Chapter Twenty-Four

He'd never stood so still in his life as he did in that heartbeat, his very pulse seeming to draw back from the keen edge that was pressing against it. He didn't even dare to breathe.

He couldn't believe this was how it was to end, barely a day into the Games and he was to die because he'd turned around to tell the kid to be quiet.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

He didn't even know if Newt was safe. How would the blonde fare without him?

He'd failed him.

He'd let him down.

And without ever telling him that-

"Told you it was a bad idea to chase that shank." muttered an amused voice.

Thomas's knees gave out in relief, weakened by the hours and hours of running. The blade jumped out of the way just in time, saving him from a severed artery. He closed his eyes as he dragged in a huge breath, an unstable giggle leaving his throat. It grew into a proper laugh, and his head fell back against rough bark.

Minho was looking down at him with a wry expression twisting his mouth, and his eyes were amused. Thomas's laughter faded. He threw a hand out to Minho as he steadied himself against the tree trunk.

"Give me a hand, i'm totally shucked from running around like a crank."

He was answered by an exasperated rolling of dark blue eyes and a sharp yank on his collar. The boy had him on his feet before he could push off to help, and Thomas almost stumbled under the power of Minho's tug. He shot him a surprised look.

"Jeez, if it wasn't obvious before that you work with stone it sure is now."

He dusted himself off, shifting his weight as the sole of one foot started to burn. He needed to sit down, drink some water, eat. He looked behind Minho, his anxiety returning full force. He almost couldn't get the words out as he met the asian boy's gaze.

"Where is he?" he whispered, afraid to hear the answer.

Minho looked uneasy for the first time. It didn't do anything to ease the painful worry. The boy shook his head, rubbing a hand through his hair and pushing it back across his head.

"I don't know. I came right here and he wasn't in the tree. I've checked nearly every one between there and here and nothing. I-"

"Newt!"

Thomas hadn't meant to shout. He hadn't meant to say anything. But his heart was racing so fast he might pass out and his empty stomach was heaving. He pushed past Minho and looked up into the trees, all thoughts of being quiet obliterated.

What if someone came by while they were away?

What if he hadn't been here to keep Newt safe because he was off chasing some shuck kid?

What if he never-

"Newt!

He was hyperventilating. He could feel it squeezing in his chest as he rushed across a clearing, pushing through trees. He didn't know where he was going, only that Newt had to be around here somewhere.

"Newt? Answer me goddammit! Where the shuck-"

The cry was quiet, but Thomas heard it. He stopped so fast he tumbled forwards, thrashing against the tangle of throned pushes and ivy as he threw himself to his feet. It came again, back the way he'd come from and he launched himself forward, the cramps in his legs forgotten, the worry in his stomach turning to anticipation like ice to water.

He tripped over a bush and tugged his trainer free, a line of stinging down his shin from a thorn. He put the foot back down and when he lifted his head there he was.

Newt stepped out from behind a tree trunk with bright eyes and a relieved smile, his pack on his shoulders and leaves in his nest of tousled hair and Thomas had never truly known what it felt like to love until right then.

Newt opened his mouth to speak but whatever it was Thomas never found out because he had thrown himself at him, his hands finding the nape of his neck, his waist. Newt let out a startled peep as Thomas dragged him forward, and he barely even noticed they'd tumbled to the forest floor because his lips had found Newt's and nothing else mattered.

He kissed him hard, saying everything his words couldn't cover. His fingers clenched in curls and Thomas was pulling him closer, pushing the worry, the fear into the kiss. Newt kissed him back and it was clumsy and uncoordinated and he couldn't breathe and he didn't care because Newt was kissing him back and he was safe.

It ended far too soon and Thomas blinked into the light that seemed so much brighter now that his sunshine was back. He was lying in a mess of moss and fallen leaves, tree roots digging into his neck and his head at an awkward angle against the trees. Newt had been pulled down with him, of course, and he was sprawled across him, both of them breathing like they'd just swam across the sea.

Newt's face was flushed, his eyes amber in the soft light and his hair glinting like spun gold and he was smiling a bemused sort of smile that summed up pretty much how Thomas was feeling. There was a glow about him that was intoxicating, a playful happiness in the way his lips curved that made Thomas's heart stutter and skip.

"You found him then."

Their head snapped up as one to see Minho leaning against a nearby tree with his arms crossed and an oddly teasing smirk upon his face. He raised his eyebrows suggestively and Thomas felt his whole body heat in embarrassment. As Newt scrambled off of him and helped him up Thomas saw the kid standing just behind Minho, safe and well. He felt a twinge of guilt for not thinking about the boy's safety when he'd run off and left him. Just because Minho wasn't slitting his throat or Newt's didn't mean he would stop at anyone else.

The Gladers busied themselves with brushing off their clothing, avoiding each other's eyes as they came back down to earth. Newt cleared his throat and Thomas swallowed, straightening his pack and shouldering his bow. There was an awkward, tense silence before Minho spoke again.

"Well, if you're quite finished i suggest we head off in search of water before every other shuck-face has the same idea."

They both murmured, eager to get past the moment. Minho rolled his eyes and didn't say anything, but the sarcastic comment was scribbled all over his face. He set off and Newt scampered forward to follow, leaving Thomas to jerk his head at their little band's newest - and quietest - member. The mention of water made the haziness of Newt fade, and Thomas found his focus again.

Water.

Water was the next task.

Find water. And food. He followed the sight of Newt's blonde head disappearing between the trunks.

"Cummon kid."