#runnersnet

By a cluster of trees, Thomas lies in the grass, with his arms folded over his chest. His legs are crossed by the ankles and, as Aris’ eyes adjusts he sees that, Thomas is shivering.

He shrugs off his coat as he walks up to Thomas. “You’re freezing, nerd.”

Thomas snaps out of his absent expression upon hearing Aris and sits up, drawing his knees to his chest. He doesn’t meet his eye, even as Aris puts the coat around Thomas’ shoulders and sits next to him, cross-legged.

“Do I want to ask?” Aris’ voice is calm and gentle, as if one wrong slip up might leave Thomas running.

“No,” Thomas answers, looking up at the stars. “But you’re gonna ask anyway, aren’t you?”

Aris snorts, scooting closer to him. “You know me so well.”

“Being stuck with someone for two years kinda does that to you,” Thomas replies, chuckling a little.

Aris smiles. “I guess so…So what are you doing here? Nightmares?”

Thomas nods. “Yeah…”

“What was it this time?” Aris asks as he rests his head on Thomas’ shoulder. “Newt? The Scorch?”

He could feel Thomas shake his head.

“Then what?”

“You.”

Aris straightens, caught off guard, and turns to Thomas. “Oh…’kay. What about me?”

“I think…I think they were memories,” Thomas starts slowly, as if each word that escaped his mouth made his head hurt. “I’m not sure.”

Speechless for a bit, Aris just nods. He remembers Thomas - every bit of him since the day they met in WICKED. Sometimes, it stung to remember that, because Thomas refused to have the Swipe removed, he had zero memories of Aris before they met again after the maze trials, but he knows those memories don’t matter now.  Yet, he almost let relief flood through him before he remembers that Thomas used the term nightmares.

“I…I was on an operation table, being strapped down,” Thomas continues. “The wires, the needles, the scanners…They all looked so familiar. That’s how I know it’s a memory. Back before Hans freed me from WICKED’s control, those were the dreams I had. I even remember glimpses of Teresa fighting the guards and hugging me goodbye before they secured me to the table. But the thing is, my dream just now was even before that. You were there too, weren’t you? You were crying…holding my hand. You told me we would all find each other again soon…That we’ll take back our memories…our lives together. You, me, Teresa, and Rachel.”

Of course, Aris remembers that. That was all he could think about whenever he saw Thomas at Denver, after getting his memories back. He reaches for Thomas’ hand and interlaces their fingers. Thomas grips back harder.

“Yeah, those are memories. Those happened,” Aries mumbles. He then places a kiss on Thomas’ shoulder before resting his chin there. “I know you still dwell on your other nightmares, but you don’t have to dwell on that one. I’m here. I’m still here.”

Thomas nods again, taking a deep breath. “I just…It makes me feel like crap that you remember everything about me and my only memory of you is you crying because I was about to have my half my mind purged out of me. And that’s before I agreed to something I didn’t even fulfill.”

“Hey,” Aris mutters as he curls his fingers around Thomas’ chin and makes him meet his gaze. “I’m not blaming you for not wanting those memories back or for not trusting those guys. I would have the chosen that path too if I had your burdens on my shoulder, Thomas. And I don’t mind that you don’t remember me from before the trials. I mean, yes, there were some good memories, but having to deal with the vivid images of their torture and manipulation? It just ain’t a fair price. Especially when you’ve got the real me right now.

I might have fallen in love with you back when we were at WICKED, but that doesn’t matter because I’ve fallen in love with you about a thousand more times - and counting - since we got reunited. We may not share the memories of who we were before…but, take it from me, the things we’ve got today is so much better.”

At this point, Thomas is starting to tear up, but doesn’t detach his gaze from Aris. Aris smiles sadly and wipes Thomas’ tears away before continuing.

“I know that your memories are more than this, and that you want to remember so much more than me. But when it comes to us, keep in  mind that the time you’re spending worrying about the crappy past, is time you could be spending memorizing who we are in this very moment. Trust me, what we have now, is much more worth preserving than the memories you lost. Understand?”

