hold me close, but not too close~newtmas

Chapter 4: The Great Escape

"Keep going, I'm right behind you!" Gally yelled as he fired at the Cranks perusing them, bullets lodging in their decaying bodies.

The sound rung out, creating an echoing bang that spread to every corner of the grocery store. Thomas flinched, the proximity of it too close. It penetrated through his already panting chest. He fought against his hands as they threatened to cover his ears. The gunfire, screeching Cranks, and his own heavy breathing were becoming too much for Thomas to handle.

He focussed on the truck; on pushing his limbs hard enough to close the distance. Minho was by his side, whipping his head around every few seconds to catch a glimpse of Gally. His breathing, Thomas noticed, was labouring, too.

"We're almost there!" Thomas yelled. "Just a –"

Little bit further. His voice died in his throat as something collided into his shoulder, the force of it knocking him to the ground. Thomas tried to scramble to his feet, but a pair of hands were grabbing at his legs, holding him down, attempting to crawl on top of him.

Thomas twisted around, a frightened yelp escaping him as he came almost face-to-face with a Crank. His hands gripped the Cranks shoulders and wrestled against it. He tried to shove it off but the its weight was heavier than expected. Shock instilled in Thomas, rendering him paralysed. He was petrified; unable to think, unable to move, unable to breathe.

His surroundings were closing in on him.

There was a crash from behind. Thomas turned instantly, eyes landing on Newt who was pinned under a wailing Crank. His instincts took over; he raced towards Newt and, with all the strength he could muster, kicked the Crank off of the blonde. Panting, he reached down to grab Newt by the forearm and hoisted him to his feet.

Newt patted Thomas' chest with his free hand but his attention was directed towards the hoard of Cranks rapidly approaching them.

"Thanks, Tommy," he gasped, voice hoarse.

Tommy. Newt had called him Tommy.

Thomas was speechless. He opened his mouth to reply, to say something – anything – but not even a breath surpassed his lips. Newt was tugging on his arm, shifting his stricken gaze to their friends waiting for them ahead, hollering at them to run.

"C'mon, Tommy," Newt exclaimed. "We need to go!"

Thomas barely nodded before Newt was dragging him in a flat-out sprint through the abandoned shopping mall, eventually catching up to their friends.

Everything happened so fast. Thomas' headspace was clustered with Newt's voice repeating the nickname over and over again; Tommy. It was soft on his lips, careful, laced with a rare sort of tenderness that only Newt expressed towards him.

It buried its way into Thomas' chest, a fluttering sensation spreading through his body. If he weren't outrunning Cranks, he'd allow himself a decadent smile.

In another life, maybe he'd grab Newt by the collar of his jacket and kiss him.

But in this life, in this moment, Thomas ran, deprived of Newt's comforting grasp as they barrelled towards safety.

Wherever that may be.

Everything happened so fast.

Thomas was drowning in his cries under the weight of the Crank, his violently shaking hands ready to give out. He was half-aware; registering the closeness of the body but struggling to process his friends own presence. He couldn't hear them, nor could he see them. He barely heard Minho as he yelled something inaudible, but Thomas knew to prepare himself for whatever was about to happen.