Author's note ~ Hope you enjoy!
Newt turned his face into the strong, sturdy curve of Adrian's shoulder. Closing his eyes, he felt a warmth he'd never felt before.
Adrian would never let him down.
Adrian supported the boy through the aftershocks, listening to his breathing slowly start to even out and feeling his shuddering muscles begin to calm. He could feel the warmth of Newt's face pressed against his shoulder and the tight fingers still clutching his arm, and silently allowed the boy the luxury of snuggling in for a few moments. He was contemplating what to do next when the boy turned his head a fraction, looking at him shyly from beneath heavy lidded eyes.
"Tha-thank you." he murmured, his face flushed from the event. "Thank you Addy."
"You asked me for help, kid." Adrian reminded, aiming for a casual tone as Newt shifted slightly, dropping his grip. "I'd say you've been, ah, successfully helped. You shouldn't – hopefully – have the same problem next time you need to take care of business. Now, if you're all sorted – "
"You...you're excited." Newt pointed out, having spotted the distinct bulge in the man's lap. He slowly moved a lightly shaking hand towards the lump, hesitant but curious. "You helped me. Can I...do you want me to...?"
Adrian grabbed the reaching appendage in his own free hand, stopping Newt cold before he could make contact.
"This isn't tit for tat." Adrian reminded, his voice coming out a little gruffer than intended. He cleared his throat and tried again. "While I appreciate the offer, I don't need any particular assistance in that area, thanks." A little warning bell went off in his head when he couldn't tell if the boy looked relieved or disappointed at the refusal. Choosing to believe it was the first, he moved Newt's hand firmly away before easing away from the boy, fishing a faded bandana out of the pocket of his jeans and offering it. Newt swayed a little but stayed upright on his own, taking the cloth with a little confused frown on his face.
"Clean yourself up, sort yourself out. Then, I think, we'd better call it a night. I'm bagged, and I'm sure you are too."
"Can I...stay here tonight?" Newt asked hopefully, his eyes lighting up a little. Adrian bit back a pained sigh.
"...yeah, sure, no problem. One condition on that, though."
"What?" Newt asked eagerly, fist clenched on the cloth.
"If you have one of those dreams tonight, or feel the need to...take things in hand, we'll say, I'd ask that you take a little walk in the woods and handle things with a bit of discretion. I don't want the house smelling like sex." He finished bluntly, his expression firm. Newt flushed and his eyes cut away; not trusting himself to answer, he nodded in affirmation. Adrian grunted, relieved.
"I'm going to wash up myself. I'll be back."
The man stood and quickly disappeared around the back of the cabin, towards the water barrel. Newt took the opportunity to do as he was instructed, cleaning his tender flesh with the soft fabric, tucking himself away neat and tidy and stuffing the bandana into his pocket. He ran his hands through the grass on either side, rubbing off any lingering traces, and considered the job done. Wrung out, he laid back in the soft cradle of the meadow and let his eyes drift closed, watching the sky as he waited for the man to return. He was asleep in less than five minutes.
Adrian stood with his hands braced on the heavy wooden lid of the water barrel, taking deep cleansing breaths as he focused on calming his body down. While he could have easily taken a walk in the woods himself – the kid wasn't going anywhere for a while – he refused to act on the strong physical desire brought on from assisting Newt. While he could admit that (in a moment of weakness and caught by surprise) he had been fleetingly tempted by the kid's unexpected offer, the fact remained that Newt was just that. A kid. While he hated himself a little for doing what he'd just done, he'd sworn to whatever he could to help the gladers, and that was a promise he would not renege on.
No matter how much it pained him, personally.
He ran his hands vigorously through the long grass before washing with the cold, clear water, stripping off his shirt and rinsing his face and upper body as well. When he felt he had himself firmly under control again he went back to the spot where he'd left the boy, finding him deeply and peacefully asleep.
I could just leave him where he is, Adrian considered. The temperature here is nice and mild, and I know there's nothing out there that poses any real threat. And then I don't have to worry about him sleeping on the couch. Or wandering off the couch.
Rolling his eyes at himself, he crouched down and gently picked the boy up off the ground without waking him, lifting him with with the ease of experience. Adrian puffed out his cheeks a little at the effort; Newt was a fairly tall boy, who had spent a good portion of his time in the glade running the maze and doing manual labour, building muscle. He certainly wasn't a feather weight.
