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A wave of heat hit Thomas's face as he entered the Homestead, the fire that sat in the middle crackled among the coughs that threatened his presence. He looked around at the others who had taken to a sleeping bag around the diminishing fire, the Sick had taken more and more Gladers every day but has been yet to claim a death. He walked around them, careful to not tread on a limb that crossed his path, and walked up the stairs toward the room he had been visiting frequently over the past couple of weeks. The steps groaned under his weight, and the pelt swept the floor behind him. The door creaked when he pushed it open and revealed the blond teenager that was shaking under a pile of pelts in the hammock.
"Newt." Thomas called quietly. "Why aren't you by the fire?" he asked, removing his own pelt and placing it on top of the others.
"Too many people down there." he replied, though his teeth clattered.
"You'll freeze." Thomas frowned, and dug his hand through the pelts until he found the chilled fingers of the blond boy. They were silent and the more time Thomas spent in the room, the more he could feel the cold attach to his open skin.
"Don't let me freeze then." he replied. Thomas peeled back the pelts one by one until he revealed the thin boy. He frowned when he noticed his pale skin, and quickly replaced the pelts. "What are you doing?" he asked angrily. He had expected Thomas to join him in the hammock, but he took a step backward. He had noticed something else when he revealed the small frame, the sweat on his forehead that made his hair cling to it, but also the bowls of food that had gone to waste at his bedside.
"I'm getting you something to eat." he replied, trying to hold back the anger he felt toward the blond's lack of selfcare.
"Don't bother, just get in the bloody bed you damn heater." he spat back at him. Thomas's back was to Newt, but he still tried to fight the anger that rose in his chest and threatened to leave his mouth.
"You're just using me for a heater?" it was mildly stupid, to be angry over this but he was. He couldn't help feeling the self pity in his chest.
"About all you're bloody good for," he muttered, but Thomas was already out the door.
He had little patience for their second in command anymore, but he left to fetch the boy a bowl of stew. He made sure to keep a lid over it to try and keep it hot, and returned to Newt's bedroom. If he'd noticed Thomas's return he didn't acknowledge it, though it was hard to see if he acknowledged anything under the large pile of pelts. He walked to his bedside and pulled back the pelts again to reveal the blond and sat down on the floor.
"What are you doing, Greenie?" He asked angrily, his eyes fluttering open.
"I brought you something to eat." He replied smoothly. "And I'm not Greenie. A newbie is supposed to come up this week. Now sit up and eat this"
"You don't give me bloody orders." He spat.
"I do when you're being an ass." He scooped some of the stew with his spoon. Newt looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but eventually he maneuvered into a sitting position. The hammock swayed under his weight and he relied mostly on his arms to hold himself upright. Thomas held up the bowl to him, but he pushed it away with his hand pushed himself to his feet. He swayed, unsteady on his feet until he plopped down next to Thomas on the rickety wooden panels.
