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Thomas wasn't sure what it felt like to be normal, if he ever did. He wasn't sure, because he had woken up screaming for the fourth night in a row just this week.
"Sorry, guys," Thomas said quietly to the disturbed, sleepy survivors as he sat up, then added, self-deprecatingly, "You know the drill."
"Slim it and sleep," Minho grumbled, turning over in his cot and falling back asleep.
"Just like that," he muttered and slumped, thoughts running wild in his head.
This was one of the worst weeks yet; the only ones that topped this in severity were the ones immediately after the Last City's fall. Even now, he could still feel the heat of the flames that were dancing- frenzied and hungry- around him and Teresa, the sharp, agonizing pain the bullet wound filled him with, and, worst of all, the weight of his best friend's body in his arms, growing colder and colder. These phantom sensations, the memories, and- ever-present- the nightmares, were what kept him in this state of constant saudade and grief. Safe Haven- despite it being a sanctuary- made Thomas aware of his loneliness above all else; at least in the Glade, he had felt a sense of kinship for those few precious days. In Safe Haven, his time here felt more like a prison sentence, and Thomas was more than ready to pay for his crimes, if it meant feeling something other than crushing darkness. He'd do anything to feel alive again.
Thomas was startled out of his spiraling when a hand clapped down on his shoulder, its weight and warmth pulling him out of the numbing pit he often dug himself into.
"Gally," Thomas exhaled a bit forcefully, blinking up at the man in question.
"Shank," Gally greeted, squeezing his shoulder gently. Thomas relaxed slightly, his lips quirking up in a half-smile before he could stop himself. Gally's eyes, glinting in the dim light, softened, and Thomas looked away, his face feeling a little warm.
"Sorry for waking you," he said, scooting over to properly make room on the bed for the other teen to sit beside him- the bed was not unlike the medical cot he had woken up on a few months ago- but noticed the weakness in his wrists when doing so. He held his shaking hands up, muttering, "huh" in distant surprise. Gally didn't reply, but reached over and held Thomas' trembling hands in his own, a warm yet firm embrace that eased his anxiousness.
Thomas looked up from his captured hands to Gally, who was watching him with a question in his eyes. He tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "As you probably heard," he began, looking away once again, "it was another nightmare. This time, I was stung, or bitten, or whatever," he shook his head, grimacing. "I found myself killing Teresa. She..." he trailed off, gulping.
Gally's thumbs stroked Thomas' hands in soothing lines. Thomas leaned into Gally's warmth in response. He knew that his hands were starting to shake again, and he felt his body remember the fear of the Maze and the Cranks. He tried to shake off his tenseness and continued on. "She was running, I think. She looked so scared, and I tried to help her, but she shoved me away, screaming that I'd kill her. I tried to tell her that I wouldn't, that I was okay, but then I just attacked her. I watched as dream-me tore her apart.
"Then, I remember what happened. With-" Thomas couldn't speak; his throat closed up on him, and tears pricked at his eyes. "Newt. With Newt," he choked out. He tried to say more, but when he opened his mouth, a sob escaped instead.
He had talked about his relationship with Newt to Gally in the past, and how deeply his passing affected him. In fact, the first time they had genuinely bonded was during a warm night, by the bonfire, with Thomas sharing stories about Newt.
Thomas remembered staring into the lively licks of heat and light and wondering how something so comforting could also be so debilitating at the same time, when Gally's hand had clapped on his shoulder, not unlike the way he did a few minutes earlier.
When Gally had asked if he was alright, Thomas broke down- both his expression and the walls he had held up against Gally for so long. They had talked about everything- from the guilt that they had carried from their past actions to each other to the void that their loved ones' deaths had left them. They had stayed up late that night, and had watched the flames burn into glowing cinders.
Since that night, they had been talking to each other daily. For the first couple of weeks, some of the conversations were a little stilted. But, each night by the bonfire drew the two together in a way that still baffled Thomas.
Gally stood quickly, leaving Thomas' side and hands feeling cold, and his mind stuttered to a halt.
Maybe he was wrong. "Gally?" Thomas asked, looking up at the other teen, apprehensive. His tears stopped flowing, but his chest felt tight instead. "What happened?"
