this is inspired by these violent delights because the book is cool and im sort of (madly) in love with marshall + benedikt.. marshall is such a minho though and then benedikt is ben in my mind 😎😎(that has no relevance to the story so just ignore me)

also heart of glass is sung by blondie so yk in case someone didnt know (if you didnt ihy)

I HATE WRITING THE WORD GANG IT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE A 2 YEAR OLD SKDJF 

writing this was fun

writing the NEWTMAS SEXUAL TENSION WAS NOT because like just FUCK and have SEX and NEWT STICK YOUR STUPID DICK IN THOMAS already you absolute imbeciles 

that was unnecessary im sorry

also this is for tmr bingo prompt 'enemies to lovers' and guess what i fucking HATE writing enemies to lovers its so ANNOYING and yet i still wrote like a lot

anyway trigger warnings:

TW: BLOOD, MURDER, MENTIONS OF RAPE, MENTIONS OF DRUGGIES, SENSITIVE TOPICS IN GENERAL 

this doesnt even have a lot of newtmas in and im really pissed because i started it and im not stopping halfway through because that'd be insanity

"Cut the shit, Tommy." Newt didn't look up from his drink, instead staring straight ahead at the wall as he tipped his head back to down another drink. "What the hell do you want?"

Thomas slid into the bar seat beside him, a playful pout toying on his lips. "I don't want anything. Why does everyone think I want something?" He sighed, putting a hand on his forehead dramatically. "The upsetting words spoken against me are nothing short of devastating."

"Upsetting words?" Newt scoffed, looking at the brunet with a raised eyebrow, drink raised to his lips as he was midway through taking another swig. "Please. You have a heart of glass, don't you?"

He decided to ignore the insult. "Blondie, hey?" He grinned, gesturing at the bartender to give him a pint. "Interesting choice... blondie."

Thomas had started calling Newt 'blondie' ever since he saw him. Before they got entangled in each other's family gang business, and, well, before they got entangled in each other's sheets.

Newt just responded with an eye roll, which was enough in itself. He was exhausted. Even Thomas could tell. There were darker bags under his eyes and he looked like he'd been getting hardly any sleep.

Thomas always had a knack for waking Newt up in one way or another, though. "So, any of your stupid friends dropping dead as well?" Noticing the blond's dumbfounded expression, he shrugged and continued like he hadn't said something completely insane. "A little birdie told me they were."

"'As well'?"

"Yeah." His expression was suddenly stern, and he fully turned around on the seat now. He quietened his voice. "Some of our gang members keep ripping their throats and necks out." He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, and Newt could only assume he was recalling the horrid events he had seen for himself. "It's fucking terrifying." 

Newt blinked at Thomas, before turning back to face the wall. "Why are you telling me this?" He didn't know why this affected him. WICKED and The Right Arm usually stayed well away from each other when it came to allying or giving information. Unless there were spies in the other gang, of course. But only trusted people got the full information about everything.

It was common knowledge for the members in both gangs to know that people kept dropping dead, though. It was, to be frank, quite horrifying. But Newt hadn't spoken to any of the spies recently - he hadn't had a need to - and so, he didn't know the same was happening in WICKED.

Thomas smiled sadly and took a sip of the beer once it arrived in front of him. "Well, I guessed you would've found out either way." And it was true. 

Newt nodded with a slight hum of agreement. "I suppose so." He turned to face the brunet with a more serious expression. "You're not here to tell me this. What do you actu-"

A scream cut him off.

Everything seemed to happen at once.

A girl, Teresa, grabbed Thomas by the wrist and pulled him to the origin of the sound. He shot up instantly and, by the staggered expression on his face, Newt could only assume the worst. 

Newt followed automatically, wanting facts and information. Vince would never forgive him if he left without proper information about what was going on, even if someone else from the Right Arm was there. 

He wished he hadn't have followed once he saw the all too familiar sight.

There was a woman on the ground, with blood pouring out of the back of her neck, who was desperately reaching towards her neck, struggling against the people holding her down and crying hysterically. "Make it stop!" The words sounded so horrid, so awful. People were recoiling away from the view and the insane words, and Newt didn't blame them. 

He had only vaguely processed the white bracelet around her wrist, indicating she was part of WICKED, before Thomas strode up to the people holding the woman down. "Let go of her." His words were straightforward, and any of the WICKED members would've been stupid to ignore the heir to the gang. 

So, the people obeyed, wide eyed, and took a step back. The woman wasted no time in getting her hands back to her neck, scratching and ripping. There was blood. Oh, god, there was a lot of blood.

Newt had seen blood a lot, of course, but the scene still brought bile to his mouth. He snapped his eyes closed, keeping his mouth shut. He didn't want to anything so horrid again. He tried to deafen the noise, but he couldn't. He still heard the gunshot as it rang through the pub and chaos overran them all.

——

"There was another one." Thomas exhaled, wiping his eyes with his hand. He wanted to sleep and, honestly, just cry. "I don't... I don't understand." He felt his eyes brim with tears, but he blinked them away rapidly. He wasn't going to show any sign of vulnerability in front of Teresa and Brenda. 

Brenda saw straight through his facade, though, and scoffed with a shake of her head. "You can cry, you know. We're not like Ava, we're not exactly with that 'boys don't cry' bullshit."

Teresa smiled softly. She was generally a much calmer and sweeter person than Brenda was. Not necessarily better. "Yeah. Last night was pretty weird."

"...That's what she said."

"Shut up, Brenda."

Thomas chuckled at their banter, wiping his eyes once more. "I'm fine." At their blank expressions, he forced an exaggerated, obviously fake smile and got up from the chair at the table. "Speaking of Ava, where is she?"

