{calamitosum - causing, involving or resulting in an event of calamity - complete disaster.}
Newt's pov:
Sleep was a very foreign activity for me, especially when my unconscious mind will cloud itself with nightmares once again, and I am left to fight them, alone and frightened.
So, when Thomas showed me my new sleeping quarters, I didn't know how to visibly react.
"You'll be in here, along with another member of your team. You would have had your own space but uh- its not exactly like we had much notice about your arrival so... this might have to do for the meantime." The boy said, smiling slightly as he rubbed his neck.
I looked over to him as I allowed my hand to walk over the bed and furniture, familiarising myself with the texture of the layout. "Don't be silly, this is perfect."
Thomas smiled. "You know, naturally if things were different you'd have a different bunk mate but-"
I was waiting for him to bring her up. "Have you spoken to her? Since the shooting range I haven't even seen her let alone been near her."
The room only consisted of two small beds, clearly made with hay and feathers, the sheets sewn together with fraying string and rusty needles. Next to each bed was a small wooden table, accompanied by a damaged lamp that I doubted would even work, but still, it was beautiful. Thomas perched himself on the edge of the bed, as I rested against the wall before him.
"I had Minho keep an eye on her, but no one's been able to locate her all day. It's best just to leave her be, Newt, she doesn't want to be disturbed." Thomas said, leaning on the backs of his hands to stretch out onto the covers.
I looked longingly at the boy. "I think if I just get a moment to talk to her, she'd listen." Thomas huffed from his seat, but I was desperate to go on. "No, no, Tom, I mean like, really talk with her. Lay it all out on the line, tell her that all this searching and recovering wouldn't have happened if the only thing I ever wanted in the world wasn't her."
He sighed. "I get it Newt, I do. But you wanted her four years ago. You want the girl that she was, when she was eighteen and cruel and so savvy and dangerous that she would and could make a grown man cry. That was four years ago, everyone has changed here, man. You might need to remember that too."
I didn't respond to what Thomas had said immediately. I pondered what he said first, understanding that maybe a long period of time has changed things. But then I remembered her and I didn't give a fuck.
"Things may have changed, but I'm still the same person I was before everything happened. And from this conversation, I can tell that you are as well, Tom. Your hair might be a little bit longer, and lighter for that matter, but you are still my closest friend, and y/n is still y/n."
Thomas flashed me the same smile he always had. "She's still stubborn as fuck, I'll give you that one. I see you are, too. Nice to see that hasn't changed."
This moment felt warm; comfortable. "I missed you a lot too, you know. And Minho, and Gally. And Brenda, Vince, Jorge-" I laughed for a second when I remembered the others who lived here. "What about the others in the camp? Mia, Rachel, Geroge- what's Emilio doing now?"
My brain rushed from one end to the other, slowly recalling all of those who I hadn't seen for so long, when Thomas' smile faded from the edges ever so slightly. He cleared his throat and readjusted how he was sat. "Well, where to begin? Mia died about three years ago, unfortunately shot dead by a rebel group when we infiltrated a camp that we believed to be empty. It was Jorge's job to secure the area – when he found out that there was a small gang left hiding out there, he went ballistic. Firing weapons like crazy, throwing spears, that kind of stuff. In the end, y/n had to knock him on the floor so he didn't harm himself or others."
