Chapter Two
Thomas blew out a long breath and stared up at the ceiling. He resisted the urge to shift position again. He knew if he started to fidget he wouldn't stop and he knew Chuck's mother Mary would only be more upset to see how afraid he was. He could hear Newt fidgeting, bouncing his knee with nervous energy. He wanted to be angry at him but he couldn't really get a proper handle on anything other that fear right now.
"You shouldn't have done that." he hissed eventually, when he could hear Newt biting his nail.
He looked over, confirming he was right. Newt was biting a thumbnail, his other hand jiggling on his knee. His dark eyes flicked over to meet Thomas's. Newt looked calmer than Thomas felt, but Thomas wasn't fooled. Newt was the best person he knew at hiding his emotions. He'd had to learn fast, living in the worst part of their district. Especially as an outsider, even though he was born there. It was the rarest thing to have people move into a district.
You were born there and you died there - unless the Games got you- so when Newt's parents had appeared one day the district had pretty much had a social heart-attack. The accent was the icing on the cake. Newt was teased and picked on a lot when they were little. Newt was willowy and scrawny, but he knew the blonde was scrappy. And he was fast. Thomas's heart squeezed painfully hard in his chest when he realised that those were things they would have to count on in the Arena.
Thomas had been managing to keep everything in line until that moment. But the thought of Newt in one of those Arenas made Thomas's throat constrict. He felt his eyes burn and he felt sick. Newt blinked at him, and Thomas could see the fear that was hiding in his eyes. Thomas swallowed.
"You-" he couldn't say any more for fear of his voice breaking and his tears spilling. He looked away. He twisted his hands together, his nails biting into his skin. He let out his breath in a shaky stream. They'd bring Mary any minute and he had to keep it together. She was practically the only family he had, and she was the soft-hearted type.
She was a seamstress in the middle of their district. She was better off than those in the slumming part but only barely. She'd taken Thomas in with no hesitation whatsoever, and she got by by being a kind-hearted person. She had many friends in the district and had relied upon them in some of her tightest winters, not that she had ever liked to. Thomas couldn't held the morbid thought that her life would be that bit more comfortable if she didn't have to feed Thomas.
"If you think i could watch you march on in there on my behalf ya got another thing coming."
Newt sounded odd, and Thomas looked at him. The blonde was looking at him with a familiar frown between his eyes and Thomas frowned back, finally managing to reach the frustration in his gut.
"You had one more year. One more. Fuck!"
Thomas threw his hands up, feeling the anger trickle into his system. One More Year! He glared at his friend, a part of him knowing he shouldn't be angry but the rest of him fizzing. He'd kept Newt safe. He had. He'd volunteered and ensured Newt would never set foot in an Arena and the blonde had thrown it aside and jumped into trouble anyway.
"You never had to go. You were free and clear. You were safe, Newt! I-"
He looked away furiously, trying to cool the rising emotions. He wasn't going to cry, he wasn't. He dug his nails further into his skin, trying to hold onto the sting of pain to ground him.
"What good would that do if you were in the Arena?"
Thomas jumped at the force in Newt's voice and he looked back at him, shocked. Newt was so quiet, so calm and relaxed and nice. He'd never snapped at Thomas, not once in the years they'd known each other. Thomas had seen him angry less than a dozen times, and never at Thomas. He gaped, watching the play of unfamiliar anger across his features.
Newt seemed to come to himself then, and he looked away to glare at the wall, crossing his arms hard and forcing his knee still. Thomas blinked, swallowed the unsettling feeling in his stomach. He felt the want to cry double. He felt guilty and he didn't know why.
"Newt…"
The other boy closed his eyes and slumped, defeated. He'd never been good at staying annoyed, especially not with Thomas, and it seemed he was the same with anger. When he spoke his words were quiet and heavy in his whispered voice. He sounded defeated, and it was horrible.
"Why did you do it? You didn't know he was going to shout your name next. You had to think you might be safe."
Newt turned liquid brown eyes on him and Thomas knew he couldn't lie. He'd never been able to lie to Newt, not properly. He felt uncomfortable with the truth though. How did you explain to your best and only real friend that you'd volunteered to die for him because the thought of his not being safe was worse than any thoughts of what the careers could do to you?
