#mazeglued

trembling digits attempted to grip tighter around the canteen in his grasp, pausing in front of the restrained boy at his feet. the permanent twist in his gut had sunk lower, pulled tighter and all thomas could do was accept the fact that this was HIS fault. “here – “ his voice low, apprehensive as if he didn’t know if he should even be hovering this CLOSE. “it’s just water. you haven’t drank anything all day.” slowly, his knees bent to sink down to newt’s level, undoing the lid while sorrow-filled eyes couldn’t even bear to meet the other boy’s own. he would see his guilt that way, his FEAR and SELF HATRED for not being able to accept newt’s final wishes. 

     It's practically noon on a Saturday and Gally had just woken up from a long night of work. He didn't have school, so it wasn't like there was any real good reason for someone to be banging on his front door. They better be someone important coming to tell him he's won the lottery or the world was ending or else they were dead meat. Running on a little less than a full six hours, Gally wasn't exactly the most pleasant person to see in the morning afternoon.

     Though most would agree that Gally was never the most pleasant person, period. 

     He drags his feet through the carpet of the living room after having exited his bedroom, cursing whoever thought they were slick enough to try and sell him something stupid like zoo books or ask him how he felt about Jesus. He'd tell them off real good if they tried to take up more than just a few seconds of his time with their bullshit. 

     But instead of some Mormon or foreign kid with a "summer job" standing at his front door, it was Newt. The annoyance vanishes from Gally's face only to be replaced by confusion.