― ➶ ―
The sun was bright above the cold ocean. The dawn had barely broken, yet Tiago was awake already, standing in the surf despite the freezing temperature of the waves. He had his bow in his hand, fingertips clutched at the end of his drawn arrow. He narrowed his eyes, watching for the slightest hint of movement in the water. Something large darted out from beneath a rock near Tiago's feet; he instantly aimed and released his arrow. He watched it pierce straight through the fish's body. A blank stare rushed in and out of his mind before he could grasp onto the image. He let it go, reaching down to grab the squirming fish from the sand.
"Is that breakfast?"
Tiago turned to Brenda, fish raised on the arrow in his hand. He gave her a lopsided grin, holding it out to her. Brenda reached over and took the arrow, not daring to touch the wiggling fish. Tiago chuckled.
"I take it I should grab some more, then?" he questioned, already turning to ready another arrow. Brenda only hummed, her eyes never leaving the dying fish. She had no idea what to do with it. Tiago was the only one who really knew what to do in terms of cooking fish. "Is Newt up yet?"
"Don't think so."
Tiago turned to squint at her; the sun was reflecting off the water, making it difficult for him to see properly. "Thomas?"
He could tell she was suppressing an eye-roll by the way her eyebrows raised and then dropped quickly. He let out a short laugh, focusing his attention back on his bow and arrow. He cursed as he drew back the bowstring; he had been hunting nonstop since they'd arrived at the beach, so his fingers were all plastered up from overuse of his bow. There were blisters and callouses on both hands, which one would've thought made it difficult for him to keep using a bow. Nobody knew why Tiago insisted on going out every morning to hunt on the mountain. Everyone had stopped questioning his actions after two weeks.
Tiago hadn't fully disclosed to anyone about how he'd killed a young boy in their fight against WCKD. The only people who knew that he'd killed anyone at all were Brenda and his mother. He didn't want to tell anyone who he'd killed. He was sure they'd get angry, or be disappointed, or both. He was shouldering the burden on his own. He didn't need other people getting involved. It was his problem. Tiago had caused it, and now Tiago would deal with it.
"I think it's dead."
Tiago looked back to Brenda. The arrow she was holding had an unmoving fish attached to it, rather than the previous squirming and wriggling it had been doing. Tiago hummed in response, turning his gaze back to the water. There wasn't any movement for a few minutes. At least Brenda knew to be quiet around fish because they could sense the vibrations of a person's voice. Others―mostly Frypan―had no idea how to act around hunting. Tiago had taught Brenda a few things about hunting when he'd first met her. It had helped him settle into Jorge's compound quicker, having someone he could talk to about something he enjoyed.
Another fish shot out next to his right ankle. Tiago twisted in his spot, aiming and releasing as quickly as he could. He missed the fish by barely an inch. He cursed again, reaching down to grab the arrow.
"Want me to take this one inside?" Brenda asked. Tiago could hear the hesitation in her voice and chuckled. He knew she didn't like touching or having anything to do with dead animals. People were no problem; she could kill a person without hesitation. For some reason animals were an entirely different story.
"You can just leave it on the rocks, B," Tiago said, jerking his head to the rocks on the dry sand. "I'll get a few more and bring them all in."
"Alright."
Brenda didn't hesitate to plonk the fish onto the rocks, leaving the arrow embedded in it.
Tiago would never admit it to anyone, but he hated being alone. It wasn't something he was ever vocal about. The last time he'd tried to tell someone to stay with him, they'd left anyway, so he figured it was easier to simply stay silent. Being alone meant thinking, and for Tiago, that was now dangerous. He never knew what scenarios his brain could come up with. The first time he'd gone hunting on the mountain near their new camp, his vision clouded with dark hair and the round baby face of a young boy. He couldn't get rid of the image, broke down into a panic attack, and it cost him the deer he was trying to kill. He didn't go back into the forest for weeks after that.
At least now he only saw a brief flash of blue eyes staring through his soul when he released an arrow. Not ideal, but better than having a panic attack every time he touched his bow.
Tiago managed to catch three more fish, dumping each one on the rocks behind him each time he caught them. He wasn't sure who was eating breakfast this morning, but he figured four would be enough. He shoved his arrows back into his quiver (he'd clean them later) and hoisted his bow over his shoulder. He waded out of the water and picked up the fish by their tails, two in each hand, then began the ten minute walk back to what he affectionately called his house.
When he arrived, Tiago saw Frypan, Brenda, and Jorge all sitting at the small table they'd shoved inside the tiny kitchen area. He greeted Frypan and Jorge, who each replied with their own 'good morning', as he set the fish in the sink.
"Anyone wanna wash these?" he offered. "I need to shower."
"I wouldn't," Jorge said quickly, "Thomas and Vince have both been through this morning, so there's probably not much water left."
Tiago clicked his tongue in discontent. He should have thought about that before he decided to go fishing. Since he couldn't shower, Tiago figured he'd be the best person to skin and wash the fish, so he turned back to the sink to start his job.
