Chapter Text
“‘This is a long way from the Glade,’ you said the other day,” Thomas giggles and blows out smoke, then reaches out to pass the joint to Newt. He likes the warm tingly feeling he gets in his stomach when Newt takes it from him and lingers a moment, shooting him a smile when Thomas caresses the back of his hand with his thumb. Newt’ skin is very smooth and Thomas is obsessed with the small army of freckles there, their soft shape in stark contrast to the jagged lines of Newt’s faint scar.
He always wears long sleeved shirts and they cover most of it but like everyone else, Newt’s body is a canvas to the countless amount of battles they had to fight to get here, to the Last City. The scar Thomas’ fingers run over at this moment? That one he got when they escaped the mob of cranks in the shopping mall and one of the creatures attacked Newt and threw him into a sea of shattered window shards. Thomas himself helped stop the bleeding by ripping off a part of his shirt hem and wrapping it around Newt’s bleeding hand. He’d been lucky the glass missed his arteries.
Before Thomas’ fingers can refresh his memory and explore how far up his arm the scar goes, Newt pulls his hand away to put the gleaming joint between his lips. He looks up to the night sky, squinting his eyes.
“Pity you can’t see the stars from here,” he complains while exhaling the smoke. “I miss them.”
“The stars over the Glade or the scars over the desert?” Thomas asks curiously. He spares the sky a quick glance before he settles his eyes on Newt again, his features soft in the light of the lantern they brought up with them to the roof. Newt is really nice to look at. Thomas is not sure if this is because the simple sight of Newt gives him comfort or if it’s the fact that Newt is without question a very beautiful person, inside and out. His dark chocolate eyes - mostly black up here in the night - his delicate chin under the light stubble and his soft looking, gorgeous hair only accentuate how stunning he is.
“The Glade mostly,” Newt says and takes another drag before holding his hand out to Thomas to pass the joint. “I really liked the view of the starry sky when I couldn't fall asleep. It made me think that there’s more out there - that whenever we would find a way out through the Maze - there would be more for us to explore..freedom under another part of the sky, far away from where we were locked in. Well I guess it was all lies with the whole sky being part of the Maze but in those moments the stars there gave me hope and I won’t forget that.” He sighs. “Or let WICKED take those moments away from me too.”
Thomas wants to catch that sigh, swallow it, infuse it with all the optimism he can find within himself and press it right back into Newt. He would just need to lean forward, capture Newt’s lips with his own and -
And his lips are occupied all of a sudden, the taste of mint and other herbs coating them. Now it’s Newt’s fingers on Thomas’ skin, holding his chin gently along with the joint. His thumb touches the corner of Thomas’ mouth and if Thomas wouldn’t be so occupied with inhaling that funny breeze into his lungs he’d lick it. Lick it, kiss it, suck on it. He really likes Newt’s hands. So instead he reaches up and lets his fingertips continue their journey along Newt’s scars. He can feel his pulse, healthy, strong and steady under Newt’s skin. Newt only stops him when Thomas starts pushing his sleeve up by carefully twisting his wrist in Thomas’ grip and plucking the joint from his lips. His eyes never leave Thomas’ face. Thomas tugs at Newt’s wrist tentatively. They are so close now
Thomas likes to be studied by Newt, he likes how the dark chocolate wanders over his features, how it hooks into his own caramel and how it trails down, down, down.
He exhales and the herbs meet the mint of Newt’s own exhale.
“Tommy…,” Newt whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Do you miss the stars?”
“Not really,” Thomas whispers back.
How can you not miss the stars? Newt’s eyes ask in confusion. He starts to draw back, but Thomas is not having that. Instead he pulls Newt even closer and leans his forehead against Newt’s.
“I’d rather we make it to Safe Haven soon and have you find new hope under the real stars.”