Thomas leaned against what he had adopted as his tree, tempted to stay there permanently in this place of nightmares, where it seemed he was destined to live. His eyes scanned lazily across the compound, the shadows lengthening considerably as they crept up the ivy covered faces of the far walls. Which, at the very least, gave Thomas a rough sense of direction. The shack-like building was in the northwest corner, the grove of trees were in the southwest. What appeared to be a farming area spread across the entire eastern side; the north filled with workers in fields, the south filled with animals that mooed, crowed and brayed their way through the day.
In the exact middle of the compound, lay the box. It was almost as if it were inviting him to jump back in, an escape from the rabbit hole he seemed to have fallen down. Near that, but slightly to the south, stood a squat concrete building, with only a menacing iron door for an entrance. There were no windows. Despite the awful things he had seen, Thomas couldn't tell which he felt more, curiosity at what lay inside, or dread of finding out.
Thomas's attention had just shifted to the vast opening in the middle of the main wall of the Glade, when Chuck arrived with a couple of sandwiches tucked under his arm, along with fresh green apples and two metal cups of water. The sense of relief that flooded Thomas almost overwhelmed him, the fact he wasn't alone in what he was going through a constant surprise to him.
"Frypan was none too happy about me raiding his kitchen so near suppertime," Chuck said, settling himself on the far side of Thomas's tree with a sandwich and gesturing for the noiret to do the same. Thomas did so eagerly, but paused at the last moment, his sandwich already raised almost to his lips. The monstrous, writhing image of the sick boy inside the shack popped into his mind, turning his stomach. However, his hunger won out over his nausea, and he took a large bite. He groaned at the wonderful taste of ham, cheese and mayonnaise. He heard Chuck give a quiet chuckle of amusement, and was pleased the other boy couldn't actually see him from where he sat.
"Ah, man," Thomas sighed, stuffing his cheeks with more of the flavorsome sandwich. "I'm starvin'." He slurred in surprise, his mouth still partially full.
"Told ya," Chuck said, sounding slightly smug as he chomped into his own sandwich. They ate in silence, as Thomas quickly demolished the other half of his sandwich and drank his water, washing the sticky mass down so he could actually breath again.
After another few moments of companionable silence, broken only by the sounds of Chuck chewing and Thomas panting to catch his breath, he finally asked the question that had been bothering him. "What's actually wrong with him, that Ben guy?" He paused, shivering as the memory of the tortured body on the bed flashed before his eyelids. "He didn't even look human anymore..." He muttered.
"Don't really know," Chuck immediately replied. "I didn't see him."
It would have been obvious to a blind man, that the chubby boy was being less than honest, but he decided not to press him. "Well, you don't want to see him, trust me." He muttered, munching his apple as he returned his attention to the huge break in the wall. Though it was hard to make out from where he sat, there was something odd about the stone edges of the exits to the outside corridors. He felt an uncomfortable sense of vertigo, and foreboding, just looking at the towering walls with the hole gaping like a giant mouth, ready to devour anyone foolish enough to enter.
"What's out there?" He asked, finally breaking the comfortable silence between them. "Is this part of some huge castle or something?"
Chuck was noticeably silent for a pause that was too long to be coincidental, and Thomas leaned around the tree, turning to find the boy pointedly looking away from the opening. "Um, I-uh, I've never left the Glade." He finally stuttered, and Thomas frowned as he turned his back to the boy once more.
"You're hiding something." He said at last, his frustration mounting once more, as he again got non-answers and evasions. "Why are you guys so secretive? You all say you've been through this before; then how can you stand to know how much worse you all make it by clamming up and avoiding everything?" He ranted, running a hand through his hair.
"That's just the way it is," came Chuck's quiet reply, seemingly uncomfortable with the entire conversation. "Things are really weird around here, and most of us don't know everything; half of everything."
It bothered Thomas more than he thought it should, that Chuck didn't seem to care at all about what he had just said. That he seemed indifferent to having had his life stolen right from out beneath him. He quietly got to his feet, hoping the other boy wouldn't notice so he could have a moment to sort through his turbulent thoughts alone. He figured that for all their secrets, they hadn't actually said anything about him exploring. He set off at a brisk jog, but soon slowed to a more cautious walk, his eyes darting all across the tall walls for any clues as to what the giant hole could be for; other than scaring people.
