Disclaimer:Not mine.I don't have the url but if i did i would hug whoever made this wonderful thing.
Warning:Get some tissues and icecream ready...
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It comes back to him in snippets now. Small fragments of memory that slip from his grasp just as he is about to reach out to hold them close.
He feels like he's back in the Glade. Things are there but not quite - just out of reach. It's the little details he remembers most frequently; like Newt's eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as he slept or the sweet sound of his laughter piercing Thomas' consciousness in the mornings.
Nice things.
But then there are the not so nice things - like Newt snarling at him in the Crank Palace and the combination of hatred and pure terror flooding his usually calm and rational brown eyes. It's these details that make
Thomas sit bolt upright in bed most nights, covered in a cold sweat, his heartbeat fast and breathing rapid.
It's these details that cause him to cry himself to sleep most nights and scream out for Minho in the night, because he doesn't know who else to go to.
It's been two months. Thomas never kept a track of time before. He had no reason to; there was nothing to count down to or count away from.
But now that Newt was gone, he remembered every single day and night that passed and the number was etched in his mind, growing each time he woke up. He was almost certain he'd never stop keeping count, the pain in his heart only strengthening as the number rose.
Minho helps to lessen the pain. It isn't much, but it's enough for now. They can talk about Newt together. Minho cries too. Fair enough, he doesn't let himself fall apart so spectacularly and often as Thomas does, but sometimes,
Thomas will walk past the door to Minho's room in the house they share and he'll hear soft whimpering and he knows that Newt is on Minho's mind. And the worst part of it all is that Minho just misses Newt.
He isn't grieving for him like Thomas, because Minho doesn't know. Minho will never know that the boy that holds him when he cries is the one that took his best friend's life. Minho can never know.
Brenda is there too. Sweet, darling Brenda. Thomas really does love her. He's loved her for a long time and when he holds her whilst she sleeps and when they take things further than just innocent kisses on the cheek, he feels genuine love.
He doesn't feel like he's being forced into this because he isn't. This is what Newt would have wanted for him and Brenda is beautiful and caring and everything that makes Thomas feel safe and loved. He thinks that he'll like to marry her one day and raise a family with her as his wife.
The thought of it gives him butterflies. And Newt would have liked that too, he thinks. Newt would have liked him to be happy with a wife and kids and everything that he wouldn't have been able to give him.
Somewhere, Thomas hopes that Newt is happy too. He believes that he's in his own paradise with Teresa and Chuck and Alby and the rest of the Gladers that were so incredibly brave but fell too short.
He hopes that somehow, Newt has found happiness too. Maybe with Teresa, maybe with Alby, he doesn't really care, doesn't like to think about it too much, but he hopes that
Newt is happy and has someone there who loves him even just a fraction of the amount that Thomas did. Does. He believes that
Newt is still alive somehow, just somewhere far away - somewhere out of reach.