He figured he'd only been skinning for about five minutes―he was one and a half fishes in―when he heard light shuffling and then felt hands on his hips. Then a chin resting on his shoulder, a light kiss on his neck. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth subconsciously. He turned his head, meeting Newt's bleary, barely-awake eyes. He leaned down at the same time Newt pushed upwards, meeting the blond halfway for a chaste kiss.
"Sleep alright?" he questioned.
"Better than you," Newt said bluntly. Tiago couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him, though he knew Newt was genuinely concerned about his sleeping habits.
"The fish don't sleep, babe."
"I'm sure they don't," Newt replied, a small amount of amusement lacing his words now. Tiago was glad; the last thing he wanted was concern, and especially not from his lover. "Still," Newt continued, "I'm sure you could've waited an extra hour or two before slaughtering them."
Tiago tensed slightly at that, which didn't go unnoticed. He shook it off quickly, focusing on ripping the skin from the fish he was handling. Newt barely lifted the hem of his shirt, finding his hipbones and rubbing small circles there with his thumbs.
"They smell awful." Tiago let out a short laugh at that. "I genuinely don't understand how you guys eat this shit."
"You'd think living in the middle of a maze for three years with limited resources would make you a little less picky about food, but no," Brenda teased.
"Apparently losing all your memories doesn't alter your taste buds," Newt retorted. "I'm ninety percent sure I hated fish before that bloody place."
A round of quiet laughter circled through the group. Newt pulled himself off Tiago's shoulder, tapping his hips lightly once more before heading back into the hall to get dressed, Tiago guessed.
When the fish was skinned, Jorge offered to cook it. Brenda groaned―everyone knew Tiago was better at everything fish related―but Tiago just nodded and slipped out of the room before he could listen to her whining. He heard Brenda pleading for anyone but Jorge to cook, then Jorge's offended scoff, but he walked into his tiny shared bedroom before he could hear the argument break out.
Newt was still changing, half a shirt pulled over his head as he sluggishly tried to put his right arm into the sleeve. He was clearly still half-asleep. Tiago chuckled lightly watching his boyfriend struggle, which was only met with a childish whine from the blond. He moved forward in two large steps, wrapping his arms around Newt's waist and tackling him onto the mattress beside him. Newt let out a huff of laughter when Tiago started attacking his neck in kisses, using his teeth to nip every so often.
"Did you really sleep okay? I didn't wake you up at all?"
Newt let out a sigh, but instead of answering, he just tilted his head down to meet Tiago's gaze. A frown overtook his features as he raised the arm trapped under Tiago's ribs to drag it through the brunet's hair. Tiago's eyes fluttered slightly at the soothing action.
"You don't sleep very well anymore." Tiago's breath hitched. He didn't realize his lack of sleep was noticeable. He figured the first person to figure it out would be Newt, who also happened to be the last person Tiago wanted to know at all. "You always fall asleep after me and you're always up before me. I barely get enough sleep as it is, so how the hell are you even functioning?"
Tiago chose not to answer. He didn't want to worry Newt. The last thing he wanted was to be the primary focus of anyone's concerns, and especially not the day before Operation Rescue Minho From Evil Rats, as Tiago had eloquently named their mission. Instead of words, Tiago chose to bury his face in the blond's shoulder.
"I talked to your mum and she said―"
"Wait, what?" Tiago was sitting up immediately, pulling away from the younger boy. Newt let out a short sigh, making Tiago raise his eyebrows challengingly. "I'm sorry, since when do you interact with my mother?"
"Since I realized you haven't been sleeping. I knew you wouldn't want everyone else to know―"
"But you figured I'd want my mother to know?" Tiago cut in, voice incredulous. "You thought that the woman who abandoned me would want to hear about my problems? You figured that instead of telling someone trustworthy you'd tell the one person I don't want to be involved with ever again?"
"You say 'abandoned' as if she had any other choice," Newt ground out, his voice slightly venomous.
Tiago's mouth dropped open, but he quickly closed it again, clenching his jaw incredibly tight. He tore his gaze from Newt to the wall opposite him, trying to register what he'd just heard. He had no idea what to say now, so he said the first thing he could think of.
"Fuck you."
"Tiago―"
All he had to do was raise a hand for Newt to stop talking. Tiago pushed himself up, clambering ungracefully across Newt's legs to get out of the room as quickly as possible.
"I didn't mean―"
"Shut it," Tiago snapped, yanking the door open and storming down the hall.
― ➶ ―
this chapter is a little shorter than a normal one would be, but i was trying to figure out the perfect place to end it and i couldn't so this is what y'all get lmfao. i've been writing ~200 words every few days for this over the past few weeks, and i don't currently have enough time to sit here and proofread (not that i ever have), so i apologise for any continuity errors.
as always, i hope you enjoyed this chapter and i'll see you in the next one!! :)
[question: what do you guys like the most about tiago? very curious to hear what y'all think lol]