Maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s me. [ he’s wishing and hoping it’s him with the false memories. even with all the scars lingering (that could be cosmetic). he’d so much rather things went the way of Newt’s memories than his. ] Maybe we’re both jacked. Shuck, maybe we never even knew each other before this.
[ a depressing thought that automatically sours him, thomas’s features scrunching, like he’s tasted something rank. no, he doesn’t want to start doubting that. he can’t. he told himself - he’d trust newt and minho only, from now on. they’re his best friends, they’ve been everything to him. if he can’t trust them, he’s going to lose his damn mind. even if it’s something WICKED built into his head, it’s all he has right now. so he has to hold to it. ] We can’t know one way or the other, not ‘til we find some answers. So we stick with what we know, okay?
[ like the glade all over again. newt had told him, then, that it doesn’t matter what already happened. just what they do from here out. so that’s what he’ll do. he’ll look out for his friend and he’ll try to get them both to a safe place, and that’s all that matters. it’s all that can matter right now. all his sanity has room for. when newt goes to take a break, thomas is still bustling with nerves and tension, so he stands, pacing some, as he turns the knife around in his hands, thinking. ] Yeah. Got a killswitch on it too. Makes you go whacker if someone tries to take it out. Nearly stabbed Minho where the sun don’t shine when we removed mine. It was like being trapped inside my own body, watching my hands do stuff I couldn’t stop.
[ and that’s when he hears the clunk and oomph, the familiar sound of a teenage boy landing flat on his face. he’s halfway to asking him what the shuck he’s doing when the thing from the bushes comes crawling out, leaping at his friend.
crank is the first thing that screams to his mind, and thomas’s arm is moving before he even thinks about it, the knife thrown like gally had, like thomas have back in the compound and thunking perfectly into the side of the crank’s head.
but that’s not all, because thomas has been terrified of this since the second he saw newt alive and well again. the flare, cranks, and of it touching him. having to watch him decline all over again. having to… having to send him to a more peaceful death, again. he’s running, and a shoe connects in a hard kick to the ribs, sending it flying a couple yards to the side, and thomas looks straight up murderous, twisted in with such fear. he follows the body, already limp, and grips the knife to pull it free, just before stabbing it at least two more time, another in the head, and one in the chest. don’t effing touch his friend, okay?
his hands are shaking, eyes wide, when he turns back to newt, about to lurch towards him, before realizing there’s blood on his hands. more fresh than all that’s dried on his clothes. ] Are you okay? Did it scratch you? Bite you? Did you breathe in?
no subject
[ a depressing thought that automatically sours him, thomas’s features scrunching, like he’s tasted something rank. no, he doesn’t want to start doubting that. he can’t. he told himself - he’d trust newt and minho only, from now on. they’re his best friends, they’ve been everything to him. if he can’t trust them, he’s going to lose his damn mind. even if it’s something WICKED built into his head, it’s all he has right now. so he has to hold to it. ] We can’t know one way or the other, not ‘til we find some answers. So we stick with what we know, okay?
[ like the glade all over again. newt had told him, then, that it doesn’t matter what already happened. just what they do from here out. so that’s what he’ll do. he’ll look out for his friend and he’ll try to get them both to a safe place, and that’s all that matters. it’s all that can matter right now. all his sanity has room for. when newt goes to take a break, thomas is still bustling with nerves and tension, so he stands, pacing some, as he turns the knife around in his hands, thinking. ] Yeah. Got a killswitch on it too. Makes you go whacker if someone tries to take it out. Nearly stabbed Minho where the sun don’t shine when we removed mine. It was like being trapped inside my own body, watching my hands do stuff I couldn’t stop.
[ and that’s when he hears the clunk and oomph, the familiar sound of a teenage boy landing flat on his face. he’s halfway to asking him what the shuck he’s doing when the thing from the bushes comes crawling out, leaping at his friend.
crank is the first thing that screams to his mind, and thomas’s arm is moving before he even thinks about it, the knife thrown like gally had, like thomas have back in the compound and thunking perfectly into the side of the crank’s head.
but that’s not all, because thomas has been terrified of this since the second he saw newt alive and well again. the flare, cranks, and of it touching him. having to watch him decline all over again. having to… having to send him to a more peaceful death, again. he’s running, and a shoe connects in a hard kick to the ribs, sending it flying a couple yards to the side, and thomas looks straight up murderous, twisted in with such fear. he follows the body, already limp, and grips the knife to pull it free, just before stabbing it at least two more time, another in the head, and one in the chest. don’t effing touch his friend, okay?
his hands are shaking, eyes wide, when he turns back to newt, about to lurch towards him, before realizing there’s blood on his hands. more fresh than all that’s dried on his clothes. ] Are you okay? Did it scratch you? Bite you? Did you breathe in?