Brenda shrugged, her shoulder-length brunette hair bouncing as she did so. "Pretty sure I saw her in his office. She's probably asking for you now. She favourites you and it's really rude."

"Please, she doesn't favourite me." A beat. "Okay, maybe she does. But she favourites Teresa as well." He rolled his eyes and walked away before he could hear any retaliation from either girl. Ava did favourite him and Teresa - he didn't know why, but he wasn't complaining. He got more information about everything that went on than a lot of other people in WICKED did, and he was very thankful for it.

Thomas brought his hand up to knock on the office door, but ended up bringing it to his mouth as he yawned loudly. He was a loud yawner, apparently. He could practically hear the grin in Ava's voice when she called, "I can hear you. Come in, Thomas.".

He huffed, but opened the door nonetheless. The office was a large room that had many scientific items scattered on the desk and countertops. The lights were way too bright, and Thomas had to get used to them every time he walked into the room. He had no idea how Ava was physically able to get work done when there was a bright white light every 10 centimetres on the ceiling. Not to mention the fact she had a light on the microscope on her desk, as well.

Ava smiled at him when he entered, the action making her face a bit more wrinkly. She looked old. "Hello, Thomas." She continued to look at something - a beetle? - through her microscope whilst Thomas walked over to the seat and sat down. Once she heard the squeak of the chair legs taking the weight, she looked up and clasped her hands together on the desk. "I'm glad you decided to come visit me. I'm sure you're here to ask questions."

Thomas laughed breathily, nodding. "What else would I be here for?" He raised an eyebrow. It was common knowledge that he was an inquisitive person who asked questions 24/7. "Do you have any more information on why our members keep.. killing themselves?" He licked his lips nervously. He would never get used to saying stuff like that. "Someone else died."

She sighed heavily, as if debating something. "We have a bit more information. Very... private information. If you tell anybody, other than Teresa, about anything we're going to discuss, well, you know what'd happen."

He nodded. WICKED had just made a serum that removes the majority of your newer memories. It was still being tested, and more than one person had been on the receiving end of the testing for it. Thomas would prefer to 1) not get his memories removed and 2) not be killed due to testing. 

Ava glanced over at the door, checking it was shut, which it was. She stood up and gestured for the boy to come around to her side of the desk. "Look. You see this beetle?" She didn't wait for a response. "This beetle was made by a company named 'WCKD'. Our gang name but without the vowels. We're working with them."

Thomas furrowed his brows. "That's a really dumb name." He couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. It was a dumb name.

"Do you want to hear about this or not?"

That shut him up. 

"We're working with them to get this beetles out. We're going to use them on the Right Arm to have a more.. efficient way of murder." She smiled, clearly amused by the thought of killing people for her own gain. "We've been trying to aim them to just go for the Right Arm members, but, as you can know and can assume, science is hard and these are still being developed." 

Thomas blinked blankly. This sounded... inhumane. He didn't like it. "So.. you're killing innocent people because of your impatience?"

Ava frowned. "I thought you out of all people would be able to understand this, Thomas." She shook her head disapprovingly. 

"Me?" He almost laughed. "Why me?"

"Well, I know you have a hatred for the heir of the Right Arm." Her frown was gone and she was now smiling sinisterly. "Your past lover? Newt, was it?"

——

"Hey, Newtie!" Minho grinned, jumping onto the bed beside Newt, who was reading. "What ya doin'?"

Newt groaned, closing the hardback book (after folding the page, of course). "What does it look like, you slinthead?"

"Okay, what are you reading, you ugly shank?" He rolled his eyes, laying down on his back. The duvet was comfortable. "Is this duck feathers? Comfy as hell."

"You don't care less about what I'm reading. What do you actually want?" He sighed and put the book beside him. He hated Minho sometimes. Sure, they had been best friends for over 10 years, but he still ceased to annoy, and surprise, him. "Also, yes, it is duck feathers. I'm better than you so I get more comfortable duvets."

Minho grinned. "You know me too well, don't you?" He nudged Newt with his shoulder. "Have you seen Chuck? I wanted to ask him something."

Newt felt instant dread course through his body. "You haven't seen him?" Chuck was a younger boy, 15, and he wasn't exactly fitted for the gang business. He was much too soft and kind at heart. So, whenever he was nowhere to he found, the Gladers (Newt and his little group of friends - they called themselves the Gladers for no apparent reason) automatically got panicked.

"Uh... no. Not since earlier."

"And you didn't tell me because...?" Newt glared. If anything had happened to Chuck, he was going to.. Well, he didn't know. He'd probably cry for a few days then kill Minho to make him feel better. Although that'd make him feel worse. 

"Because I thought someone else would've seen him." Minho frowned. "Should we go look for him? It's getting late and I know he can look after himself, sort of, but-" 

The blond snapped. "Yes! We should go look for him. He's probably bleeding in a fucking alleyway, Minho!" 

The pair stood up and Newt walked over to the half-open window. "Come on, you imbecile." He climbed out the window, begging, begging, begging that nothing had happened to the child. 

——

"Why did we sneak out again?" Brenda asked, walking down a quiet alleyway, holding hands with Teresa even though she was 'independent' and 'not scared whatsoever'. She was an independent female, but when it was dark, she'd prefer to not get snatched away from her friends. 

Teresa huffed and tightened her grip on her friend after hearing a bird. She was skittish at night, sue her. "Because somebody," She glared at Thomas, who was walking ahead, completely ignoring the pair. "insisted on us coming with him whilst he has a tantrum." 