"Dude!" Chuck's cry almost made him jump, surprised the boy had noticed he had left so soon, and that he had been both so swift, and so quiet in catching him up. "Where are you going?" The chubby boy scolded, his eyes darting around the area as if expecting other boys to come and apprehend them. Thomas barely glanced at the other boy however, determined to find some of his own answers, as nobody would give him any.
"I just wanna see," he said dismissively, continuing towards the looming wall.
"Take a look around all you want," Chuck said quickly, trotting to keep up with Thomas's longer stride. "But you better not go out there!" The young boy warned.
"Why not?" Thomas demanded suddenly, rounding on the smaller boy. His frustration itched beneath his skin, the forced unhelpful nature of the other boys making his head hurt all over again as he tried to fathom them out. "What's through there?"
"I don't know!" Yelled Chuck, and Thomas's brow raised at the attempt to scold him. If he weren't so tightly wound up with frustration, he might have laughed at the younger boys attempt to scold him. Chuck sighed, rolling his eyes as his shoulders dropped, seeming to relent a little. "I just know what I'm told, that I'm not supposed to leave."
Thomas frowned, but said nothing, turning his attention back to the dark opening in the tall wall ahead of him. He took half a step forward, before a hand on his arm forced him to stop. "Seriously Thomas, be careful; those puppies are about to close."
"Close?" Thomas repeated, his brow furrowing further. "What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said, shank!" Chuck fumed, his cheeks reddened by frustration. Thomas almost felt bad, almost. "The doors are about to close!"
"Doors? What doors, I don't see any doors." Thomas scoffed, turning a half circle with his arms spread as if to make a point. He knew he was being a bit of a dick by this point, but he also knew he was missing something obvious, and it only served to frustrate him further than he already was.
"What would you call those big openings?" Chuck huffed, folding his arms over his chest.
"Uh, big openings?" Said Thomas, trying to cover his discomfort with sarcasm and disappointed in himself when it clearly failed.
"Right, well what about once they're closed?" Chuck asked, as if talking to a particularly stubborn child. Thomas supposed the analogy wasn't far wrong. "They can't be openings, when there is no opening anymore, can they?"
"You're jacked in the head," Thomas muttered, his irritation winning out as he walked slowly closer to the opening. He heard Chuck call him, but ignored the boy, tired of the way even he was treating him like an idiot. He stopped suddenly, when a boy unexpectedly appeared at the end of the corridor, jogging at an even pace through the opening into the Glade, and continuing straight past them. An Asian boy with thick, heavily muscled arms. He stared at Thomas as he past, turning to run backwards for a short while before finally turning away and running towards the concrete building with the menacing iron door. "I thought nobody was allowed to leave..." He said, turning an accusing glare towards the chubby boy beside him.
"No, I said we're not allowed to leave; he's different, he's a runner." Chuck said, and Thomas almost wanted to drop the whole thing and laugh over how petulant the boy sounded. However, the word 'runner' reminded him of what Newt had said, and he was hit by a wave of excitement that the blond might have envisioned him as someone who might be able to leave this place.
"Runner, what is that? Newt mentioned it before too," he said, trying to be make it sound as if Newt had explained more than he actually had, which was nothing.
"Runner's," Chuck said, glancing towards the opening with obvious distrust. "They know more about the Maze than anyone." The boy shuddered, as if disturbed by the very thought of going out there. Thomas felt his insides ignite with curiosity, his veins burning with desire to know more now that Chuck had let that one little word slip.
"What?" He asked quietly, stepping closer to the opening, staring in awe. Chuck glanced at him, as if finally realizing he had spoken aloud. "You said 'Maze'." Thomas said, glancing back at Chuck.
"What?" Chuck repeated, paling considerably as he glanced back and forth between Thomas and the opening. "I-I, I did?" Chuck's face began to redden again, whether from embarrassment with himself or irritation with Thomas, the noiret couldn't tell, but he could see the boys mind shut itself off as he took a determined step backwards. "I'm done. I'm just, I'm not saying another word." He said, glaring at Thomas as if he had forced him to do something terrible. Thomas almost felt bad, but he turned his focus back to the opening instead, taking another half dozen steps forward when a loud shout rang out from beside him.
"Hey!" Thomas barely had time to turn his head, before Gally collided with his side, shoving him to the hard ground. The boy glared down at him, his breath ragged as he shook his head slightly. "We gotta stop meetin' like this, Greenie." He said with a sneer.
