(Foreshadowing?)
After the door closed behind him, his walk turned into a sprint. He burst out the door of the Homestead and let the chaos unfold before his eyes. He saw at least four Grievers tormenting the Gladers, their inhuman cries sent shivers down Newt's spine. Nonetheless, he grabbed a torch and ran. He herded some of the Gladers away from the oncoming Grievers.
"Get back!" He cried, waving his torch at the snapping jaws of one of the creatures. It shrieked and ripped the torch from his hand and spit it out into the nearby grass. Bare from the afternoons snow pull, it quickly caught fire and soon flames engulfed the field. He scrambled away from the griever and followed everyone else to the other side of the Glade.
"Get to the box!" He shrieked. One by one he watched multiple people jump inside the metal box in the ground but the Grievers were approaching quickly. Newt reached for the knife he kept stowed away in the back of his belt and turned to face the nearest one as the box filled up. He swiped at the snapping jaws, the knife only nicked the side of its face.
"Newt!" He turned quickly to see who's called his name, but the griever had seized its opportunity and knocked him to the ground it's jaws snapped at him as the grotesque drool fell onto his skin. He took his knife and buried it in the skin of its underbelly and he felt a rush of satisfaction as it shrieked in pain. He heard the familiar ticking sound of the stinger loading up its venom and prepared to feel the burst of pain that accompanied it.
But suddenly the griever wasn't on top of him anymore, it had scurried off shrieking in pain. It's skin was torched with the light of fire, someone had thrown one of the glass jars that held light at it.
"Newt get up!" He looked up and saw Teresa above him, she grasped him by his bicep and heaved him to his feet. He scrambled after her as the Griever shrieked and rolled around in the grass causing more flames to light the ground.
"Get to the slammer!" Newt called after them. He ran as fast as he could but his injured leg quickly slowed him down.
"Newt! Help me!!!" He stopped in his tracks and turned to see who had called for him. He spotted Minho wrestling a griever in much of the same position that he himself had been in before. Panting, he rushed to his aid and flung his knife at the Griever, landing it in the side of its soft green surface. The Griever screeched and reared back on its metal claws. At any other time, he would have flung himself at the Griever to save his friend but he had things to live for now. He looked around for something to use and spotted an abandoned torch among the large flames that engulfed the glade.
He waved the torch back and forth in front of the griever's face, he saw the flames reflect in its eyes as it reared back. When it opened its mouth to screech again, Newt saw an opportunity and shoved the flames deep in its throat.
"Run Minho! Run!" He cried as the Griever flew backwards, it's screech seemed more horrifying than before with the flames in its throat. Newt couldn't help but watch it struggle as his heart pounded in his chest.
"Newt!" Minho grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. "Run!" Newt sprinted after Minho who had gained a few steps on him already. They sprinted toward the Slammer when a sudden thought struck Newt.
Thomas.
The fire.
The Grievers.
He stopped in his tracks despite the Grievers and despite everything else. He turned to look at the homestead, the place where he thought Thomas would be safest and it was in flames.
His heart stopped in his chest and everything around him grew silent. He didn't hear the Grievers or the shrieks of people in pain anymore. He could only hear the flames crackle around him as if he were standing right next to the homestead. He ran across the grass, he ran through the flames he ran through the hot coals that signified a fire that had recently burned out.
When he reached the Homestead, the building collapsed on itself.
"Thomas!" Newt cried. He wanted to run through the rubble and lift up every piece. What if he was still in there? Still alive and wondering why Newt had abandoned him once again. He ran until his face was inches from the flames. "Thomas!" He cried again, he could feel tears prickling at his eyes as he watched.
This couldn't be happening again.
"Newt!" He turned his head again to see who had called him, but the sense of urgency had left him now. He saw the Glade, his home, in flames. He felt nothing but defeated. "Newt!" He saw Minho approaching him again but he was less urgent. Only then did he notice that the Grievers were leaving. He turned to face the flames and told himself he could find Thomas if he just looked in the flames.
"Newt," he breathed as he finally made it to his side. "What's wrong?" He turned to look at the burning Homestead again. Newt took a step toward the burning homestead, but Minho had a firm grip on his wrist.
"Thomas was in there." He breathed. Hot ashes flew in the air as another part of the Homestead collapsed. "I left him in there. I told him to stay and wait for me here, Minho! Let me go!" He didn't realize he was shouting until Minho took a small step back. He kept a firm grip on Newt's wrist.
"He probably got out, Newt." He said slowly. "He wouldn't just burn to death in there waiting for you." Newt just looked away. He didn't know what to believe.
"Minho." He croaked, tears brimmed in his eyes. Minho's features softened as he watched his friend break down in front of him. He pulled him into an embrace. Newt couldn't hold it together anymore, hot tears flooded down his cheeks as he held onto his friend.