Thomas sighed and span around. "I gave you a choice and you decided to come, so don't get all snappy with me." He turned back around and brought his hands up to fold them across his chest. Seeing his friends holding hands... Well, let's just say it brought up unwanted memories. 

"You're the one getting snappy. I'd appreciate it if you stopped shouting because otherwise we're going to get ourselves killed. Oh wait, you'd be able to get away because you're the heir to WICKED and everybody's terrified of you!" Brenda rolled her eyes and let out a humourless laugh. "We'd get raped and left here. Probably dead." 

"I know." He murmured softly. "I'm sorry." 

Brenda and Teresa shared a glance, before Teresa let go of the other's hand and walked quickly to catch up to Thomas. She stopped in front of him, halting his movement, and rested her hands on his shoulders. "Don't act like a wounded dog, now. You know we wanted to come with you and that's why we're here, but you do not get to be all pissed with us because Ava said something you dislike." 

Brenda frowned. "What did she say, actually?" She hadn't been told and was hoping that now they were alone she'd get some information.

There was a scream, and the trio instantly tried to find the source. Brenda ran up to Thomas and Teresa, grabbing both their hands and attempted to pull them back into the shadows. "We can't be seen, you fucking morons! Do you want to die? Did you even bring a gun or a knife or anything?" It was a dumb question, really - of course they had. She herself had.

Teresa and Thomas were having none of it, though, and with a glance between them, they broke free and made a run for it to try and find where it was coming from.

"I hope you both die!" She groaned, but ran after them nonetheless. Not that she had any other option. Stay there and have her chances with any possible Right Arm members, or follow with the two favourited and armed WICKED members? She'd take the latter anyday.

Thomas scanned the main road when he exited the alleyway he had previously been in. Nobody. He looked over at Teresa who shook her breath, panting, then at Brenda who merely shrugged. She was shorter and couldn't past the pair. 

He gestured to an alleyway over the road with his head, then, after a confirmation from the two women, made a run for it. He hoped he wouldn't get run over. 

There was another scream, closer this time, but it sounded like it was in more pain. Thomas could recognise the sound from a mile away. 

He cursed under his breath and slowed to a walk when he could hear sobbing nearby. If this was a Right Arm's doing, he was going to-

Oh.

There was a boy, curly-haired and on the larger-side, crying hysterically, clawing at his throat. He looked familiar. Too familiar, to Thomas. Brenda and Teresa clearly had no clue who this boy was. But Thomas? Thomas knew.

"Chuck?" He whispered. He didn't know if he was right. He probably wasn't. This was probably a random boy, a Right Arm boy, and one of the many Right Arm boys that helped to kill his friends and family. But he couldn't be sure. 

The boy looked up. The trio didn't know whether it was because there was a new presence, or because his name had been mentioned. 

"Thomas Murphy." It wasn't surprising that he knew Thomas' name. You'd have to be an idiot to be in the gang business and not know Thomas' name. The boy's breathing grew erratic, and he scrambled up. "Thomas. Thomas! It's you. It's me! It's Chuck. You helped me. Kill me! Kill me, make it stop! Kill me, kill me, kill me!" 

Thomas flinched backwards, instinctively grabbing towards his belt for his gun. He got it in his hands and blinked blankly at Chuck. 

It was definitely Chuck, then. The same powerless, poor boy that had been dying on the streets a few years back. Why was a boy as sweet as that involved in the gang business? 

"Chuck." He edged closer, still holding the gun in his right hand. "You need to let go of your neck, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Chuck shook his head frantically. "I can't. I can't! Thomas, I can't!" 

"Okay. Calm down. Look at me." Thomas hushed, kneeling down once he was half a metre's distance from the boy. "You're okay." 

"I'm going to die." 

"No, no you're not." He chewed his lip. He didn't know what to do. Chuck wasn't calming down. He glanced down at his neck. It was.. gruesome, to say the least. He was going to die soon if Thomas couldn't do anything. He swallowed thickly, blinking back the burning in his eyes. "Chuck, I'm sorry, but you know I'm doing this for your own good." 

There was a gasp behind him, and he assumed Teresa and Brenda thought he was going to kill him. He held up a hand before one of them could burst out with a 'STOP!'. He knew what he was doing. 

Chuck nodded. "Yes. Kill me. Please." Then, softer, he added, "Please, help me." 

Thomas hit the butt of the gun into his forehead and he fell to the ground with a thump, just as footsteps became audible. He shot up and span around to face his friends, who were looking at him wide eyed, yet relieved. "Shit, we need to get out of here." He whisper-shouted. They were going to die if they weren't careful. "But we can't leave him here. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Uh. We'll come back. Come on, we need to go-" 

There was the cocking of a gun and a crack of a bone. "You're not going anywhere, Tommy." 

Thomas groaned, spinning around with the gun still in his hand. "Newt, fuck off for one second. Just one. Then I'll be out of here." 

Newt scoffed. "I'm not going to fuck off after you've just killed Chuck." He shook his head, and Thomas swore he saw his eyes glimmering with tears. "I'm going to kill you." 

"You wouldn- After I killed Chuck?" He shook his head. "I didn't kill Chuck." 

"He's lying dead on the floor with blood surrounding him. Do you take me for an idiot?" 

Thomas looked at Minho with a raised eyebrow. "Check his pulse." He awaited any movement but there was none. "Hello? You in there, Minnie Mouse?" 

"I don't take orders from you." Minho grumbled, folding his arms. "Call me Minnie Mouse and I'll shoot one of your little toys." 