"Get off me!" Thomas cried, scrambling to get his feet under him. He rolled to his stomach and shoved himself away from the hard ground, his palms scraping against the weed riddled concrete. He rose quickly, turning to glare at Gally, who raised his hands and glanced around the Glade.
"Ok, calm, calm, calm, calm," Gally chanted, as if Thomas were a spooked animal. His eyes darted around the compound once more, no doubt noticing the attention that Thomas had already seen the other boys giving them.
"Don't touch me!" Thomas fumed, trying to put some distance between himself and Gally, but failing miserably as the other boy continually blocked his movements closer to the opening. The noiret glanced around himself, seeing boys quit what they were doing and hurrying over, perhaps thinking he and Gally were about to fight and not wanting to miss the spectacle.
"Just take it easy," Gally whispered furiously, his hands raised as in supplication, as Thomas paced wildly. "Relax."
Thomas ran his hands through his hair, his frustration, irritation, fear and curiosity all combining beneath his skin into a physical itch that he had no idea how to even begin scratching. His eyes darted around the approaching boys, and he noticed a familiar face. He stepped towards them and couldn't contain his emotions enough to withhold the outburst. "Hey, what the hell is wrong with you guys?" He cried, startled by his own voice. He hadn't meant to sound quite so desperate.
"Just calm down, alright?" The thick accent helped sooth his frayed nerves, the friendly tone tinged with its own brand of frustration. Although Thomas wanted to do as the blond asked, whose hands were raised similarly to Gally's as if trying to calm a wild animal, the noiret couldn't get a tight enough grip of his emotions yet. He paced back and forth, his eyes pleading with Newt to just understand.
"No," he said quietly, shaking his head as he gestured towards the opening behind him. "Why won't you tell me what's out there?" He demanded, feeling the traitorous sting of tears prick his eyes. He growled low in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to clear some of the overwhelming emotions from his system.
"We're trying to protect you." Alby snapped, stepping closer towards Thomas. Newt held an arm against the dark-skinned boy's chest, sharing a meaningful look with the other boy before stepping forward himself.
"It's for ya own good," Newt said quietly, his eyes sincere enough that the mild hysteria Thomas had felt escalating inside him died down a little.
"You-" Thomas paused, his heart racing and his head pounding as he glanced around the boys all gathered around before him. "You can't just keep me here..." He all but pleaded, and something in Newt's gaze seemed to both soften and harden together, as if he had resolved something inside himself in that moment.
"We can't let you leave!" Alby fumed, moving to step forward once more.
"Why not?!" Thomas screamed, but his words were cut off by the loud grinding sound which suddenly cut through the Glade. Thomas turned slowly, gazing up at the opening behind him, as the very ground beneath his feet began to tremble. The enormous stone wall to the right of them seemed to defy every known law of physics as it slowly slid along the ground, throwing sparks and dust as it moved, rock against rock. He felt the twitch of his fingers, the urge to run out there and escape this confusing, terrifying, frustrating place before the doors slammed shut. Whether his common sense would have kicked in before he acted would never be discovered, as a warm hand settled on his shoulder, as if the boy holding him in place had read his mind.
He turned to see Newt, his hand raised to Thomas's shoulder, steadying him against the wonder and terror of the impossible act unfurling before his very eyes. The blond smiled, a halfhearted but kind gesture, before the other boys eyes drifted back to the enormous slab of concrete wall that was now almost closed. An echoing boom rumbled across the Glade, as the wall finally sealed shut for the night. Thomas felt one final moment of trepidation, a quick slice of fear through his body, and then it was gone.
A surprising sense of calm finally settled over his nerves, and he let out a long sigh of relief as Newt squeezed his shoulder lightly. "Wow," he whispered, immediately flushing and feeling dumb at such a monumental understatement. He heard Newt laugh quietly behind him, but his attention was stolen by movement to the left of him.
"Next time," Gally said quietly, unfolding the arms he had crossed over his chest while watching the huge doors close for the night. The other boy stepped closer to Thomas, leaning in to whisper menacingly. "I'm gonna let you leave." He shoved Thomas with his shoulder, before beginning to walk away. Thomas knew he really shouldn't retaliate, but he couldn't resist the opportunity to take Gally down a peg.