Adrian goose stepped into the house and towards the couch, thankful the distance was short. Easing Newt down onto the cushions was easy – disentangling the boy from himself proved a tad more difficult. Newt automatically and instinctively tried to cling to the warmth, his brow furrowing as Adrian pried his sleeping arms away. He quickly settled back down when Adrian backed away, though, apparently content to latch on to one of the pillows from the couch and snuggle it instead. Adrian covered the boy with a blanket before standing and looking down at him, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck in frustration.
What the hell am I going to do about you, kid?
Letting it all simmer for the moment, he decided he might as well make use of the current quiet to try and salvage what he could of his evening. Lighting a couple of candles, he made himself comfortable at the table with his book, his pencils, and his music. Putting it out of his head, for now, he shifted his focus to the paper under his hands, mentally musing about the improvements made in the kitchen in the last week or so.
For all the blustery attitude Frypan projected, he was an apt and eager student when it came to the preparation and creation of food. Despite being unable to work he had still spent every day in the kitchen, picking up every recipe Adrian could throw at him, often with only recitation . He studied the methods the man demonstrated with a laser focus, and would no doubt have them perfected within days of being back to full duty. Probably sooner, Adrian admitted to himself, begrudgingly admiring the strapping boy's determination to return to the task he loved. The rest of the crew took his teachings to heart as well, quickly mastering the techniques to make butter and cheese, hand throw pasta and breads, even cure meats. Peter, possessing a well defined sweet tooth, had campaigned to be put in charge of the harvest and preparation of maple syrup, and Dave had fallen in love with the process of taking a bucket of fresh milk and turning it into a heaping helping of soft creamy cheese.
He fully expected their usual menu to be changing considerably in the near future, and he was confident that it would be for the better. With Frypan comfortably back in charge of the meals, Adrian could turn his focus to other matters.
His headphones in, he moved his lips to the music as he detailed a drawing of a broad leafed sugar maple. The final notes of one song faded away as he added in the side notes and another began, softly crooning in his ear.
.
Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide
No escape from reality
.
His fingers tightened on his pencil. He thought about the man who'd loved this song, this music; the one who'd passed that love on to him so eagerly.
.
Open your eyes
Look up to the skies and see
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy
Because I'm easy come, easy go
A little high, little low
Anyway the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me
To me
.
He remembered the feeling of a strong, narrow hand guiding his. Patiently showing him how to detail, teaching him perspective, attention to detail, the importance of accuracy.
.
Mama, just killed a man
Put a gun against his head
Pulled my trigger, now he's dead
Mama, life had just begun
But now I've gone and thrown it all away
.
"What does it mean?" He'd asked, the first time he'd heard this song, all of five years old. "Why did he do it?" An indulgent smile, the bright fluorescent light in the kitchen sparkling off the old fashioned rectangular lenses of the glasses perched on his nose.
.
Mama, oooooh oh
Didn't mean to make you cry
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow
Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters
.
"And that!" Indignant, childishly outraged by callousness of the singer. "How could he just leave his Mama? Doesn't he care?" A wide palm rested on the top of his head, gently ruffling his wildly disordered hair. He liked these times best of all, when it was just the two of them for a little while. He could hear the rest of the family in the other room, laughing and bickering about something. But for now, it was just them. "Why did he do it, Dad?"
.
Too late, my time has come
Sends shivers down my spine
Body's aching all the time
Goodbye everybody I've got to go
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth
.
"It's just a song, my boy." His father explained. "A story set to words, a work of fiction."
"He shouldn't have done it. It's bad to kill people. He hurt everyone, and should be punished for it." He asserted righteously, pushing his drawing away in anger. His father shook his head, amused.
"And if he was defending his home, his family, his life? If he felt he had no choice? If he thought the loss of one life would preserve the lives of many? Does he still deserve to be punished?"
"I...I don't know. I didn't think about that." He looked down at the scarred old wood of the kitchen table, confused, his resent towards the made-up man fizzling as he tried to reason his way to an answer. "Was he?"
"I don't know." His father said gently, making his point. "And neither do you. One cannot judge the actions and choices of another until one has walked in their shoes, seen the world through their eyes."
"Well, if he did do it for good things, to protect people, he wouldn't feel so bad about it, would he? If he was a good person, he wouldn't."
His father's eyes were sad, now.
"Adrian, even good people do bad things. Sometimes horrible things. They may believe they're acting for the greater good – and it may even be true. But some of the most horrific things the world has ever seen have been born from good intentions. And every hard choice made, every evil a good person commits, weighs on them. Good guys take lives, too, and every life taken hangs on them for the rest of their lives. It takes a terrible toll on them. You see, our actions, our lives," his father tried to explain, "are a series of cheques and balances. Regardless of the reason behind the action, some debts become so large that there's only one way to settle them. You'll understand what I mean, one day."
