the end of beginning, thomas

xvii, the broom closet

A series of sickening punches and a far-fetched threat involving a gun and some fishing wire, Marcus relented and gave Jorge the keys to 'Bertha'. The Hispanic man grinned, now leading the teens out the back door. Parked at the side of a warehouse was Bertha; a blue family car with tinted windows, a decoration made of bones hanging from the front of the grill. "Does that thing even work?", Minho asked, as the group watched Julian, Luna and Jorge attempted to power up the car.

Melanie wiped sweat from her forehead, her eyes squinting in the harsh sunlight. Her hands covered her head, wincing at the immense heat coming of her hair. Despite once proclaiming she adored the warmth of the sun after one too many rainy days in the maze, now Melanie had realised she was wrong; the sun was a demon, out to blister and burn her skin and nearly kill her. However, a hand softly tapped her shoulder, making her turn around abruptly and stop wallowing in the unbearable wrath of the sun.

There, Thomas stood with an odd expression on his face. He looked painfully awkward, his fingers flexing and uncurling as the girl blankly stared at him. Melanie's head tilted, eyes scanning his figure. In all, the boy seemed slightly nervous, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Clearing his throat, Thomas winced at the shaky words that left his lips. "Can we, uh, talk, if that's okay with you, I mean", he awkwardly stuttered, wincing internally. He chalked his nerves down to the fact that this was the love of his life; it may have been a life he couldn't fully grasp but his heart still felt drawn to the dark haired girl. Almost as if a string had attached the pair, playing puppeteer until they danced together once again.

Silently, Melanie began walking toward the quiet corner of the street, followed by Thomas. While she may have not said any words, Melanie swore her heart was thudding so loudly inside her chest that the boy could hear it like some funeral march. The few snippets of memories she had were racing around her brain, along with the unknown desperation to hold onto Thomas and never let go. She stopped, arms crossing with her back against the brick wall, as she glanced over to the rest of the group. No one sensed their absence, only Teresa who quickly looked away at the other girl gaze.

Seconds of silence morphed into a minute, which bordered on two before Melanie spoke again.

"Thomas, what do you want?"

The boy cleared a lump from his throat, taking a few steps closer toward the girl, his body only a foot away from hers. After his hand scratched the back of his neck another time, Thomas finally coughed some words out. "Broom closet."

Melanie raised her brow. Broom Closet? What was he playing at?

"The closet, with the brooms and... and the cleaning supplies and it smells like sulphur?", Thomas elaborated further.

"Are you seriously asking me about a broom closet? I don't have time for this", Melanie scoffed, moving forward slightly before the boy firmly pulled her back.