six feet under

EPILOGUE (part. 1)

The sun was going down on the sea that had held back WICKED for two months. It was almost funny, Thomas thought, how after all they had done in the only goal to keep the Gladers under their control, water had been enough to stop Ratman and his coworkers.

Thomas used to be grateful for their island to exist, to give them a place where they could finally live happily ever after. He used to accept the sadness that showed in his every thought and action, thinking it would leave with time. But it never did.

Thomas sat down in the sand as the sunset painted the sky a gorgeous shade of pink. Had Newt ever seen a sunset ? Thomas's chest tightened as this though. He didn't think so. They had sunsets in the Glade, only their sky wasn't real. Then, in the Scorch, it was simply impossible to look at the sun without getting blinded, not even mentioning the fact that the Gladers had bigger preoccupations than seeing a pretty sunset. Still, it made Thomas's heart ache to think Newt had died without having seen what a sunset was like. Maybe he saw one when he was at Crank Palace. A little hope made its way to Thomas's heart, like a shooting star streaking across the sky on a dark night.

Sunsets were his favourite time of the day in the Safe Haven. He often walked along the sea to create a little distance between him and the tents, then sat on the sand or stood in front of the horizon, alone with his thoughts. At first, Minho and the others had tried to convince him to stay with them by the bonfire, or at least to let them come with him. As the days passed, they eventually understood that Thomas was not trying to push them away. He just needed these minutes on his own. His friends stopped asking. There were no questions they didn't already know the answer to, anyway.

In a general way, people weren't very fond of questions in the Safe Haven.The kids that had been saved from WICKED all had rather traumatising previous times they didn't like to talk about, as well as those who had survived the Trials. Finally, the members of the Right Arm had gone through a lot to get this far, and most of them were still haunted by their loved ones they had to leave behind. It was something Thomas understood perfectly. Nobody got to the Safe Haven without paying its price and he, maybe more than anyone, knew how costly it was.

Newt would have loved sunsets, Thomas thought. He often thought of Newt during his daily walk on the beach. He didn't really know if he was doing this to ensure the memory of him didn't fade out, or if it was to pretend Newt was still there. Whatever it was, it worked. And Thomas needed it.

He couldn't go like everyone else "the ones that love us never really leave us" and all the stuff about finding them in your heart and then having a normal day as if everything was fine when nothing was. He couldn't play along all day like his friends were - he knew they were, they had to be. They went through the Trials together and, most of all, they all lost Newt. Besides, most of his friends had known Newt for a lot longer than him. Not that Thomas thought it was possible to miss him more than he did.

More than that, he was the only one knowing Newt was dead.

Because I killed him.

Sometimes it hit Thomas. It could happen at any given moment. Suddenly, his empty lungs would beg for oxygen, his stomach would tighten as a sharp pain would resonate in his chest. He would never hear his laugh again, or the way his voice sounded when he called him "Tommy". He didn't remember the last time he'd seen him laugh, though he remembered the last "Tommy" all too well. Sometimes he would abruptly realise he couldn't remember the exact colour of his eyes, which he thought he could never forget. Sometimes he would find himself staring into nothing, reliving the worst seconds of his life. It felt like a nightmare but he craved it like a dream. As long as he was feeling something, he wasn't forgetting. And it was all that mattered.

He didn't know how the others managed to simply keep on going when life had lost all its spark for him two months ago. Aside from the massive hole Newt's death had pierced in his heart, he felt empty. He, of course, felt relieved that the WICKED's threat had left their lives, however he hadn't known anything but running for his life since he woke up in the Box with no memories of whatever he was doing with his life before getting trapped in a giant Maze then being put on Trial by the most powerful and sadistic organisation on Earth.

It felt like life had nothing to offer him anymore. Not a day passed without Thomas wondering what he should do now that it was all over. After two months, he still didn't know.

After two months, he still missed Newt as much as the first days following his death. How could people expect him to get used to the emptiness of air by his side ?

Thomas took a handful of sand to watch it escape between his fingers, enjoying the silence that finally let him deal with the mess his life had been lately.

He had a decision to make. Something he'd delayed as much as he could. Of course, he had felt an undying curiosity towards the object ever since they'd discovered it, carefully wrapped in a protective material in a solid box. Yet some feeling was still preventing him from taking a closer look. Most of the time, Thomas assumed it was fear. It was so hard, even simply thinking of moving on from Newt's death. He didn't know how much more he could take. Other times, he gathered all his courage and stared at it, firmly resolved to open it. He never did.

He took the journal out of his pocket. Maybe this day would be one of those times.

Newt's journal scared him. Holding it in his hands was a cruel reminder that its previous owner was gone. At this thought, Thomas's fingers started to shake as the familiar pain resonated in his bones. Strange echoes of a tortured mind telling the tale of its undeserved downfall. Cries of a wiped out life. Tears of young slaughtered hopes. Thomas was immune to the Flare, but the journal radiated a deeper kind of madness. Lately, thinking about Newt made him feel like he was back into a brand new Maze. Only, he didn't think he'd ever escape that one. Especially if he read the journal.

Thomas just knew it would break him And he wasn't sure he'd fight to be pulled back together this time.

He looked up at the sun, still fading in a gorgeous colour gradient over the sea. On days like this, he would see a bit of Newt in everything. The colour of the sand looked just like his hair. The peaceful expanse of water reminded him of Newt's calm and reassuring presence. Sometimes he would catch a glimpse of the exact chocolate brown tone he felt so lost without. Then he'd blink, and Newt's eyes would be gone again.

He was gone. There was no point in denying it. Yet Thomas found himself looking for his face every time he let his eyes wander and feeling his heart ache every time he heard a voice and it wasn't his.

He missed him so much it prevented him from doing anything but staring at the horizon as the sun went down on the horizon. Every day. For two months, and forever. But he couldn't go on pretending everything was over, when he had one last chapter to read. If only for him, Thomas had to open the book again.

And on that day when he thought was just going to be one of those times, he did.

AN: hello hellooo :) only one chapter left !
In case anyone was wondering: yes, there was a Harry Potter quote (Padfoot <3)