The room was loud, echoing everyone’s voices together. But Thomas didn’t hear any of it. Coming back from the Right Arms headquarters, he had been numb to everything since. He couldn’t eat without worrying he’d throw it up, and he couldn’t speak without his voice cracking, so he didn’t. His head was constantly battling his heart over whether he should tell someone, all he knew was that he couldn’t keep it inside anymore. “Minho”, said Thomas, in a low voice as he came up behind him. It was one of the first words Thomas had said since coming back. Minho had tried to talk to him, ask him about the plan, but Thomas wouldn’t answer. So he just sat with him most of the time. When the older boy turned around, and looked at him, he immediately gave him his whole attention, ready to hear whatever he had to say. Thomas had felt his face go pale when he realized what he was going to tell him. “Thomas, what is it? What’s wrong?”, Minho said. Thomas took his arm and led him to one of the back rooms in the compound, where they could be alone. The room was dim, the sun has set outside, and there were a few stray benches and one table on the side, topped with old glassware. Once there, it was finally quiet and Thomas knew there was no going back. “Your sweating bullets, shuck-face, what the hell is going on?”, said Minho. When Thomas didn’t say anything, he tried a different approach. “Thomas, what is it, come on, talk to me.” “Ok, sit down, I–I have to tell you something”, he replied. They both sat down on one of the benches in the room. Minho was worried, not knowing what to expect. “Minho- I did something-really bad-”, he stammered. Thomas looked at the floor, and he could feel tears coming on. When he heard him sniffle, Minho moved off the bench and knelt down in front of Thomas on the floor, putting his hands on Thomas’ knees. In his calmest voice he said, “Hey. Look at me. What did you do, Thomas”. His eyes fluttered down to the boy in front of him and with tears streaming down his face, said, “Newts dead.”
Minho just stared. He didn’t move or say anything. No, he must have misheard him, because Newts not dead. That was all it was, he just misheard. He blinked, and cleared his throat. “What?”, Minho said. “Newt’s dead, he’s gone”, Thomas answered, while trying to wipe away the tears with his sleeve. “No–”. Now Minho was the one stammering. “No, Thomas-, Hey, Thomas, he’s at the Crank palace, he’s ok”, he said to the now sobbing boy in front of him. “Minho, he’s dead. He’s not at the palace, he’s dead.” Minho didn’t like this, and desperately wanted Thomas to stop talking. “Ok, stop. Stop, I don’t know what your talking about. Newt’s just sick, he’s at the palace.” He pulled his hands away and stood up. “Com'on. We should get back”, he said, offering Thomas a hand. Thomas was rocking back and forth on the bench, hunched over, his head in his hands. He started to shake his head and looked up at Minho. “I’m telling the truth. Minho, he’s gone. You have to believe me, I know”, he said. “No you don’t! Thomas, I was there the last time we saw him, he’s just sick! Now shut your shuck mouth!”, he yelled back, with a sudden rage coming over him. He didn’t want to talk anymore, why was Thomas doing this? The boy stood up so suddenly then, that Minho stepped back. “HES DEAD! Dammit, Minho! I don’t want to say it again!”, Thomas screamed, shoving Minho backwards. The other boy stumbled back, the shock on his face was evident, but retaliated quickly and grabbed Thomas’ wrists, pushing him against one of the stone walls and holding his hands up. But Thomas was crying profusely and had gone limp. “What the hell, Thomas?! What is going on, what the hell are we even fighting about?!”, he said, clear pain and anger in his voice. Thomas looked him the eye and said, “After we went to the Right Arm, when we were driving back–”, his voice cracked again, “There were a ton of Cranks out there and we–we were just driving through, but I saw him. He was with this other group, and he- he had changed.” Thomas took a breath, and continued. “I told Lawrence to stop, and that- that I’d be fine. He saw me, and I walked over to him. He still knew me. And we just- he just kept saying that he hated me, he was so mad at me. I tried to talk to him, get him to come with me, but he wouldn’t. After a few more words, he- he came at me and knocked me over and- and he was just yelling at me to- to kill him. Saying that if I’d ever been his friend, then I would do it for him.” Thomas shut his eyes tight, making tears spill down his cheeks. “I didn’t know what to do, I was scared, he wouldn’t listen to me, I just wanted him to be Newt again, I didn’t want to, but he-he took my hand with the gun in it and- and he put it to his head- and was screaming- begging for me to do it cause he didn’t want to turn bad and I- I–”. Thomas collapsed to the ground, out of Minho’s grasp, sobbing into his hands. Minho was still standing above him, with his palms pressed against the wall. His eyes looked down at Thomas But then he whipped around and started to pace back and forth. What was happening to them? A few weeks ago, they were in the Glade, happy enough. But now his friends were dropping like flies. Putting his hands behind his head, he walked over to the table and picked up one of the vases. It was dusty and cold. There was a raging pain in his stomach like he’d never felt before, and before he understood what he was doing, he threw the vase at the wall with every ounce of strength in his body. It shattered, and the shards went everywhere, but he liked it. Before he could stop himself, he had picked up another and did the same with it. And another. “DAMMIT! GODDAMMIT!”, he screamed, as another went sailing through the air. But when he finally took a breath, he felt as if the life had been drained out of him as he turned and slumped to the ground. Putting his elbows on his knees, he held his head in his hands. His eyes were closed tightly and he started to cry. Minho never cried, but he had never felt so hurt. Tears were rolling down his face. Because of everything, everything that had been done to them, everything they’d gone through, and now this. It felt like hours had passed, when Minho lifted his head and looked over at the boy next to him. Thomas was still sniffling, a whimper here and there, but he was much quieter. Minho finally scooted a few feet over to where his friend was sitting. Thomas lifted his head and said, “Minho, I- I don’t know what to say- to make you forgive me”. Minho just shook his head, “Good. Cause you don’t have to say anything. And I already know that you think it’s all your fault, so I’ll just stop you right there, it’s not. None of it. Everything that’s happened to us has been done to us”, Minho paused, and nudged Thomas’ elbow. The boy looked up, and met Minho’s puffy eyes, “Were gonna get through this, ok? For Newt. We’re both gonna be there in the end.” “You really believe that?”, Thomas replied. “Yeah I do. Cause we’ve earned it.” Minho stood up then, helping Thomas to his feet. They looked each other in the eye, still holding onto each other. It wasn’t clear who went in first, as they wrapped their arms around each other, both knowing that it meant every word they didn’t want to say out loud.
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