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wildbwills · 23 days

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Before he Fell

Hi uh this is the first fic I’ve ever written. I was inspired to write something after reading @the-flaminhos story Real or Not Real (Also they were super awesome reading through it as I wrote so thank you! :3) This is Supposed to be Newt’s and also Minho’s perspective on a bit of their life before Thomas came to the Glade. I tried to make it as close to canon as possible, with the exception of the character Darwin (I made him up) Warning: This does depict Newt’s suicide attempt as well as his pretty dark headspace in the time leading up to it. There is also some description of gore (nothing worse than in the books) So be warned and take care of yourself. 8k words :)

*Newt*

The days started to feel the same. Every morning at the wake up he felt heavy. He had to be shaken and reminded that the sun was up and risin’. At dinner he pushed Fry’s food around in circles. The only time his mind was quieter was when he was runnin’. But then all he could think was of the walls. There was no way out of the Maze, they knew that much. They’d figured out it’d just been repeatin’ itself, and would keep on doing that for ever and ever. Newt remembered the day where all the runners had sat around a table and laid out the maps, watchin’ the patterns repeat until their eyes went crossed.

Newt felt sweat bead on his forehead and drip down his face like tears. His runnin’ shoes were runnin’ thin at the soles. He’d tell Minho to send another note down askin’ for a new pair soon. Newt reached the last turn in his section. He knew he should keep on runnin’, keep on runnin’ back.

Instead Newt just stood there with the blood rushin’ to his head. He felt so heavy with all of it. They were never gettin’ out of this buggin’ maze, they were never leavin’ the Glade and every buggin’ month they were just going to send more kids up here to die. More of them to die until the big stone bowl of the glade was filled with graves marked with Gally’s hack-job headstones.

His watch told him the doors closed soon.

Would a Greiver be that bad of a way to go out? Newt groaned and started runnin’ again.

“You’re late klunk-for-brains!”

“Yeah,” Newt agreed. The doors were almost ready to close, he’d made it out with barely a few minutes to spare.

“Greivers kissin’ your butt ain’t enough for you?”

“Slim it Minho I took a long lunch.”

Minho snorted at him and turned around, joggin’ off towards the kitchens. Newt braced himself against the huge wall, breathin’ in and out. Minho was a piece of work.

When he sat down next to the other runners Minho had already cleared half the plate of Fry’s chicken. Fry was real sweet makin’ them special runner food. Newt looked down at his own plate, it was food alright, and good food too. But somethin’ in him was too tired to eat it. He felt like a piece of klunk for wastin’ Frypan’s hard work.

Minho glanced over at him so he quickly sawed off a bite and swallowed. Minho thumped his back.

“You’ve been real quiet lately, savin’ all your chatter for the next Greenie?”

“I guess so- what’d ya just call the kid?“

“Greenie. Like a fresh little greenbean straight from the gardens.”

“Minho likes makin’ up words doesn’t he ya big shank!” Louis laughed, flickin’ a chicken bone at Minho. Minho made a face,

“You lot use em’”

“Sure we do,” Louis snickered. Minho watched the other boys, smilin’ for a second before turnin’ back to Newt. Minho glanced around as if someone might be listenin’ before speaking:

“You sure you didn’t find anything today? Anything new that might have made you a bit late?”

“What? Mate- I told ya, I lost track of time on my lunch break.”

“Fine. Then what’s got you looking so depressing?”

Newt wanted to punch the look off his face, what wasn’t there to be sad about in this place? George had bloody died not a month ago. Newt could still picture all of the blood. After Alby had killed him he’d still bled. Red blood had spread over the green grass. And none of them had any clue what to do with his buggin’ body. The whole thing made him so sick.

Newt pushed his chicken up to the edge of his plate.

“There’s no bloody way out of this place,” Newt hissed. Minho’s head snapped up,

“We don’t know that, any day we could find something new.” Minho fired back. They were talkin’ in sharp little whispers, pretendin’ not to look at each other.

“That’s a load of crap and you know it. Out of all of the…shanks here you’re the one who’s supposed to tell the truth.”

Minho turned to look at him then, starin’ him down with angry eyes.

“Get your head on straight and be ready to head back out tomorrow, you’re the last person I expect to be giving up.”

Minho got up and dropped his plate into the dishwasher. Newt watched him walk out. Minho was right. Newt was the last person to be givin’ up. So they were all bloody doomed.

That next mornin’ was one of the worst wake-ups he’d opened his eyes to. He felt sick all in his stomach. He’d woken up later than any of the other Gladers. Maybe they’d gotten tired of wakin’ him up. Newt just wanted to roll over and fall back to sleep.

That night when he got back late again Minho was waitin’ at his door again.

“What’s with you?”

“Nothin’ got a late start this mornin’.”

“You know something I don’t?” Minho accused him,

“Mate I’m just tired, get out of the way,” Newt pushed him aside, feelin’ a horrible sinkin’ feelin’ he walked to the side of the wall and threw up. He kept lurchin’ a bit until his insides calmed down.