“Y-yeah, I do,” Thomas whispers, but his voice cracks anyway. He then shifts so that he’s sitting cross-legged in front of Aris and cups his face with both hands. 

Aris looks into his eyes, desperate to know what Thomas is thinking. But before he asks, Thomas goes for it.

There are still tears in his eyes when he kisses Aris’ left cheek, then his right. Then the tip of his nose. His forehead. Thomas’ caressing fingers followed the trail of his kisses as his lips reach Aris’ neck.

“F-fuck…okay,” Aris manages, rapidly running out of breath as he feels jolts of electricity with each of Thomas’ barely-touches going up and down his body and his mouth that is now at Aris’ collarbone. “H-hey, Thomas,” he breathes out raggedly, as he clutches at Thomas’ sweater. “Not complaining, but, w-what are you doing?”

“What you said I should do.” Thomas straightens and cups Aris’ face again. He has a small smile on his face and his eyes are still watery when he kisses Aris full on the mouth. Melting into the kiss, Aris lets Thomas’ nudge his lips open. He wraps his arms around Thomas’ neck and sighs against his mouth, making Thomas’ tongue feel warmer against his.

He didn’t mind, really. It’s not like Thomas was sleeping anyway. It was a Friday night and he was in a middle of a Star Wars marathon up in his room. Then again, he wouldn’t have been asleep even if it was any other day, judging by the raging house party that was going on right across from his house. The track team had just won the championship meet, and Minho, of course, had offered to host the celebration.

“This better be good, Minho. I had to pause just when Leia was two minutes from rescuing Han.”Craning his neck to look around Minho, he could see that the party was at its peak. Flashing lights shone from every window, people began to overflow from the house and onto the front yard, and no one was standing still - everyone was either doing shots, dancing, or making out. “Your house is getting trashed, do you realize?”“The only thing…. that I noticed was that you… weren’t there,” Minho said slowly. His eyes had a distant look about them, he swayed where he was standing, and, his alcohol-breath was making it hard for Thomas not to wince. Thomas grabbed him by the shoulders. “Easy there, Minho,” he mumbles.

“I invited you,” Minho reminded him, before his mouth slowly grew into a pout.

He did; Thomas just didn’t want to go.  It’s not that Thomas hated Minho and the whole Quarterback Heartthrob package just because he, on the other hand, was not exactly the most popular person in the school. On the contrary, he and Minho were actually best friends.

They’d been living across each other their whole lives. As Minho had gotten  into sports, parties, and flirting with everyone who so much as smiles at him, Thomas had gotten into journalism, literary crit classes, and anything else that involved observing people rather than interacting with them. From then on, their friendship in school was only limited to being lab partners and Thomas interviewing him for the sports page of the school paper. While beyond the high school building, they still argue about comic books over the phone at 3 A.M., sleep over at each other’s places  for video game  tournaments and TV show marathons, and basically do everything everything they did growing up, it was obvious that they don’t exactly share the same social circle. It’s been years and Minho still couldn’t accept that.

It was easier for Thomas to, though. The minute Minho started trying out for teams and hanging out with people that intimidated Thomas just by looking his way, it was pretty obvious. He didn’t mind, because he knew he still had Minho and maybe this time he can focus on his own stuff more without Minho distracting him all the time.

The fact that their distance might help Thomas get over his massive crush on his best friend had its appeal too. Not that it has started to work so far.

“You invited me,” Thomas repeated. “And I said no way.”

“Why not?” Minho whined, leaning against the door frame. “You…are my number one,” Minho proclaimed, holding a finger up for emphasis, “and yerr not with me. Yerr suppose’ to be with me.”

“Not my crowd, buddy. Besides, you’ve always been fine with me skipping your parties before.”

“Well. I had a….‘piphany,”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “You’re more wasted than I thought. Come inside.”

Minho frowned. “But m’party.”

“I’m sure your friends are sober enough to take care of the house. Well, Gally and Brenda, at least. I’ll help you clean up tomorrow before your parents arrive.”

Minho took a melodramatic deep breath, before nodding and letting Thomas lead him inside before shutting the door. 

