These drabbles are dedicated to my friend Myles, whom I’ve known for three years now. Thank you for sharing your muses with me & plotting these storylines which so beautifully reflect the best parts of our (& any) friendship. You have helped me through many tough times in my life, both significant & small, & I only hope I've managed to do the same for you.
warning: this drabble is kinda very sad.
PART TWO - feat. @leptinspired & @trackhoe-jack.
A strong wind blew up from the sea, bringing in fog and making the air on the island colder than it usually was. Tess didn't mind. If anything, he thought it was fitting. It was three years to the day since he lost Newt and made his way to the safe haven. Paradise wasn't paradise without his brother, but somehow he had still made it into a home, and he knew exactly who he had to thank for that.
Slowly he walked up the hill, away from the beach and towards the meadow where Newt was buried. He had dug the grave and built the coffin himself despite the other gladers' protests. He hadn't wanted to rest and recover. He had wanted to keep himself busy; to keep moving so maybe he'd forget that Newt was never going to move again.
The gravestone was another matter. That he had left to Thomas, because he didn't want the fact that his brother was dead to literally be carved in stone. Now that he stood before it, the weight he once felt was unexpectedly lighter. Perhaps he had finally reached the stage of acceptance, or perhaps it was the sound of familiar footsteps behind him reminding him that he wasn't alone even without Newt. There was still one more person worth carrying on for, who had always been there for him like Newt had.
“Hello Jack,” Tess spoke barely above a whisper, but the wind carried his voice where it needed to go. “I'm glad you came.” He turned and looked down at patches covering where Jack's eyes had once been.
Like Tess, Jack had suffered his own losses— that of his eyes and a leg— and he too had learned to carry on regardless. His mechanical leg and bandages served as a constant reminder of suffering, but also as a symbol of endurance. There was no one Tess respected as much as Jack. It amazed him even now that Jack managed feats such as climbing the slope by feel alone. Even more importantly, there was no one living that Tess loved as much.
They were both silent as they faced Newt's gravestone. From a distance, the act appeared meaningless. They had no flowers to offer, nor words for the departed. Jack couldn't even see the stone or read the words written on it. But to Tess, Jack's decision to come meant the world.
Tess moved to wrap an arm around Jack's shoulders and they stood supporting each other against the wind. “We've braved the wind together for years, you and I.” Tess choked back tears as he spoke. “And I know we will for years to come. Thank you, Jack. From Newt and from me.”
