A/N: Screw it. I'm changing this to a 3rd person POV. IDK, I just can't write 1st person anymore... And this is more evidence of why THIS SUCKS but I really don't want to change everything in front so. I HOPE THIS IS BETTER, I know a lot of you prefer 3rd person to 1st person and honestly I do as well. I started with 1st person at first because I wanted to kind of make it more ...personalized, but SCREW IT. It's 3rd person now. Deal with it.
Thomas stared at the stone door, long after it was shut.
The haze in the room was getting to him, that he knew, for he could feel the gentle lull of sleep and slight sway of his vision as he blinked. He was sure he'd feel the lumpiness of his limbs if he moved.
The door was as nondescript as a door could be. But Thomas stared at it like it was the most interesting thing in the world, because he didn't want to close his eyes. Because once he did, the images of Newt and Aris would flood his mind. And he'd never be able to pull away from unconsciousness.
So he stared.
Some way or another, he no longer had the strength to hold himself up. His back hit the ground, but he continued to stare up at the ceiling - patterns of rocks, rough and raw.
Slowly but surely, the gas worked its way into his head. He felt himself slip from the grasp of consciousness, and after hours - okay, probably minutes - of fighting against the wave of black, he let himself sleep.
His dreams were scattered.
(A/N: OKAY idk how you guys have been imagining my dream parts until now but imagine this like in S5E6 of teen wolf if you've watched it)
First, there was him back in WICKED, sneaking off somewhere to meet with Newt. This was when Newt had first arrived. When WICKED was still composed; less strict.
There'd been a girl, a few years younger than them, following Newt around; always holding on to his shirt. She was a precious little thing, but them being them, they always teased her until she cried. Thomas smiled.
Next, he'd been sent back to the Glade. He relived the events of his arrival, of Newt, of everything. Sweet as they were, his dreams had a bitter undertone. Like something wasn't quite right. Dream Thomas couldn't figure it out.
Somewhere in his mind, he remembered that people always go through their lives again right before they die.
Soon, it faded to nothing. Thomas tried to grab on to something, a lingering memory or a face, a name, but all he had left was a sea of emptiness. Dull waves drowning him in a confused pool of hurt and sorrow.
The waves faded. He heard a grinding sound, then it was like he was falling, falling...
Thomas woke up.
There was a moment of tranquility, as there always is when one first wakes up. He looked at the chamber, the worn stone walls, propping himself up on his elbows
Then, he turned to look at the source of the grinding sound. A lean figure came into view, standing unsurely by the doorway.
Thomas blinked, and all the memories and feelings came flooding back.
The last image - the image of Newt kissing Aris - burned behind his eyes, like a permanent tattoo in his vision. It knocked the wind out of him. He lay, still, on the stone floor, his heart aching with each thud.
He felt footsteps next to him, running ones. Thomas closed his eyes, as if he could block everything out. He couldn't. Someone leaned over him and he smelled the strong scent of... of...
Newt.
Thomas's eyes fluttered open and his heart skipped a beat as his eyes were met with deep chocolate ones. He wanted to scream, to thrash, to ask Newt how could he have done that to him? He was the only one he'd loved, the only one he'll ever love, and the moment he saw them he could have sworn he saw his life drain away; did he have any idea whatsoever what the mere thought of him did to his heart? But no words came out. Thomas lay gasping.
"Tommy- I'm so sorry. I understand if you hate me now, but you've got to understand what you heard isn't true, Aris forced me to say it, and- and the kiss too. It wasn't true, Tommy! I felt nothing but disgust with him, with you it's completely different, it's like something in my life was right for once, then this bloody Scorch burns it all down. I'm sorry, Tommy, I still love you. Please..." Newt's voice trailed off. His hands were shaking against Thomas's face.
Thomas reached up to wipe a tear off Newt's cheek. His fingers burned at the touch; it'd been way too long since they had any physical contact. Well, any contact whatsoever. Thomas needed Newt. He needed the feeling of his arms wrapped around his own body, the feeling of safety when he was in Newt's arms. He needed Newt's genuine smiles, the feeling of his lips against his. He needed Newt like a drug.
Newt leaned down, perhaps unconsciously, and his lips brushed Thomas's. Thomas stiffened, more out of shock and bliss than anything else, but Newt immediately pulled back. "I shouldn't have done that, I know you're still mad, I'm-" and right there and then, Thomas decided it didn't matter what Aris made Newt do, or what he said. All that mattered was that he was here right now; they were here right now, together, and alive.
"That's right," he said, "you shouldn't have. I should."
He pulled Newt down, until their lips pressed almost painfully against each other's, and they just lay like that for a moment, soaking in each other's taste. Thomas couldn't get more of Newt. He wanted more, wanted deeper, even though Newt was fully on top of him, fingers tangled in his hair, and his back against the stone floor. He wanted to touch every inch of his skin, to make him his.
A cough ricocheted off the walls of the cavern. Thomas didn't care, but Newt lifted himself off Thomas. A very embarrassed Teresa stood at the doorway, obviously trying not to look at them. Newt's face reddened, but Thomas was smug as he followed them out the door. He didn't bother to smooth down his hair.
When he passed Aris, his smirk got wider. Aris scowled.
On the way to the Safe Haven they were promised, Teresa told Thomas everything - how WICKED had threatened them to do it, for more variables. Teresa was apologetic; Aris wasn't.
Thomas decided he didn't need them in his life anyways. He's got Newt, and his friends from the Glade, and that's all that mattered.
A little while later, they caught up with both Groups A and B, where they were huddled around something. "Hey man, missed you guys and your gross makeout sessions. You might want to come look at this," he said hastily, looking pointedly at Thomas and Newt's joined hands. The crowd parted silently when they arrived, all eyes on them. Thomas can't say he wasn't used to it by now.
With a hand on Newt's back, they walked towards the object of interest.
It was a small flag. On it, three words.
The Safe Haven.
A/N: First of all, I'm SO SORRY I know I said on my other fanfic that I'd update this last weekend, but I've just been really really busy, with school and projects and all that. I hate not updating as much as you, but sometimes I just don't have the inspiration to write, yaknow.
Second of all, I really want to be able to draw and JUST FOR THE FANART ughhhh I have so many great ideas BUT I CANT DRAW THEM because my art skills are unbelievably nonexistent.
I love writing A/Ns haha because it's like a place I can just write random crap to you guys and elude myself into thinking that people actually read it XD IF YOU DO, YAY FOR YOU here's a cookie
QOTC: What's one thing you'd want to change about yourself?
AOTC: Accent -.-
PLEASE vote for this if you liked it, and comment your feedback! UNTIL NEXT TIME :D
YOU ARE READING
Silver Lining (Newtmas)
Fanfiction(NOTE: CONTAINS SPOILERS) Thomas had always stared at Newt behind the screens of WICKED. When Newt was sent up, he gave up all hope of ever seeing him again. As things got worse, however, Thomas was tasked to go up to the Glade himself. But every cl...