And he did. His chest burning from the memory, he pulled the headphones out and shook his head to clear it. He absolutely did. The last few words of the song stubbornly played out in his memory.
.
Nothing really matters
Anyone can see
Nothing really matters
Nothing really matters to me
.
Anyway the wind blows
.
The problem is, Adrian thought bitterly, there are a number of things that do matter to me. They matter a great deal.
Suffice to say, it was a very long night.
Newt was feeling like an entirely new man. Refreshed, rested and relaxed, he hid his wide happy grin in the cushions of the couch as he basked in his warm, comfy cocoon. Adrian must have brought him in and covered him up after he fell asleep outside. He felt a little glow deep in his chest at the thought. Energized and unable to keep still any longer he bounded up and, noting the empty bed in the corner, bounced out into the misty pre-morning light. The birds had started chittering and everything felt so bright and fresh. He looked around for the man.
"You're looking awfully chipper this morning."
Newt spotted him emerging from the woods, a bundle of sticks and branches under his arm.
"I am." Newt replied smugly. "Might've had something to do with sleeping like the dead. Or, y'know, blowing off some steam last night. Probably both."
"Probably." Adrian said dryly. "Well, whatever the case, it's nice to see you back to normal. Are you running today?"
"Yeah, will be. Right after I eat Frypan out of house and home." Newt answered enthusiastically, sliding a sideways glance toward the man. "Any plans tonight, or can I come by and hang out after dinner? I know I conked last night, and wasn't exactly the best of company."
"I've got a meet set up with a couple of the others; we'll be hip deep in a project. Maybe another time." Adrian stated smoothly. The boy shrugged his understanding, the fleeting look of disappointment on his face quickly replaced by a cheeky grin.
"I guess I'll see you at dinner then, Addy."
Newt jogged out of the clearing merrily, ready and eager to face the day.
Adrian closed his eyes and sighed in relief; Newt's interaction with him that morning hadn't been any different than on any other morning. With a little luck, they could maintain their easy friendship without last night appreciably changing things.
Unfortunately, Adrian had run out of luck. Whereas Newt had been perfectly content to only periodically spend time with the man before, now he attached himself to Adrian like a bur.
Other than that, the next week passed by in a fairly uneventful manner. Adrian successfully organized another back-to-back two night set of female entertainment for the gladers, to a wonderfully roaring reception. Before the girls slipped away into the woods on those nights, Althea had announced that a special event would be happening in the near future – a game of luck and skill with high stakes and even higher rewards. It left the gladers in a state of eager anticipation and nervous excitement. Also in the plans was another bonfire party, schedules and ideas being tossed back and forth between Adrian, Alby, Frypan, and (oddly enough) Gally. Adrian worked tirelessly with them all, his girls, the leader, the cook who was slowly warming up to him, and the hard headed builder. He crammed in practice sessions with the three sloppers he'd used for back up music during the first bonfire.
Even with such a full plate the man found it increasingly difficult to avoid the persistent company of the blonde runner. Newt dogged him at meals, hung around the planning meetings whenever he wasn't in the maze, lingered at the practice sessions. He asked every day to come by and hang out at Adrian's place during the evening but the man had been able to put him off so far, reminding the boy that he was working on a number of projects and was pinched for time. The boy's tenacity never faltered though, and Adrian was having a difficult time deciding exactly how to handle his newly acquired and cheerfully determined sidekick.
It's like having a blonde, British shadow. Adrian thought to himself as he escaped for a few minutes to empty his bladder. This attachment to me has gotten out of hand – I need to do something about it. I had hoped that he'd back off on his own, given a little time and a lack of encouragement. Unfortunately, the more Adrian put him off, the more adamant the boy seemed to get, and Adrian knew an uncomfortable conversation was on the close horizon.
Newt's newfound habits hadn't gone unnoticed, either. Minho, in particular, was ruthless in his teasing. Alby, the other runners, and even Jeff got in on it too, making semi-crude jokes and pestering Newt about 'what a good pet he was being!'. Newt just smiled and laughed along, not responding to the harmless mocking, so relieved to be passed his difficulties that he took the ribbing with flawless good grace. Though he still had dreams waking him periodically, and an occasional moment of nerves that gripped him during dealing with the ensuing effects, at least he wasn't ending up tense and frustrated anymore. Every morning since the resolution of his problem he'd rolled out of bed with a clear head and hit his day with a spring in his step. He was looking forward to the bonfire celebration, hoping to actually get some time to hang out with Adrian without work weighing him down. The man was looking more and more tired every time Newt saw him.