Gally stared down at him, his face pinched, but his tone was thoughtful when he spoke, "Nothing, Greenie." Thomas' lips quirked up slightly at the old nickname, soothed. "Come on," he invited, holding a hand out for Thomas to take.
Thomas gripped the hand and was pulled upright, but he hadn't expected the lack of strength in his own limbs, and he swayed. Gally's other hand held his shoulder as he steadied himself. "Thanks," Thomas said, feeling a little embarrassed, especially with Gally having to help steady him.
"It's no problem," Gally replied, his thumb pressing down his shoulder almost like a caress. Thomas' eyes widened, tensing slightly, and Gally stiffened in kind, freezing before extracting his hands from Thomas' body. He cleared his throat, then turned, saying, "Come."
Thomas followed Gally out of the main dorm building, the heat residing in his cheeks being pacified by the cool night air. The moon was full, and lit torches dotted along paths, giving light to the camp that they and other survivors had made. Gally had made most of the furniture, so the beds that they slept on were painstakingly carved by him. For some reason unknown to Thomas, after he had found out about that particular piece of information, he had slept on his cot with a certain feeling of peace and comfort, like he could actually call this new place home. It didn't end his nightmares, but it was a nice thing to know nonetheless.
Drawing himself back to the present, Thomas asked the question that burned in his mind, "Where are we going?"
Gally glanced back briefly, a thin smile on his lips. "Where I always seem to find you, shivering and shit," he said, continuing his trek. "Seriously, do I need to drag you to the fire every day? Or will you actually learn some self-preservation instincts?"
Thomas scoffed, walking to Gally's side and bumping his shoulder with his own, feeling a little pleased when the other teen stumbled.
"Really, shank?" Gally grumbled, his exasperated tone betrayed by the arm that found its way around Thomas' shoulder, pulling him close into his side. Thomas looked down, relishing the warmth radiating off of the other's body and ignoring the heat in his face.
They continued walking, and Thomas lips twitched upward with an unbidden smile when he felt sand under his feet instead of grass or the hard-packed earth. The beach had always soothed the aches that Thomas felt, though he could not explain why, nor could he explain the waves' siren's call, thick with the forgotten memories of another him in another life.
Before he could stop himself, he was already taking off, brushing off Gally's arm that was oh, so warm- and ran towards the sea, his feet slipping in the sand and his heart in his ears. A smile broke over his face as he rushed into the cool, foamy waves, only to slip off when he had underestimated just how cold the salty water would be. Thomas gasped, his body mostly submerged now and probably cramping up due to the shock of the sudden temperature drop.
"Thomas!" Gally shouted some yards away, sounding a little worried and more than a little exasperated. Thomas turned around and saw Gally, whose hands were on his head- probably pulling at the short hairs there- visibly trying to breathe. He normally would have tensed at the stress that Gally displayed, but now he laughed, giddy and a touch hysterical. He felt alive.
After weeks of subliminal routine, his body going through the motions as his brain had finally caught up to the grief he had mostly blocked out while healing, he finally felt alright.
Well, his head felt better, but his body was getting worse by the second. Thomas clamped down his now-chattering teeth and swam- he must have floated out a little- and waded through the frigid waves until he could stagger out of the water, shivering profusely. Gally was in the same spot he had seen him in, his hands now on his hips.
"Why did you have to run off like that? I didn't even bring a towel," Gally grumbled, frustrated, rubbing a hand through his buzzed hair again.
"Sorry," Thomas replied, stuttering, as he walked to him. He wanted to say more, but the words died on his numbed lips when Gally took off his shirt- which, dear lord- and stepped closer, into Thomas' space, and started peeling off his own.
"Wait, wait, wait-" Thomas stuttered for an entirely different reason, his face tingling with a rush of blood. "What are you doing?"
"Making sure you don't get hypothermia and shit, shank." He continued peeling off Thomas' shirt, undeterred. Thomas fell silent and complied, his face burning. He turned when Gally instructed, suppressing his urge to tense up as the soft fabric of the shirt was dragged up and down his back. He flinched when the fabric dipped down to his legs, passing over the shorts he had on. He couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through him when Gally's hand gripped the inside of his calf, but pretended that it was from the water.
It was silent, save for the lull of the waves and the small breeze in the night air. Thomas stared at the gentle lap of the waves with his heart beating in his ears, acutely aware of the person rubbing warmth back into him with a lot more care and gentleness than he thought he possessed.
