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or say we're only dreaming;

O P E N P O S T
❝ don't you dare close your eyes❞
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sweet angel children
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. ]