He's working too hard, stretching himself too thin, Newt thought as he trotted back into the glade at the end of another day of running. He'll burn himself out if he doesn't take a break. Maybe I should steal a jar or two of Gally's secret recipe and stop by his place tonight. He'll probably be working, but maybe I can convince him to take one evening off. No, wait, bugger it, he's got that thing with Alby and the builders at the council hall tonight, probably won't head home 'til late.
Newt shook his head as he mindlessly drew out his route from the day, his focus split between the familiar task and thoughts of the man. When he'd finished his map, he began one of his doodles in the margin. Every map since the evening Adrian had helped him now sported a little sketch of the man; silly and funny at first, they were getting more and more detailed every day. He drew in the eyes and eyebrows, trying for a warmly smiling expression, and thought of the man.
The bonfire's in three days. If nothing else, maybe I can get him to relax a little after that's done and wrapped up.
Caught up, he looked down at the face on his page and felt a goofy little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
As the sky turned violet and night started to fall, the gladers gobbled their way through their pre-bonfire feast. There were grunts and groans of satisfaction, though none was as vocal – or gluttonous – as Gally. Yeasty, crispy bread, thick tomato sauce, generous amounts of meat meat, long strings of hot melted cheese. Working with Frypan and teaching the other cooks as he went, Adrian had walked the cooks through building a mouth watering batch of home made pizza and the gladers were in ecstasy. Slice after slice of the unexpected delicacy disappeared as the boys gorged on a treat they never thought they'd see in their current captivity. When the last boy had finally been sated – for now – and the stars began to blink on, Alby stood in front of their sacrificial effigy and started to speak. His speech, similar to the one he'd delivered so passionately at the first bonfire, aroused the boys to rebellious shouts and cheers just as it had before, and ended with the leader defiantly lighting the crude wooden figure on fire. As the boys roared, he stepped aside and gave the floor to Adrian and his handful of music makers. The noise fell to a hush as everyone leaned forward in anticipation, holding their breaths. Waiting.
"Whether it be at fifteen or a hundred and fifteen, every man someday comes to the end of his road." Adrian intoned soberly, looking into the eyes of the gathered gladers. "And every journey is unique. For you...for us...someone has deliberately dropped us in the middle of a deadly maze, left us with nothing but our wits and our guts to get us through, to find our path. Do we curl into a ball and whimper? Do we hide in our beds and drown ourselves in fear, nod our heads meekly and do nothing, hoping the slintheads who stuck us here will show us ounce of mercy? Or do we stand and fight?"
The answering screams of the gladers left no doubt as to their thoughts on the matter.
"We stand and fight; tonight, tomorrow, for as long as it takes, we fight. We'll get to the final showdown. And wherever my path takes me from there, I'll die on my feet before I ever let them force me to my knees." Another roar of approval from the gladers. "If you have to go out, don't make it easy on the bastards. Go out fighting! If I have to go, I'll go out...in a blaze of glory." His words took on a distinctly challenging tone at the end of his statement, and Newt felt a prickle of unease across the back of his neck. Before he could figure out why, Adrian began to pluck the strings of the same bucket instrument he'd used during the last bonfire. On cue, the two drummers started beating out a slow, simple rhythm, and the third clanked a large metal spoon against an empty cooking pot on every third beat. The high pitch of the strings wove through the beats, building a sense of anticipation before the music suddenly faded to almost nothing, and Adrian added the words.
.
I wake up in the mornin'
And I raise my weary head
I got an old coat for a pillow
And the earth was last night's bed
I don't know where I'm goin'
Only God knows where I've been
I'm a devil on the run
A six gun lover
A candle in the wind, yeah
.
You're brought into this world
But they say you're born in sin
Well at least they've given me something
I didn't have to steal or have to win
Well, they tell me that I'm wanted
Yeah I'm a wanted man
I'm colt in your stable
I'm what Cain was to Abel
Mister catch me if you can
.
The gladers started swaying to the music, watching the show intently. Newt's whole focus was on the man as he moved passed the front row of boys, pointing to one whenever the lyrics demanded it. Then he moved his fingers rapidly over the strings, and the drums thundered back to the forefront as he belted out the chorus.