"Yessir, Captain Gally, sir!" He called after the boy. Gally paused mid-step, his entire frame locked solid, as if fighting the urge to turn and start a fight. Thomas swallowed, watching as Gally forced the tension from his shoulders and continued walking away, though his hands were still balled into tight fists. He heard a light tsk, and next second felt a sharp slap around the back of his head. "Ow!" He muttered, rubbing the back of his head as he turned to meet Newt's unimpressed glare.
"Ya really think you need to be pickin' a fight with Gally just now?" The blond asked, tapping his toe against the ground as he examined Thomas quickly with his eyes. Thomas felt himself flush under the attention, clearing his throat as the other boys all began to follow Gally's lead and walk away, sensing the drama was over for the time being.
"Need is such a strong word," Thomas said slowly, as if carefully pondering each of his words. "I'd say its more like, he makes it too easy and I'm happy to oblige." He said, grinning cheekily as he winked at the blond. Newt finally cracked a grin, dropping his hand from Thomas's shoulder as he turned towards what Thomas thought was called the homestead.
"Look, I'm not gonna deny, Gally can be a buggin' slinthead," Newt began, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Thomas was following him. "But you need to know when to pick your fight's, Greenie." Newt narrowed his eyes, staring hard at Gally's retreating back. "He wasn' always like this. Bein' stung, buggin' changes a guy, ya know?"
"Um, no, can't say I do really, no." Thomas said quickly, having to stop sharply when Newt stopped suddenly came to a halt before him. "Thought that was kinda the point, me not knowing anything..." He murmured, shifting uncomfortably. He didn't like the idea that something he had done was bothering the blond.
"I guess that's true," Newt said quietly, almost to the point that Thomas had to strain to hear him. The blond spun suddenly, a huge grin splitting his face as he slung an arm around the back of Thomas's neck and drew him close, pressing their foreheads together. Thomas felt the rush of heat in his cheeks, confused by the blond's sudden change in mood. "Come on then, Greenie; lets get ya filled in."
"What?" Thomas balked, pulling away from Newt's tight grip. The blond laughed at the confusion that was no doubt plastered across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement as he released Thomas.
"I thought ya wanted bloody answers," Newt teased, his hands settling on his hips as he watch Thomas try to work out what was happening. "I'm offerin' to explain some stuff. Course if ya changed your mind and ya now happy to just sit back and slim it at last-"
"No!" Thomas quickly interjected, ignoring the knowing grin Newt gave him. "No, I haven't uh, changed my mind. Nope, still want answers." Thomas said, knowing he was babbling by this point but unable to stop himself. He bit his lip, determined to get his rambling under control. Newt just watched him until it was clear he wasn't going to embarrass himself any further, clearly amused by the whole situation. "Why are you suddenly offering to help me though, what happened to 'for ya own good'?" Thomas couldn't help but ask, his cheeks burning at his failed attempt to imitate Newt's odd accent.
"Well, seems like you gotta bit of a penchant for gettin' into buggin' trouble," Newt said with an exasperated, and exaggerated, sigh. "Seems to me that'd be easier to jus' tell ya and get it over with. Less headache's for me too, havin' to keep an eye on ya quite so much." Thomas felt warmth spread within him, the thought that anyone was watching out for him in this hell-like place, let alone the blond himself, was touching in a way he couldn't quite put into words.
"You'll really tell me?" Thomas asked, skeptical after receiving nothing but half answers and evasions for so long. Newt rolled his eyes and grinned lopsidedly, nodding his head towards the darkening sky.
"You stick with me tonight, Greenie," he said, moving once more towards the homestead. "I'll tell you what I can, and after that, ya'll take my word for it that anything else ya need to know I'll tell you, as and when ya need to know. Get me?"
Thomas frowned, thinking it wasn't exactly a promise to finally get enough answers to actually understand this insane place, but ultimately deciding that it was better than the steaming pile of nothing he had been offered so far. He nodded his head, falling into step behind the other boy, before realizing that Newt couldn't actually see him. "Yeah, yeah I get you." He finally said, hoping the other boy didn't hear the excitement he felt at the thought of finally having some answers, even if not all.
