He’s at the monitors again. The Gladers are all doing their own things---working, mostly; trying to make something that looks as much like a proper settlement as they know how to build with what little they have. Alby’s been doing better, Thomas thinks, now that there are others to help him around the Glade. Now that he’s not alone. The whole thing with George had been AWFUL, but...life goes on, he supposes. Alby’s the leader by default, it’s been more or less established by now; it’s not natural for him, but he’s easing into it. Has to, Thomas guesses, because who else will? He’ll do just fine with some practice.
Thomas isn’t looking at Alby, though. He’s watching the feed from a little further off, away from the others, one of the more private spots to be found in the Glade. There aren’t many of them, really, as wide open as everything is, but trust Newt to find a place to be alone when he needs to.
He feels like he’s snooping, if he’s being honest. He probably is. Best friends or not, what right does he have to spy on Newt in moments like these? Or at all, even? (What right do any of them have.) But here he is, watching the screen, watching Newt’s face, and just...aching. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Newt like this, and he never wanted to; Newt's been the solid rock in Thomas’s life practically since they met, and now...there’s an empty spot. Next to him. In his mind.
Thomas hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.
Oh, Teresa’s still there, a warm presence, safe, easily accessible to him, but it’s not the same. She’s not Newt. And somehow, despite the fact that he’s surrounded by people he recognizes, he feels as alone as Newt looks.
Okay, that’s not fair. He knows it isn’t. It’s not even close. But, god, he misses Newt. And it would be so easy to...no, he can’t. He could, but He shouldn’t---WCKD could find out, and then where would they be? What would happen then? Would they punish him? Worse, would they punish Newt?
Newt on the screen. Alone. His friends are RIGHT THERE, just yards away, but he has no idea. He doesn’t remember. Anything. Anyone. Not even himself. Thomas wishes he could be there, plop down next to him and brush their shoulders together like usual, and just...keep him company. Like they were doing just, what, a week ago? He just...wants to be there.
...Newt? A pause. Can you hear me?