"It'll be okay, Newt." He murmured quietly. They stayed like that for a while longer before Minho pulled away. "Thomas is going to be fine." Newt looked to the ground as Minho looked somewhere behind him as if Thomas was going to rise through the flames. Newt wiped his face with the back of his hand, the only thing he could think about was Thomas trapped in there, looking for a way out only to be burned to death. He thought about his screams, cries for help- he wiped away his tears again and cleared his throat.
"Gather everyone"
"Newt-"
"Gather everyone up at the box, we need to do a head count to see who-" his voice cracked and he looked back toward the flames that lit up his face. "See who's still here. I'll be there in a minute." The flames sent a wave of heat through his body as Minho left him to stand alone. He tried to swallow his sorrow, tried to take his mind off of everything but when he took his mind off Thomas, he thought of Daniel.
His eyes drifted over the fire, then drifted to the wall where everyone carved their names into the cement. Without a second thought, he found himself walking in that direction and as he approached he looked at all the names that had been crossed out and wondered how many more would suffer the same fate. His fingers ran over Daniel's name, specifically the line that had been scratched through the middle. Then he spotted Thomas's name nearby. If he hadn't lost his knife to a griever he might have scratched it out then. Suddenly he was mildly aware of the cut on his jaw, the sting he felt when a tear managed to seep its way into the bloody gash.
He wiped his face with his sleeve again and managed to look to the box where it seemed as though the whole Glade had gathered. He took one last look at the wall, but he couldn't make himself look at anyone else's name but his own. He wanted to scratch that name off too. Eventually he met everyone at the box and approached where Minho and Alby stood.
"How many?" He croaked. Minho and Alby shared a look.
"We lost four, Rachel, Danny, Jonny, and-"
"That's everyone who went passed the walls." Newt mused, scratching his neck. The two other boys nodded.
"We realized the same thing." Minho said. Newt looked over the crowd and shook his head.
"We need to leave as soon as we can." He stated firmly. "If the Grievers are coming after those who made it outside the walls then there's only a matter of time before they come back for the rest of us." He spotted Winston nearby, he, himself and Minho where the only ones left from that original group.
"Search the glade, make sure we didn't miss anybody." Minho instructed to the others.
"Let me know, Minho. I need a minute." Newt said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Sure, take as much time as you need Shank." He gave Newt a sad look and not knowing where else to go, he headed into the woods. He didn't know why, but he felt comfort among the trees. The way they huddled over him have him some kind of security. When he was deep enough to be next to the silent pond, he crouched down and fell to his knees. He put his face in his hands to sob but nothing came out anymore.
He was so stupid, he took too long to let Thomas in his life that he had missed so many moments and opportunities with him. So stupid. He cursed at the sky, at those people who had put them there. He wanted to know why they did this, why would they put a big group of teenagers in a maze to suffer for their own entertainment? Life couldn't be so cruel, surely. And yet, maybe it was. It seemed to be for him at least, every time he found someone he liked- or loved even- they seemed to get ripped away from him.
The muddy water seeped through the knees of his pants. He was so tired of it all, so tired of the pain and misery to have nothing to look forward to anymore. It just wasn't worth it. Finally, he felt the tears on his cheeks. Because maybe realization only came to him when fear and death happened. He always thought that he was a good person, it's what he'd always told himself. I am a good person, and good things will come. He seemed to have to tell himself that more than a normal person should-or maybe normal people don't have to tell themselves that after all. He didn't know normal, didn't know what it would ever feel like to be normal because he was stuck in the scarred body with a traumatized mind.
He had sworn himself then to never love another person, never let himself be vulnerable to become attached to someone else again because these things always happened to him. His throat was raw with sorrow and guilt.
It was his fault.
If he'd just let Thomas come with him, maybe things would be different. Maybe Thomas would still be here- maybe he could tell him that yes of course he loved him. That he'd meant to tell him so many times before but he was scared of this new commitment- scared of leaving the memory of Daniel behind, but also guilty. Guilty that he'd been able to move on so fast- only weeks from his death he'd found someone else to love. Now he caused another death. Death followed Newt like a moth to a flame- and yet even after his own attempts had failed he'd still managed to be alive.
He cursed the sky again for good measure and got to his feet. He threw rocks and small boulders at the water, he punched the trees and hit the ground because the pain was too much. So unbearable that if he'd still had his blade he didn't know what he would do with it now if it was still in the sheath behind his back.
"I'm sorry, Thomas." He whispered to himself. He could feel his abdomen shake, the heat of the fire still touched his skin in places he hadn't noticed before.
He thought of Thomas in the box when he first was sent up to the Glade. The fear in his eyes and the sweat on his brow. He was wearing that stupid blue shirt that Newt had loved so much. That stupid hair cut and that stupid hint of facial hair on his face. His stupid beautiful eyes and stupid laugh. His stupid everything.
He found himself at the bank of the pond and dipped his hands in the water. It was surprisingly cool compared to the flames that haunted his eyes. He splashed the water in his face, and decided he'd better pull himself together again. Maybe he could put on a brave face now since the sun was rising and people would surely notice the pain on his face and the tears in his eyes. For good measure, he wet his hair as well. He didn't know why, but he felt better. Not good, but better.
