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

Chapter Five: Newt?

Thomas did not sleep for long.

He awoke with a start barely five minutes later, snapping awake at the sound of loud shouts and cries.

The water was only at his ankles, and they sky had remained a clear, unbothered blue.

When he looked around, he saw that the camp was much nearer than he's thought.

Maybe... 10 metres? Less?

He started. A LOT nearer than he'd thought.

Over at the Haven, he noticed that people had abandoned their work stations and clustered in one large group, all together, heads down, looking at something that Thomas couldn't see.

Some were just confused, a few were asking angry questions, but he couldn't see any people who looked like they might have yelled.

Immediately, his curiosity spiked and he got up, walking as quickly as he could over to his friends, his legs still slightly shaky from his unusual choice of nap location.

As he approached, heads turned.

The people on the outer layers of the huddle all turned to face him at the sound of footsteps, and when they saw who it was, the parted, whispering to one another, leaving Thomas with a clear pathway to whatever they were looking at.

When he saw Minho, crouched right in the middle of the group with his back to Thomas, he hesitated, not wanting to cause his friend any more fits of grief.

But then he saw Frypan, who was knelt facing Thomas, and the look on his face made the boy's curiosity (and slight fear) win the fight over caution.

Frypan's face was drawn, his eyebrows knitted together in an honest, stunned frown. His cheeks were flushed, his chest rising and falling unsteadily.

He would have looked scared if it weren't for the... was he grinning?

Grinning?

And as if Thomas couldn't be MORE confused, Frypan also appeared to have tears welling behind his eyes? 

Crying?!

What the shuck was all this about?!

Thomas strode down the path that had been cleared for him, and tapped Minho on the shoulder, who was leaning over the thing that they were all looking at.

"Minho what the-"

Thomas froze.

Minho had turned to look up at him, shifting his weight and allowing Thomas a clear view at the thing that had stirred all this commotion.

It was a boy.

The boy was lying on his back in the sand, his eyes closed but his chest fluttering gently up and down.

He had veins running up his neck and down his arms, but they were thin and faded, more likes streaks of watercolour paint across his paler-than-pale skin.

He was dressed in WCKD Security Guard Uniform, but Thomas felt no rush of fear.

He knew exactly who this boy was.

Thomas dropped to his knees.

The boy's hair was dirty blonde and-

yes-

He was lean, but strangely thin,

yes?-

His long eyelashes were fluttering against his cheeks-

yes!

He was-

Undeniably-

Newt.

~

When Newt's eyes opened, they were brimming with terror.

He sat bolt upright, coughing and spitting like he'd been held underwater for more than he could take.

Thomas's mind was racing.

Is it really you?!

Is this real?!

Is he ok?!

How is he alive?!

Thomas snapped himself out of his panic and rushed towards his best friend.

Minho was staring, frozen in shock and Frypan appeared to have passed out.

The crowd of people were whispering, gasping and pointing, many of them recognising Newt from his time with the Right Arm.

Thomas pushed past Minho and knelt down beside Newt, who was whipping his head from side to side in confused fear and scrambling up onto his knees.

Thomas grabbed the boy's elbow.

"Hey... hey? Newt?"

Newt looked straight at him, and Thomas melted.

Those chocolate brown eyes, the ones which had stalked his thoughts for months, were staring straight into him.

He coughed

Stay strong Thomas

But it appeared he didn't need to.

When Newt met Thomas's gaze, all the uncertainty cleared from his eyes and a grin pulled up the corners of his chapped lips.

That lopsided grin... oh shuck, his smile

The boys spent a moment staring at each other, and obviously decided that the other was, in fact, real, before they launched into each other's arms.

The crowd let out a sigh of 'Awh' and watched as the friends held each other.

Thomas pulled Newt into him, not caring about the hundreds of eyes on him,  buried his face in Newt's neck and inhaled.

Woodsmoke, rosemary, gunpowder, and the faint scent of science-lab bleach.

He felt his face grow hot with tears.

He pulled away, holding the other boy at arms length and staring at him.

"You-"

he said, smiling through his tears

"Have some serious explaining to do."