In my dreams I'm dying all the time

[bloodyinspired]

He dreams of being back in the Maze, not in the Glade, but out in the Maze itself, with the light fading. He dreams of walls so high that he can't see the top. In dreams, sometimes, his limp is gone, and he finds himself able to run quicker, but it's never quick enough. Something is chasing him, in the corner of his eye. Griever. Crank. Gilly. Something. Someone.

In his dreams, Newt does the only thing that he can.
He flees.

This time, they're going to catch him; he can already feel that before the toe of his sneaker catches on a tree root and he's falling through space and...

He wakes up, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets and, from the way his ears are ringing, a moment ago, he must have been shouting.

"Bloody hell," he mutters, dragging himself up into a sitting position, pulling up his knees.

Comments

[bloodyinspired]

"Just you," says Newt. There had been times with Alby, yeah - a handful of times with Miho, too - but, somehow, Thomas standing there is all the more beautiful because they're not in the Maze. There had been quiet times in the Glade, moments stolen in filtered green light under the trees, but this is different because this? This is nobody but theirs.

Newt bites his lip, eyes slipping down Thomas' body, taking in all of that bare skin. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

[shuck_you]

"You look like you're painting a picture in your shucking mind," Thomas said shyly. It wasn't like this was the first time, far from it.

"Least it looks like you like what you see," Thomas said, looking down at himself and then back up at Newt. "Unless you're picturing someone else...?"

For so long, they hadn't been able to tease and touch like they were right now. Thomas continued to try and make up for lost time with his terrible sense of humor.

[bloodyinspired]

"Because I am. Sort of." He rolls his eyes at the self-depreciating, unable to fathom how Thomas could possibly serious think that he could be looking at him and picturing anyone except for the person right in front of him. "You look plenty good to me, Tommy."

[shuck_you]

Thomas went to say something else, another quip to possibly make Newt laugh or smile or something but held off. He found he really wanted to just crawl back into bed, covering Newt's body with all his newly exposed skin.

"You gonna just lay there, all covered up like a monk?" he asked, pressing a kiss to his chin.

[bloodyinspired]

"I just got sidetracked, looking at you," says Newt, but then he sits up, wrapping his fingers in the hem of his worn t-shirt, tugging it up over his head. "You want to take care of the rest, Tommy?"

[shuck_you]

"In a second," Thomas said, leaning down so he could kiss each and every rib that he could see now that Newt's shirt was gone. He inhaled the soapy smell on his skin and felt the hard ridge of bone underneath his lips.

One hand skittered down, landing on the waist of Newt's pants and he tried to be slick, tried to get the buttons and zippers down without looking. He wasn't going to have much success, probably.