Pinky Swear || Thomas x Reader
Summary: when thomas makes you a promise, he intends to keep it, always.
Words: 1k
Notes: just fluff, and just a little brief spiel to get us by
"Pinky swear?" He would ask. "Is there any other way?" You would reply. That's the back-and-forth that kept the trust between you both so incredibly strong. More than a phrase; a word of honour, a promise, a vow that meant more than any other words truly could. It was a near-silent way that you communicated your credibility, to showcase your dependableness with one another and to stay as close as possible - knowing that whenever one would fall, the other would always be there to catch.
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With a single look across the table, you knew that Thomas was pleading for you to trust him. He had devised a plan, and if executed well, you and your friends will be able to escape the unsettling clutches of your new captors. You had only been out of the maze for two days, and already, you felt trapped once more. It was never-ending. Thomas eyed you with tender energy before his smallest finger was held toward you, lips squeezing with reassurance, "This ends now, I'm getting us all outta here. Pinky swear." You had held your hand out to him silently, brows furrowed before a deep breath was taken. Fingers closed into a weakened fist as your pinky was held out straight and locked with his, "I'm with you, no matter what. Pinky swear." He suddenly charged from his seat, stalking across the cafeteria to make an unmissable scene with Janson's guards. You were hot on his footsteps, trailing the determined boy with your friends by your side. Thomas' plan was mad. It was risky. But you had every ounce of faith in him, and he had proven himself before by escaping the Glade. You could all tell that something about this place wasn't right - you weren't 'saved' from the maze, only transported to the next stage. And it was time that you escaped for real.
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Your skin itched; a concoction of sand grains and sweltering heat that prompted you to sweat under the layers of protective clothing you wore. The Scorch was more than you expected, as well as the zombified figure of cranks that stalked you ravenously through the abandoned mall less than twelve hours ago. You had yet to find the time to breathe let alone think, but you didn't dare falter. You all depended on one another now more than ever - a found family, destined connections, and personalities that you couldn't find yourself living without. It wasn't until Winston began to deteriorate, that you realised how vital these connections were. He paled quickly in turn with the decaying bite mark that branded him ambiguously doomed, and it was only a matter of time before darkness would truly devour him. You were all meant to be immune but the flaws were now showing - what was to become the rest of you all? The ringing of Winston's gunshot still bounced within your heads, like a pinball machine, unable to let the ball escape. That night, Thomas sat alone, his eyes red from exhaustion and sadness, doubt already clawing at his heart. "You are still a hero. You're my hero." You spoke to the boy as you cradled his arm against your chest, linking your fingers with his trembling ones. "I won't lose anyone else, I can't. Especially you. Pinky swear." Thomas held his spare pinky to you, and you accepted with complete and utter adoration. "Pinky swear, Tommy."
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Your heart was in your throat as you watched him lay in silence. He was calm, but you were far from it. You hadn't seen Thomas in a couple of days and it was because of his stupid heroism as he chased after Brenda the moment you were pushed down that makeshift zipline - the last thing for you to see was the panic and blown whisky hues of his eyes before he retreated after your new ally. Marcus' club could still be heard from across the street where you were curled by Thomas' bedside, vaguely listening as you heard Brenda retell of their narrow escapes from death. You pushed back his hair as it fell over his forehead for the third time in the past half hour, your touch tender and subtle to keep from waking him. It would only be a minute or two later when he drew in a gasping breath, eyes shooting wide until his blurry vision focused on your relieved expression. "You're awake." You hummed quietly, squeezing his shoulder before slapping at his chest, "Don't you ever run off like that again!" Thomas chuckled with weariness, "Pinky swear."
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The Right Arm camp looked worse when daylight hit. WCKD came in with brutal force and took everything their bergs could hold - including Minho and a collection of other unlucky abductees. Now, all that was left was a handful of survivors, a field of the deceased, and black smoke still rising from the fire and destruction that swallowed the mountain whole last night. A word hadn't been spoken since Janson and Ava fled from the scene, until, Thomas stood tall with such commendable determination. He wasn't going to give up on saving everyone, and there's no way on Earth that you would let him. You were going to stand by this boy until you could stand no more. With arms wrapped around his neck, as his slid around your waist, you breathed him in. Your nose nuzzled against the curve of his shoulder and you whispered sweet nothings... encouraging and devoted words that kept him so much closer to you. Thomas kissed so tenderly over your temple, as if you were glass and he was scared that you would break with a single touch. "I love you." He said without hesitation. "Pinky swear?" You would ask. "Is there any other way?" He would reply, always.
