SOJOURNER (III): tmr gally

37: I should've known all along

Leo 37

The first thing that pulls me gently out of my sleep is a hand on my shoulder. My face lies against the sand. It's soft and cushion-like, rather than grainy like I had expected. As I sit up, my brown jacket falls off my back, rolling into the sand. I had it draped over me like a blanket to protect me from the harsh wind.

"Hey," Newt's voice is behind me.

I roll to my other side, looking at him. He seems better than early. At least, his nose has stopped bleeding, and it doesn't seem to be broken. His face is cut though, from where the sharp rock on the ground cut his face. His consciousness is all I can ask for.

"How are you feeling?" I begin, studying the light bruising along his nose. The purple almost illuminates his face.

"Better," he smiles, though faintly. His brow furrows, and he moves in closer to me. Our faces are so close to each other. "You have a split lip."

My hand flies up to my mouth, feeling along the cut it. It seems as though I do indeed have a split lip. I wonder when I got it. My lip is puffy, and the cut feels fresh.

"It was probably from when Joan grabbed me," I tell him, not that it matters.

He doesn't seem satisfied. Reaching over, his hands land on my lip, brushing over the cut.

"It isn't too bad," he reassures, his eyes lingering on my lips. If I didn't him better, I might think this meant something. Still, everything in my chest is on fire. "You just looked different, is all."

I do look different, don't I? He does too. He looks more worn, as if the harsh desert has broken down his skin, layer by layer. There are lines in his face that are unfamiliar and burns on his cheeks that threaten to flake off. At least now, we are underneath a tent. We are a bit safe.

Even though we are different, I still like the people we have become.

"Have you eaten yet?" He asks.

I shake my head back and forth.

He sits up, struggling not to groan. Reaching over, he unzips his backpack. I follow myself to my feet as well.

Minho is on watch, with Fry. They stand in the corner, whispering to one another as they eye up the desert.

Newt hands me a granola bar. I unwrap it and try to eat is slowly. If I devour it, it'll just make me sick. Newt offers me his water, and this I drink. As quickly as I can, because my throat is burning. Every part of me hurts inside.

I hand him back the bottle. He smiles, slightly, before putting it back in his bag. As he does it, his hip juts close to mine. When he sits back up, he doesn't move it. We are attached at the hip, finally, after weeks apart. Newt wipes his nose with the back of his hand. I lean in, trying to see if there is blood on him.

"Leo, I have to tell you something," he begins, looking around at the sleeping bodies. He glances over at Fry and Minho, who are deep in conversation.

I wait for him to continue. He swallows, looking down at the ground. He glances back up at me, sighing.

"Do you remember the night Minho, Alby, and Thomas disappeared into the Maze?" He asks, his eyes dimming with every second. The purple skin on his nose seems to take over him.

I nod, precariously. Of course I remember that night. That was the night I sedated Dawn. It was the night I kissed him, and the night I realized I would be alone. Our hips are still touching.