He gave a quick smile, watching them clutch pillows or snore or drool. It was so normal, Thomas almost laughed. But he didn't want to wake anyone.
Newt looked back over at Thomas and bit his lip. He hesitated before saying "Come with me."
He got up from the bed and moved towards the hallway. Confused, Thomas put down the pillow he had been clutching and followed.
They reached about halfway down the hallway when the light was gone.
"Careful, now," Newt warned.
They walked for a few more feet in silence; Thomas wasn't sure where they were going, but he was curious and excited. He was still nervous, too; there was a flutter in his stomach and a quick pace in his heartbeat.
Thomas had let his thoughts distract him from his surroundings and found himself tripping over an unknown object. He stumbled and grabbed Newt's shirt to steady himself.
"Oh, what the-" Newt loudly whispered. "You alright?"
"Um, yeah, I'm fine," Thomas answered, steadying himself. He could feel the muscles underneath Newt's shirt and found himself hesitating, just for a moment, before removing his hands.
They stood there for a moment, silent. Thomas absorbed the situation; why had he hesitated so long? He had never thought about Newt's muscles before, or wanting to touch them. It was a strange feeling.
Thomas was about to say something when he felt Newt's hand grab his arm. His heart stopped for a moment, and an electric spark pulsed through his veins. Newt's hand slid down until it found Thomas' hand, then closed around it. Newt cleared his throat.
"Here," Newt murmured. "I'll guide you."
"Okay," Thomas sighed, suddenly worried that his hands were sweaty. He tried focusing on walking and not tripping over Newt's feet, but the feeling of their hands and skin connecting took all of his attention. He wasn't sure, but he could have sworn that he felt Newt's thumb trace over his hand at one point. Goosebumps trickled down his arms.
They walked for another minute in silence until Newt stopped suddenly, squeezing Thomas' hand to warn him. The hallway was still pitch black; there was no source of light in sight. Thomas was confused, but, for once, he didn't ask any questions. He decided to let Newt do the talking.
Newt turned around; Thomas could tell he was facing him now, even in the darkness. Their hands were still connected, their fingers loosely intertwined. Newt gently traced his fingers around Thomas'. Thomas swallowed nervously.
"Listen, Tommy…" Newt murmured. Thomas could feel his warm breath on his face, and suddenly realized how close they must have been.
"Yeah?" Thomas sighed, his heart pounding so fiercely he thought Newt might be able to hear it.
"Well, like you said, we really don't know what's out there," Newt started, his thumb tracing circles on Thomas' palm. Thomas felt along the veins in Newt's wrist. "It could be absolute hell on earth, or it could be a paradise. We have no idea, and we have no sense in believing what WICKED or anyone else tells us until we see the world with our own eyes."
Thomas was still flustered at how their hands were intertwining, tracing along each other's skin without even a second thought, like they had been doing it forever. But he tried to focus on what Newt was saying.
"Now, no matter how bloody bad you feel about it, you've given us the chance to find out," Newt continued. Thomas heard the slightest shake in his voice. Newt chuckled softly. "Always gotta be the buggin' hero, eh?"
"You know I don't try and be the hero," Thomas whispered, letting his hand slip out of Newt's grip, suddenly self-conscious. "I just want to fix what I've already done."
Newt immediately took Thomas' hand back, gripping it tightly. He stumbled to find his other hand in the darkness, accidentally hitting Thomas' stomach a couple of times. Thomas' heart fluttered.
"Well you have, okay?" Newt insisted. "So stop feeling so guilty about it."
They stayed silent for a couple of minutes. Thomas was grateful that Newt couldn't see him, because he was sure that he was blushing. He was touched that Newt cared so much about how he felt, but he also felt like a child being comforted by his mother or a babysitter; he thought that Newt saw him as a scared little boy. But he thought about the way their hands were locked, how he could still feel Newt's breath on his face, and how far apart their lips were. He was hoping that he wasn't just a scared little boy trying to be a superhero. He wanted Newt to see him as something more than WICKED's poster child.
"Look, the point I'm trying to make is this," Newt whispered, his voice softer than before. "We can't really trust anyone. You, me, Minho. That's it. No one else."
Thomas nodded, then remembered that Newt couldn't see him. "Right."
"And, honestly, we're probably not ready for whatever's out there," Newt added. Thomas could feel Newt shift, ever so slightly, closer to him. He shivered once more, but it wasn't bad. "But I know that I'm willing to face it. Whatever it may be, whether it's another Maze, or an army of Grievers, or just a world in ruin. I'll take it on. I'm ready to take it on with you, Tommy."
Thomas' heart stopped, and his breath hitched. Every muscle of his felt tense with anticipation.
"You've given me the strength to fight before, Tommy," Newt continued. "Like no one else has. And I don't know if I've helped you, but…" He hesitated for a moment. "I just hope I have. And if you're willing to go out there and fight, then I am. We can do it. Together."
Thomas realized he hadn't said anything in a while, to overcome by their closeness and Newt's words to form any sentences. So he did the only thing he could think to do, the only thing that felt right to do. He leaned forward, darkness and all, and closed the distance between their lips. He bumped Newt's nose at first, but eventually he met his lips. He kissed him gently, like he was afraid he would hurt him or he would pull away. But Newt kissed him back, smiling softly at Thomas' clumsiness. They finished, and Thomas turned his head so their cheeks were resting against each other.
"Together," Thomas whispered, determination in his voice.
"Together," Newt added. "Until the end, Tommy."