"Call us his toys and I'll have your non-existent dick stapled to your forehead." Brenda barked out a laugh. "Toys!" She shook her head, an amused smile plastered on her face. "Is sexism strong in the Right Arm? Is it one of your strong points?" 

Teresa joined in, snickering. "I'm sure being sexist is what they aspire to be. Of course, alongside being douchebags." 

Newt sighed. "That's not what he meant and you know it. If anything, you're the fucking sexist ones. Why's Thomas the heir and not you, Teresa?" 

Thomas blinked. 

"Minho, check Chuck's pulse." The blond ordered, not keeping his eyes away from Thomas, Teresa or Brenda for one second. 

Minho went over to Chuck's body, and rested a hand on his neck. "Alive." He muttered.

Newt let out a relieved breath, but held the gun pointed at Thomas nonetheless. "What the hell were you doing with him?" 

"Well, let's see! We heard a scream, followed it here, and found him ripping his throat out." Thomas grinned sarcastically. "Exciting experiences, am I right?" 

"Very." He deadpanned. "What the hell were you going to do with him, then?" 

"Interrogation, session, huh?" When a knife whizzed past his ear, he chuckled. "Calm down. No need to get your pants in a twist. Sorry, knickers, forgot I'm speaking to a Brit. Anyway, I was going to make sure he was safe. Don't have the slightest clue why he's in the gang business. He shouldn't be. Too innocent." 

Minho hummed. "Gotta agree with him." 

"Minho." Newt glared. He hesitated a second before putting the gun down. "You're on Right Arm territory, so, try anything funny and we'll kill you." 

Thomas frowned and put his gun in his belt. It was true. He was on Right Arm territory, so if he did anything stupid then he'd be dead very soon. "Can't do anything funny? Damn, can't tell jokes. You've completely removed my personality from existence, then." 

Brenda hummed. "Yeah, his entire personality is pretty much jokes. Actually, his personality is a joke." She grinned and intertwined her finger's with Teresa's for a sense of comfort. "Hell, his life is a joke." 

"Damn. Offended right now."

"As you should be." 

"Stop your bickering." Newt rolled his eyes. "If you don't leave in three seconds, I'm going to fucking kill you." 

Thomas nodded. "Yeah, yeah. We're going." He made a run for the exit of the alleyway, making sure Teresa and Brenda ran past before he turned around. 

"Hey, blondie?" He waited for any sign of confirmation, in this case, a quirked eyebrow. He glanced down at Chuck's body. "..Make sure he doesn't die, okay?" 

——

"Keep him under, Mary. He can't wake up." Newt stressed, walking around the hospital table, chewing his lip anxiously. "He can't die." 

Mary nodded. "I think I'm the doctor, Newt. I know what I'm doing." She rolled her eyes, but stabbed a needle in Chuck's arm. It was presumably filled with anesthetic. "Unless you wanna take the job and I'll be the heir?" She smiled, holding up a glove with blood on it.

Newt shivered. "Fuck you." He wasn't squeamish, he just preferred to not have to see blood when it wasn't necessary.

"Shut up." She shook her head, amused. But when she turned around to fact the blond, her expression was stern.  "Seriously, though, Newt, you do realise you won't be able to save him forever?"

Newt didn't respond.

——

"Oh FUCK, do you mind?!" Thomas hissed, wiping his bleary eyes as he tried to make some sense as to why this was happening.

He had just woken up because of a knocking on his window, and when he woke up, he saw Newt sat on his roof, without a (visible) weapon, pouting.

Thomas was going to kill him.

Newt rolled his eyes, gesturing for the brunet to come outside with his hand. When he opened the window and clambered out (terribly, might I add - he needs his sleep to function properly), he folded his arms and looked daggers. "I know you're pissed, but calm down. Look, I'm not here to kill you."

"Oh, what an encouraging start! Did you kill Teresa or Brenda? Ava? The hell do you want?" He groaned and tried to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. "Fuck you and your dick."

"I didn't kill anyone." He rolled his eyes and grinned, amused by Thomas' irritation of the sleep in his eyes. "You're still the same old Tommy when you wake up, ey?"

Thomas visibly flinched. He wished he could erase his past memories at times, but then he also... didn't, in a way. They brought a sense of familiarity and, as much as he hated them and Newt, he wanted the memories.. for himself. Not when people bring his past self up like this. And especially not when 'people' was Newt. "Shut up. What do you want?"

Newt's grin faltered. "I want help."

"Help?" He scoffed. "Are the Right Arm members drug sellers as well? You seem pretty high." He shook his head. He was not going to help. "No. Why the fuck would I help you?"

He chose to ignore the drug dealing remark, half because he couldn't he bothered, and half because there probably were in fact drug dealers in WICKED and the Right Arm alike. "Because you're not helping me." He sighed. "You're helping Chuck."

Thomas blinked. "How would I be helping Chuck?"

Newt averted his eyes away. He was going to have to tell the his enemy everything he knew. Not the smartest move, but, well, he wasn't particularly known for being the cleverest at times. "All the victims seem to have a bite mark on the back of their neck. Black veins spread around their neck, and Chuck's already getting more black veins. They're spreading to his shoulder and it's only been a day." He smiled sadly. "According to our doctors, it's a manmade virus that's been injected in bodies, somehow."

"Why are you telling me this?" He could run. He could run inside and tell Ava everything. "Why do you think I know anything?"

"Let's just say that some emails traced back to WICKED." He shrugged. "I'm telling you this because I know you want to help Chuck. You don't want innocent people to die, I can tell." He looked up, making eye contact. "I know you."

I know you.

No, Newt didn't know Thomas. He might have known the old Thomas, but he was long gone. 

