TW: blood

...also angst 

Thomas smiles. A sad smile, but a smile, nonetheless. "Kiss me." His voice is hoarse and he's in so much pain, but the girl he loves is in front of him, so everything might just be alright.

Teresa's crying. It's boiling, surrounded by the fire, and she's scared out her skin. She's going to die tonight - she knows. She'll die saving her love. "Okay." She tries to blink away her tears, but Thomas' blooded hand comes up to her cheek and cups it, telling her it's okay. "Okay, Tom."

She leans forward and captures Thomas' lips with her own. His lips are chapped and dry and wet from his own tears, but they're loving, and... and they're his. The kiss feels like a promise. Like they're telling each other everything will be okay, death or no death. They've always been good at talking to each other through touch and thoughts.

With a sob, Teresa pulls away. She can't do this. She wants to live. She wants to be forgiven. She wants Thomas. "I'm sorry." She eventually chokes out, bringing her hand down to Thomas' bullet wound as they sit on the burning roof together. "I'm so sorry."

And he says what she's always wanted him to say. What, since the night she ratted them all out, she'd been dreaming of him saying. "I get why you did it. It's okay." He smiles - it's taking him a lot of effort to smile, she can tell. "Plus, I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you, would I?"

She lets out a watery laugh and her other hand comes up to cup his cheek, drawing circles softly. She's always been so proud of this man. He's always been able to smile and joke through the pain, even before the maze. "You're dying right now." 

Thomas' eyes flutter closed and she sits up straighter, moving both her hands to his chest, suddenly panicked. "At least if I die, it'll be in your arms." He whispers gently.

"Yeah." Teresa murmurs. She can't think of a better place to go. "That's not too bad."

There's silence, and she moves her left hand to feel his pulse on his neck. He's always had a stronger pulse on his neck. She remembers when they used to try and find one another's pulse. Hers was always easy to find - her pulse was strong. Thomas used to say it was strong like her.

Thomas could never find his own pulse. Teresa had to find it. Thomas liked to think it was because they were somewhat connected. She found the thought absurd. 

Now, it's less so.

"It was good, wasn't it?" Thomas croaks out. It feels like his last words and the mere thought panics Teresa. "All of it. I'm glad I did it with you."

Teresa forces a small smile and runs her hands through his hair, moving them from his pulse. "It was nice. I'm glad it was with you, too. And all the Gladers, even if they all hate me."

"When you get to safety, they'll love you. Just like I do."

When. There's no 'if'. Just... when she does.

"I love you." She whispers then shakes her head. "But, I don't think so." She plants a kiss on his forehead. Suddenly, she's very aware of the top sticking to her torso and the sweat on her own forehead due to the heat. "Maybe I'll die here, anyway."

Thomas doesn't reply.

"Tom?" 

No reply.

"Tom?" Her voice is louder this time. She's scared. She shouldn't have moved her hand. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Once again, no reply.

"Tom!" She sobs, her hands moving frantically to his pulse. She tries to find it. There isn't one. God, there isn't one. "Please. Tom, wake up."

There's the faint whirring of the helicopter above but she ignores it. She's not leaving him here. She'll die if she has to. 

She'll die with Thomas if she has to.

ugh that ending ruined everything i hate it