You Expect Me To Carry On? (A Newtmas Fanfic)

Chapter One: Mourning

Thomas woke with a start, shooting bolt upright in bed. His breathing was heavy, fast, panicked.

Please Tommy-

Thomas rubbed a hand furiously across his eyes, trying to shake the last of the nightmare. He'd had the same one ever since- ever since-

Please...

Thomas screamed. A cry of pain and grief. He began to cry, a hand pressed to his mouth to stifle any more outbursts of noise.

No need to wake the others.

That was there he sat, shaking, racked with silent, pained sobs, until the morning light broke over the bay and his friends knocked on his door for breakfast.

~

Later that night, Thomas sat at the bonfire. Minho and Gally had gone to bed just a few minutes ago, and he was the last of his friends to call it a night. Thomas sat, alone, watching the smouldering embers crackle softly as they fought the bitter coastal breeze.

The wound on his abdomen left my Janson's bullet had healed nicely, and he could walk and run with next to no discomfort nowadays.

The glow from the coals was so enticing, so comforting that Thomas felt almost at home. Almost safe.

Almost.

It was during moments like these that the memories hit him like a tidal wave.

Memories of all the ones they had lost.

Memories of him.

Of Newt.

The thing that pained Thomas the most was that he couldn't think of even his best friend's happiest moments- without a pang of regret.

Sitting on the log just after Thomas came up in the box-

What if I had just-

The look on Newt's face when he came limping out of the maze-

I could have just told him-

Lying next to him under the stars, their first night in the scorch-

What if I had just leant in and-

The look in Newt's eyes when he thrust the letter into Tommy's hand-

I could've. I should've-

The gun, trained against his best friend's temple-

And-

What if he had held on for just a second

One second

Then maybe-

He would've been able to tell Newt the truth.

The whole truth.

Newt, I-