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⋆˚⟡˖ ࣪✩ ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆｡°✩ ⋆˚⟡˖ ࣪✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆｡°✩
Thomas looked up at the sky from where he lay in his hammock.
He couldn't sleep, he never could.
Nightmares, the thoughts in his head, they wouldn't let him.
He had been in the glade for a few weeks. It wasn't too bad, he was training to be a runner with Minho, that was nice.
There was Newt. God, Newt.
Thomas wanted that boy so bad, he felt the pain of it in his chest every time he even thought of him.
Newt didn't want Thomas though.
He thought he did, but Thomas knew if Newt really knew him, he wouldn't.
Three weeks Thomas had been in the glade, and he'd avoided changing around a single soul without being questioned.
Three weeks nobody had noticed his binder strap when it would barely be visible if he was running.
In a glade full of guys Thomas didn't feel like he fit in. He tried, obviously. Him and Minho laughed, fought, talked as though they were equals.
He didn't want to lose that.
Chuck might have been starting to get suspicious, but Thomas played it off.
The other guys didn't pay enough attention to him to care.
Then, Newt.
Thomas didn't know how it was possible he had fallen for Newt so hard, so quickly.
Newt was gay, that wasn't the problem.
The problem was Thomas.
Newt liked god's, Thomas just didn't really fit that category fully.
It didn't help that Thomas wanted Newt more than anything else. But nobody in the glade had any idea Thomas wasn't "normal."
He really had no idea how he was supposed to keep this a secret forever.
As if on cue, he heard Chuck rustle beside him.
He flinched, then felt stupid for doing it. The kid was still asleep.
Chuck was the first real friend Thomas made here, he was the most recent arrival before Thomas.
Thomas' first week in the glade had been hell on earth. He knew on some level that he was different from the others.
Broken.
As the confusion of this new life gradually dissipated, the general idea of his identity came back to him.
He knew he was born a girl. Whoever put him here apparently allowed him to wear his binder, which he remembered the concept of.
The memory swipe was confusing like that, he knew he was trans, he wore a binder and he remembered what that was.
Yet he didn't remember anything about coming out, discovering his identity or even picking his name.
The day he remembered his name was the happiest he ever remembered being.
Not that he remembered anything of his life from before.
But something about getting an answer on something about himself, even just the one, was refreshing.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣶⡀
⠀⠀⢠⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣾⠏⠘⠿⣦⣤
⠀⠀⣾⠉⠻⢶⠶⠛⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⢻⡦⠀⠀⢰⡾⠃
⢀⣤⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠷⠿⠿⣾⣷
⢿⣥⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡆
⠀⠈⠉⣿⣀⣾⠟⠛⠋⠁
⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠁
Thomas stirred awake, the morning sun blinding over the towering walls that enclosed the glade.
He hadn't even realized he had fallen back asleep.
His ribs hurt, he fell asleep in his binder again. He took a few shallow breaths before he got up and headed toward the showerhouse.
Thomas rushed there, prayed to whoever was up there that he didn't run into anyone on the way.
He didn't.
When he made it there he was quick to get out of his shirt and get his binder off. He rested his back against the wall and sank to the floor.
His shirt lay discarded next to him on the floor.
Thomas let out a deep exhale. He was tired, in more ways than one.
As if to interrupt his thoughts, his moment of privacy, the handle to the door wiggled, then swung open.
The moment of heads up was just enough to frantically pull his shirt on and sweep the binder behind his back.
Newt walked in.
Fuck.
Thomas meant to say something, anything that would explain why he was on the floor, out of breath, like an idiot.
"Tommy?" Newt asked, a concerned look on his face.
He knew something was wrong, of course he did.
"Yeah?" Thomas responded quietly. He tried to play off the way he hunched his shoulders.
"You.. alright mate?" Newt asked, tone almost- gentle.
Thomas nodded. Newt wasn't buying it.
Newt glanced over Thomas, he noticed the hunched shoulders. He saw the binder poorly hidden behind Tommy's back.
Oh.
"Can I sit?" Newt quietly asked.
Thomas nodded again, and Newt slid to sit next to him.
Newt did the only thing he could think to do in this situation.
He leaned in, slowly. He kissed Tommy, gently, a little unsure.
Thomas pulled back, stuttered out something along the lines of:
"You don't- I'm not-"
"Tommy."
Newt kissed him again, then pulled back to speak softly, almost against his lips.
"I love you Tommy, from the moment I saw you. I know, and I know what you're going to say."
Thomas couldn't form a response to that.
He grabbed the side of Newts jaw and kissed him again. This time it was more sure.