A Guiding Light - Newtmas

Newt's leg twinged as Thomas talked of the Maze. He threw ideas around of what it could mean or what it could be holding. This Running thing had set his eyes sparkling with a purpose. Although very sexy, it set Newt's mind racing as he imagined something happening to Thomas deep within the sly, cold prison.
"Hey, you're not listening," said Thomas gently. He nudged Newt. It was dark; the fire crackled as all the boys sat around talking.
"I am, Tommy." Newt put his hand on his knee. "I'm just..."
"Newt." Thomas shuffled himself so he was sitting opposite him. "I'd be klunking myself if I thought of you running around in there. Hell, you know it better than I do. But this is right, you know? I can feel it. This whole thing won't be for nothing. We can find the answers. Trust me."
He leaned in and kissed Newt. There was a lull in talk around them as the boys noticed. Then there laughs and "oooh"s and Zart splashed them with the last of his drink. "To cool you down, lovebirds!"
Grinning, Thomas sat next to Newt again. Newt grasped his hand and held it tightly.
That night, Ben was on most of the Gladers' minds again. The Maze was strangely quiet tonight. Newt turned to gaze at the outline of Thomas lying still. The Maze would claim one Glader tomorrow. Newt resolved it would not take anyone else.

Two days later, Newt thought of this resolve as the two gargantuan walls of the Maze came together in a deafening, final boom. They had closed on Thomas, Alby and Minho. Newt had fallen to his knees and yelled and cried in anguish. The others attempted to help him; Gally lifted him up back to his feet and said firmly, "We'll be here at the crack of dawn waiting for them, Newt. It's Minho, remember."
All Newt could do was wail. He could only pace instead of lying in his hammock. As if he could sleep while their leader was stung and unconscious, their Runner a sitting duck as he dragged him, and Thomas - the Greenie - the stupid, headstrong, reckless, insanely good-hearted boy who had never set foot in the Maze before were out there.
Why would he do that? He had ran to his death and Newt had not stopped him. If he had gone instead it would be him with Alby and Minho. Cowardice had him in his grasp, but not Thomas. Newt cursed the Glade, cursed the Maze, cursed whoever had put them there. It felt like a cruel joke.
"Oh, Tommy," he whispered. "Just come back to me."
He did not sleep a wink. Instead he watched the sky turn pale. Gally, true to his word, got up too, and the two of them wandered up to the entrance without speaking. Unbeknownst to them, Chuck followed, biting his nails. He joined them at the walls and Newt put his arm round him. He looked up to Thomas, he could tell.
It was an age before the walls parted. The three boys strained their eyes as they stared into the gloom. It was silent. The Maze gave nothing away. Newt was not sure how long they stood there. His heart broke again as Gally eventually murmured, "I'm sorry, Newt." And he wandered away. Newt decided he needed a walk. The leg pain had gone as his heart ached. As he turned, Chuck cried out excitedly.
"THEY'RE HERE! THEY MADE IT! GUYS!"
Newt whipped around and hurled himself into the Maze to help Thomas and Minho with Alby. Once their leader was set gently to the ground, Thomas and Newt grabbed each other. Newt cried as he kissed him.
"Tommy, I thought you were gone."
"I said to trust me, remember." Thomas grinned.
"You absolute shuckface. What the klunk was that for, why in hell did you do that - " 
Thomas simply held him close. It was good to be back.