Disclaimer: The Maze Runner triology (c) James Dashner

Excuse the errors. Should also mention this story is probably going to be slow going, if that matters to you silent readers.

Part IV

He examined his schedule with a critical eye while Newt dragged the three of them around the bookstore in search of their supplies. Minho yawned behind them, grumbling about sleep deprivation and the musty scent of books, papers and writing utensils. Thomas ignored them as they walked.

His schedule wasn't nearly as packed as his boyfriends as he didn't have a definitive major. He and Minho were both Liberal Arts majors, yet with Minho's prowess in athleticism, his scheduled was packed with training sessions and special programs. Newt, on the other hand, is a medical student. It was no surprise to Thomas the blond's schedule was packed with classes. At least he had small study hall sessions sprinkled throughout the day. Compared to them, Thomas's classes were few and far between. He had more free time to rot in their dorm and, hopefully, have less stress to deal with now that none of them were dying from weird diseases or overwhelming themselves with classes way out of their leagues. (He hoped anyway. It was still too early to call.)

Worse yet, he knew his classes were easy. Despite his outstanding examination scores and WCKD U's insistence on advanced courses, Thomas chose to keep his life simple this semester. The likelihood of passing all his classes with barely any attendance was extremely high, and with Newt and Minho being busy out the ass, Thomas felt he could get away with his horrible attendance. Unless it was Professor Janson in which case skipping English was not an option and more like a death sentence.

"You only have four classes this semester?"

Thomas turned to Minho in surprise, catching him read his schedule of his shoulder.

"Yeah, I didn't want to work too much this semester."

Newt scoffed in disapproval. He, just like the rest of the university staff, felt Thomas was wasting his potential in classes he didn't need.

"C'mon Tommy, you could've applied to more than that. You juggled six classes your first semester here and managed to pass them with flying colors. You should have signed up for their science program, you would do well."

Thomas scowled. "You sound like Rat Man: 'You would do well in our technology program, Thomas.' No thanks. I don't want to."

"I understand your pain, shuckface, but what are you going to do with all that free time? It's not like we're going to have the time to hang out this year."

Thomas shrugged. He hadn't thought that far. "I can help you train for the games this year." He suggested. Minho's brows rose up in contemplation. "Most of my classes are easy anyway. I think by the time the winter games come around, I'll be stress free enough to help you train."

"Mm, a sweat soaked Thomas helping me train. I think a like this idea." The athlete grinned. Thomas's blush made his grin more lecherous than it needed to be.

"I can already hear Professor Janson crying now." Newt sighed exasperatedly. He grabbed a heavy English book from the shelf and dumped it into the basket in his hand.

Thomas and Minho scowled.

Professor Janson, aka Rat Man, was one of the big wigs in the university. Not only was he a student counselor, but he was head of the English department and one of the faculty members constantly on Thomas's case. He'd been saved the discomfort of having Janson as his professor the last two semesters; he only had to deal with the man as a counselor. This year, however, he was unlucky.

"Ugh, don't remind me. I have him as my literature professor."

Newt's eyebrows shot into his hairline. Minho barked out a laugh.

"Oh man! That's some shitty luck you have there, Thomas!"

"Thanks," the brunet deadpanned.

Newt suddenly handed him the same English book he had picked up from the shelf. "I guess this means we're classmates, Tommy."

Minho's laughter caught off abruptly. "Seriously?"

They spared him a curious look.

"Are you shanks pulling my leg? Are you telling me that we're all in the same lit class together?"

Thomas broke into a wide smile, his mood lifting. "You have him too Minho?"

The older boy nodded, his expression a mixture of amusement and regret.

"I was thinking of withdrawing but if you shanks are gonna be there, I'll stay. Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you both suffer Rat Man's lessons without me as a buffer?"

Newt chuckled at the boy's antics but Thomas found himself frowning. "I'm going to suffer regardless. He seems obsessed with me."

"Because you're a smart boy and you're wasting your time with classes you don't need." Newt chided. He dumped two more English books into his basket, grunting from the weight. (Minho made to take the basket from his hands but Newt stopped him with a glare.) "Don't worry about it, Tommy. Professor Janson has a full semester this year. There's no way he'll find the time to bother you."

Thomas could only hope.

With their bags loaded with heavy textbooks, notebooks, folders and writing supplies, the boys made their way across campus for home before setting off to the grocery store.

The university was still bustling today; late students with their moving trucks blocked off the usual parking lot. Students who had already settled in wandered around campus in search of old friends, new friends, class supplies or something to occupy their time.

