"I'm just going to tell you the story. Don't interrupt me or I'll stop. Got it?" Newt said quickly, not meeting Thomas in the eye. Thomas nodded. He told himself to shut up.
His adam's apple wobbled as the boy started.
"A few months ago, this boy named Leo came from the Box. He was around my age. I uh, I- I liked him." Their eyes met, brown to blue, one timid and one just staring back.
Newt's words seemed to come easier after saying that, but they were still shaky.
"But, a few weeks after he arrived, he decided to go into the maze to save Jia," he said bitterly, spitting her name. Newt's face transformed into a look that one can only have when they purely despise someone.
"But he never came back. Gally reckons his body is still out there." Newt's lanky body shuddered, his blue eyes fixed on a certain leave that had fallen from the tree. Thomas had to resist the urge to hug the boy until he was out of breath. How would Newt react if Thomas touched him? He debated this for a while, then scooted closer and put his arm around the shaking boy. He could only imagine how he must feel.
Newt tensed as Thomas wrapped his arm around his back, but then relaxed and leaned into it.
"I don't want to repeat that. Not with you, Tommy." Newt whispered, finally looking at Thomas, his eyes shining with unfallen tears. Thomas' heart ached for this boy. It was something about the way he said "Tommy." Newt was clearly trying hard not to cry, his eyes darting across Thomas's face. Thomas had a lump in his throat. He swallowed, hard, but it did nothing.
Then, something in those blue eyes broke, and the wall they had been trying to hold up crashed to the ground.
Newt rushed forward into Thomas's arms, wrapping his skinny arms around his waist. He sobbed into Thomas's chest. Thomas placed one hand around Newt's shoulders, and the other in his hair, pulling him closer. The other boy's chest heaved as he sobbed his heart out. Thomas was leaning against the concrete wall, Newt in his arms.
Thomas gazed at the boy's hair as Newt tried to speak, his cheek against Thomas's chest, probably to apologize. But Thomas didn't care. Everyone cries. Thomas placed his chin on Newt's forehead, rubbing his fingers across Newt's neck.
They sat together, bodies pressed against each other, for what seemed like hours. Newt's sobs steadied and he began to calm down. He pulled away from Thomas's chest, leaving a wet spot in the middle. But Thomas didn't mind. Of course he didn't.
Two sapphire eyes looked up at Thomas, bloodshot from crying. Newt opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it and leaned against the wall instead, his eyes closed, dark circles under them. His arms still shaking. Other people would say he looked terrible. But Thomas didn't think he did. Newt would always look perfect to him. Maybe it was the way he ran his fingers through his hair to get it out of his eyes, or the way his mouth turned down when he frowned.
And that, my friends, is when Thomas realized.
He loved Newt.