Good Grief (TMR fic)

Chapter 22

For the second time in three nights, someone wakes me up.

"Ash?"

I flinch again, my heart pounding as I try to get my bearings. It's Thomas this time, kneeling next to me. He doesn't seem to notice my initial panic, preoccupied with something.

"What?" I growl.

"Can we talk?"

I want nothing more than to fall back asleep, but Thomas is my friend. I crawl out of my sleeping bag and stalk to the back of the Homestead with Thomas.

"What's up?" I yawn, trying to not send him daggers with my eyes.

"I... I can't like you," he says, and I frown.

"What?"

"That's not what I mean! I can like you, and I do like you, but, like, as a friend! I can't... have feelings for you." He seems to be done talking, and expecting a response.

"...okay?"

Then Thomas falls apart. "I'm so sorry, Ash. I don't want to hurt you, but it isn't fair to keep flirting with you when the girl... I feel like I knew her. I know it's too early to say I like her, but..."

"Thomas, you aren't making sense," I say, rubbing at my forehead. Does he think I like him? Why are we having this conversation?

Thomas sighs, and I look up at him. With a determined movement, he grabs my chin and kisses me.

I slug him in the gut without a second thought, and he gasps for breath as he doubles over.

"See?" he says, his voice twisted with pain from where I'd hit him. "It's not right. We aren't meant to be like that."

"I shucking know that!" I hiss, wishing I could yell at him without waking the Gladers up. "You're an idiot, Thomas."

I stalk past him towards my sleeping bag, wishing I could hit him again.

Newt is curled up in his sleeping bag, and he almost looks fragile as I pass him. Why do they assume I'm capable of falling in love this quickly?

With a sigh, I crawl into my sleeping bag.

I can't sleep. I'm too mad at Thomas. What was he thinking? He had tried to kiss me. The more I think, the harder it is to sleep, and I toss and turn, wishing I could distract myself.

When I open my eyes to glare at the stars again, I see Newt sitting next to my sleeping bag, watching me. It's hard to see his face in the darkness, especially with his hair framing his face, but he seems concerned.

Without a word, he stands and holds out a hand to me. I take it, and he helps me out of my sleeping bag and to my feet, only letting go when I'm standing in front of him.

We walk side by side towards the Deadheads. Not to our tree, but to the graveyard itself.

Newt drops beside one of the graves, sitting cross-legged. It's Robbie's grave. How often does he come here?

I sit beside him.

"I saw Thomas get you," Newt says, not looking at me. "What did he say?"

I sigh a little. "He seemed to think I'd be upset that he didn't have a crush on me."

Newt snorts. "He's a bit blind, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

"So you don't like him?"

"Newt, what part of our conversation did you miss? I'm not thinking about that sort of thing, I'm trying to escape. At least, I wasn't thinking about it."

"So you are now?"

"Well the two of you are making it bloody hard to now think about it," I snap.

Newt looks up at me, and I can tell he's smiling. "You said bloody."

"What? No. I didn't."

"Yes you did. Ash, do you like me?" His voice is teasing, musical and laced with laughter. "You like listening to me, you like talking like me. Next thing you know you'll be callin' him Tommy and singing my songs. You like me, don't you?"

I scoff and shove him away from where he's leaning towards me. "Shut up. It's just because I've been around you so much."

"Sure," he says, clearly hinting that he doesn't believe me.

I blush and glare at him.

Newt, undaunted, starts to softly sing. I can't stay mad at him, and as he continues, the tension melts out of my shoulders.

Not everything had gone to plan
But we made the best of what we had, you know?
Passing the drink from hand to hand
We admit we really know nothing at all

Stories told to me
And stories told to you
And was it feeling real?
And were they ringing true?

Then he holds out an arm patiently. I look at him, stubbornly refusing to move, but he puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close when I relax against him.

"I was a bit scared," he says, laying down with me nestled against him, "that you'd say yes to Thomas when you said no to me."

I'm glad he can't see my face. I know I'm blushing. "I didn't really say no to you, you know. And I didn't hit you."

His chest vibrates with a laugh. "You hit him?"

"Only because he tried to kiss me."

"He WHAT?"

"Yeah. To prove that we're better as friends."

Newt sighs. "That boy. He's... really clueless, isn't he?"

"You could say that. I'm just furious that he woke me up to have a totally unnecessary conversation like that. Kissing me was awful, but at least it was an excuse to punch him in the gut."

"Ash... I know you're mad, and... I don't blame you, but I think it was rather nice of him. He thought you cared about him, and he wanted to make sure you understood his feelings for you. Maybe he couldn't sleep because he was worrying that he was leading you on. I know it was a stupid way to approach it, but he was probably trying to do the right thing."

I frown, thinking his words over. "Maybe. You're really nice, you know that?"

He chuckles. "I guess. Life has enough klunk without me being hard on people. I might as well be kind."

"Huh," I say, feeling myself grow sleepy. I cuddle in next to Newt, trying to steal his warmth. "Can you sing again?"

"For you, always," he says, and starts singing.

Hold me in this wild, wild, world
'Cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
And in your heat I feel how cold it can get
Now draw me close...

~~
A/N: There are two songs Newt sings in this chapter, "Glory" and "Warmth."