Minho and Newt waved at familiar faces, greeted those who called their names and smiled at those they didn't recognize but felt inclined to give them recognition anyway. Thomas, on the other hand, walked in silence beside them, his mind churning with thoughts.

Images from last night came into mind, followed by questions, concerns and mortification. He didn't want to make their arrangement anymore of a big deal than it already was. Newt and Minho were in for a busy semester, the chances of the three of them coming together like that were starting to grow slim and Thomas wasn't sure if he felt relieved or disappointed. If they planned on starting slow with him, he hoped his E.D. wouldn't be a hindrance. He'd just been nervous that time. He was sure if Minho or Newt wanted him to please them individually, he would be up to the task. He had to be, otherwise, what purpose did he have for staying with them?

(He supposed he didn't have to be fully functional to make it work.)

A part of them wondered what the rest of their friends would think if they discovered their relationship. Not that he cared so much. (Okay, he did a little.) He knew for a fact Minho and Newt didn't—they were obvious with their relationship when it first began after all—he couldn't help the curiosity.

(A part of him wondered how no one knew yet, despite how obvious Minho and Newt were with their relationship.)

Would Teresa think it weird? Would Aris? He knew Alby wouldn't care regardless.

What would Gally think?

He snorted at the thought, missing the inquisitive glance Newt shot his way.

Gally would tease him if he knew. He would find it wrong and unnatural. Maybe even a little disgusting. He didn't think the guy was homophobic or anything—he was pretty cordial with Newt after all—but a poly relationship was a different kind of circumstance. Some people didn't understand that.

(Sometimes he couldn't help wonder if he didn't either.)

Thomas stole a glance at the boys. They weren't holding hands like they normally would when together, but they hadn't been doing that since Thomas's inclusion. Not in public anyway. Did they stop on his account? Because they knew he wasn't comfortable with their PDA?

Did they think he would grow jealous? Ashamed?

They didn't have to stop. Minho and Newt were Minewt before he came along. They were entitled to their affections with each other. He felt horrible thinking they would stop on his account.

A warm, slightly sweaty hand embraced his own. He snapped out of his thoughts upon contact and caught sight of Newt's penetrating eyes gazing into his own. Concern swam behind those dark eyes.

"What's going on in that head of yours?"

Thomas stole a glance over Newt's shoulder. Minho seemed preoccupied with someone unfamiliar behind them, their conversation heated with the way the track captain grew red in the face. Newt followed his gaze but provided no explanation. He merely shrugged and brought the brunet closer, their fingers entangling.

"Out with it, Tommy. Nothing good comes outta you when you're quiet like this."

"I was just thinking."

"That was apparent," the blond deadpanned. "About what you slinthead?"

"Us." The words slipped out of his mouth before he realized it.

Newt stopped in his tracks, his unexpected halt jarring Thomas. Minho and his companion walked on, no more aware of their surroundings than Thomas was about their conversation.

"What about us?"

Thomas felt embarrassed for even mentioning it. (Made worse by the fact this wasn't the first time today Newt had to ask him what had him so preoccupied.)

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"It's something if it's got you this preoccupied." The blond frowned, his disapproval radiating off him in waves. "This is about last night, isn't it? It's still bothering you."

Thomas sighed in defeat. There was no use in avoiding it now.

"Look, I don't want you and Minho to change because of me. Just because I'm uncomfortable with PDA doesn't mean you two can't be lovey-dovey with each other, okay? I won't get upset if you two want to spend time alone together or something. I don't… if what happened yesterday happens again, I'll make up for it. I'll figure it out. I just… I hope that doesn't change us."

Newt searched his face for a moment, making Thomas's nerves react unpleasantly. He trembled slightly on his feet, his heart quickening. He hoped Newt couldn't feel his quivers through their fingers. He didn't want to talk about this anymore than he needed to. He nodded a moment later, though the displeasure remained etched in his eyes. Thomas felt the guilt gnaw at him.

"I'll tell Minho that's how you feel, but you don't have to feel ashamed about what happened last night. It happens. You were nervous and it was your first time. I promise we'll go slow next time." The sincerity in his voice was enough to make Thomas wince, but he resisted the urge. He wanted there to be a next time, he just hoped he wouldn't disappoint either of them again.

"Hey you shanks!" Minho called from the housing building steps. "You guys coming or what?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're coming!" Thomas yelled. He gave New a bright smile, one he hoped wasn't as forced as it felt, and tugged the blond along.

(He missed the discreet glance Minho gave to Newt, a silent question passing between them. Newt's response was just as silent, he lips mouthing over the words later.)

Minho grabbed onto Thomas's free hand, giving the boy a devilish smile, as they walked down the now empty hallway toward their dorm.

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