A Thomas Brodie-Sangster Imagine

Part 2

It's been years since Thomas left. I've  watched all the Maze Runner movies, and never know whether to cry or smile when he pops up on the screen.

Of course, I made sure to attend every movie premiere with his mom. Though, he never knew I was there. I would wear one of his old, black jackets and sit in the darkest part of the theater. Then, when it was over, I would wait in the car his mother and I rented until she came and we drove back to the airport to go back home.

I miss Thomas a lot. He was my best friend. I miss his smile and the shine in his eyes when he laughed. I miss his sandy blonde hair. But overall, I miss his hugs the most. They made me feel so safe, like nothing could ever hurt me; they kept me pieced together.

No, I haven't tried getting his new number from his mom- apparently they made him get a new number when he got to the studio the first day. I figured that if he wanted to contact me, he would. I mean, he does have my number still... I would hope.

These are thoughts I think everyday when I'm at work. I went to college to major as a US History teacher, and sometimes sub for it, but I got offered a job as a Librarian so I took the job. I love to read.

At the moment, I'm sitting behind my large desk in the middle of the school library with my feet propped up on it, reading Maze Runner for the thousandth time.

I jump as my phone starts ringing. Who the bloody hell is calling me? I'm at work. I think to myself, slightly agitated.

I pick it up to see Second Mother on the screen. I smile and answer it. "You know I'm at work, right?"

"I know, Y/N, and I'm dreadfully sorry. I just couldn't wait!" She says, speaking soft and fast.

"Why are you whispering?" I whisper to her.

She pauses. "He'll hear me if I don't."

"Who will hear you?" I ask in confusion.

I hear her clear her throught. "Ah, well. I picked him up from the airport and as soon as we got back to the house, I raced to the bathroom and locked the door." She rants, but I stop her.

"Who will hear you?" I ask again.

"Thomas."

"H-he's home?" I stampered.

"He's home," she answers.

That's it. My heart stopped. "Has he talked about seeing me at all?"

She sighs. "No." The smile that had been growing on my face falters. "He said he wanted to see some of his friends, but didn't mention you."

I take a deep breath. "Okay. I understand."

"Don't be sad. You can come and visi-"

"Yeah. Thank you. Well, I really do need to get back to work."

"Okay. Well, I'll talk to him about coming to visit, okay?"

I smile gently. "Nah. It's okay. I don't want him to feel like he has to see me. He'll see me when he wants to."

"Okay, Y/N. Well, I see you when I see you." She hangs up.

I sigh and lean my head back with a s smile. He's home. My best friend is home.