He just looked back at him, watching as a tear welled up and streaked down Newt's cheek. It didn't look as if the blonde had even noticed he was crying. Thomas felt his own eyes watering.
"Because you had one year left. This was the last time- the last time they could take you and when he said your name it wasn't even a choice."
Thomas knew his words were ridiculously soppy, he knew he sounded like a foolish girl and yet he couldn't help it. It was the truth. He hadn't made a conscious decision. It had been automatic and impulsive. His brain hadn't caught up yet but his heart was right there and he had called out. And he didn't regret it, not even a little.
Newt closed his eyes and turned his face away. His head fell back against the panelled wall behind them, the high blonde curls flattening in a way that made Thomas feel odd and twisty inside.
"I can't believe you'd do that. What if you hadn't been the second name? What if ya could've been safe?"
Thomas snorted, surprised that he found the thought almost funny.
"So what if i could've?"
Newt looked at him again with those sad eyes.
"I'd still have done it." Thomas murmured. Newt looked surprised, and then he looked guilty and confused. Thomas knew the feeling. He sighed.
"Why?"
And that was the question, wasn't it? Thomas turned away, copying Newt's motion, his head against the cold wooden wall. Newt was his friend. That's what he'd told that horrid Ratty looking man on the stage. Newt was his friend. He was his best friend. Thomas liked people. He'd been a child with an open heart, the kind of kid who liked everybody and got on with anybody who spoke to him. He'd very quickly learned that that came with a price in the Glade.
Between his district and the Hunger Games Thomas had lost too many people. His baby sister died from a toddler's disease the basic medics in the Glade couldn't work out. His father had died in the fields from a farming accident. His mother had gotten sick and couldn't afford the medicine she needed to get better. Two boys he had been close to at school had been taken by the Games. Chuck had been Reaped and killed.
Thomas had reached thirteen, his mother was dead and the Games had taken Winston and he realised he couldn't take it anymore. He took every loss hard and besides Chuck and Mary Thomas had cut off everyone. Or at least he had tried to.
Newt Isaacson was a whole other matter. Thomas had connected with the boy when they were younger and it had stuck.
Thomas was six and Newt was two years older and they may never have even crossed paths if it weren't for the large empty field besides the orchard. Thomas had snuck away from home. His mother was grief-stricken about the death of his sister and Mary and his father were with her. Chuck was only a toddler and Thomas didn't want to be around him knowing he wouldn't see his sister reach that age.
He'd bumped into Newt when he was wandering in the field and one thing had lead to another and he had spilled the whole story. Newt had from that day one become almost like an older brother to Thomas and the two boys had become very close friends. When Thomas cut everyone off years later he found he couldn't do it with Newt.
He hadn't wanted to but he had tried, going days avoiding Newt and replying noncommittally when the blonde tried to ask him about it. Eventually Newt had collared him, dragging him all the way across the village to the field and demanding an explanation. They had come out the other side stronger than ever and Thomas had realised that what Newt had done for him had saved him from a depressing and lonely existence.
It had seemed fitting that when they first became friends Thomas hadn't given up, doggedly following the older boy around and when he had tried distancing himself Newt had replied in kind, determinedly insisting Thomas couldn't shut him out.
Why? Thomas couldn't answer that easily. It was a multi-pronged answer. Newt was the most important person in Thomas's life, even more so than Mary. He was the only person Thomas could talk to, the only person he had who listened.
The fact that Thomas was completely in love with him probably had something to do with it too.
"Because i couldn't live with myself if i hadn't." he murmured without opening his eyes. He could hear Newt moving, felt the shift as the blonde sat down right beside him. He wasn't touching him but Thomas could feel the heat from his friend. He opened his eyes and looked sideways at him. Newt was looking at his feet, his head down-turned. Thomas let his gaze track the parts of his face that he could see, lingering on the prominent line of his jaw.
"You shouldn't have volunteered, Newt. I made sure you'd be safe. This was your last year, i made sure…"
He swallowed back the things that jumped to his tongue, the words he couldn't let out.
