SONDER (IV): tmr thomas

013: I should know him.

Leo 13

A few hours after the altercation on the board, we are soaring through the air. Everyone has been left to their own devices, in this cramped space. I lie with Newt on the bed in one of the three bedrooms. He plays with my hair, delicately twirling a strand with his fingers. This moment could be perfect, if my white shirt wasn't stained red with blood, and if he was happier.

I lean my head down into his dark blue shirt. The shirt smells, which isn't abnormal for us. I try to pretend this moment is perfect, but it isn't. We are wearing clothes that aren't ours, on a bed that isn't ours, with an unfortunate fate tucking us in for the mid-afternoon. I try to pretend that his shirt is the ocean but then I become a ship trapped in a storm. I try to pretend his shirt is the night sky but then I become a rocket hurtling through space without a course. Pretending won't solve our problems, no matter how many times I pretend that it will.

"What happened?" I try to bring myself back to Earth, but we are flying.

Newt shrugs, the sheets wrinkling against each other. I can feel his arm move under my head, jolting me, although unintentionally. In this tight space, I can feel every movement of his. I wonder if he notices.

"I'm not playing doctor right now," I pull myself off his arm, staring at him. My hair, undone, falls in my face, obscuring me from his view. I can peak through though, catching his eyes squint.

"You are always playing doctor, Lee," he pulls himself up. He tucks his feet in as he crosses his legs.

I pull myself up to follow him, tucking the hair out of my eyes as I do so. "I can't help it. It's in my nature."

"Well, my nature now is to shout at people and shove them, but I'm bloody resisting." His chest tightens. I flinch back. He glances up at me, his eyes lingering on my face. When he finally exhales, he gets out of the bed and turns to face a wall.

"Are you afraid of me?" He speaks away from me, so his voice is muffled. I pull myself out of the bed, rounding up behind him.

I reach my hand forward, but I can't manage to grab on to him. Shuck, this is just like the Glade all over again. Newt has always been within arms reach, but I've never grasped him. No, this is more like the Scorch. He is farther away now than he has ever been.

"I'm afraid with you," I correct him. I pause too long between every reply to him, as I try to formulate the perfect response in my head. No matter what, I can't mess this up. His life hangs in the balance in front of me. "I want to help you, but I can't. Not just because I don't know how, but because every time you fall, I feel the ground slip away from beneath my feet. You are everything I've ever known. Your face is one of the first I ever saw, your body the first I've ever touched. I don't know how to lose you."

Newt turns around, taking my hand in his. We were with WICKED for so long that his callused hands have grown soft. He has no more fight in them, at least, no fight that he has chosen. I reach my hand up, tucking Newt's soft blonde hair out of his eyes. There is a scar on his cheek, one which I have become accustomed to but only am just noticing. While I don't remember anything without Newt, he knows a world without me.

"You don't know me," he tells me. I step closer to him, closing the gap between our chests. "That's not your fault, love. I have been shucking keeping secrets from you."

"I don't need to know them," I correct him, looking up at him. I get on my toes so that my nose grazes his. Maybe I can feel panic in my chest, but I ignore it. I am not the Leo who panicked when the doors shut on the first night. I am the one who stood up to Alby, refusing to let him banish Michelle. I am the one who took the fall for Dawn, and who forcibly sedated her to protect her.