Newt led him around the homestead, to a great bonfire which had been built in a clearing a short way back. Thomas stopped, staring up at the central feature. Alby's words about 'something special for newbie night' returning to him, along with a distinct nervousness that ate its way through his system. Newt's heavily veined, muscular arm swung around his shoulder, and Thomas jumped in surprise, not having heard the other boy approach him. The blond leaned in close to his side, and Thomas felt his concerns carried away by his rapidly increasing heart rate, as Newt's lips brushed against his ear.
"Welcome to the Glade, Greenie," the blond whispered, pausing when Thomas turned to meet his too close eyes for a moment. Dark brown orbs swirled with amusement, and Thomas could feel his entire face turning a scorching red at the intimate closeness. Despite the awkwardness, his heart felt light for the first time since he woke up as an amnesiac, and he allowed himself a small grin as Newt finally relented and moved back to a distance which permitted Thomas to breath fresh cool air once more, and finally think clearly again.
The next few hours passed in a blur of business, noise and color. Thomas saw countless faces, learnt countless names, and remembered barely even half of either. He met Frypan for the first time, one of the few boys he actually remembered, if only for a specific reason. Frypan was a large boy who had a full beard and thick hair all over his body, as if each follicle were trying to escape the confines of his food-smeared clothes. Thomas couldn't help but wonder about the sanitary ramifications of someone quite so hairy being the chief cook.
When darkness had finally claimed the compound, the other boys gathered their torches, lighting them all from a central fire pit that surrounded the area where they all sat. As soon as they were all lit, they took their places around the bonfire, and Newt threw Thomas a wink as he took up a spot beside where the noiret was sitting, before focusing his attention onto Alby, waiting for the signal.
"Light 'em up!" The dark skinned boy cried, and the boys all cheered as they threw their torches into the heart of the bonfire; the soft materials within instantly catching and roaring into flame. Thomas laughed along with Chuck, who sat beside him, surreptitiously watching from the corner of his eyes as Newt and the other torch throwers all cheered and celebrated.
Thomas watched as some boys began banging a large set of drums, a loud and surprisingly tuneful beat which a few other boys began to perform to. One was merely acrobatic, flipping and twisting through the air in a feat which Thomas had to admit to himself was impressive. He applauded with Chuck, the two of them sharing odd words here and there about the night unfolding before them.
Thomas looked around the make-shift campsite, almost choking when he saw Gally actually laughing and smiling with a group of boys on the opposite side of the bonfire. The dark haired, bad tempered boy was handing out jars of some sort of liquid, and Thomas got the immediate impression that it wasn't water. He turned away, barely noticing that the torch throwers were all toasting with their own jars as he turned back to Chuck, sharing a few more lighthearted comments about the evening, the food and the company that he was already certain he would not remember in the morning.
The night seemed never ending. New faces appeared before Thomas, boys coming over to greet him, to laugh at his memorable face-plant upon exiting the box. Thomas bore it all with a light grin and a similarly light heart, refusing to let the night be spoilt by stubbornness and stupidity. The one solid about his night, was that Chuck never once left his side.
Eventually however, Newt reappeared, squeezing himself between them with a jar in his hand and a lopsided grin which implied he was mightily impressed with himself for this feat. He gestured to the darkness beyond the bonfire, and Thomas immediately scrambled to his feet, something which Newt laughed at heartily before moving away from the heat, the bodies and the noise.
They walked in silence, Thomas keeping pace a step behind Newt. He noticed the boy walked with a faint limp, something he was surprised he hadn't noticed during the daylight. He told himself that it was only the limp which kept his eye glued to Newt's lower body as they moved. Newt grumbled quietly, clambering over a fallen tree before slumping against it. Thomas followed the other boys example, hopping over the tree and dropping to his ass slightly closer to the blond than originally intended. His ass regretted the action almost immediately, and he rubbed it discretely before picking some weeds from the cracks in the pavement.
The two were quiet a while longer, Thomas only just noticing that Newt was actually still eating when he snuck little glances at the other boy. He felt his brow furrow in confusion, the silence between them comfortable and easy. The strange stirring of butterflies in his stomach, which he told himself were merely excitement at finally receiving the answers Newt had promised him earlier in the day. He turned his attention to the tall walls, looming ominously ahead of them.
