Lover || Newt x reader

DONT BE A SILENT READER ♥️
Maya's POV

Two weeks. It had been exactly two weeks since I'd woken up in this strange place, surrounded by a bunch of boys who acted like they'd been here forever. Two weeks of endless potato peeling, of Frypan groaning about no one cleaning up after themselves, of trying to find my place in a world I never asked to be part of.

But in those two weeks, I had also found things I didn't expect to enjoy—small things that made the days a little easier.

The way the sky turned gold and orange during sunset, making the Glade look almost peaceful.
Chuck's ridiculous jokes, half of them not even funny, but his laugh made it all funnier.
Frypan's BBQ chicken, which was so good I almost forgot where I was.
Minho and Thomas' constant argues, which could go on for hours if no one stopped them.
Gally's weird eyebrows—seriously, I couldn't look at him without noticing them.
And then there were the moments in the gardens.

Newt would always show up, rolling up his sleeves, dirt already smeared on his hands from whatever job Alby had made him do. He'd help me dig up vegetables for dinner, even though he didn't have to. He always found some excuse—"Frypan asked me to check on the carrots," or "These bloody weeds need pulling anyway"—but I knew better. And I wasn't complaining.

It was lunchtime, and as always, I was standing next to Frypan, handing out plates of food to the other Gladers. The line was long, stretching all the way back to the tables. I kept scanning the crowd, waiting for a certain blonde to step forward. But he never did.

Chuck was the last one in line, and as he approached, I finally gave in to curiosity.

"Hey, Chuckie." I smiled as I handed him a plate. "Where's Newt?"

Chuck glanced toward one of the benches, and I followed his gaze.

There he was. Sitting hunched over, looking completely drained. His hands were clasped together, elbows resting on his knees. Even from a distance, I could see how tired he was. Newt was always up before anyone else and probably went to bed last. Maybe exhaustion had finally caught up with him.

"Oh," I murmured.

Without thinking twice, I grabbed another plate, making sure to add an extra portion. Maybe he'd notice. Maybe he wouldn't. Either way, he needed it.

"Here," I said, handing Chuck both plates. "Give him this."

Chuck's eyes flickered between me and the food, a knowing smile creeping onto his face.

"Will do." He smirked before walking off.

I watched as he set the plate down next to Newt, who barely acknowledged him. Newt only blinked at the food before sighing, as if even eating was too much effort. My stomach twisted.

What had Alby been making him do all day?

After lunch, I was back in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes while Frypan chopped carrots. I had a good view of the Glade from the small window, and my eyes kept drifting outside, searching for Newt.

I spotted him trailing behind Alby, his steps slower than usual. He still looked exhausted, but at least he'd eaten all of his food.

Then, I noticed his limp again.

I'd seen it before, but now that I was paying attention, I realized just how much he favored one leg. It wasn't just a small injury—it was something permanent. Something painful.

"Fry?" I asked without turning around.

"Yeah, dear?"

I hesitated for a second before finally asking, "How did Newt get that limp?"