.
I'm goin' down
In a blaze of glory
Take me now but know the truth
I'm goin' down
In a blaze of glory
Lord I never drew first
But I drew first blood
I'm no one's son
Call me young gun
.
You ask about my conscience
And I offer you my soul
You ask if I'll grow to be a wise man
Well I ask if I'll grow old
You ask me if I known love
And what it's like to sing songs in the rain?
Well, I've seen love come
I've seen it shot down
I've seen it die in vain
.
All the gladers felt a pang at the emotion Adrian packed into the lyrics.
.
Shot down
In a blaze of glory
Take me now but know the truth
But I'm going down
In a blaze of glory
Lord, I never drew first
But I drew first blood
I'm a devil's son
Call me young gun
Yeah
.
The music softened again, and Adrian laid a thumping hand over his heart as his voice flowed over the spellbound audience like a silky blanket.
.
Each night I go to bed
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
No, I ain't lookin' for forgiveness
But before I'm six foot deep
Lord, I got to ask a favor
And I'll hope you'll understand
'Cause I've lived life to the fullest
Let this boy die like a man
Starin' down the bullet
Let me make my final stand
.
The nameless anxiety crept back into Newt and he shuddered, a cold finger of fear trickling down his back.
.
Shot down
In a blaze of glory
Take me now but know the truth
I'm going down
In a blaze of glory
Lord, I never drew first
But, I drew first blood
I'm no one's son
Call me young gun
I'm the young gun
Young gun
.
The noise of the other boys around him, the beating of the drums, it faded to a distant buzzing in Newt's ears as he stared at the man, standing so proudly in front of the fire. Amazing, he thought in wonder, Addy, you're bloody amazing. Newt felt a pull, an almost physical tug in his gut that he'd never felt before; a desire to reach out and touch the man. Watching him, hearing his words, Newt abruptly understood something that had been on the periphery of his thoughts all week. Friend, tutor, brother. Newt swallowed dryly as another word joined the others he used to define the man and he suddenly realized what that foreign feeling was, and what it meant.
Addy. He wanted Addy.
Flustered, unsettled, he melted back into the crowd and lost himself in the mass of now dancing boys to give himself a moment to think. By the time he rejoined the others most had either scattered to smaller packs for conversation or gathered around the wrestling ring to watch the competitions, making it easy for him to reappear without anyone noticing.
After an obligatory turn in the ring against Gally, in which Adrian dutifully put in a modest effort until the match was finally called a draw, the man was content to sit at the edge of the circle of light thrown by the bonfire and work on getting reasonably drunk. The keeper of the builders had bartered a goodly amount of his stock of alcohol for the man's promise at a rematch, and Adrian wasn't going to let it go to waste. Alby sat beside him, keeping him company and nursing a jar of his own as they chatted back and forth. Alby might not remember his past or his origins, but his memories since coming to the glade were crystal clear and he was ready to learn more about the strange man who'd been sent to live with them.
"So, is this enough booze for you?" Alby inquired archly.
"For me to do...what, exactly?" Adrian deadpanned.
"I believe that you told me, not all that long ago, when I asked about your past, that it might be a relief to sit down and tell me about it, if you'd had enough booze. D'you think this is enough?"
Adrian rolled his eyes, emptying his third jar and reaching for a fourth, puffing on a cigarette.
"I guess it could be. Not that my personal history is going to help you much, but your call. What do you want to know?"
"Anything. Everything." Alby amended, dead set on better understanding the interesting – and dangerous – man. "Where did you come from? What made you so...able to...do the things you do?"
Adrian chuckled mirthlessly, gesturing with the jar of amber liquid.
"The night's too short for twenty years worth of stories, but I'll give you the abridged version if it'll quench your burning curiosity."
Alby nodded seriously, shifting into a more comfortable position, listening closely.
"My parents were both scientists. I, with my three siblings, grew up in Europe. When I was eight, there was a...catastrophic event that...destroyed most of the country around us." Adrian chose and edited his words carefully, knowing how dangerous it could be to try and give the boy more information than was absolutely necessary for his tale. "My family survived, tucked out of harm's way at the facility that employed both of my parents. Just over a year later, we lost my mother to a sudden sickness. That's when things started to get real ugly, real quick." Adrian's face was stony in the shadows thrown by the flickering light.
