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

Chapter Eleven: It's gonna be ok

No

Thomas ran forward, a jolt of fear splitting his head like a bolt of electricity

No

He dived onto his stomach, the wind drowning out his cry of terror

No

He threw his hand out over the edge and-

and-

felt another hand meet his own.

Newt clutched Thomas's arm like a lifeline as he dangled over the roiling water.

"TOMMY!" he yelled

"IM SORRY!"

Thomas wrapped his ankles around the stump of the old tree.

His knuckles were white with effort, his fingers digging into Newt's skin.

He couldn't hold on for much longer.

Thomas reached out his other hand, and Newt grasped his wrists.

"I'M GONNA PULL YOU UP-"

he heard it again.

Voices.

"What's happening to him?"

It was Brenda.

"Is he gonna come back?"

Minho.

"Guys stand back."

Frypan.

Thomas shook his head furiously.

"ON THREE!" he roared

Newt's face was set with determination.

"ONE."

The blonde's fingers dug bruises into the skin on Thomas's wrists.

"TWO."

Thomas readied himself.

"THREE!"

Thomas pulled.

He cried out, and Newt swung his legs into the earthy edge of the cliff.

Thomas, brought his arms up level to the edge of the drop, and Newt swung one knee up into the grass.

They collapsed, panting, in an adrenaline- pumped heap next to the edge of the precipice.

"You..." Thomas tried to say

"Total... sh-shank."

Newt grinned and sat up, then pulled Thomas into a bone-crushing embrace.

"I'm so.. sorry Tommy."

Thomas chuckled, a breathy laugh.
He looked into Newt's face.

"Are you trying to set a world record for 'How many times can I say sorry to Tommy in five minutes'?!"

Newt looked down, smirking.

"Did you mean it?"

His voice was quiet, and Thomas barely heard him over the quieting-wind.

He place a hand on Newt's cheek, bringing his chin up to look into his face.

"Of course I meant it, Newt. I've always meant it."

Tears brimmed behind the blond's eyes.

"I- I don't know how I'm going to-"

Thomas pulled Newt into his chest, running a hand through his hair.

"Hey... hey. It's gonna be ok. I promise."

~

The next few hours passed in a blur.

Minho had come looking for them, and when he saw the two boys lying crumpled next to the edge, he seemed to have registered what had happened without anyone saying a word.

He rushed to Newt and Thomas, pulling them both away from the edge.

Soon, Brenda, Frypan and Sonya were by their side, and they were helping the two boys to their feet, walking them slowly down the stone steps.

They had all decided it was best not to return to the Haven yet, so Sonya fetched a tent and they set it up at the base of the cliff.

Thomas vaguely remembered being sat on a mat, given a cup full of steaming liquid and wrapped in a blanket.

Newt stayed at his side the whole time.

He must have drifted off, as when he woke, his head had lolled into Newt's shoulder, and the blonde was snoring softly.

He sat up slowly, dragging a hand blearily across his eyes and yawning.

Newt stirred and murmured softly, wriggling closer to Thomas.

He smiled and brushed hair out of Newt's eyes, chuckling down at his innocent, sleeping little face.

He eased himself up gently, trying not to wake his sleeping friend.

Friend

The word tasted slightly bitter when used in the same sentence as Newt's name.

Was he really just a friend any more?

Thomas decided that he would think it over later, and- detaching himself from Newt- looked around the tent.

Sonya lay curled up, asleep on a mat, and Frypan was curled in a camping chair, grunting in his sleep.

Minho wasn't there, but Thomas could see a dark shadow silhouetted against the door of the tent, so he assumed that Minho was keeping watch.

Careful not to step on his sleeping friends, Thomas picked his way over to the door and pulled back the flap.

The early morning light was faded and clean, the storm from yesterday completely blown over.

Minho sat cross-legged against the tent, his eyes fixed on the approaching sunlight.

Thomas silently sat down beside him.

For a few minutes, they watched the sun rise in silence, until Minho spoke up.

"You saved him."

Thomas turned to look at him.

He spoke again.

"Thank you."

Thomas just nodded, feeling that there was no real use for words in this situation.

He turned his head back to look at the water, when Minho spoke again, except this time his voice was different.

Rough, horse, throaty.

"Thomas?! C'mon bro."

Thomas looked over at his friend, but Minho was still staring at the coast, his eyes glassy, his lips totally still.

Thomas opened his mouth to ask who had just spoken, when Minho started talking, eyes still fixed on the sunrise.

"We need to leave today if we're gonna get it to him in time."

Thomas nodded.

"I reckon he's ready enough to tag along. It shouldn't be that difficult. Most of WCKD is burned to the ground."

Thomas felt a sinking in his chest.

Things always seemed to end up being difficult.