"Hell of a first day, Greenie," Newt finally said, and Thomas could feel the other boys eyes on him. He nodded, pleased of their distance from the bonfire, sure that his flushed cheeks would be hidden in the darkness. He played with a weed between his fingers, while Newt seemed to sense the sudden shift of atmosphere. He reached for his jar of liquid and offered it to Thomas, no doubt having seen that the noiret hadn't received one of his own. "Here, put some hair on ya chest." He said with a wink.
Thomas looked from the jar to Newt, who nodded encouragingly, before pushing it into Thomas's hands. The blond looked back towards the walls, though Thomas noted the small upward curve at the corner of his lips. He narrowed his eyes, and shifted himself slightly, raising the jar to his lips and taking a large swig. The second the liquid touched his tongue, he shot forward, spitting half of it out before quickly swallowing what remained.
"Urgh," he coughed, his eyes watering as he heard Newt begin laughing beside him. "Oh my god..." He tried to control his coughing fit, but the fiery liquid still scorched his throat, though it was fading to a pleasant tickle the more time passed. "What is that?" He asked, relieved when Newt gained enough control over his shaking shoulders to take the jar of cursed liquid away. He smiled at the honest amusement in the other boys expression, a sense of calm like he hadn't felt throughout the entire crazy day settling over him; the understanding that this boy was truly, a friend.
"I don't even know," Newt admitted, admiring the jar while Thomas was struck by another wave of deep chested coughing. The blond glanced behind him, searching the crowd of boys still gathered around the bonfire. "It's Gally's recipe." Thomas rolled his eyes, hardly surprised that something which burned your throat raw came from the most hateful boy in the compound. "It's a trade secret..."
"Yeah well," Thomas glanced over at where Gally was just starting up a fighting ring, the other boys all attempting to push him out of a ring on the ground; all of them failing miserably. "He's still a... slinthead." He said quietly, looking away from the other boys and lowering his gaze once more to the weeds he had collected in his lap. He sensed Newt's eyes on him, but didn't want to meet them, already knowing what the other boy was thinking.
"He saved ya life today." Newt said just as quietly, and Thomas couldn't help but glance towards the blond. He was pleased the other boy didn't appear reproachful, merely thoughtful.
"Yeah well, if people had just been honest with me, maybe he wouldn't have had to." Thomas said petulantly, sticking his chin out slightly. Newt merely grinned, their eyes locking briefly, before he turned towards the huge wall.
"Trust me," the blond said, gesturing towards the closed door. "The maze is a buggin' dangerous place." He said slowly, rubbing at his leg lightly with his free hand. Thomas glanced down at the gesture, but didn't want to draw attention to his noticing, as Newt seemed to be lost in thought, the movement subconscious. He turned instead to stare at the high wall himself, thinking about the unbelievable day he had lived. He thought back to the evasiveness of the other boys, the redirected or outright avoided questions, and a sinking feeling bloomed in his stomach, as realization struck him hard.
"We're trapped here, aren't we?" He asked, his eyes locked on the suddenly even taller walls. His throat felt tight, his heart rate increasing as he considered this place as a prison. He wondered what he might have done in his previous life to warrant being sent to such a place. Glancing to the boy beside him, his brow furrowed further. What had any of them done to deserve it?
"For the moment." Newt said, snapping Thomas from his inner turmoil. The blond took a heavy sip from his jar, and Thomas wasn't even surprised to find himself impressed when the other boy didn't even blink at the stuff. He wondered how long Newt had been here, to be able to drink such strong stuff so easily. Dark eyes cut across to him suddenly, and Thomas felt warmth spread through him as the other boy swallowed and held up a finger. "But," he said, swinging himself around so he faced Thomas. Newt turned his head to look behind them, scanning the crowd a moment until he found what he was after. "Ya see those guys? There, by the fire?" He asked, pointing to a group of boys over the other side of the bonfire.
Thomas followed the blond's finger, and his eyes landed upon a group of tall, muscular boys. Some were standing, enjoying the night's festivities, while others were quietly talking among themselves. One boy however, didn't appear to be in the spirit of the event. With a start, Thomas realized it was the boy who had run past him upon returning from the maze. The Asian boy with thick, muscular arms, his shirtsleeves rolled up past his elbows. He had dark shaggy hair, though it wasn't long enough to pass his ears.