“What the hell?” Minho walked over to him, pattin’ his back. Newt swallowed the foul taste of his own stomach, wincing.

“I’m good now, I’ll just head on over to Fry’s-“

“Newt!” Minho shouted after him but Newt had started sprinting. Minho’s shorter legs wouldn’t reach him fast enough.

Like a pathetic little buggin’ kid Newt hid. Right behind the kitchen pressed to the back wall tuggin’ on the long bits of his hair that Alby kept tryin’ to convince him to cut.

He shouldn’t be a runner, really shouldn’t. Not anymore, not like this.

Minho wouldn’t make a scene, he wouldn’t try too hard to find him. Newt really hoped he wouldn’t. This was no way to see him.

That night Newt trudged over to convince one of the boys nearest to the animals to trade Hammocks with him. The boy was happy to switch right out of his noisy one. Newt woke the next mornin’ early to the sound of the big rooster screaming his bloody head off. Newt showered that morning, running his face he stared down his reflection in the sliver of mirror they’d hung up in the shower room.

If he felt like the world, the bloody Glade was fallin’ to pieces in his face the least he could do was act like it wasn’t.

*Minho*

Minho knew something was going on. He just couldn’t really figure out what. Newt was acting like a freaking crazy man. Could he have been stung? No way…they turned all ballistic and veiny. Minho watched him carefully in the next week, Newt seemed like he was going back to normal. He ate, slept, and ran like anyone else. Then the shucking alarm went off.

The damn thing rang for about half an hour before anything happened. It was annoying as hell. Even the other sweaty stinkin’ runners came all around when it was time for the box to come up.

“Hey what about what we said last time? About sendin’ a shank down with the box afterwards?” Someone called over the noise of the clanging alarm. Minho looked to Nick, he was standing with his arms crossed looking down the hole with an old man frown. Nick glanced over and shifted his stance slightly.

“Worth a shot I figure!”

Minho glanced at Newt, who was standing with his eyes stuck on the hole, freaking glued to it, the big doors wide open like a mouth.

The box came up clanking and shaking and eventually screeching to a stop.

“Hey, we got a big one!” A boy shouted as he tossed down the loop of rope, Minho leaned over the edge, getting a look at the boy. He was big, built like a bear with black hair and a long face. But the big boy was shaking like a little bunny.

“Hey there Greenie!”

“Is that what we’re callin’ newbies now Minho?” Alby elbowed his side, Minho looked to him and grinned,

“Yeah, Greenies, they’ll water all the plants in the gardens with a big fresh flow of tears.”

“Ay!” Several boys reached out to steady the Greenie. He looked about to klunk himself.

“What’s your name huh Greenie?” Minho asked the newbie, but Niel was already pushing past.

“My name’s Nick and I’m the leader of this fair place.”

“Fair? Yeah real shucking’ fine place!” Gally hollered. Nick glared him down before looking back at the boy.

“What’s your name huh? We all have em’”

The Greenie looked at him with big scared eyes for a second,

“I’m- I’m Mozart.”

Laughter erupted from all the boys, Minho couldn’t help but snicker, that was the dumbest shucking name he’d ever heard.

“We’ll call him Zart then right?” Minho suggested, catching the new boy’s eyes.

“Zart work for you man?” Nick asked, Zart nodded shakily.

“Zart the fart it is!” Minho announced, Alby elbowed him again,

“You’re scaring the newbie, keep your trap shut.”

Once all the supplies had almost been lifted out a boy reminded them of the plan.

“Hey what about sending someone back down!”

“Right, well Nick’s taken Zartie off on the tour,” Another complained.

“We’ll have to wait a month to try this klunk again, forget Nick,” Minho said, looking around. “Okay then, who volunteers to shoot back down in the good ol’ box?” Minho asked, rubbing his hands together and looking around.

“Darwin’ll do it,” Some of the boys murmured. Almost as they said it Darwin stepped forward. Darwin was a younger gangly boy with one arm shorter than the other and a shaggy haircut that was starting to look a bit like Newt’s if he didn’t cut it soon.

“I’ll do it!” He grinned. Minho nodded.

“This a good idea?” Newt asked suddenly, catching Minho’s eye from the other side of the Box hole.

“Figure if they come up safe in the box they can go back down in it right?” Minho shrugged.

They threw the stepping loop down, Darwin hopped right down into it, eager to be lowered down into the steel trap.

“If you see anything start hollering!” Minho shouted down to him before the boys helped shut the big doors.

They waited for the rumble of the shaft. Instead there was nothing, no movement, no clanking.

“Hey I don’t think this Box is goin’ anywhere!” Darwin shouted from inside.

“Give it another minute slinthead!” Gally argued back. Minho frowned.

“Gally slim it, he’s braver than you for being down there.”

“Braver than being stung by a Griever?”

“At least he’s never been stupid enough to waltz into the Maze!” Minho was a second away from screwing up Gally’s ugly nose a bit more. Newt had stepped forward and Alby had put a hand on Minho’s chest.

“Why don’t we all slim it and take that kid out of the box huh?” Newt said

The Gladers watching murmured in agreement, and the doors were pried open. Darwin was taken out, seeming unbothered.