"People panicked when the initial damage hit, making travel too dangerous to consider. By the time my mother died, they were absolutely savage. We tried to leave, get to a better place, but...we ran in to a group of nasty characters. They ripped my father apart in front of us." Adrian said, the words cold and matter-of-fact.. "And would have gleefully done the same to the rest of us, had my older sister not been carrying one of my father's bags of weapons. She gave my brother and I each a pistol, and loaded a shotgun herself. We didn't know how to aim, but they were close enough by then that it didn't really matter. We took up arms, and we used them. To save our lives, to protect the youngest of us, we used them. I was nine years old the first time I killed a man. Is that what you wanted to know?" Adrian asked quietly before draining half a jar of alcohol in one long swallow.
Alby shifted away, just a little. Adrian continued dispassionately.
"We were alone. For six long months, we were alone. We eventually managed to find a group of people who hadn't turned violent and cruel. With them we were safe. We started working with them, looking for others, searching for a way to make things, if not the way they were before at the very least better than they were now. I've always had an amazing memory, so it was natural for me to jump into research, look for the answers to today in the knowledge left from the past. As I got older and stronger, I started searching for information farther and farther away, scouring every place I could think of for some scrap that could help us. My travels took me to treacherous places, often brought me into contact with the worst of those feral people. I was always lucky enough to get out again. I've seen atrocities that would leave you screaming yourself awake every night, for the rest of your life. And I've done horrific things, unspeakable things, to ensure that I could walk away and live to search another day. Then, half a year ago, I got in over my head and my luck finally ran out." He toasted the leader with the empty glass and an empty, bitter smile. "And here I am."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, the man lost in dark memories, the boy trying to absorb the information. Alby wanted to ask, wanted to know more, but he wasn't without empathy. He could see the toll this conversation was having on the man and wisely chose to change the subject, resolving himself to asking for more information at a later time. It's not like either one of them were going anywhere soon.
"Since you know so much," Alby said, trying for innocent and failing intentionally. "Any chance you can give me a heads up about the upcoming challenge your lady friend issued us the other night?"
Adrian looked at him for a second, his brain needing the time to change gears. He snorted, nudging Alby's shoulder with his own.
"Why, feeling a little competitive are we?"
"I'd just rather go in knowing what to expect. Like, what's the payoff? The prize at the end?"
"If she didn't tell you, I guess you'll just have to wait and see, like everyone else."
"Come on, you've got to know something." Alby pressed, half out of his desire to lighten the mood, half in earnest interest.
Adrian slung an arm around Alby's shoulders, giving his arm a patronizing pat.
"Patience is a virtue, my young friend. All good things to those who wait."
"But I don't want to wait!" Alby said in an overly nasal whine, playing it up.
"Poor baby." Adrian crooned, shamelessly teasing now, his dark mood gone. Alby started to laugh at the farcical banter, and the man dissolved into chuckles of his own as the heaviness of the past shifted off his shoulders. He pushed himself to his feet, holding out a hand to help the still laughing boy up. "Come on, let's see if a little time in the ring will work off some of your extra energy and give you something else to think about.."
Newt had noticed the two off by themselves as soon as he'd returned to the group but was reluctant to go over and join them, especially when they were so obviously involved in a deep, serious conversation. He watched from a discreet distance, waiting for an opportunity to casually wander over. He wasn't close enough to hear what they were saying, but the topic must be dire for both look so grim. He turned to talk to another runner for a moment about the running patterns for tomorrow and, when he looked back, the mood of the pair had shifted to something palpably lighter. He was just starting to head their way when Adrian put an arm around Alby.
Newt stopped dead in his tracks.
A little fire of jealousy started in his heart as he watched Alby and Adrian laughing easily together. He wasn't proud of it, but it was definitely there. Even though he knew better, he couldn't help but think that Adrian's arm should be around his shoulders, it should be him Adrian was laughing with. He slipped back into the background as they headed towards the ring, not sure he could hide his irritation well enough to convince them that nothing was wrong.
He watched as they wrestled in the ring, soothed slightly and feeling a mean little thrill when the man downed Alby with almost no visible effort. He stood in the wings, watching, thinking, until the crowd started to break up and disperse into the other areas. As the man began to say his goodnights, Newt slipped into the woods and started towards Adrian's little house to wait for him.
Now that he actually understood what he wanted, he was going to do his level best to get it.
Author's note ~
The songs featured in this chapter are Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen and Blaze of Glory by Jon Bon Jovi
Something for you guys to ponder this week. What's your favorite song? Let me know and, if it fits, you might just see it in an update down the road. ^.~
See you next chapter!
~Ruby