Newt x Reader || A13

The boy in my arms is paper thin; finally worn through, he breathes, and it's ripping past in rags.

The strange device from earlier lies forgotten on the floor of the homestead a handful of paces away. There is nothing I think to say in this moment.

So I hold him to me, winding an arm around his waist as the other reaches up to cradle the back of his head. I run my fingers through his sandy blonde hair.

I feel him shudder as he exhales and removes his head from my shoulder, making to pull back. He opens his mouth to say something, but words do not surface. Instead, he stares at me with heavy eyes; his shoulders sag with the weight of a thousand promises.

I wordlessly pull him back to me.

- - -

"Newt!" Chuck bursts through the sheet divider.

I tear myself away from Newt, stepping back hastily and brushing my thighs with the palms of my hands.

When I look up, his face is unreadable as he stares after my movements.

Chuck's eyes dart between the two of us, eyebrows slightly raised. His cheeks are rosy, and his breathing is heavy. He's run here.

"It's Alby- we need you in medbay!" He pants, looking expectantly at Newt, who wipes a hand over the front of his face and leans down, picking up the metal cylinder.

"You get on then, bud. I'll be right there." He says, all but dismissing Chuck.

Chuck states for another moment before nodding and turning on his heel. I hear the fluttering of sheets and the clack of wood as he exits the homestead.

Newt turns back to me, and my heartbeat quickens in my chest. He holds my gaze for a moment, and I brace for whatever he's about to say, but he only extends his hand and presses the metal cylinder into my arms.

"Gotta go see what that's all about." A small smile lines the corners of his mouth, which tilt upwards in a way that tells me it's anything but genuine.

"Right," I nod. The metal in my palm is cool against my fingers. It's heavy. Surprisingly heavy.

"Don't wait for me." He says, slipping through the sheet curtain.

But I will. I always will.

- - -

Hours later, I find myself squinting into the sun, seated upon the rocky outlook I used to occupy each morning to watch the runners leave, when they still used to leave.

I suppose that now since Newt's given Thomas the green light, he and Minho'll be entering the maze again soon. It's a strange and bittersweet feeling: letting someone close to you risk everything for a life-changing chance.

It almost makes me want to be there, alongside my brother as he takes on the maze. I've thought about being a runner; I thought it to be my role since I arrived here, but now, I'm not so sure anymore.

There's something more to this story. The glitches have already given so much away; I know only the surface of who I am and what I've done.

I worked for them. Julian and I somehow created this maze, but what for?

Why were we sent here?

If something were to happen to me, will we ever find out? Will we ever find out, regardless?

And then there's the matter of those I've met here, because out there in those twisted walls with white flashes, strange voices, and memories caving in, I'd never felt so alone.