The Defective Soldier || Newt

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒𝟏

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕂𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕆𝕗 𝕄𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤

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It would take years for William to get used to the Safe Haven's bed. He woke up in the middle of dawn, eyes drowning in the astonishing sunlight and chest aching with anticipation. Freedom, the word no longer made that once fuzzy feeling appear around his stomach like it had during the prior day's celebration. Not for any reason in particular. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, supposedly. The Safe Haven in itself was already an oddity for him and, as far as they let on, his group. It was too quiet, too peaceful. The chance that a threat could appear at any moment was close to none. Yet they couldn't seem to relax.

The handle of the knife that he had smuggled when nobody was looking pocked his shoulder under the pillow. It wasn't all that uncomfortable. He was used to it. However, it didn't sit right with his conscience. If anybody outside his group were to find it, wouldn't they think that he didn't trust them? That he was preparing himself for someone to attack? He wasn't, of course, but that could perfectly well be the feeling that finding a knife under someone's pillow could give. There was no way he could simply leave the knife back in its place, though. He needed it to sleep safe and sound. At least for now.

Footsteps near his bed drove his hand under his pillow in a heartbeat. Unnecessary as all his worries. The footsteps belonged to Thomas, who was too deep in thought on his way to the pillar to notice William looking at him directly. His friend walked by barely two beds and a hammock away from him, enough to see his face perfectly.

A crutch would never be discrete nor silent, yet William attempted his best not to wake Newt, who slept in a hammock almost over his own bed, and Aris, the occupant of the bed beside him. Like the day before, the first few steps were complicated. Past the wooden steps, it was no problem. The smooth slip of even ground led him straight to his old friend, who was either too engrossed in the pillar or still angry over his little practical joke about the drink swap. In William's opinion, he had a valid reason. Thomas had tricked him first into drinking one of Gally's 'secret-recipe' drinks. It was his right to swap that for a safe one, which Thomas just so happened to have. Simple payback.

"Are you ready to make your peace?" William whispered in Thomas's ear, having a great laugh when his friend bolted out of the way. "Who might it be, Tommy? The rest pretty much wrote down all names yesterday."

Thomas fiddled with the knife. "Ben."

That answer weighed on William greatly. "What happened to him?"

"He got stung by a Griever," Thomas began, "then attacked me, saying it was all my fault and that I shouldn't be there."

"Did you kill him?" William asked, unsure that his friend would ever be capable of doing such a thing, even without memories.

"No... well, not directly." Thomas's eyes lowered to his hands, where they stayed for a minute. "The next day at sundown, he was banished from the Glade."

William wasted no time to say, "It wasn't your fault."

"I know—" Thomas answered mindlessly.

That did not convince William in the slightest. "No, Thomas, you don't. It really wasn't your fault."

Thomas shrugged it off, eyes glittering with the first signs of tears. "I know, but I could have—"

The crutch was bothersome, but even that wouldn't stop William from facing his friend. "Thomas, I'm being serious. It wasn't your fault."

A single tear escaped Thomas's right eye. "Liam..."

William extended his only free arm, which Thomas didn't hesitate to throw himself into. They collided and stumbled, but regained their footing, though at the cost of the crutch ending up on the ground. It didn't matter to William, nor did it seem as if Thomas had realised it. His leg could take some weight, and even if it couldn't, he wouldn't make Thomas let go in the middle of crying to pick up a crutch. He could endure a little pain. It wasn't even that bad.