Nonetheless, he nodded. 

"Fine. I'll help you."

——

"So what?" 

Newt took another sip of his beer, raising an eyebrow. He was on neutral territory, alongside Thomas, which wasn't too shocking - the pair were usually seen bickering at each other. Although, this time, there wasn't just bickering. There was a lot of.. exposing plans.

Thomas grabbed the drink from Newt's hands and took a gulp himself. "Ava's got a new best friend. Janson or some weird fucker. Founder of W.C.K.D. Dumbass name, I know."

Thomas only knew of Janson because he may or may not have been rummaging through Ava's office looking for things of interest. As soon as he saw Janson on a picture, he grimaced at the likeness of a rat, but then noticed the waves of confidence that exuded from him, or, more specifically, his creepy smile. That amount of confidence only came from someone whose arrogance took over their life, or someone who had a very well thought out plan. Or both. 

Newt seemed to have the same reaction as Thomas had when Ava told him about W.C.K.D because he furrowed his brows and recoiled ever so slightly. "W.C.K.D? That is really stupid." He watched Thomas as he brought the glass to his lips a second time, trying not to think about whether or not that was exactly where he had drunk from a mere moment ago. 

"I know!" He huffed, putting the glass down on the bar, licking his lips to get any beer off. "Anyway, Janson. Janson owns W.C.K.D. I'm pretty sure he's been in touch with Ava for a while. He seems really thirsty for power, and he also invented these weird beetles."

"Beetles? As in... beetles that bite?"

Thomas nodded. "Exactly that. Going off what you know, they probably bite the victim's neck and then spread a virus. There's probably a cure for it, 'cos, you know, if there's a virus then there must be a cure."

Newt shook his head and played with the quarter-full pint glass, turning it around on the table. "According to our doctors it's incurable. Bloody hell, why is Jason even trying to make weird beetles?"

"Janson."

"What?"

"Janson. Not Jason." He smiled softly. Their bickering always reminded him of their shared past, and this time was no different.

"I couldn't care less if his name was Janson or Mr.Smalldick, he's an arsehole and I'm going to kill him." The Brit rolled his eyes, picking up the glass and downing the rest of it. "Sneak over to the Right Arm hospital facility. I'll get you in and we'll look at Chuck."

Thomas' eyes widened. "Sneak in? Do you still have the beetle? I dunno what happens to it after it bites the victim. Is it dead like-like a bee? Did it not drop off Chuck's body?"

Newt shook his head with a soft laugh that still somehow sounded comforting. "You ask so many questions, Tommy. We still have the beetle - it fell off when you left Chuck but Minho stood on it. We didn't really know what to do with it so we just.. took it. I haven't looked at it."

Thomas hummed. "Fair enough. I should probably find out what they're actually called, shouldn't I?"

"Yeah. You should." Newt got up off the bar stool to leave. "Tomorrow evening at the Right Arm hospital, okay? Don't be late."

——

Thomas found out that the beetles were called 'Grievers' after asking Ava. She gave up the information without any persuasion, and he didn't blame her, because it wasn't exactly top secret information. 

Well, it was, but the name of the beetles wasn't top secret to the people involved in the top secret stuff.

Newt frowned, as if in thought, after being told the name. "Grievers? Sounds like a cringe boy band or somethin'."

Thomas gasped and clicked his fingers. "That's it! It does." He sat himself down on a chair, him and Newt waiting for a sign that meant the pair could get through. Mary could not care less who Newt was working with, and she'd never snitch or be assumed of keeping such secrets. All she wanted was to be able to save Chuck and many others that were dying innocent.

The blond rolled his eyes and tried his best not to smirk. Before he could respond, there was three spaced out knocks on the door. He stood up and gestured for the brunet to follow him through the white, hospital door into the room where Chuck and Mary would be.

Hesitantly, Thomas followed behind. He was half expecting an ambush from the Right Arm that was going to kill him, and he was 49% expecting an ambush from WICKED that would kill both of them for working together. The 1% was the thing that actually happened - Mary working at her desk intensely, Chuck's almost-lifeless body lying on the medical operation table.

He let out a sigh of relief. He really wasn't in the mood for a disagreement.

Newt went to Mary's side instinctively, looking over her shoulder at the computer she was working on. "Anything?"

She shook her head and turned around to face him with a frown. "Nothing." Raising an eyebrow, she turned her attention away from the Right Arm heir to the WICKED heir instead who was looking at Chuck with an upset expression. He had always been expressive, Newt remembered. "Working with the enemy, eh?"

The Brit simply hummed. He wasn't exactly proud of himself after he practically begged for Thomas to work with him, but time was of the essence, and he didn't want Chuck to die. He couldn't let Chuck die.

Mary nodded. "You're playing with fire." She chuckled, amused by the whole ordeal for some reason. "I won't tell anyone, of course, but, damn, isn't he your ex or something?"

Newt visibly flinched. "I-"

"Where's the beetle, Griever, then?" Thomas saved him from having to explain anything, and he sort of wanted to thank him for it. "You said you didn't look at it. I'll have a look at it."

Mary smiled and looked through her drawers before lifting out a small tub. "Here." 

The brunet walked over and took the tub. He carefully peeled the lid back, eyebrows furrowed together - an action he had always done when confused, or, like in this case, concentrated. He put the lid on the desk, then looked at the Griever. "It's exactly the same one that Ava was looking at."

Newt licked his lips. He couldn't stop thinking of how Thomas used to be. He remembered every single thing about him, and he absolutely hated it.

"This is the first beetle we've been able to catch." Mary scuttled backwards in her swivel chair to be sat beside the tub. 

