Archive of Our Own ^beta

Brenda had always known that Teresa Agnes was her number one competitor. 

She’d seen the way Thomas looked at her, even when grime and sweat stuck to her skin under the boiling heat of the scorch. She’d seen how he snuck from the group sometimes just to stand with her, their two perfect silhouettes almost bewitching under the golden glow of the sinking sun. 

And how could she blame him? Teresa had crept up on the boy long before Brenda even had the chance to meet him. She was like a leech; a parasite that hooked onto him and  refused to let go. And a part of her knew she was being unreasonable – that was the part she hated most – she knew that if she were anyone else, she’d think Thomas and Teresa were meant to be. But she wasn’t. And she was instead stuck in this horrible loop where she had to be reminded of her every day and how she’d never match up. Her short, cropped brown hair was nothing compared to the dark waterfall of curls Teresa had, and her umber eyes were bland compared to the other girl’s sharp ice-blue ones. 

After the yelling match downstairs, Brenda allowed herself a sliver of hope for the first time in weeks. This time, Thomas had seemed less reluctant to defend her, less desperate, almost like he was clinging on to Newt’s words and believing them but disallowing any defeat from overtaking him. 

Maybe if she talked to him convincingly enough, he’d listen this time. She had to try, anyway, she was so close. Walking up the stairs to the top of the dilapidated building, she crossed her fingers and prayed.

She was about to reach the stairwell when a voice stopped her short. 

“...don’t wanna… say goodbye… love you.” 

She’d recognise that voice anywhere. It belonged to Thomas. Yet at the same time, it was so different from his. The voice belonging to the Thomas she knew was determined; always strong, never wavering. It was one of the things she admired about him most, clearly. His ability to push any emotion out of his voice was what always made him such a good leader – he was tough – but she hadn’t thought that perhaps there was a side of him that was just like everyone else. 

Now his voice was raw, unfiltered with hurt and sorrow. It was the same voice George had used to yell for her one last time before WCKD dragged him from her arms. Desperate in a way, but even more overwhelmed with the hurt and fear of losing control. 

But the words ‘love you’ were what struck her hardest. Had Thomas somehow smuggled Teresa in? It wasn’t possible, since their argument had just been about whether to infiltrate WCKD with Teresa’s help. 

But who else could Thomas love? 

She edged the door open and saw it. Not teresa. 

Newt, with the sleeve of his jacket rolled down to his elbow, poisonous black veins clinging to his skin like angry tree roots. Thomas, with an arm around Newt’s slouched form and the other touching his bare skin. Thomas wasn't just scared, he was crying. Visibly shaking and sniffling, not bothering to wipe at his face or eyes and instead devoting himself to the sole task of clinging to Newt’s fragile body. 

Brenda felt jealousy swell in her throat again, but it was nowhere as hard as before and dissolved into nothing before she could name it. She had never seen Thomas let himself be so vulnerable and scared around anyone. Not her, not Minho, and certainly not Teresa. This was unheard, new territory for her. 

Apparently, it wasn’t for Newt. 

He laughed, gently, almost fondly, and whispered words of comfort that made Thomas clutch him desperately like he was clinging on to life. Audibly, she heard him chuckle and add, “I’m the one who’s dying, you shank, and here you are, waiting to be comforted by your crank buddy.” she almost laughed at that, and Thomas seemed to do it for her, the hint of a smile finally creeping up his face. 

It was washed away quickly and the same look of hopelessness slipped back into his eyes. Noticing, Newt raised an eyebrow. 

“I can’t take the thought of leaving you,” Thomas finally choked out, voice strangled and filled with a pain that made Brenda’s heart hurt despite knowing she should’ve been feeling jealous instead. But there was no longer any room for envy in her heart when she saw another tear slip down his wet cheek. 

Newt shushed him and reached out to press his hand into Thomas’s, the contact making the younger boy’s shoulders lose tension. 

“I promise, I’m not leaving you,” he whispered, “I told you, I will follow you anywhere.” When she hears his voice, soft and gentle like a mother that Thomas never had, she realises how impossible it simply would’ve been for him to not fall head over heels in love. There’s something about the way he speaks to him, as if he were simply addressing Thomas as a person rather than a leader. Like she did. Like Teresa did. 

“And you have,” Thomas murmured. He paused, as if he wanted to say something more, and then breathed, “I love you.” 

Any fragment of hope that the feelings Thomas harboured for Newt were nothing more than platonic slipped away. She doubted there was any left, but this was proper confirmation. He’d kissed her before, yes, but those were moments of Bliss-induced delirium where hunger and longing for something other than emptiness overtook. It wasn’t love, just lust, or a desperate hope to fill the void Newt had left in him. He had never once told her he loved her, nor Teresa. 

“I love you too, Tommy.” 

Brenda recognised the new jealousy in her was different from before. Now she simply felt envious of both Thomas and Newt; of how they had found love and she remained alone with unrequited feelings just like she always had. 

She didn’t feel the slightest bit upset that Thomas had found Newt, which surprised her, considering how much fury and bitterness she’d wasted toiling over Teresa. Maybe it was simply because a part of her felt dissatisfied with her relationship with him because that part was already aware they were far from soulmates. This felt different, somehow. She’d loved Thomas from the beginning, and perhaps loving him meant realising when he’d finally found the right one, even if it wasn’t her. It still hurt a little, but after seeing the way Newt held Thomas, she knew she’d never be able to outdo this one.  

It didn’t seem to matter anymore. Thomas was happy, and that was enough for her. 

She let the door slide shut as the two leaned in for a kiss.