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Logically, Thomas should be angriest about the fact that they’re all going to starve to death. That was the most pressing issue here, after all. This dorm sucked. And this whole petty -and one-sided- feud with Aris? That wasn’t pressing at all.
Thomas knew that. He acknowledged that. He even laughed sheepishly when Newt teased him about it and Minho asked if they had anything to be worried about.
He shouldn’t be so worried about Teresa, either. Teresa was more capable than Thomas was. She wasn’t the one slowly starving to death, either. But. That was out of the question. Thomas was just a worrier. He couldn’t not worry.
Regardless, he was weirded out by Aris. Why’d this guy have to keep talking in his head? That was a Teresa thing. It wasn’t special anymore if just anybody could do it.
Thomas sighed, looking out the dorm window. How had a brick wall been constructed and taken down so quickly, anyway? This place didn’t make any sense.
“You comin’ to bed, or what, Greenie?”
Right. No time for petty wallowing when you had two equally dramatic boyfriends that demanded all of your attention at all times. No rest for the wicked, or whatever.
Ugh. WICKED.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Thomas, rolling his eyes. “I’m coming.”
Why didn’t Minho seem so concerned about their situation, anyway? He was the leader now. Worrying was literally his job. Maybe he’d passed the whole worrying thing on to Newt.
Actually, thought Thomas, as he got closer to their corner, neither of them appeared to be particularly concerned. Minho was sitting upright in the bed, furthest from Thomas. At least he was, like, monitoring the crowd. Somewhat. Newt was curled into his side, nestled so tightly into a ball Thomas nearly missed him. He seemed to be enjoying his new lack of leadership responsibility. Actually, he looked…
“Is he asleep?” asked Thomas.
Minho glanced down briefly. “Yeah. Finally,” he said, brow furrowed. “Don’t think he’s slept at all since Alby died.”
Thomas’s stomach dropped, a guilty knot forming in his chest. He hadn’t even thought about that. He’d been so busy over the loss of Chuck, and then Teresa going missing, and then Aris was pissing him off… What kind of boyfriend was he?
“…I didn’t even notice,” Thomas admitted, voice little more than a whisper. “That’s bad, huh?”
Minho shrugged him off. “You’ve got a lot goin’ on, too,” he reminded him. “You comin’ to bed? We missed ya last night.”
Thomas hesitated. He’d been so preoccupied last night that he’d forgotten about that, too. Some boyfriend he was.
“Yeah,” he said finally, sliding into bed on Newt’s other side.
A tight squeeze. These beds were hardly made to fit two people, let alone three. Newt accommodated the addition, turning over to sprawl over Thomas, instead. Thomas suppressed a laugh, resting a hand on his hip. He couldn’t tell if that was making the space issue better, or worse.
He watched the blond fondly. “Is he trying to push me out?”
“Think he’s tryin’ to keep you from leavin’, actually,” Minho said, resting one hand on Newt’s stomach, taking Thomas’s hand with the other. “He’s worried ‘bout you. We both are.”
“I’m fine,” said Thomas, waving him off. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice. His best friend died, and I just assumed-”
“Quit that,” Minho interjected, shooting him a look. “You ain’t fine, and no one’s blamin’ you for anythin’. Newt’s hurtin’, but he’s more worried about you, shuckface. With Chuck, and all.”
Thomas hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip. “Well,” he managed. “The Chuck thing kind of sucks.”
“’Course it does. He was just a kid,” Minho agreed, squeezing his hand. “Just don’t want you to isolate yourself ‘cause of it. That ain’t gonna help.”
Thomas looked away. He didn’t want to talk about Chuck. Talking about it reminded him that the kid was never coming back, and that wasn’t something he was quite yet ready to come to terms with. What had happened was terrible, and despicable, and not something Thomas wanted to bring to the forefront of his mind.
“Talk to us if you need to,” Minho said. “It’s what we’re here for.”
Thomas shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said. “You guys have got your stuff going on. I mean, Alby was your friend, too.”
Minho hesitated, and then he shrugged. “Not as much as he was Newt’s. Y’know? Ain’t really a people person, anyway. Ain’t eatin’ me alive. I’ll keep you shanks together for now.”
“Newt would get mad at you for saying that,” Thomas pointed out. “The whole ignoring your own feelings bit. He hates when we do that.”
“Only ‘cause he’s a big hypocrite,” Minho teased.
Newt sighed in his sleep, curling closer to Thomas subconsciously. The brunet suppressed a laugh, giving Minho serious grief about this. Their bickering grew too loud. Newt rolled back into the middle, clamping his hands over his ears.
Thomas looked back at Minho, the heaviness returning to his chest. “You don’t have to be okay for us.”
“What happened to Alby hit me,” Minho relented. “But not the same way. You two are the mopey ones. I’ll play babysitter.”
Thomas rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”
“People that are fine don’t go beatin’ the klunk outta people, Thomas.”
Thomas scoffed, whacking his shoulder. “And you go on about hypocrisy.”
“…Okay, you got me there,” Minho said.
Thomas tilted his head to the side in thought. “And it was just Gally.”
Minho barked out a laugh. His laugh was always loud - one of those booming, echoing laughs that was ever so contagious. Typically great for morale. Not great for when your sleeping boyfriend is right beside you.
Newt sighed loudly, sitting up just enough to rub the sleep from his eyes. “You shanks are loud.”
Minho leaned over, planting an exaggerated kiss on his forehead. “Sorry, baby.”
The blond frowned. “You know I hate that.”
“Sorry we woke you,” Thomas said, running a hand up and down his side. “You can go back to sleep.”
“Oh, I will.”
Newt dropped back down, pulling both Runners closer.
And then things got quiet. Silence is great and all, really. Normal people went to sleep when it got quiet. But...
“…I still don’t trust Aris.”
Minho snorted. He leaned over, taking Thomas’s hand again. “You can hate him in the morning, Tom.”
“Why can’t I hate him at night, too?”
Newt’s hand dropped onto Thomas’s chest haphazardly. “Tommy. Go to sleep.”
“…Right. Sorry.”
Newt turned to face him, pale eyes meeting his. “You’re here,” he whispered. “Not sleepin’ by yourself.”
“I’m here,” Thomas confirmed.
“You’d better stay,” Newt said, hooking an ankle around Thomas’s to keep him in place.
“Staying,” he promised. "You're clingy all of a sudden, huh."
"...Apparently," Newt agreed, yawning.
"Stayin' includes cuttin' out the weird Teresa stuff," Minho added.
Thomas rolled his eyes, laughing fondly. He really couldn't be so upset about that. It was hard to focus on Teresa, anyway, at a time like this. Minho wrapped an arm around him, pulling both his boyfriends closer. Newt complained about being sandwiched, but Thomas could totally call his bluff if he felt like it.
"I'm staying," Thomas reiterated, speaking softly.
Staying, after all, made him feel like maybe, just maybe, the world wasn’t so bad.
And that was wishful thinking.
But for tonight? It was just enough.