Thomas nodded and picked up the Griever in his hands.

"Careful, it might bite you." The words came out of Newt's mouth before he could think twice about them, and he wanted the ground to swallow him hole. He didn't even care about the stupid man.

"Caring for me, are you, blondie?" He snickered. "I doubt it'll bite me. Wait, look at its.. mouth?" He furrowed his brows. It was a mouth but it looked mechanical, of course. "It's got like.. venom."

"Venom?"

Thomas nodded. "It's black venom. It's probably the virus that's being put in its victims."

"Bloody hell.." Newt muttered. This was so creepy - he had seen some pretty messed up stuff in his life, but this? This was the cherry on the cake, it felt like.

Well, maybe until Thomas' phone started to ring.

He raised an eyebrow and got his phone out, shushing both Newt and Mary when he read the caller - Teresa. He may trust the girl with his life, but he'd prefer to not tell her about this specific meeting up. He answered the phone, barely having time to even say a quick greeting before there was shouting in his ear.

"Where the fuck are you? Ava's dead!"

——

The WICKED mansion was chaos.

There were panicked people running left and right and it was so loud. Thomas thought the worst of it was the muttering and glances at him, though. They were most definitely whispering about him, wondering if he was going to be the leader.

In all honesty, he didn't want to be.

Thomas made his way to Ava's office, begging that Teresa or Brenda would be there. Then, he'd be able to get a full explanation without people practically kissing the ground he walked on incase he was the new heir. People wanted to make sure they were on his good side and he supposed he couldn't really blame them.

He definitely didn't see Teresa or Brenda there. No, instead, there was a ratlike man looking right at him with a bright smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. "Thomas! I've been waiting for you. Please, do take a seat."

Thomas blinked blankly. "You have?" He sat down hesitantly. He recognised the man - Janson. "Janson, right? What are you doing here?"

Janson smile turned into a more sinister one as he sat up straighter. "Correct. I'm here to offer you a.. proposition."

Proposition? That sounded suspicious. "What type of proposition?" 

"Well, I happen to know about the little... arrangement you have going on with the heir to Right Arm." Oh shit. Fucking spies had to ruin everything, didn't they? "I could, you know, keep it a secret if you agree to one thing?"

"What do you want?" He'd be killed if anyone found out. Murdered brutally or sent to the Right Arm, where death would come anyway.

"I want to be the new leader."

Thomas stared suspiciously. He knew about him and Newt and yet he still wanted to be gang leader - without killing him.

Oh.

Janson didn't know what him and Newt were doing. Which meant he probably thought-

Thomas visibly recoiled, but quickly composed himself and nodded. He didn't want any rumours of him and Newt having make-out-meet-ups. "Yeah. I-uh, yes."

"Huh." Janson let out a surprised noise and clasped his hands together. "Well, that'll be all."

"Okay." He murmured. He took a step back before he turned around and walked out.

He didn't miss the threat that was called after him.

"Tell Newt anything and you'll be dead."

Thomas grinned. 

Too late for that.

——

Thomas watched Mary, Minho and Newt.

He sat on a rooftop, watching as every so often Minho elbowed Newt, or said something that made him laugh, or did something that had to have dramatic effect. He wondered if they spoke in the languages they had been forced to learn, as him and Newt used to do to joke around. 

It made him feel jealous.

He wanted to be there.

He remembered how he made Newt feel, how Newt made him feel. He wanted that feeling again. The feeling of having someone to call your own, having someone you can tell anything, having someone you can kiss and hug and cuddle as much as you like.

Having something to love.

Thomas snapped his eyes shut and swallowed a lump in his throat. He had made his decision, and Newt had made his. He couldn't allow himself to be eaten up by past emotions that didn't matter anymore. No, all that mattered now was helping people. He had to act a hero for once in his life - he had to save Chuck.

He opened his eyes once more and looked down at Newt as he pointed at something on the computer with his head cocked to the side.

He had to save the boy he still loved.

——

"You made a vaccine?" Thomas gasped. "Does that mean you can save Chuck."

Mary nodded. "Hopefully. We haven't tried it yet." She held up a beaker holding bright blue liquid in. A very small amount, but it was there, nonetheless. "We were going to do it later." 

Newt let out a sigh. "Hopefully it fucking works. I'm exhausted." He let a hand rest on Chuck's arm. 

She smiled. "You should get some sleep, you know?" 

"I have been getting sleep." 

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "It's not about whether you've been getting sleep, it's about whether you've been getting enough sleep." 

Newt huffed and didn't reply.

Mary chuckled under her breath. "Thomas, I'm going to give you some of the vaccine."

"You're- what?" He furrowed his brows. "Why?" 

"Well, in case you get bitten, of course. Or someone you care about." 

Thomas frowned. Janson wouldn't allow Teresa or Brenda to be bitten by the Grievers, surely? "Okay." He took a small vial of blue liquid and put it in his back pocket. "Thank you. Really." 

——

"What's in your pocket?"

Thomas leapt 5 feet in the air at the sudden intrusion, almost knocking over the kettle. "Oh my god, don't do that Teresa!" He huffed. "I thought someone was going to kill me."

Teresa ignored him. "What's in the vial in your pocket?"

"Uh.." He blinked, trying to come up with an excuse. "Nothi-"

"It's something." She snapped. "Tell me what it is."

Okay, lying wasn't going to work. Changing the subject, maybe? "Why're you so pissed? What did I do?"

