Newt Imagines (The Maze Runner)

Trouble and Consequence

Still, it's familiar, and anyone who's had to use the shed more than a couple of times has memorized the contents. You think Zart could find even the smallest of tools with a blindfold on from how much time he's spent cataloging all the equipment inside. Maybe one time you'll test him on that, were you not afraid that he'd accidentally skewer himself on a splintering piece of wood and have to delegate his daily work to the rest of you.

Basically, what the garden shed represents is a constant that every Track-Hoe can count on. It's also the last place Newt will expect for a surprise, which is precisely what makes it so perfect. There's a small, cracked window on the far side of the shed, and when you glance through its dusty surface, you can just make out a figure emerging from the distance and heading towards the shed. It's Newt, you can tell from the slight syncopation of his walk, how he favors one leg over the other.

Excellent timing on his part. You settle yourself into position just behind a tall stack of flowerpots and prepare yourself. You have to bite back a laugh as you hear Newt's footsteps get closer, then the jiggle of the doorknob as he turns it.

Newt opens the door casually, no idea of what is in store for him. The second his silhouette is revealed in the doorframe, you jump out at him, hands raised and yell already building from your throat.

Despite this being the perfect scare, Newt doesn't even bat an eye. Instead, he just regards you with the same expression as always. The only sign that he might be remotely affected is the fact that one corner of his lips can't seem to stop pricking up, although that could just be because he's trying to stop himself from laughing at your efforts.

"You know," he says casually, "for a jump scare to work you have to actually be scary. Try to do better next time, if I'm going to have a heart attack I want it to at least work properly."

You stare at him incredulously. "From the bottom of my heart, what the fuck. Who made you like this? That was as scary as I possibly could be."

"That's it?" Newt asks, brushing past you to grab a shovel from the rack, "I'm kind of disappointed. I expected more from you in the fear department."

You give him a look. "You're such an unsupportive friend."

Newt chuckles, unable to keep back his good humor any longer. "What, because I didn't react properly to you jumping out at me? Should I have perhaps let out a little shriek or something?"

"It would have been preferable," you say cuttingly. "Wait, did Minho tell you I was here? Is that why you weren't scared?"

Newt spread his hands. "He didn't know for sure. All Minho told me was that you looked like you had something up your sleeve, and seeing as I didn't see you anywhere else, I put the pieces together."

You groan. "Stop being so good at critical thinking, it takes the fun out of everything."

Newt grins. "Never. Now come on and grab a shovel, I'm not in the mood to be out here at twelve."

You roll your eyes and grab your tools. Newt maintains his composed demeanor for a few moments longer, then gives in and starts laughing.

"You should have seen the look on your face when I didn't react to your jumpscare," he manages in between bouts of laughter, "You still look like it, actually. It's like watching Gally when someone says they don't want his brew. You're so disappointed."

You swat him in the shoulder with your work gloves. "You're so mean to me."

"I'm mean?" Newt says, outraged, "you tried to murder my nerves not five minutes ago. Honestly, I think you're the mean one."

You sigh dramatically. "Yes, I'm sure I'm the mean one. Me, who just wanted to lift your spirits and also your blood pressure, who would never do anything to hurt you permanently. I'm sure I'm so mean."

"I'm glad you understand," Newt says, "I thought you would never come to that realization. It's a hard discovery, I know, but I'm sure you can manage it."

You grimace. "But Newt, my pride may never allow it."

He chokes back a laugh at that. "Maybe that's for the best."

You consider hitting him with the gloves again. "Wrong answer. You're supposed to tell me that I don't have any pride at all. I'm the most humble person you know."

Newt narrows his eyes at you. "Say that one more time. Just think about it."

"What?" You ask, "that I'm the most humble person you know? I don't see anything wrong with that. I'm so good at being humble it's crazy."

"If you're bragging about being humble," Newt ponders, "does that actually mean you're humble? I'm asking for a friend."

"Is that friend me?" You question.

"Oh, it's definitely you," Newt says, eyes wide.

You feign a dramatic gasp. "I can't believe you. Insulting me left and right. I've never been more hurt."

Newt chuckles. "Somehow, I get the feeling that you're going to be okay."

"Yeah," you reply, "you know why?"

"Why?" Newt asks. He's just playing along, but your face turns serious.

"Because I've got you. I know it sounds melodramatic and all that, but it's enough for me. I like being your friend, Newt." Even if you wish it was more.

Newt's expression softens, and he reaches over to sling an arm around your shoulders. "I happen to like being your friend quite a bit as well," he says, "More than anything."

You look over at him now, and feel your breath catch in your chest. With his arm around you, Newt's leaning closer than ever. You can sense how little distance remains between the two of you, how easy it would be to remove that distance entirely until it's just the two of you forever. No beginning, no ending, just you and him as one.

You raise your gaze and realize that Newt is looking at you too. In the early morning, with no one else around, it's easy to pretend that you and Newt are the only people in the world. The planet is empty, barren of anyone but you and him. An entire universe just for both of you.

"I have a secret," Newt whispers, "It's a secret I haven't been able to tell you for a long time. It's a secret that could destroy us."

"Say it," you urge. Some voice in the back of your head tells you that you might know what he's talking about, and if there's even a fractional chance that you're right, you can't go the rest of your life without knowing.

He lets out a quiet breath. "I love you. I have for a while. I need you more than a friend, Y/N. I need you as someone to love."

You're silent from the shock of it, and Newt's tone grows desperate. "Tell me you love me. I need to hear it just the once. I need to know that this isn't a mistake."

"It's not a mistake," you tell him, "I love you too. Trust me on that."

After all your time of being his best friend, Newt can all but read your mind. He doesn't have to ask for any proof that you love him, he can believe you without a second's hesitation. Believe you he does, and just like that, the two of you are doing alright again.