Thomas settled his drunk friend onto the couch and disappeared into the kitchen. He took out a whole pitcher of water and a glass for Minho, knowing that in that state, one glass will barely flush all that alcohol out of his friend’s body. 

He walked back into the living room, to find Minho struggling with the TV remote. Upon seeing Thomas, however, he put it down and smiled. 

“You never act this weird,” Thomas muttered, as he pours Minho a glass before he puts the pitcher down and sits next to him. “Drink up.”

But Minho just settled the glass down on the coffee table next to the pot of pens and proceeded to lie down on Thomas’s lap. Thomas froze for a bit, his mind suddenly flickering to a blank. Minho was not the affectionate type. 

Looking up at Thomas, he smiled. He didn’t smirk or grin like he always did with Thomas. No, he smiled - a sweet, smitten way that he usually reserved for pretty cheerleaders and boys from the track team. 

Thomas sighed, trying not to get caught up in it and just changing the subject instead. “So, what was that epiphany?”

Minho groaned, shutting his eyes tight. “I ‘ready told you, Thomas. You never listen.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows, but decided to just play along. “What was it, again?”

Minho opened his eyes and held up a finger again. “You’re my number one but you’re not with me,” he said, managing to speak clearly.

“I told you, Minho. I don’t like parties or being-”

“No,” Minho cut him off firmly, his eyebrows knitted together. “I’m not talking about the party.”

“What do you…” Thomas trailed off, a detached sense of understanding dawning on him.

He shook his head and grabbed Minho’s finger, yanking it down. “Stop it. You’re drunk.”

“You told me I was insufferably honest whenever I’m drunk ,” Minho pointed out. He reached up to touch Thomas’ face. “I kinda like you. A lot. So much. I think…Gally got me drunk ‘cause he wanted me to do sumthin’ ‘bout it. Got tired of me talking ‘bout you.”

Thomas rubbed at his temples, trying to make sense of his best friend. He didn’t, however, take time to move away from Minho’s touch, which he realized he was leaning into. He didn’t back away.

“Minho,” Thomas mumbled. It was to be some kind of warning, but that didn’t really yield effective results when he kept catching himself glance at alcohol-shined mouth. 

Minho smirked. “Mhmm?”

“If you don’t remember this in morning I’m going to kill you because I really like you too,” Thomas said carefully, testing the truth out in his mouth for once. “And not just because I have no one else to watch the next Marvel movie with.”

Minho giggled - he giggled - and nodded. “Deal.”

Thomas smiled. “Deal.”

With his hand still on Thomas’s face, Minho attempted to pull him down. Thomas grinned and was about to go for it, before remembering that his friend was unarguably drunk and pulling away. 

“You’re getting farther away from my face and that’s not kissing works,” Minho pointed out, looking distressed.

Thomas laughs. “I’m not gonna do anything while you’re drunk, asshole.”

“I’ll sober up so you can kiss me,” Minho decided, with a determined expression that made it even harder for Thomas to not just go ahead and kiss him.

“Yeah, you do that,” Thomas agreed as he carefully lifted Minho’s head off his lap to stand up. With caution, Thomas lays his head back down onto a pillow. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

“Why can’t I sleep with you in your bed?”

“Because, if you collapse while going up the stairs, I won’t have it in me to carry you all the way,” Thomas said as he walked away. 

From the other room, he could hear Minho laughing before Thomas started climbing the stairs.

When he came back with blankets in his hand, he found Minho passed out in the couch, holding an uncapped sign pen he must have taken from the table. Thomas put the blankets over Minho, trying not to focus on how beautiful he looks, even when he’s sleeping. He proceeded to take off Minho’s shoes and take the sharpie away. Just as he was about to slip off the glowstick bracelets around his hands, he spots the writing - in awful penmanship - written on Minho’s forearm. Don’t forget to kiss the nerd in the morning.

Thomas shook his head and bit back a laugh. Fondly, he tucked Minho’s arm beneath the covers, before kissing him gently on the forehead and going back up to his room, in his own bed.