"Why am I pissed?" She folded her arms and laughed humourlessly. "Okay, right, let me see. You've been ignoring me and Brenda, you keep sneaking out without telling either of us which is usually normal but not this much, and then you come back with a weird vial in your pocket." Her expression softened slightly then, and Thomas felt bad. "You haven't been like this since Newt. Are you seeing him again?"

Thomas internally cursed himself for his inability to not be expressive. Teresa could read him like a book - a children's picture book. "Fuck, Teresa. It's not like that. I wanted to tell you, I really did." He sighed. "Newt asked me to help him."

"And you did? You forgot about us and helped your ex you're still madly in love with?"

Thomas' silence was enough of an answer.

"Damn. I can't believe you." She shook her head in disapproval. "I really cannot believe you. You're helping the enemy. The fucking ENEMY, Tom!" He flinched at her outburst. She was usually a calm and rational person - when she snapped, it was nothing short of petrifying. 

"What, so you think that allowing Janson to kill people is better instead? Should I just let him kill innocent people? He's evil, Teresa!-"

"Evil's a strong word now, isn't it?" 

Thomas was going to either kill someone or himself. Janson lounged into the kitchen, eyes twinkling with a sense of amusement, lips curled up in an entertained smile. "What is in your pocket, Thomas? I am rather intrigued." He stalked up towards the brunet. Said brunet didn't move a muscle, and instead stood his ground. "Working with Newt, though? I must say, I had my assumptions, although I hoped for the best."

Once moment, Thomas was staring at Janson with an odd sense of pride, the next, he was grabbing onto the kitchen counter after a hand had come in contact with his face. "You son of a bit-"

"Now, now. Let's calm down. You can either give me the vial easily, or I can force it away from you. Which would you prefer?" Janson spoke with confidence and it was annoying.

Thomas smiled. He reached behind him, grabbed anything he could find - a mug - and threw ir at Janson's face. "How about neither?" 

Then he ran.

——

Thomas didn't exactly know where he was going.

He was half hoping he'd run into Newt so he could beg for help, and he was half hoping he wouldn't run into Newt so there wasn't a larger chance the blond would die too. 

Of course, neither happened.

Thomas instead ran into Minho, who just stared blankly at him for a moment, before taking in the vial with blue liquid in his hand and the brunet's equally as surprised expression. "Where the hell did you get that from?"

He let out a huff of annoyance or relief - he didn't really know. "Listen, Minho, right? You need to take me to Newt."

"Uh-huh. Like I'm gonna do that." He scoffed. "You'll have to kill me first." He grabbed a knife out of his pocket and held it in front of him. 

"I'm not going to fight you." Thomas groaned. "I'm being chased by WICKED and I'm trying to fucking help you. They're going to come after the Right Arm."

Minho glanced around, deciding whether or not to believe him. "Why do you need Newt?" He lowered his knife, yet still had a death grip on the handle.

"We've been working together."

"Oh shit." The raven-haired wasn't exactly surprised (he saw how annoyed Newt got with everything when he saw Thomas again - the blond wasn't exactly over him), more.. amused yet disappointed, in a way. "Of course you have." He muttered. "Okay, fuck. You're on Right Arm territory, so, remember-"

Thomas flashed a quick grin. "If I try anything, I'll be dead."

—— (the amount of TIME SKIPS im so sorry omfg)

"Newt, stop looking around and get your ass here." Minho spoke in a whisper-shout as he stalked around the abandoned building. "Your stupid boyfriend is here."

Thomas chewed at the inside of his cheek to withhold a pathetic, childish retaliation. "Janson's going to kill me, and probably you as well. He wants the vaccine. Probably thinks that you're going to be the ones to sell the vaccine out to people who're only Right Arm members." 

Newt raised an eyebrow, walking over with a knowing smile on his face. "I assumed he'd find out. You were never good at hiding things." He fiddled with something in his hand. "Do ya think he's followed you here?" 

He paused. He didn't really know, to be entirely honest. He had just ran. "I mean, probably? He'll assume I'm on Right Arm territory so he'll probably be looking around here somewhere." 

"Good." He let out a hum of thought, and Thomas looked at Minho, who looked back at him with an equally as confused expression. "What do you say we cause a distraction then make a run for it?" 

Thomas shook his head, a grin plastered on his face. "You want to draw him here so we can escape? Are you forgetting I'm still the WICKED heir?" 

"You've never wanted to be involved in WICKED, Tommy. I'm not an idiot. You want them all dead." 

It was half true. Since he had been sneaking around in Right Arm territory with Newt, he had always said he'd prefer to be involved with the Right Arm. He didn't exactly want them dead, but he definitely wanted Janson dead, even if he hadn't been involved in the gang business for that long. 

Thomas chuckled. "What's the plan then, blondie?" 

"What do you think?" Newt teased. 

It felt somewhat nice to be thrown back into their old bickering. A sense of long lost normality  in a way. 

The brunet looked at the Brit's hands. "Explosives?" 

Newt cracked his neck and made eye contact with Thomas, falling back into old habits. "Tu sais que j'aime bien exploser les choses." 

Thomas shook his head in disbelief and barked out a laugh. "Alors, alons exploser ce bordel." 

"You two are absolutely insane." Minho smirked. "Where we running to?" 

——

Teresa grabbed onto Brenda's hand. "We need to find him. He's going to get himself killed." She muttered. 

Brenda instantly got up and followed her friend to the front door, which after leaving, they began to run away from. "Where are we going?" 

"I don't know. We need to find him, Bren." 

"What, Thomas?" She frowned. What was Teresa not telling her? "Why?" 

"Because Janson's out to fucking kill him! That's why!" Teresa hissed and ran down an alleyway, not once letting go of Brenda's hand. "Look, I'll explain later. We need to get him." 

