RECKLESS [The Maze Runner || Newt || Book 1]

Newt was sitting up and leaning against the wall, in a conversation with Minho. Clara stood in the doorway, staring at the pair, not realizing they had stopped their conversation to stare right back at her. Newt quickly pulled up the thin blanket, covering his chest, which was exposed from the med-jacks checking for bruising or broken ribs.

"Clara? Are you gonna move or?" Minho asked, chuckling about the girl's current state. Mouth open, eyes wide and frozen in place. This question seemed to snap her out of it though, she blinked a couple of times as if she was coming out of a daydream, and she looked away from Newt.

"Oh, uhm yeah, sorry." She scurried to the side of Newt's bed, placing the glass of water on the bedside table, and handing the tray of food to him. He gladly accepted it, placing it on his lap with a small smile. 

"It's um, tomato soup and some sandwiches..." She trailed off, stepping back trying to look at anything except the boy lying in the bed, Newt looked up at her, a curious look on his face as if he was trying to read her mind or her feelings, or maybe both.

"Thank you," Newt said, smiling up at the girl. Clara could see there was something different about his smile, the usual creases next to his eyes weren't there, and there was a hint of sadness on his face. 

An awkward silence filled the room, complemented by the soft clinks of the bowl and metal tray on Newt's lap. Minho looked back and forth between Clara and Newt, who seemed to be in some sort of staring contest they didn't realize.

"Right. Well." – Minho spoke, breaking the tension in the room – "I'm gonna leave you two shanks, I've gotta get running." The boy stood up and snatched a sandwich off the tray on Newt's lap, but before the blonde could reach up and slap his hand away Minho was already halfway out the door, chuckling to himself.

With Minho out the door, the awkward silence reintroduced itself into the room, almost as if Minho's leaving was an invitation for it to return. Clara stared at the floor, fiddling with her hands while Newt tore off small pieces of one of the remaining sandwiches and ate them.

"Do- do you, uhm, do you wanna sit down?" Newt asked, gesturing to the wooden chair with his free hand, nervousness dripping from his voice.

"Yeah uh, sure" Clara responded without looking up and made her way to the small chair next to the bed, taking a seat and playing with her hands once again. 

Newt looked over at her with a curious look on his face, trying to figure out what was going on in her head. He realized quickly that this was the first time she'd spoken to him since he ratted her out to Minho, he cursed himself in his head as he remembered what he did to her. Deep down he knew it was the right thing to do, her recklessness could've killed her, or him, but sometimes he wondered if it was worth what came after. 

He looked back down at his food, sadness coursing through his body at the thought of the past, with that same empty feeling returning. He felt lost, hopeless, incomplete without his memories, as though a piece of himself or his life was missing, like an important part of him just no longer existed. He'd managed to hide his feelings from every single one of his friends and he decided then that he wouldn't try to rope any of them into his own problems, Minho was the only one who really knew what happened and Newt made him swear to never tell anyone, this was going to be their secret and theirs alone.

"Newt?" Clara asked, pulling him out of his own head, staring at him curiously. 

Newt looked at her, smiling softly at her as he went to put one of his hands on her leg. She flinched back, moving her leg away from him and shifting awkwardly in her seat before she spoke again,

"How's your leg, are you feeling any pain?"

"Seriously?

"What?"

"You're still angry with me?"

"I don't see what that has to do with anything, I asked you about your leg."

"It's fine, now can you answer my question?"

"No. How did you do it?"

"Bloody hell."

"Just tell me Newt."

"I fell, I tripped and got caught in the ivy, I got tangled up and it must've twisted my leg wrong. Okay?" He answered, the irritation obvious in his voice. He was sick of the back and forth between them, he was sick of her ignoring him and being angry at him all the time.

Clara on the other hand had to physically stop her jaw from dropping, Newt was lying straight to her face. In another situation or to another Glader his story would've been completely believable, but Clara knew he was lying. The way his leg was broken would've been impossible from what he described. 

She felt a pang of irritation in her chest, frustration at the boy for lying to her, or at least for not coming up with a better lie. She stood up suddenly, shoving the chair back, and it hit the wall behind her. She had no idea why he was lying to her, but she decided she wasn't going to bother trying to force it out of him, he obviously didn't respect her enough to tell her the truth.

"Right. I'm leaving now, you can call one of the others if you need something, just don't ask for me."

Clara spun around on her heels, ready to leave but before she could take a step out Newt grabbed her hand, spinning her back around to face him before angrily asking her,

"Why do you hate me, Clara?"

"I never said I hated you."

"Yeah well, you've made it pretty damn clear."

"Hate's a strong word."

"So, you like me then?"

"Just because I don't hate you doesn't mean I have to like you."

"Then why are you helping me?"

"Because I'm doing my damn job Newt! Despite what you said the other night, I am actually capable of thinking about people other than myself."

Clara ripped her arm out of his grip, stomping out of the room and slamming the door on the way out, before leaning back against it and sliding down to the floor. She pulled her knees up to her chest and placed her head in her hands and she sat there for a few minutes, trying to compose herself and control her breathing. 

She turned her head up towards the wooden ceiling and she noticed a beetle blade skittering across the wooden logs, stopping almost directly above her. She examined the small creature that was watching her, staring directly into the small red light shining from his body. Picking up a small rock she found on the floor she threw it at the creature, which quickly scrambled away before the rock hit it, disappearing between two slats of wood. Clara gently pressed her head against the door, sighing deeply before speaking to the beetle hiding in the wood,

"Fuck you guys."

"Clara?"

A voice in front of her called, she looked away from the beetle blade and noticed Frypan standing at the top of the stairs, a worried look plastered on his face.

"Hey, you okay?" Before he could say anything else, a small sob escaped from her lips and tears began to flow down her cheeks.

"Oh, Clar." Fry quickly reacted, sitting next to her and pulling her towards him, wrapping his long arms around her back, hugging her. Clara threw her arms around the taller boy, her tears staining his shirt. Her sobs shook her whole body, and she tightened her arms around him. She hated herself for feeling like this, she was sick of caring, she wanted to scream at him for ruining everything for her, but all she could do was cry.

Tears ran down the girl's cheeks, showing no signs of slowing down as she let out every emotion she'd been holding in for the past year. She cried about not being a runner, about being trapped in this godforsaken place, and about hating her friends, she cried for them, she cried for herself,

She cried for him.