Work Text:
Anguish and grief were no understatement to Thomas. He knew these too well. He knew it with Alby. He knew it with Chuck. He knew it with…
No.
Not him.
He was different.
Thomas couldn’t bring himself to say the blonde's name in the crumbling confines of his damn head. Newt was supposed to be here.
As fate destined it to be, he instead would, as an unfair memory, join the names of the others they lost.
Each unsteady jagged stroke of a line carving the letters of his name onto the cold barren stone. Thomas’ heart burned that day.