Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
When Thomas woke, he could see the sun high in the sky and the smells of breakfast had long since faded. Thomas shot upright, and he flung the pelts off himself and threw his feet over the side of the hammock and reached for his boots.
"Easy, Tommy." Newt's gravelly voice behind him made him jump.
"I overslept, I have to go." Thomas told him already having one foot in his pants.
"They already came up here lookin for you about two hours ago. I told them to let you sleep in today." He explains and Thomas slumped back letting his toes brush the floor.
"Why'd you do that?" Thomas asked, letting his pants fall back to the floor in a heap.
"Because you were burning up last night, I thought you'd come down with the Sick." Newt said through a yawn, he rubbed one of his eyes and tousled his own hair. "Now lay back down." He shifted in the hammock and pushed Thomas's shoulder down.
"You can't give me special treatment." Thomas replied, though he was grateful this time. He looked down his nose to Newt, who rested his head in the nook of his shoulder.
"I'm not, you're sick remember?" He replied. Thomas searched his face, the dark purple bags under his eyes had lightened and the sweat that once clung to his forehead was now nonexistent. His lips that were once chapped and blue, looked pink and plump with life. Thomas didn't feel sick, not in the slightest. Just exhausted.
"Get me up in an hour." Thomas said. The room went quiet as Thomas felt his mind succumb to exhaustion but he couldn't shake one thought he had. The story Minho told him. He hadn't said it, but the scars on Newt's body made it impossible for him not to ask questions. "Did you get your limp that night?" Thomas asked with his eyes closed. Newt's body stiffened beside him for half a second then relaxed again.
"What did you hear about the Dark Days?" He asked calmly.
"Minho told me about everyone that went crazy during the night and tried to attack the injured people in the Homestead and you stopped them." Newt laughed humorlessly.
"No, I didn't get my limp that night." He replied, but the air was filled with unanswered questions. "That's a bit of a personal question, Tommy."
"You have me shacked up in this room with you and I don't know anything about you." He replied. "The things I know about you I've only heard from other people." Silence again. Now that Thomas got what he wanted off his chest, sleep threatened to take him again.
"You want my whole bloody life story?" Newt said, a hint of annoyance touched his tone.
"No." Thomas replied patiently. Nobody in the Glade really had a life story, did they? Nobody had a memory of the Before.
"Then what do you want from me, Tommy?" He could feel Newts heart beat through his chest, and it had picked up the pace.
"I just want to know you." He muttered, and opened his eyes. Newt was already looking at him, his eyes were wide with frustration and something else he couldn't quite place. Newt's eyes flickered to Thomas's lips for a half a second, then back up to meet his eyes. Before Thomas could react, Newt closed the gap. His lips were warm, soft, and oddly sweet. Though Thomas didn't have much time to enjoy this brief act of endearment because they were gone as quick as they appeared.
