or say we're only dreaming;

[melocoton]

O P E N P O S T
❝ don't you dare close your eyes❞
♥ comment to this post with a prompt of any kind--song lyrics, pictures, music, or even just an idea for a plot.
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♥ i'll respond to it and we can thread some stuff and things.
♥ post is NOT nsfw sorry ;A;

Comments

u3u

[ex_advised6]

[ Alby can still remember the day Newt jumped as though it was yesterday ( it's been weeks now, even as Newt continues healing ) and he can remember the way his stomach sank, how he felt like his heart might beat how of his chest, because the mere idea of losing Newt hit deeper than he knew what to do with. and maybe it's an underlying memory, maybe before the glade it was him and Newt, the way it's become the same now that they're here. maybe for him, Newt's all there has ever been.

but Alby isn't one for the past, not when he can't remember bug all of it, and he knows he can't go forward if he's always digging through some muddled past that might never make sense. so it's one foot in front of the other, it's waking up and running the glade, going to sleep worrying over the boys just outside the door, for what waits in the darkness outside the walls. and if he thinks about it too long, or too hard, he can see why Newt felt like there was no alternative. but he can't -- he can't invest in that train of thought, because if he loses hope, what's stopping the rest of them from doing the same?

so he does his best, falls in stop with Newt and pulls him along for the ride. because, to him, there is no other option.

when the familiar knock comes, Alby looks up from where he'd been lacing together a ripped bedroll. even at night, there's still plenty left for him to do; idle hands make for idle minds. but when Newt's stretches out in front of him, Alby hoists himself up from the floor to take it, and he knows more than anything he would have missed the familiarity that Newt brings him. ]

'course. Most of them are asleep, yeah?

[ something about leaving without the majority of the gladers resting didn't sit well with him, after all. ]

sweet angel children

[gimp]

Course. Can hear Minho snoring clear from out here. [ newt feels the same way--these boys were, in the end, their responsibility. fifty some odd boys when the numbers were right, working, living, trying to survive in the glade. caring for those boys with alby was a hard job but newt found a little solace in helping them when he couldn't help himself. and when he couldn't help himself, at least now, after the accident? alby came to help him. it was a system that worked, the leader and his second in command. alby looked to him for decisions, newt tempered him when he was furious, alby made newt feel things when he wanted to feel nothing at all. they had always been a team, so this development that rose out of it all was as natural as natural could be.

so, of course he doesn't let go of his hand when he stands. newt gives him a bit of a crooked smile and jerks his head towards the door. it's a little bit of a mess trying to pick through the boys, sleeping on the floor of the homestead in a disaster of bed rolls and snoring, but newt does it with ease, even with the limp he's still trying to reconcile with the rest of him. he should be using the cane gally made him, but he won't--the whole point is sneaking after all, and there's a giddy, bright excitement that comes with it. going out after curfew is technically against the rules, and even leaders follow rules, but the nice thing about the glade is that it is safe at night--no griever's going to break through a hundred and twenty feet of solid concrete.

when they get outside, newt takes a breath of the fresh air, shutting his eyes and inhaling the night. it's lovely, like it always is, and with his eyes closed, holding alby's hand, newt can pretend that he's at a park, or a forest, or anywhere that isn't the glade. he stands there like that for a little while, fingers still loosely entwined with alby's as he comes through the front door.

newt flutters his eyes back open--the glade, as usual, but at least alby's there, too-- and he gives the hand in his a faint squeeze. ] Quiet tonight. [ and nicely so, too. ]