Brenda nodded. "Okay, okay. Do you have idea where he is?" 

The females flinched when they heard an explosion, but Teresa span around and grinned. "That might be a good place to start to look. Or maybe the Right Arm building. They wouldn't blow themselves up, now, would they?" 

——

Minho snickered, finding great entertainment in the whole ordeal. Newt had thrown the explosives, grabbed Thomas' hand - not Minho's - and ran. 

So, here they were, running like their lives depended on it - which is sort of did - towards the main Right Arm building, where Mary was. 

Minho and Thomas ran ahead, being more athletic, and physically able to run than Newt was. 

(Newt had muttered out "bloody limp" on more than one occasion.)

Newt was trailing behind, gun in hand, checking behind him for any signs of people following them. 

He couldn't really see in front, so he only heard Minho's yelled "FUCK!" when someone popped out in front of them, gun in hand.

He worked out who it was when Thomas instantly put his hands up, eyes wide. "Teresa. Fuck, Teresa, what are you doing?-" 

Teresa would never shoot Thomas. Minho and Newt, she probably would, but Thomas - she definitely wouldn't. "What am I doing?" She huffed. "What are you doing? Janson wants you back. He just wants you, but I'm sure he'll accept two extras." 

"What?" Thomas muttered. "You're ratting me in? Are you serious?" He laughed humourlessly. "You're not taking any of us." 

Teresa raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?" She walked over to Newt and held the gun to his forehead. Newt would usually have used his own gun to shoot her, but, well, he didn't want to upset Thomas.

Plus, Teresa snatched the gun out of his hand before he could think twice about using it.  

Something snapped in Thomas. He shook his head frantically, and completely panicked. "You can take me! Take me, and that's it. Okay? Let them go." He blurted out, heart beating in his ears. 

Newt and Minho both span around to face him, shock etched on both of them. "What the bloody hell, Tommy?" 

Teresa looked at Brenda, who was chewing her lips nervously. "Teresa, should you not just... let them go? Thomas looks like he-"

"What? Loves Newt?" Teresa scoffed. "I don't care. Why should I? He left us, and betrayed us. You cannot tell me you still care about that dickhead."

Brenda furrowed her brows. "Of course I still care about him. He's my best friend-" 

"I thought I was your best friend!" The darker-haired snapped, flinching back at her own outburst. "I-I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me." She blinked back her tears and turned to face Thomas who looked equally as shocked as Brenda did. "Tom, I'll let them escape. But you need to come back." 

"Tommy, you can't-"

"Okay." Thomas whispered softly with a nod. "Let them leave and I'll come back. If I don't come back, you can kill me, and them." 

Brenda's hand shot up to her mouth. "Thomas-"

Teresa held up a hand to silence her friend and nodded. "If you're not back, or found alone, by tomorrow, I'll hunt down Newt myself." 

Newt shook his head. "No, no. You cannot do this, Tommy." He spat. He was not going to let Thomas leave. 

Thomas smiled pitifully. "I already have, blondie."

——

"You have to fucking leave, Newt!" Thomas stressed, running up to Newt when he saw him still lounging around in the city,w without a care in the world. He pushed him into an alleyway. "He's going to kill you." 

Newt shook his head. He wasn't going to leave Thomas here. "I'm not leaving you." He whispered, voice shakier and hoarser than he'd like it to be. 

"You have to." The brunet murmured, leaning against the wall. "I don't want you to die. You can't die. Please." 

"I'm not leaving you." He repeated, stronger this time. He wasn't letting Janson take Thomas, and torture him. "You can't die either." 

"Fuck! I don't want to die, dammit. I'm doing this for you!" He ran his fingers through his hair agitatedly, throwing his head back onto the wall with a thump. He didn't want to die. He wanted to be with Newt, to make up for all the years they had hated each other, but, he couldn't. 

He couldn't get what he wanted dead or alive. "Please, Tommy." Newt walked over to Thomas, treating him like a scared cat that would run away if scared. "Please." He put a hand onto the brunet's cheek, cupping his face. "I don't want you to leave me again." 

Thomas flopped his head forwards this time, onto Newt's shoulder. "I don't want you to leave." His voice broke and he could feel the burning in his eyes. "But you have to." He pulled away, instead looking up and placing his forehead against Newt's. "You have to. For Minho, for Chuck. Please. Save them." 

Newt begged himself to say no, to argue, to do anything. But he nodded. He nodded and smiled sadly when Thomas wiped away one of his stray tears, even though the brunet himself was crying. "Don't cry, Tommy, my love." 

"Go." Thomas murmured against Newt's lips. "I'll be fine." 

Newt leant forward, connecting their lips in a kiss. Their lips were salty and they could taste the tears on one another's lips, but they didn't care. It was sweet, and sad and they didn't want to pull away. They wanted to stay there, entwined in each other, for eternity. 

But all good things must come to an end.

Thomas pulled away, breathing heavily. He let out a sob and pushed the blond away. "Go." 

Newt licked his lips, whether because it was nerves, an attempt to get rid of the tears, or to savour Thomas, he didn't know. "I love you." He whispered.

Then he was gone.

Thomas leant against the wall once more, slumping down onto the ground. He whispered four words into the darkness, eyes closed, awaiting for Janson to peek around the corner and grab him. 

"I love you too." 

i fucking hate this theres gonna be like 1284092139489387892 mistakes im sorry

it probably doesnt even make sense

but 

uhghoaiwlkfawawhflakgw 

8.6K WORDS!!!! WOOOOO

be proud anyway ive FINISHED HYAYAAYAY