"Why did you have to go and jump in too? You were safe, no more Reapings…"
He forced out a breath in frustration, banging his head back against the wall, and then he turned his face towards the boy at his side, feeling sick.
"Damn it Newt, you were safe!" he hissed.
Newt lifted his head and turned it a little, but he didn't look at him. Thomas wanted to scream, and at the same time he wanted to curl up and cry. And then Newt looked up at him, and Thomas wanted to kick himself for his temper.
"But you weren't, Tommy. How could i watch you go in there for me?"
Thomas met his eye and saw the guilt and sorrow and he felt like an awful human being. Of course Newt would react like that. He was such a caring, loving person. Of course he'd feel like it was all his fault.
"I wanted to. You were going to be safe forever."
Newt looked away again, at the wall, at his hands. His voice was very small and unsure when he spoke again.
"What good is that without you?"
Thomas just looked at him, his mouth gold-fishing as he watched Newt play with his hands and felt his heart thudding hard. The blonde shrugged, the sparkle of tears falling on his cheeks.
"I couldn't sit here knowin' you were out there, watching you… Seein' that…"
His familiar frown was firmly in place and he wiped at his cheeks in an annoyed manner. Thomas felt a lump in his throat.
"Newt…"
"Tommy, if you go, i go. It was as simple as that."
Thomas was at a loss. He wanted to comfort Newt but he worried the other boy would shrug him off. He swallowed, the lump in his throat taunting him.
"Newt…"
The door banged open and a blonde-haired young woman strode in. She had the same cheekbones as Newt, the jawline and the willowy figure. But in place of the dark brown eyes gleamed cornflower blue orbs. They were set, but glimmered with tears. She marched right over to them and Newt rose to meet her.
"Sonya…"
She threw her arms around her younger brother, holding him tight. Thomas looked away, feeling uncomfortable at the shocked and broken look on Newt's face. His stomach roiled and he wondered how annoyed the mayor would be if he was sick all over the carpet. He jumped when Sonya pulled him into a hug, and he hugged her back as he felt her tears hit his shoulder. At his look when he drew back she gave a watery smile.
"Thank you, for what you did. I know you didn't do it to be thanked, but i am grateful."
Thomas felt himself blushing and he looked away uncomfortably. Sonya pressed her hands on his shoulders and raised herself on her toes to kiss his cheek. A Peacekeeper poked his head around the door.
"Miss Isaacson."
Sonya stepped back with a sad smile, brushing Newt's fringe from his face. As she turned to leave she was silently. When she reached the door a strange expression crossed her face and she bit her lip.
"You boys be safe, okay? Take care of each other."
His voice wavered and then she was gone. Thomas's heart hurt when he heard her sobs from the corridor. And then Mary appeared in the doorway and his stomach turned cold. She looked a lot like Chuck. Her curly brown hair was shoulder length and her eyes were the exact same shade of hazel. She was stoic and dry-eyed but Thomas could see the pain on her face. She considered him a son, and the Games were taking him like they had Chuck. He swallowed.
"Hey, Mary."
She drew him close, her chin brushing his shoulder as she raised on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. Thomas felt his eyes tearing up again but he fought the feeling. She stepped back to look at him, her hands brushing down his arms. She squeezed his hands and met his eye.
"You did an incredibly brave thing up there, Thomas." her eyes flicked briefly to Newt, who smiled wryly at her. "I know it didn't work out the way you hoped, but i want you to know your mother would have been so proud of you. Your father too."
Thomas was really crying now, and Mary looked like she was close to breaking. She drew him into another hug, rubbing her hand in soothing circles on his back like she had when he used to cry over his mother.
"I'm proud of you, Thomas Edison. You try your best to keep safe, okay?"
It seemed like such a futile thing but he promised anyway. She left when the Peacekeeper came for her, and when she closed the door behind her Thomas began to sob properly, feeling the hopelessness of what was going to happen to them rising in his stomach. Newt put an arm around him and tugged him into a rough hug.
They stood like that for a while, both of them crying and the other pretending they weren't.
