Newt x Reader || A13

Newt was wrong.

Or at least, he has been.

For two weeks, it's been a monotonous drone of similarity.

I wake up in a thin hammock. I wait for the maze to open. I watch Julian, Minho, and the others leave to go running, their path enlightened by the rising sun. I work in the gardens with the other track-hoes. I wait for the runners to return. I watch the maze close. I sleep.

But there's still no way out.

Every day I wake up in the homestead and find myself longing- longing for something. Longing for freedom, longing to just get out. And I don't understand why the others don't feel the same way.

I know what's behind the four walls. Everyone does. We're not stupid. It's a maze, a maze that shifts, changes. Everyone says we're trapped, only a few have hope. Others, like Gally, are content with our life, but I can't say I feel the same.

It's not the company; it's far from that. The Gladers are nothing short of family to each other, and they've done their best to ease me into my life here. I've grown quite close to a couple of them.

Chuck frequently provides some much needed comedic relief during long days.

Fry's been trying to teach me his supper special, though I'm not the most talented chef.

Julian and I have taken to nighttime walks. Sometimes we'll chat, but they're mostly taken in silence.

Newt is always around for whenever I have questions, requests, or simply someone to chat to.

And yet I still seek for something else.

I want so much more than life within these four walls. I need so much more.

I want into the maze, and then I want out of it.

- - -

I wake at the same time every morning, just in time to watch the maze doors open, and just in time to watch the small band of runners enter the Maze without so much as a glance back.

A hazy morning light glows through the homestead as I sit up in my hammock and swing my legs over the side, silently lowering myself to the earth. I push aside the divider that separates my space from Newt's and the path to the exit.

Normally, he's up first. He tells me it's because he enjoys the sunrise, but restless slumber is a frequent occurrence for him, if the constant rustling coming from his hammock is to be believed.

Today, he lies sleeping, chest gently rising and falling, hair plastered to the side of his face.

A smile I am too slow to suppress rises to my lips.

Over the past two weeks, he's been the one to show me the ropes. He's made sure I understand, and he's also kept me in line. For that, I'm grateful.

Tearing my attention away from my thoughts, I stride past, heading towards the exit.

- - -

The rock I prop myself onto rests on a grassy hill which overlooks the Glade. Behind me looms the first, and before me is a clear view of the maze gates.

I see Minho first; he always reaches to the doors the fastest, the others trailing behind him. Paper is exchanged between hands, tucked away into rucksacks, and smiles line the faces of the boys. Minho says something briefly before turning towards the maze.

I watch with a smile as Julian tucks his hand before his face and whispers something to another boy. The two subsequently stifle their laughter.

It's so easy for them to enjoy themselves in a place like this.