As long as someone didn't bring him up, he was pretty positive that he could make it through the day at least. He sat down on his rear, his mind told him to get up, to face the others, but his body fought it. His body told him of his exhaustion, his unwillingness to fight anymore so he stayed. Curled up by the bank of the pond with the snow and the leaves, his tears sealed his eyes closed. Exhaustion hit him with the weight of ten Grievers and he let himself succumb to sleep.
**
When he woke again, his body was stiff and the sun had risen high in the sky. He stared at the leaves in front of his face, brown and empty of life. It was cheesy, but he felt the same as the leaves. He didn't want to move, not ever again and his body fought him on it anyway. So he stayed and tried to remember Thomas's touch, the way he caressed his hair when Newt was sick and the soft feel of his lips. The knowing tone when he talked about the others and about their future.
Then he tried to think about the memories that Thomas showed him. When they were children and when they were happy. They didn't know what was happening outside or why they had ended up together at WICKED. Maybe it was fate that had brought them together, brought them together to protect one another. Newt had let Thomas down.
He felt a single tear trickle down the side of his face as he remembered every moment he spent with Thomas. The night of the bonfire and the many nights he spent squished together in that hammock in Newts room in the Homestead.
Somehow he had a perfect image of Thomas in his mind. One morning when Newt had woken before him and took his opportunity just to look at Thomas. Looked at the freckles that dotted his cheeks and the mole on his neck. He admired the dark features of his eyelashes and the way his hair had grown too long but he refused to cut it. He remembered his voice in the mornings and the grunts he made when he didn't want to wake.
He remembered everything he had taken advantage of in the past because Thomas cared about him and Newt had played with his emotions. Lead him on then pushed him away again. Because he was a coward afraid of his own emotions.
A twig snapped somewhere behind him and he shot upright, his mind going to the worst scenario and then maybe the best. A griever? Thomas? He looked around the trees of the glade and didn't see anyone, but he got to his feet his bad leg letting him down once again. He limped to the closest tree and pressed his body against it.
"Newt?" It was a girl's voice and he stepped back out in the open to see Mona. "There you are." She breathed. She looked relieved to have even found him.
"Alby's been worried sick." She quickly eyed him up and down and began to approach once again.
"Has he now?" He rolled his eyes. He had to refrain from spitting out a smart remark.
"Cmon they need you at the box." She seemed awfully cheery to have just lost four of their friends.
"What's so bloody important that they can't handle it on their own?" He frowned.
"You know they didn't tell me that." She put a hand on her hip and looked at him sternly. "You also know they won't let me back without you so you better come on." Newt sighed and looked around. The last thing he wanted to do was leave the comfort of the trees.
"Weren't you in the Homestead?" He asked suddenly. She hesitated but eventually shook her head.
"Uh, no I wasn't. I left a few minutes after you did to try and help the ones that got hurt and all that. Never been much of a fighter." When she got close enough to touch him, she reached up and lifted his chin to get a better look at the gash there but he quickly pulled away.
"Just leave it alone." He muttered bitterly.
"Newt that could get infected-"
"Just leave it alone. I don't want to be touched by anyone." He shuttered involuntarily and took a step back.
"Fine I'll get someone to look at it later." She looked back over her shoulder and motioned her head in the opposite direction. "Would you come on now?" Newt sighed but eventually gave in and followed her out of the forest.
"You look crazy yknow." She told him as they walked into to open pasture. "You sure you don't want to do something about that?" She motioned to Newt's general head and face area but he just rolled his eyes.
"You know I'm not trying to impress anyone with my good looks now am I?" He retorted harshly.
"If you insist." She shrugged and Newt took a moment to really take in the damage of the Glade. Most of the grass was burnt away, and all the snow had been melted by the fires. The Homestead, or what used to be the homestead, was left in a black heap of charred wood and ashes. Mona lead him to the box, which had seemingly become their new meeting place. Minho walked up to him before he could officially make it to the large crowd of people.
"We couldn't find you, Shank or else we'd have told you sooner." He said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
"Told me what?" Minho shot Mona a look who just shrugged.
"Well, I guess you'll see when we get up there." Minho said with a smile. Newt frowned, wondering what the hell could be making his friends so oddly happy. Even as the other Gladers parted a path for Newt, he was still engulfed in confusion.
"What's going on?" He had never felt so out of place before. He wasn't really a fan of being the center of attention. A few people turned and whispered into their friend's ear and Newt quickly averted his eyes.
"You'll see."
"Minho, would you just bloody-" he stopped in his tracks when he finally found what everyone had gathered around. This hair was singed and his face was black with ash, but it was him. Something sprouted in his gut and he couldn't help the smile on his face.
"Tommy?"
A/N: I know I somewhat promised a double update last night but I was tired and working on the next chapter SO here's this this morning I'm also going to start making the chapters longer again also does the new cover look weird? It's like cropped weird or somethin maybe
(Yay?)
Enjoy !
-j
(Also going to try and remember to sign off bc I forget too much)