"Those, are the bloody runners." Newt said, and Thomas jumped when his voice came from much closer than he had expected it to. He glanced to the side, and saw that the blond was sitting a hand width closer, his dark eyes reflecting the bonfire light as they flickered from Thomas to the Asian boy. "That one in the middle, that's Minho." With this said, Newt returned his gaze to Thomas and the noiret allowed himself to enjoy the attention. "He's the keeper of the runners." He added, as if Thomas should understand that this was an important fact. Thomas wanted to ask what a keeper was, but he didn't want Newt to stop talking, finally explaining things to him; so he bit his lip, and told himself he would ask later.
"Now," Newt continued, after pausing to take another short sip of drink. "Every buggin' mornin', when those doors open; they run the buggin' maze. Mappin' it." Thomas snapped his eyes to Newt, the importance of what he was hearing not lost on him. He had the brief, irrational thought that he didn't want Newt to continue, to say anything that Alby or Gally, or any of the other boys he had met tonight, would give him grief for later. But he squashed the thought, too enraptured by the information that Newt freely offered him. "Memorizin' it. Tryin'ta find a way out." Thomas felt hope bloom in his heart, the thought that people were out there looking inspiring him to believe he might not even be stuck in this place too long after all.
"How long have they been looking?" He asked, glancing at the runners for a final time, before turning to sit straight again. Newt shifted, clearly debating whether to answer for a moment, before he seemed to visibly deflate. He turned, leaning on his elbow as he watched Thomas.
"Three years." The blond admitted. Thomas felt the hope he'd been nurturing in his chest wither, his dreams of escaping scattering like dust in the wind.
"And they haven't found anything?" Thomas finally asked, after a pregnant pause. He glanced towards the blond, as the other boy shifted, leaning closer with an amused expression curling his lips into a large grin. Thomas felt the warmth swirl again through his stomach, a thousand butterfly wings trying to escape.
"It's a lot buggin' easier said than done." Newt said, leaning on his elbow and shifting so he could see the doors again. He held up his finger suddenly, leaning close to Thomas as he stared at the ground, his expression suddenly serious. "Listen," he whispered.
Thomas frowned, scratching his knee as he did as he was told. Almost immediately, he sat straighter, uncertain how he could have missed the grinding sounds of rock against rock; so similar to the very sound he had heard right in front of him earlier in the evening. For a moment neither spoke, listening to the grinding and splintering sound of rock moving. Just as Thomas was about to ask, Newt spoke again. "Hear that?" He asked, though he clearly knew the answer. "That's the maze. Changing." He said, lowering his finger and turning to look at the doors in the wall again. "Changes every buggin' night."
Thomas continued to listen to the sounds of the changing maze, confused and awed by the very possibility of what Newt said being true, although the sounds alone made it rather clear it was. "How is that even possible?" He whispered, unaware he had even spoken aloud until he noticed Newt grinning sideways at him.
Newt spread his arms, a light shrug of indifference which was matched by the amusement in his dark eyes. "Ya can ask the people who put us in here, if you ever meet the bloody shanks." He slung his arm over the back of the tree, leaning against it more heavily as his expression turned serious once more. "Listen, the truth is; the runners, are the only ones really know whats buggin' out there. They're the strongest and fastest of us all and its a bloody good thing too; 'cuz if they don't make it back before those bloody doors close, then they're stuck out there for the buggin' night."
Thomas felt trepidation curl in his gut, his eyes reluctantly raising to meet Newt's solid gaze. He'd wanted so badly to be given answers, and the truth was that nobody but the runners could really give them to him. He felt the rush of warmth that often came with Newt's attention, and a swell of appreciation surged in him for the boy who was at least taking the time to explain this much to him at last.
"No-one's ever survived a night in the buggin' maze." Newt said quietly, snapping Thomas from his internal musings, as the blond's dark eyes shifted away from him. Thomas felt the bottom of his stomach disappear, the full impact of those words settling on his shoulders like a heavy blanket. He watched as Newt took a longer drink from his jar, his throat tight and his head hurting from the implications.
"What happens to them?" He asked, though he immediately wished he hadn't. Newt had seemed so lost in his own thoughts, he was annoyed to be asking yet more questions when the blond was already breaking the rules to help him understand. The other boy gave no response for a moment, staring into space as if he were a million miles away, perhaps even lost in the maze himself.
"Well, we call 'em Grievers." Newt finally said, staring blankly at the far doors opposite them. He was quiet a moment longer, before his eyebrows rose on his forehead, as if he had suddenly woken from a vivid dream. "Course, no-one's ever... seen, one and buggin' lived to tell about it." He said, glancing over at Thomas apologetically, as if embarrassed by his brief zoning out. "But they're out there."
