The One-Shots | D.O'B.

Thomas the Angry Train pt. 2 | Thomas

"Where the fuck...have you been?"

Newt, Brenda, and Gally collectively take a generous step back, leaving you to face the wrath of Thomas alone.

You shoot them a disappointed look, to which they only offer a thumbs up as consolation, with Brenda murmuring a quick, "You got this."

Amused, but not surprised, you return forward only to see that Thomas has bridged the gap between your bodies and now stands about a foot away.

"Where...were you?" he repeats, lower this time. Low enough to encourage a chill down your spine as you swallow the odd lump in your throat.

You don't want to argue with him. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

But you certainly don't want to succumb to his rather pathetic display of dominance.

So, you straighten up. Square your shoulders. Meet his eye. "We were out. Doing Gally's plan."

He'd already anticipated this, brow quirking upward as he looks you over. "Is that right?"

"It is."

His eyes flick just over your shoulder, finding the faces of the other three. "And?"

You hear Newt clear his throat. "We didn't find him, Tommy. But he's there. He's close."

Thomas seems to tense, the frown deepening as his focus switches between them. "You don't think you're going back, do you?"

"We have to." It's Gally now, a bit firmer, but still cautious. You don't miss the careful way he speaks to Thomas now. Always deliberate. But reverent. As if he knows what he's done. "And now we have an in—"

"No."

You knew he'd reject the proposition, but you're outraged, nonetheless. "Seriously?"

His gaze moves back down to you. "Seriously. You know the risk—"

"Yeah, we knew the risks and it was still fine. Minho's in there, and now we have our own way in—"

"Don't fucking care," he grits between clenched teeth, stepping back with a fervent shake of his head. "No, I don't fucking care. We don't do shit like that. We don't put the entire team at risk because of someone's ego—"

"Don't we?" Your arms cross as you thrust your chin toward him. "I suppose you'd be the authority on ego, wouldn't you?"

You can feel the air thicken as the scattered group of your friends watch on, but you don't pay them any mind.

And neither does Thomas if the rigid tense of his muscles is any indication. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means your god complex has gotten more of your friends killed than the Grievers, the Cranks, and WCKD combined."

Your tone is livid. Full of disdain and disappointment and you can hear the murmurs and chuckles behind you.

And Thomas?

Truthfully, you're not quite sure what he's thinking. His expression hard and unforgiving, yet he offers no physical reaction to your accusation.

Then, he grabs your arm.

Grabs your arm and drags you out of the circle, heading toward one of the tents as you stumble to find your balance and rip yourself free.

But this proves futile as his determined grip keeps you planted to his side and the group behind you offers nothing but laughs and cheers, followed by, "Ooo, show her, Tommy!" and "Fucking in for it now."