Chapter Fourteen

He was startled by his own admission, one hand coming up to touch his lips as he shot Thomas a wide-eyed look. Thomas looked less than surprised, his eyes were almost sad, and he swallowed, looking off in the direction where they'd been headed before. Newt felt a painful embarrassment twist and bloat in his abdomen, chasing the nice feeling of affection, chewing on it. He returned to the duck, wrapping one piece a little too tightly as he felt his face burn.

Stupid, what the bloody hell did ya do that for?

That's really not what we need right now.

Newt, ya bloody wanker.

He swallowed, hoping he wasn't going to cry but feeling the tell-tale heat in his eyes. Nothing happened for a terribly long time. He was almost sure Thomas had left, but he wasn't brave enough to look up. When Thomas spoke it made him jump.

"I know." he said, shuffling his feet.

"Good." Newt replied, swallowing his premature relief.

Thomas might not want to stick together if he thought… It had been entirely different confessing on the stage. Even though it was a Panem-wide Broadcast it was actually less horrific than confessing in person. Thomas hadn't been there, right in front of him. And they hadn't spoken about it, Thomas hadn't asked, had pretended it hadn't happened. Even though he'd said it wouldn't change anything Newt couldn't quash the fear that it would. Thomas was his only real friend in the world and he was the only thing keeping Newt going. He wouldn't care if Thomas weren't here with him. He was almost certain he'd have given up by now, or been caught and killed.

"I told you it wouldn't change anything, and it won't."

He looked up to see Thomas looking down at his own feet, his expression serious and thoughtful. Newt felt calmer already, even as he worried at Thomas's demeanour.

"Sorry, Tommy." he whispered.

And then the moment was over and Thomas snorted, a spluttering chuckle that lit his eyes as he grinned and threw Newt a look from under his messy fringe. Newt could feel his lips smiling back before Thomas even spoke, a warm feeling enveloping him when their eyes met.

"Don't be. Love you too, shank."

Newt met his eye with an amused half-smile, ignoring the way in which embarrassment overtook him. He shot the younger boy a glare when he sniggered.

"You're adorable when you're red." Thomas teased, and Newt rolled his eyes, huffing out a sigh and trying to cover up the fact that he felt exposed.

"I take it back, you can bugger off now."

Thomas made an amused noise and his grin softened into something fond. Newt was still feeling embarrassed and exposed but he smiled back softly.

"I won't go too far." Thomas promised him.

And then he was gone, through the trees and out of sight before Newt's laugh even left his lips. Worry clawed in his gut at Thomas leaving his side but he continued to grin widely as he finished up with the duck, setting to work on destroying the evidence that they had been there, stamping out the embers and throwing dirt over the small mound.

He gathered up handfuls of tiny twigs from the underbrush around their clearing, and used the knife Thomas had given him to cut clumps of moss from different spots. He tried to make it look like someone hadn't been rooting around, but he wasn't really sure he'd managed it very well. He returned to the dead fire, setting down his knife as he scattered foliage over the area. It wasn't very long before he heard the approaching footsteps, a smile on his face and anticipation swelling in his chest as he began to scatter the last of his twigs around the clearing. All he had to do next was collect leaves to finish the job.

He didn't realise that something was wrong until the presence he felt arrive in their clearing wasn't Thomas.

Newt's head flew up and his brown eyes widened at the sight of another tribute. Barely three feet away stood a broad-shouldered and muscle-armed asian boy with a sweep of shockingly black hair that ended in a practical curve at the front and stayed out of his eyes. He had a long-bladed knife in his hand and the edge glinted silver in the dying light. Newt's fingers curled reflexively, his own knife less than half a foot from where his knee lay in the moss.

"I wouldn't." the dark-haired boy said, his voice level and even as his dark blue eyes tracked Newt from head to toe. Newt swallowed, feeling the fight or flight rising in him but he didn't move. The boy looked serious and deadly, his face gave nothing away. He jerked his head.

"Stand up. Don't even think about reaching for it. You won't make it."

Newt raised his hands, palms out and non-threatening. He got up slowly, not even daring to blink. His heart was thumping in his chest as he stared back the other boy, fear flushing into his bloodstream.

He hadn't seen the direction he'd come from.

Had he come across Thomas?

Did he-

What if-

What if his Tommy was-

He felt like he was going to be sick.

Please be okay, Tommy.

He didn't show his fear, his face straight and carefully blank.

"You don't look much like a Career." the asian boy murmured thoughtfully, before his dark gaze flicked to either side. "And they'd be grouped together by now, already formed. Probably out hunting the Gladers, i bet."

His mouth curved wryly at Newt's instinctive flinch. He rolled the handle of the knife in his hand, letting it travel from the heel of his hand to the tips of his fingers and back. The casual movement made Newt more nervous than he cared to admit.

"Glader. I knew it, pegged you right away." the tribute sounded almost pleased with himself. "Safety in numbers man, you never pay attention to the Games? Shuck stupid for a scrawny shank like you to be alone, even more so for a Glader."

"Who said he's alone?"

Newt felt his knees tremble with relief at the sound of Thomas's voice, even if it was as cold as ice like it was in that moment. The younger boy had simply melted from the trees, his bow cocked and an arrow between his fingers already, the green tip aimed right at the asian boy. Newt tried not to show how weak the relief made him feel.

Thomas was there.

It was going to be okay.

The intruder had whipped around when Thomas had spoken, and he was looking at Thomas with a speculative expression. Newt thought he had to be going mad because the boy looked almost awed. He looked at Thomas, sweeping over him head to toe like he had Newt before he lowered his knife a little, levelled it with his hip. He loosened his stance, becoming slightly less threatening. Thomas stayed exactly where he was, bow raised and his face set in a hard expression.

"Drop it." Thomas hissed, his eyes locked on the intruder's face, his teeth almost baring around his words. Newt had never seen Thomas so dark, so dangerous, and even though he knew they'd need it if they wanted to survive any length of time in this hellish place it scared him a little.

The tribute shook his head once, a slow turn from left to right and back that seemed just as calculated as his gaze.

"If you're going to kill me i won't be letting ya do it empty-handed."

Thomas thought about it, looking at the boy carefully. The tribute spread his hands out at his sides as though to prove his honesty, but neither Glader was fooled by the loose grasp he still had around his knife. Newt shifted his weight to his other foot, his nerves tingling with adrenaline as the two dark-haired boys stared, like two leading pack animals each trying to work the other out. Thomas spoke first. He didn't take his eyes off the tribute, didn't even move his head and yet it was clear his words were for his friend.

"Keep your knife handy and finish covering that fire."

Newt obeyed without a word, relieved to be doing something other than standing still amidst the air of almost primal danger rolling around them. Thomas continued to study the intruding tribute carefully, and the other boy just met his gaze impassively. He didn't make any move to attack, but nor did he put his knife away. Suddenly, Thomas's shoulders lowered a fraction of an inch. It was almost unnoticeable. Newt only knew what it meant because he'd known him all his life. Thomas had come to a decision. Newt looked at him anxiously, gripping his knife tightly. He knew their own safety was paramount but the thought of killing someone, especially in a situation like this, turned his stomach sour.