Newt Imagines (The Maze Runner)

The Jacket

You stop by the showers on your way to dinner, reveling in the chance to actually get clean for once. You don't know that all of the dirt will ever truly leave that groove between your fingers and fingernails, but you give it your best shot anyway.

It's a bit chilly when you step out of the water, what with dusk quickly rushing over the Glade, so you grab a nearby jacket and pull it over your shoulders as you walk. You've lost track of how many times the Track-Hoes have borrowed or stolen each other's clothes during the months you've spent here, so this latest acquisition is nothing new.

Or, you thought it was nothing new until you head over to dinner. Frypan's running a little late, so most of your friends are hanging around and talking until the food is ready. You walk over to some of the other Track-Hoes, ready to engage in a discussion of everyone's favorite complaints on hot sun and tough roots and whatnot.

You're greeted instead by the sight of one rather shell shocked Track-Hoe. Newt is standing on the outskirts of the group, talking to a Runner who's just jogged over from the Doors. He turns absentmindedly to greet you when you approach, but his casual wave is interrupted by some wave of unnameable emotions that crests over him the second Newt's eyes lock on you. He seems utterly shaken, unable to form a single concise syllable. Strange.

Before you're able to read too much into the affair, Zart bounds over you, grinning ear to ear.

"What did I tell you?" He says proudly, "you've got a chance, you shank."

You stare at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Zart swats you on the shoulder. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Your crush is head over heels, I promise."

You laugh bitterly. "Yeah, I bet, Zart. Do me a favor, try to wake up from your dreams every now and then."

Zart, however, refuses to be swayed by this. "Hey, I'm right this time. You can say what you want about how you look or what you think other people feel about you, but Newt's jaw literally dropped when he saw you, so clearly something is working."

You snort. "That's insane. He would never–"

Zart interrupts, jerking his chin back towards Newt. "You sure? Look for yourself if you don't believe me."

You follow his line of sight to where Newt still stands looking at you. Minho's still talking to him, but you don't think Newt is hearing a word of it.

"Maybe you're right," you whisper.

"Yeah, maybe I am," Zart replies, "Go talk to him, will you? This is your chance."

He pushes you in Newt's direction before you can react, and then you're walking towards the blond boy without a single plan or idea of what to do. Newt seems just as unprepared as you are, and the two of you end up staring at each other for a solid second or two before he manages to choke out a question in a faded voice:

"Is that my jacket?"

Newt is so totally screwed. He's known this for a while, obviously, but he really had been thinking that he could have hidden it some time longer. Clearly things won't be going his way ever again, at least judging by today.

Newt was meant to be hiding his crush. It's not like it would ever work out, anyway; everyone knows that the Track-Hoes are a family, Y/N's supposed to be his best friend, not someone he could ever love or hope to love. That didn't stop him from trying. Some days it feels like it never will. He makes the rules, as second in command, he makes them so he can break them or at least wish he had the courage to try. Newt's lost a lot of his courage in the days since– well, nobody talks about that anymore, and so he won't either.

For now, it means that Newt fell in love when he wasn't supposed to, and now he's forced to play around in some sort of strange lockstep in which he pretends that he isn't crushing so hard on his best friend that he could die, and everyone else doesn't see a thing.

Minho has been seeing many things, of course, the other boy won't stop teasing Newt about it for a second, but no one else seems remotely aware of the concept of Newt loving anyone more than the typical familial love of the Track-Hoes. Maybe that's good, or maybe it's terrible to spend so much time amongst these friends and still have only one see straight through you.

Regardless, he's well and truly in for it now. Newt was minding his own business tonight, trying to pretend that flinging himself into his daily tasks in the Glade could one day distract him from the inevitability of spending the rest of his life within these stone walls, loving someone who'd never have him, when he saw Y/N.

Specifically, he saw Y/N wearing his jacket. It's funny how such a small occurrence should have such a devastating effect on him. It's just a few yards of fabric, some garment that showed up once in the Box, was claimed by him, and has subsequently grown to represent Newt's entire being in the way that only a handful of failing stitches truly can.

Now, the illustrious garment is draped across Y/N's shoulders. It seems like a promise, in a way, a tantalizing promise of what he could have had if the stars chose to align. This could have happened all the time, you know. Y/N could have been one with Newt in every conceivable way, one ending where the other begins right down to something as simple as a shared jacket.

He's definitely thinking too much into it, because when Y/N goes from chatting with Zart to walking his way, the only thing Newt is able to say to them when they stand in front of him at last is one simple question:

"Is that my jacket?"

Instantly, he despises himself for bringing it up. It's a silly question, and now Y/N's glancing at the sleeves and pockets and realizing that yes, it is his, and yes, Y/N hadn't done that intentionally. They start to pull the jacket off but Newt, fuelled by a sudden and irresistible panic, flings out a hand to stop them.

"Wait, wait. It's fine. It– suits you, I think." He manages.

Y/N smiles, keeps the jacket on. "You sure you don't mind me stealing your clothes? It wasn't intentional, I swear."

Newt finds it in himself to laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure. We all trade clothes around here enough that it doesn't matter, anyway."

Y/N grins at that. "Tell me about it. I've been missing a hat for weeks. It could be halfway across the Glade by now. Still, if you want it back–"

Newt shakes his head. "It's yours."

Easy as that. Y/N smiles at him, and Newt's struck by the delight of it all, in knowing that he's made them happy.

Unconsciously, Y/N wraps the jacket a little closer around themselves. "Thanks, Newt. Really. You've always been so nice. I don't know how you do it."

"It's not hard to be nice around you," he smiles.

Y/N's gaze flashes to him, and for the briefest moment, Newt allows himself a spark of hope that they might harbor feelings even half as strong as his. "I could say the same thing about you," they breathe.

Something on the periphery of Newt's vision catches his attention; Minho left his side when he saw Y/N coming and is now standing with Zart. The Runner gives Newt an encouraging thumbs up and Newt tries to fight the urge to throw something at him.

Then again, maybe the other boy isn't entirely wrong. Newt straightens up and tries to prepare himself as best he can.

"I was thinking," he begins, "I know we've been good friends and all, but don't you ever wish there was something more? That we could be something more?"

Y/N's eyes are shining, Newt doesn't know that he's ever seen a better sight. "I do," they reply, and that's all Newt needs to finish his thought.

"I like you," he says simply, "I like you a lot. More than I should. More than I know how to handle. If there's any chance that you might feel the same, I don't think I'd ever be happier."

Y/N beams at him. "I like you too, Newt. I haven't told you all this time because I was scared of ruining the friendship, but I like you. Always will."

Just like that, Newt's day is made.