Every Heart a Maze | Newt & Thomas

Chapter 18

   Only after the sun had completely disappeared and the cooler night air was creeping upon them had Newt dared to move. He'd tried to shake Thomas awake gently, but his efforts had been without success. Thomas had merely mumbled something in his sleep and then turned away, freeing Newt's shoulder doing so and giving him a chance to get up. Thomas still didn't open his eyes.

Since it was impossible to wake him, Newt had slipped unnoticed to the boy's hammock to get him a blanket, which he now spread out over Thomas, careful not to disturb him. Newt paused, taking a moment to look at the sleeping figure.

He seemed paler at night, his dark moles standing out against his fair skin, as his long eyelashes cast shadows across his face. It would be so easy to reach out and trace Thomas's features with his fingers, and it took Newt some self-control not to do so.

He would have liked to sit down next to Thomas again, fall asleep next to him and wake up next to him in the morning too. Newt was fond of the idea, but didn't trust himself, so he stumbled backwards, putting some distance between them and took a deep breath. His desire frightened him; he'd never felt such a strong emotion before. Something even stronger than the bad thoughts that usually dominated all of his being.

"Sleep well, Tommy," he said before rising and stepping out from between the trees. He hoped to be able to again pass the others unobtrusively and retire to his room without having to talk to anyone, but didn't get far before Chuck caught him.

"Hey, Newt! Have you seen Thomas?" the boy babbled right away. "I haven't seen him all day and his blanket is gone too."

"Don't worry, Chuckie. Thomas's fine," Newt said to calm the boy down. "He's right over there sleepin'."

"Why would he sleep in the Deadheads?" Chuck asked, proceeding to walk in the direction of the accumulation of trees. Newt grabbed him by his collar to stop him.

"You'll stay here and you let Tommy sleep well, understood?"

"Wanna make sure he's in one piece," Chuck sheepishly replied. "Gally didn't do anything to him?"

"I just told ya, he's fine." Newt let go of Chuck's shirt. "He's had a demandin' day, actually a few strenuous days now. Let him sleep."

"All by himself?"

"You lookin' for a cuddle?"

Chuck's face turned a fiery red color and his tousled curls danced around his face as he shook his head. "No-"

"Slim yourself, Chuckie. I'm just teasin'." Newt patted the younger boy's shoulder, then raised an eyebrow. "Did you hear the news already? Our Tommy's got promoted a Runner."

"Really? That's great!" said Chuck, before giving it a second thought and adding, "It is, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," Newt confirmed, somehow touched by the genuine happiness on the boy's face. "Hey Chuck, what would ya think of a promotion yourself?"

The former happy expression now varied somewhere between confusion and fear. "Me? A Runner?"

"No! No, no, no, that's not what I meant, I was thinking more of somethin' like a kitchen hand. Frypan could certainly use a little more help with cooking and stuff. What do you say?"

Chuck stared at Newt wide-eyed, stunned. "Do you really mean that?"

"Course I do," said Newt, grinning down at Chuck, who couldn't believe his days as a Slopper should be over soon. "Well, I need to discuss this with Frypan first, but I don't think he'll object, after all, you're already spendin' most of ya free-time in his kitchen."

"Mostly to eat though," Chuck admitted, the tips of his ears reddening again.

"That'll have to change. But first go to sleep, it's late. We'll talk more 'bout it in the morning."

"Good that," Chuck said, starting to walk toward his hammock.

"I'll see ya tomorrow, Chuckie." Newt looked after him and smiled when he noticed the little jump of joy Chuck made when he thought himself out of sight.

Inside the Homestead, all the lights were already out and Newt crept cautiously past the Gladers who were trying to find their night's rest there. However, the creaking of the stairs could not be avoided. He briefly paused, listening for noises, but the loudest next to his footsteps was Alby's snoring coming from up the stairs. As he passed his friend's room, he caught a glimpse of the figure in the sick bed. He was better, still bound, but now he was sleeping peacefully and the black veins on his dark skin had recently begun to recede. However, based on experience, it would still be a few days before he'd wake up again. How long it would take him to recover afterwards – if he'd recover – remained to be seen.

Further down the hall the girl was still in a coma, her door was closed and Clint had taken up position in front of it. As Newt passed him, he nodded casually, which Clint acknowledged with a yawn.

When he reached his own room and opened the door, he stopped dead in his tracks. There was someone inside, sitting on his bed like he's been waiting for him.

"Hey Shuck-face," a familiar voice greeted him, and though he couldn't see his face in the darkness of the room, Newt relaxed. It was just Minho, "where've you been? Were Thomas and you swallowed by the ground or something? I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Obviously you didn't look everywhere then," Newt stepped into the small room and closed the door behind him. Gone were his plans to end the day unbothered. But Minho's company was the only one he'd gladly endure. "We were just by the west wall, Tommy was hidin' and I kept him company," he clarified while settling on the bed next to Minho. Up close, he saw that the Runner was holding the cylindrical part of the Griever. Probably that's what he wanted to talk to him about.

Minho raised an eyebrow and Newt was expecting some comment about him and Thomas hiding in the Deadheads together all afternoon, but none came. Instead, Minho just sighed.

"Good thing, too," he said. "You won't find another topic of conversation in the entire Glade besides Thomas and that girl. And most don't have anything nice to say. Maybe he should hold back a little for now."

"He'll spend all of tomorrow in the Slammer, so he shouldn't be able to do anything that's upsetting the others even more." Newt shrugged, knowing he couldn't separate Thomas forever, sooner or later he would have to face those talking behind his back.

"I'm not worried about the others, it's Gally we should keep an eye on. He's acting like he owns the place again and I can't stand it."

"I know you don't like him much, but he's second in command now, so he's-"

"He's what?" Minho replied, aghast. "When the hell was that decided, I don't remember a shuck vote on that?"

"This afternoon while you and Tommy were out at the Maze, it was unanimous."

"What?" Minho repeated, jumping up. "Am I a joke to you? I'm a Keeper, too, the shucking Council can't just vote without me! Did you agree to that? And who's put that shank up for election in the first place?"