Chapter Forty-One

Thomas followed Minho in a daze. His head was spinning and he just wanted to curl up with Newt beside him. He wanted to watch him breathe. He wanted to make sure his fever went down, wanted to make sure he was okay. Every moment he was unable to see him made the sharp ache in his chest throb.

Aris had him by the hand, guiding him along as his mind spun and danced. He didn't even realise they'd stopped until Aris put his other hand on Thomas's arm and led him over to the trunk of a large tree. He blinked, dazed. The trees looked oddly familiar, and for a second Thomas thought he was back in the Glade. He was more disappointed than he had any right to be when he realised that wasn't the case.

He belonged to the Arena now. He'd never see his district again. He'd never see the field, he'd never climb another one of their trees. He'd never have dinner with Mary again or watch Newt drop gracefully down beside him in the long grass, the summer sunshine giving him a halo. He closed his eyes against the bite of pain.

They were back where they'd spent those first two nights, by the far away slope. He didn't open his yes until he felt a pressure against his side. Newt. Minho had lain him down beside Thomas, and Thomas took a moment just to look at him.

He was flushed and red and drenched in sweat, his hair clumped and sticking up all over and his skin was clammy and his breathing still shallow and yet Thomas couldn't have been happier to see him, because he was still breathing and when he touched the pale forehead he found it cooler than it had been in over a day.

"You're lucky we're here. You shanks would be dead by now."

Thomas sighed in response, curling down on the forest floor beside Newt. He pushed the blonde fringe back from his face and traced his thumb down the curve of his cheek, the side of his nose.

"Going for water. If you want any you better give me your bottles."

Thomas mumbled something about his pack, but he wasn't really paying attention. He was too busy keeping his eyes on Newt in case… Well. In case. He felt Aris unzipping the pack he was still wearing, and remembered he'd given the kid the smaller one too. He hadn't even complained. He'd taken it and he'd helped Thomas and he'd done nothing but do what he was told and silently support the older boys.

What kind of monsters would throw a kid like that into this hellhole?

"Thanks Aris."

Aris hummed in response.

"You coming or what, Kid? I wanna get back some time today."

Thomas listened to them leaving, quiet footsteps in the undergrowth. Someone was screaming again across the Arena, and Thomas knew he should feel something but right then he couldn't. He was exhausted, and Newt had had a close call and Thomas just wanted to be. He wanted to lie there and breathe and feel Newt beside him where he should be.

Was that so much to ask? To just be left alone to live?

He dozed, slotted protectively beside Newt. The older boy had stopped mumbling and groaning as well as screaming, and he responded to Thomas's touch by making himself smaller and nuzzling further into his arms. He sighed when Thomas kissed his face and although he was still flushed he slept soundly.

When the other came back Thomas got up, swapping Minho a handful of water tablets for their two water bottles. He fussed over Newt, coaxing his sleepy friend to drink half a bottle and using a little to wash the fever sweat from his skin. He was definitely cooling down, and Thomas was touched at Aris's relief when he told him. Even Minho smiled, though he pretended he was doing so at his knife.

Minho passed them another energy bar each, cutting off Thomas's protests by showing him he had several in his pack. He'd scavenged at the centre when he'd left them. He thought the Careers were keeping an eye on it due to the speed in which he'd been attacked. That's when he'd killed Adam. Thomas listened and filed away everything Minho told him about the Arena.

The asian boy still hadn't headed into the sandy section despite his obvious intent to check out the whole Arena, the allure of the buildings making him curious. Thomas had to admit it made him fiercely curious too, and he'd wanted to investigate for days. But the lack of trees swayed his thoughts every time. Here in the forest they had places to hide, and a source of food.

The sand-scorched area was an unknown quantity. It was interesting but frightening and if they got caught out there they'd be at a much bigger disadvantage to the Careers than if they could hide in the trees and use the bow.

When the light faded and the cool night air kicked in Thomas was able to put Newt's jacket on him, and wriggled the boy into the sleeping bag. He still couldn't risk the trees because Newt was still unconscious, but he was hopeful the by the next night Newt would be awake again. He missed him. He missed his laughter and his frown and his stares and his jokes. He missed his curse-words and his smile and the way that he would brush against Thomas and make him feel like he'd done something so much bigger.

He wanted Newt back.

In the end he tucked Aris into the sleeping bag with Newt again, feeling guilty to keep the kid on the forest floor where they were easy target, but unable to make himself send him into the treetop without some form of heat. The kid curled between them and between the three of them they found a way to make it work. Thomas carded his fingers slowly through Newt's hair, loving the way the blonde relaxed under his touch. Aris was asleep in moments, and Thomas wasn't far behind.

He wasn't as surprised as he thought he'd be when he heard Minho rustling in the darkness of the pre-dawn. He watched the boy roll his sleeping bag and check his knives, and despite the fact that Minho was still a tribute they should be wary of he didn't fear the way the boy stood with a knife in his hand. Minho looked over and gave Thomas an almost smile. It was wry and sharp like always but Thomas could see it in his eyes.

If they'd been thrown together outside of the Arena Minho thought they'd be friends. Thomas understood why he was going. He still wished he wasn't, but he understood. He nodded to him and Minho busied himself gathering the last of his stuff. Thomas fought the melancholy feeling. It sucked, but this was how the Arena worked. They were enemies. It would only make it worse in the end if they tried to claim otherwise.

"Coulda killed us in our sleep." he tried to joke, and although the attempt fell flat Minho chuckled.

"It's better i hope the Careers get you so i don't have to." he grinned, his eyes flashing.

Thomas laughed as quietly as he could, knowing it was ridiculous to find such deadly words funny and yet unable not to. He had grown incredibly fond of Minho and his sassy quips, his deadpan humour and level-head. In different circumstances he was almost certain they'd have been close friends. It was just another act of cruelty for the Games to have crashed their lives together the way they had.

"Gee, Minho. You almost sound like you care." he shot back.

Minho just chuckled, shaking his head as he turned away. Thomas watched him as he made his way almost out of sight. When he looked back over his shoulder at Thomas his smile was wry.

"I'd hate to go upsetting that blonde of yours."

And then he was gone.