"Turn."
He turned, and inhaled quickly. Gally was closer to him than before, and was staring at him intently. Gally held Thomas' eyes a moment longer before dropping them to his stomach. He used the shirt, now damp, and wiped away the salty water around his waist, though his pace was slower here than it was for his legs and back. Thomas' throat felt tight, and he swallowed, a small click in the quiet space between them. The pressure did not go away.
The press of the cloth continued upward, rubbing at his stomach and then his chest. Gally brushed over a nipple, perked up by the cold- most definitely on accident- but Thomas almost gasped at the sensation. He did not, but Gally noticed the sudden tension in his body, and paused. A second passed, the warmth from his hand bleeding through the damp shirt. Thomas could feel his heart racing in his chest. Then, Gally started again, going even slower than before, as if he had thought that Thomas would pull away. Thomas almost wished he could. He watched Gally stare at his collarbones as he wiped the moisture off there, then at his Adam's apple as the shirt wiped around his neck. Thomas' shivers had mostly subsided by now, so he could've taken the shirt to dry the rest of himself off, but he felt as if he were frozen in place.
Gally's eyes finally flickered up to his, widening slightly. His right hand, enclosed around the shirt still resting at his neck, tightened slightly.
"Um," Thomas began, clearing his throat because his voice sounded a little rough, "thanks."
"It's no problem," Gally replied casually, though his eyes held some form of conflict that contradicted his words. After a moment of deliberation, the hand holding the fabric slipped away, but before Thomas could step away, the hand came back, this time without the shirt. Gally gently cupped Thomas' jaw, a slight tremor being the only thing that betrayed his nervousness. Thomas stiffened, but did not pull away.
"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice quiet, uncharacteristically tentative. Thomas' eyes flicked back up to Gally's. Gally was watching him, his face pinched again, trying to gauge his reaction. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Thomas leaned into the warm, calloused palm, noticing Gally's jaw relax from its clench when the other had noticed.
Gally swiped a thumb across Thomas' cheek, caressing the softer skin almost with reverence and drawing an unsteady smile from him. Thomas wondered if Gally could feel the heat of his blush too.
"Do you feel better?" Gally asked, a corner of his full mouth raising.
"I do. Thanks, Gally," Thomas replied, his smile growing and his chest tightening when he saw Gally's stern face thaw a little. He wanted to keep seeing that.
So he pushed. Thomas lifted a hand and placed it on top of Gally's, then tilted his face into it, grazing his lips over the sensitive skin of his wrist and pressing them onto his palm. Thomas kept his eyes on Gally's, smiling into the calloused skin when his expression broke into astonishment, his cheeks darkening slightly in the cool light.
But he wasn't stuck for long. Gally pulled Thomas to him, pressing his lips to his. His other hand cradled the back of Thomas' head, still damp from the ocean, to angle their kiss as Thomas reciprocated, and Thomas shivered, his nerves tingling. He in turn pressed closer and let go of Gally's hand on his jaw to grip his hair, while the other hand drifted up to anchor itself at Gally's bicep.
Feeling Thomas melt into the heated embrace must have started something in Gally, because Thomas opened his eyes with a start- when had he closed them?- when Gally's lips pressed back with an almost bruising intent. Thomas could not stop the sound that came from him then, and pulled back in horror, pushing on Gally's bicep, but relaxed when his expression wasn't shuttered or tense.
"Sorry," he whispered, feeling embarrassed nonetheless. Gally was grinning now, his lips fuller from the kiss, but the set of his eyes was tender.
"You say 'sorry' too much," Gally said, leaning in and pressing a small kiss to his nose. He leaned back slightly and continued, more somber, "Everyone did what they felt they had to do. None of it is your fault.
"It doesn't fix things-" Gally acknowledges, bringing his hands back up to Thomas' jaw, gently wiping away the tears that starting pricking his eyes. "and we're all shucked up- but now we can move forward. We can make them proud, Thomas. We can, and we will."
Thomas sniffled, his chuckle sounding more like a sob. "I know, Gally."
He looked back up, smiling despite his tears. "I know."
Thomas wasn't sure what it felt like to be normal, if he ever had. But when he sleepily turned over and recognized the warmth around him, he smiled softly, watching Gally's face. He would find normal one day; today he was alive.