Thomas frowned, the conversation offering more questions than answers, but he forced himself to bite his tongue. He didn't want Newt to get in any more trouble than he already might. He jumped when the blond landed a hand on his shoulder, surprised to find the other boy gesturing him to stand. "Come on, Greenie, enough questions for one bloody night. I'll fill ya in on some other stuff another buggin' time. Now, it's late; and you must be bloody knackered. You probably haven't even picked a buggin' bunk space."
Thomas shook his head, following Newt's lead and getting to his feet. He wobbled slightly, frowning at the strange light-headed feeling. Newt laughed, apparently not in the least off balance like Thomas seemed to be, but finding it amusing that the noiret was affected so strongly by Gally's 'trade secret recipe'. "Come on, Greenie," Newt said, leading the way back to the homestead. "Most people just sleep outside, but ya the guest of honor for tonight so, make the most of the buggin' bunk for the night."
The blond led him around to the front of the building, and Thomas couldn't help but feel a nervous energy building in his gut. Whether from the companionship of sitting talking for so long, or whether just from the insanity that was this strange, confusing place; he couldn't tell, and maybe didn't even want to. "So, where are we going?" He asked, his eyes drawn once more to Newt's slight limp. His brow furrowed, his mind racing through scenarios that could have led to such an injury. For some reason, he didn't want to ask about the blond's leg; didn't want to risk offending what he was fast coming to realize, was his closest acquaintance. "If you're hoping for a goodnight kiss, you can forget it." He said in an attempt at a joke. Newt glanced at him over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. "I mean, not that I expect you are, uh, hoping for... one," he babbled, his tongue running away from him again as he panicked.
Newt turned forward again, but Thomas caught the curl of his lips, a small grin at his foolish behavior. He grumbled under his breath, before biting his lip so he couldn't embarrass himself any further. After several minutes of walking in silence, the two came to a side entrance to the homestead. "Here ya go," Newt said, opening the door to reveal a room filled with sleeping bags already laid out ready for people to use. Thomas frowned, thinking it too hot to want to sleep inside. Newt waved a hand in front of his face, a wide smile splitting his face as he tried to hold back laughter. "Earth to Greenie, come in Greenie. Where'd you buggin' go?" The blond laughed.
Something about the joke frustrated Thomas though, and he found himself frowning for a second, before he looked up at the other boy. "Thomas," he said quietly. Newt stopped laughing, his expression calming as his dark eyes latched on to Thomas. "My name is Thomas." He said, lowering his gaze as his confidence suddenly fled him.
For a moment there was only the distant sound of the bonfire party, the faint trace of a breeze as Thomas stared at a patch of dirt on the knee of his trousers. "Well ok then," Newt said, offering his hand as he had earlier in the day. "Pleased'ta meet ya, Tommy." Thomas felt warmth spread through his chest and cheeks, a grin splitting his face as he looked up at Newt and shook his hand for the second time since meeting him. "Now, go get some bloody shut eye. Trust me when I say ya're gonna buggin' need it." The blond said, releasing his hand.
Thomas huffed a laugh, both nervous and excited for the following morning if it meant he might get another chance to speak with the blond. He decided not to mention his aversion to sleeping inside, choosing instead to go along with the Glader's rules for once. He stepped through the door, and had just heard it shut behind him when Newt's voice drifted through it. "Oh, and if I had buggin' wanted a goodnight kiss, Tommy," he said, his voice full of laughter. "I'd have bloody taken it." Thomas was pleased he was hidden from the blond's view, his cheeks no doubt flaming red as he felt them burn with heat. He laughed, the first full and loud laugh he had allowed himself since arriving in this hell-like place. He heard Newt's retreating steps, and shook his head, deciding that any place was survivable, with a friend like Newt in your life.
A/N:~ WoW!
I am so, touched - and awed, by everyone who has been so kind to me. I love that you've all given me such encouragement! And as a result, I've punched out chapter 2! I hope you all enjoy it, please let me know what you think - I'm hoping the two stories are mixing nicely :) but you'll have to tell me because I'm obviously not an expert...
Thankyou all so SO much for reading; please review and let me know what you think.
x My love to you all x