CHAPTER FOUR

Feeling overwhelmed seemed to have become the norm for Thomas.

Waking up in a dark lift, with no memories other than his name, and climbing out of the lift into some sort of a clearing, where there were a bunch of teenagers, was enough to rattle him a bit.

Learning about the Glade, the Maze, and the Creators was enough to make his head spin. That didn't stop him from firing questions though. That habit appeared to irritate everyone. Well, everyone but one.

Newt didn't appear irritated or annoyed; no, he was more like indulgent.

Thomas felt at ease while picking apart the emotions that flitted across people's faces. He knew that he was a good reader of body language (he had much practice in dealing with red eyes). Thomas ran a hand through his hair.

Red eyes? Where did that thought even come from? He had been having peculiar thoughts, mostly half-formed, and the more he tried to recall, the faster they seemed to slip away like running water.

Anyways, Newt.

Thomas has never felt more intrigued than when he tries to decipher Newt. The copper-haired teen appeared to be made of so many layers and he seemed to be quite capable of keeping it hidden behind a wall of optimistic cheer for the sake of the Gladers.

Thomas was hard pressed to get even a glimpse behind the walls Newt had constructed around him. But when he did, and he has, the amount of emotion that he caught in a glance knocked him breathless.

A few nights ago, Thomas had decided to take a walk. The atmosphere had felt too stifling inspite of dear old Chuck's best efforts to make him feel at ease. It might also be because Thomas hadn't seen Newt at the campfire and so, he might have been a teeny bit disappointed and distracted.

As he walked by the woods, he caught sight of a light that would have been hidden if he had turned his head even a bit. Intrigued, he went over, treading lightly over the leaves.

There, he saw Newt leaning on a tree trunk, his face painted golden with shadows swirling over it in a mesmerising pattern due to the lamp he kept in front of him. He kept his head turned up looking at the canopy above. On seeing Newt with his walls down, appearing so vulnerable while being so damn strong, made something clench in Thomas' chest. The naked desperation, hopelessness, and deep sadness interlaced with a tiny sprinkle of what could have passed for wry humour, made Thomas want to protect him from the whole world and keep him safe always (with him).

Thomas backed way slowly, feeling that he had intruded on what was clearly a very private moment for long enough. The air was pierced by the distant hollers from the campfire. And when Thomas turned back one last time, Newt was wearing his mask once again, and it was as impenetrable as ever.

Thomas might have thought that he had imagined the whole thing if it weren't for the single tear on Newt's pale cheek, that glinted in the light.

The following days, Thomas tried his best to take Newt's mind off things. Since Newt felt a bit amused at his curiosity, Thomas held no questions back - both sensible ones and the particularly idiots ones. If it got at least a flash of his warm, genuine smile, Thomas considered it a win.

Thomas didn't understand how the slender boy managed to worm his way into his thoughts, nor did he realise the actual amount of affection he held for him. But he did know that he cared for Newt a great deal.

What Thomas didn't notice, for all his observant nature, was the way Newt smiled more around him, how he seemed to light up whenever he caught sight of the newest addition to the Glade, or how Newt's eyes always tracked Thomas around the Glade.

But Alby did notice. And later, Minho. They were closer to Newt more than any other Glader, after all. They were quite protective of Newt, not that he needed any protection, and were wary at first. Then, seeing that Newt did seem more happy, and he didn't appear to be labouring under an invisible weight as much as he did before. He still gave the appearance of someone having the weight of the world resting on their shoulders, but it appeared as though the weight lessened whenever he was with the Greenie.

So they kept their silence, and glared the other observant Gladers, who took notice, into submission before they could voice it out loud.

It was as Frypan told Alby and Minho,"As long as Newt's happy."

A/N: Teresa hasn't come to the Glade yet.

Aaaand, Newtmas!

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