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

[shuck_you]

"Or what? You're gonna try and wake me up so I can't get back to sleep either?" Thomas asked, making a lackluster attempt at rolling away from Newt's hand.

He didn't really want to get away. Not now. Not ever. "I can't take the truth back, Newt. You're ugly. Just hideous."

He's smiling as he says the words, hopeful that Newt can see that in the dim light.

[bloodyinspired]

"Well, if I'm awake, you might as well be, right, shuckface?" His hand slides around to the small of Thomas' back, tugging him closer. "You're lying and you know it."

[shuck_you]

Thomas laughed again, sliding closer willingly. He bent towards Newt, leaning his forehead against his shoulder and inhaling deeply. It used to be that he could smell sweat and dirt on Newt's skin, something all the Gladers had in one form or the other.

Lately, it's been the scent of his soap and, right now, it's the fear lingering from his nightmare.

"What was the nightmare about?" he mumbled quietly.

[bloodyinspired]

"The Maze," says Newt, and he laughs, because it's such a predictable thing by this point. "Running." He shifts, pushing the fingers of his free hand into Thomas' dark hair. "It's okay. It's over."

[shuck_you]

"It is," Thomas agreed, closing his eyes and trying to comfort with his presence since his words weren't always the greatest. "Doesn't mean what it did to us ever goes away."

They were proof positive of how big of an impact the Maze could have. "I hate what happened to you."

[bloodyinspired]

"Shhhhhh," says Newt, curling his arms more tightly around Thomas, shifting around until Thomas' head is pillowed on his bicep, until the tips of their noses are almost touching. "It's okay. What happened, happened, but here I am, right here, with you so everything's better than it has any right to be."

[shuck_you]

"Yeah," Thomas whispered, opening his eyes because seeing Newt from this close, seeing him alive and well and here was something Thomas wasn't ever going to get tired of seeing. "Don't ever go anywhere."

Thomas had been in this city long enough to know that people disappeared. Sometimes, people just were gone without a trace and he knew it could happen to either one of them.

But, he didn't want that to happen. Didn't know how he'd keep on walking if Newt did disappear.

[bloodyinspired]

"Like I could leave you again, Tommy," he says, and he sways in, his lips just barely brushing against Thomas'.

He'd set the world on fire before that happened again.

[shuck_you]

"Good," Thomas said, breathing the word against Newt's lips. He wanted to lean forward and close that last bit of distance but he had something else to say first. "Because if you did, nothing could stop me from finding you and kicking your shucking ass."

He managed to keep his expression calm, utterly serious, for just a few seconds longer before he smiled.

[bloodyinspired]

"Good that," says Newt, grinning broadly, squeezing Thomas' arm again. "And I'd deserve it, too. I really, really bloody would." Sometimes, he dreams of being a Crank. It's formless and hurting, scalding hot, and he never remembers details after he wakes up.

[shuck_you]

"Probably for the best you just stick around," Thomas mumbled, slinging an arm around Newt's waist to anchor himself to the other boy. "You know how annoying I can be when I'm pissed off."

[bloodyinspired]

"Bloody unbearable," agrees Newt, leaning his forehead against Thomas'. "I'd rather avoid that. Again."

[shuck_you]

"You sure?" Thomas asked, smile in his voice. He scratched out an idle, erratic pattern against Newt's back, fingers gliding against the soft fabric of his shirt. "I've got a lot of questions I can ask you if it'd make you feel better."

[bloodyinspired]

The feeling of Thomas' nails through his shirt is somehow unbelievably comforting and Newt sinks into it a little, his fingers still stroking against bare skin just under the hem of Thomas'.

"You can ask," he says. "If you want. Just this once."

[shuck_you]

Thomas hadn't actually expected Newt to give him permission to seriously ask him a question. He'd expected to get his shoulder shoved or his knee kicked before Newt laughed and told him to 'blood shut up' or something similar.

Thomas brought his head up enough that he could see Newt's eyes while he thought about what he wanted to ask. Finally, he finds something. It could be a question that Newt would brush off or it could be something dangerous, something that opened up a box neither could close again.

"Would you change anything?" he asked. "About how it all happened?"

[bloodyinspired]

He goes quiet for a moment, thinking about the answer to that question. He chews the inside of his lip for a second, and swallows.

"I wish I hadn't hated you so much at the end," he says, finally, quietly. "I wish you'd read that note and done it sooner, before all that hate got in."

[shuck_you]

"I'm sorry," Thomas whispered forcefully, tightening his hold on Newt. "I'm sorry, Newt. I didn't know. I didn't want to believe it."

He'd been greedy and selfish. Newt's feelings had been second to his own during that horrible time. It was what he wanted and screw what was best for Newt. He'd been a complete slinthead.

[bloodyinspired]

"It's okay," says Newt, wishing he hadn't said anything, wishing he had it in him to lie to Thomas. They'd been through too much, hadn't they? "Okay? I'm here. We're fine. It's fine."

[shuck_you]

"Mostly fine," he corrected, he mumbled, reaching up to brush Newt's hair back from his face and cupping the back of his head gently. "I'm sorry."

He'd be sorry for the rest of his life. No matter what Newt said, no matter how good things were right now, he'd always be sorry for what happened to Newt and his part in it.

[bloodyinspired]

More than anything about this strange new world, Newt finds Thomas' hands on him comforting. He leans into the touch, eyes slipping closed for a second.

"Stop apologising, shuckface."

[shuck_you]

"Never," Thomas mumbled, shaking his head and bringing Newt closer to him. "You're gonna have to learn to live with it, slinthead. It's gonna happen."

Even if he managed not to apologize to Newt himself, the words would constantly be running through his head, a litany that never stopped.

[bloodyinspired]

"I plan to have a long, long time to find out," murmurs Newt, because they've been given this second chance and what he knows is that he's going to grab it as hard as he can with both hands. "Just shut up, okay?" Smiling, he brushes his lips against the tip of Thomas' nose.

[shuck_you]

"Okay." Tonight, he'd listen to Newt. Tonight, he'd let Newt silence him with his lips and his arms and the brush of Newt's hair against his cheek.

Tomorrow, he'd be right back to carrying his guilt around like a scarlet letter but tonight, he'd let himself forget for a few hours, pressed against Newt in the cool darkness.

[bloodyinspired]

That's all that Newt needs to hear before he leans in and kisses Thomas properly, firm and definite, his hand firm on Thomas' arm to remind him that he's right there. For tonight, at least, everything is more than fine.

[shuck_you]

Words are easily misconstrued. They're dangerous and sharp, hurled at someone with the intention of hurting and cutting.

This, though, this is easy. This is emotion, pure and simple. This is something that Thomas wants -- no, this is something that Thomas needs.

When Newt kissed him, Thomas's response was immediate. His world narrowed down to the feel of Newt's lip, soft and pliable against his own mouth and Newt's hand, anchoring him to the world, preventing him from getting lost in his own mess of a head.