Almost the second they’d closed the doors after Darwin got out the Box started rumbling down again.

“Well that’s that I guess,” Darwin said.

“I mean not unless we chuck someone down there,” Minho joked, giving Alby a shove towards the closed doors. Alby twisted around and put him in a headlock. Minho struggled against him screaming,

“Feed the freakin’ box hole with some fresh Glader meat!” he burst into laughter.

“I’d do it.” Darwin shrugged. Alby let go, Minho stopped thrashing, He looked Darwin in his Big ol’ brown cow eyes.

“You’re one crazy shank,” Minho said.

“No I mean it. Send me down in there, it can’t be too far down can it?”

“Get the crazy dude some Rope!” A boy shouted, and some of the builders were already off to go grab some.

Everyone burst into chatter while they waited. Minho stayed at the edge of the doors. Newt walked up to him slowly.

“You’re not gonna let him do this are ya?”

“Why not?”

“What if that kid gets hurt huh?”

“Look, we’ll get some real strong rope, lower him down about fifty feet, he gets scared craps his little shucking panties and then we bring him up. And just maybe he’s found something important in his way down.”

“Minho,” Newt’s voice was warning.

“Newt! You’re the one who went off about the maze having no freakin’ exit door! Why not try the other options?”

“This is a kid! He’s barely fifteen!”

“Newt, everything is going to be just fine, they wouldn’t give us a box hole and not expect us to poke around!”

Minho bumped Newt’s shoulder, “You get real jittery sometimes, but the only way we all get back to our mommies and daddies is if we find our way out of this clunk-filled hellhole.”

“You’re right I guess.”

“I’m always right, get used to it.”

Minho helped Gally tie up a harness for Darwin. Once the knots were tied down tight and checked three times to satisfy Newt they brought Darwin up to the edge of the box hole and threw open the doors.

“You ready mate?” Newt asked, Minho rolled his eyes. Newt was probably hoping Darwin backed out at the last moment.

“Yeah, just send me down already!”

Minho patter Darwin’s shoulder for a moment before grabbing hold of the long rope connected to his back. Alby and a few other boys grabbed on as well. They brought Darwin to the edge where he sort of just hopped in. Minho and the others leaned back to balance out the weight.

“You good dude?”

“Yeah!” Darwin called back. All the Gladers had gathered around the rim of the box hole and were looking down watching the dangling boy. Minho watched Newt watch him, his face was tight in a little grimace. If only Newt would relax for ten seconds.

“Okay we’re gonna send you down slowly!” Alby announced down the hole.

“Right on!”

The boys slowly let the rope inch down. He went down five feet, then ten, everyone waited and watched slowly. Ever few minutes Darwin would hoot and they could hear the echo shooting back up.

Then about twenty feet down Darwin started to scream like crazy. The rope got about twenty pounds lighter and all of the boys pulling it stumbled back a few feet.

“Whats going on!?” Minho shouted, the boys watching looked just as confused.

“Get him out of there! GET HIM OUT OF THERE!” Newt was screaming, he ran to the rope holders and started pulling frantically, Minho joined him, it was easy now that he weighed about half as much as before. In a minute they had him out, he was still screaming. The second his body made it up some of the boys backed away in horror. He was sliced clean in half just below his belly button the rest was gone. Blood leaked all over the edge of the box hole. There was no way he was going to survive. Newt leaned down, kneeling next to the boy and holding his face. Darwin was crying. In a moment or two he went still. Newt slowly got up, he turned to Minho and punched him right across the face. Minho grunted and stumbled back a few feet as pain exploded in his entire face. He could have sworn it knocked some of his brain clean out of his nose. Then Newt turned and started walking towards the deadheads.

Minho spent a week in the slammer with a new runner taking over his section. He felt shucking awful about Darwin, he really did. Newts face had made him feel half as awful again. How had he been supposed to know the Box hole ATE people? They’d thrown notes and crap down there every other week.

Alby visited him sometimes, mostly just to drop off food, but today he stayed for a moment longer.

“How’re you doing in there jailbird?”

“Just fine and dandy, some shucking idiot put a chair with a short leg in here.”

“That was your idea remember? Had a good laugh about it too,” Alby said, leaning against the wall to look Minho in the eye through the tiny window.

“Well I guess I’m a shucking genius then.”

“I’d keep that talk to a minimum for at least a month after what happened,” Alby warned,

“Right,” Minho agreed. He closed his eyes,

“Tell Newt I’m sorry.”

“I did that already.”

“Well do it again! I mean it.”

“He knows you do, he’s not that mad anymore.”

“Tell that to the purple side of my freaking face!”

“He said he’ll talk to you when you’re not behind bars, then you can sort things out.”

Minho stood in silence for a moment.

“How’d I end up in here, and you get off free?”

“Because I got a big long talking-to from Niel.”

“And I’m in actual jail?”

“A talking to wouldn’t work on your stubborn ass.”

“I guess,” Minho sighed, touching the side of his face that was swollen. It hurt bad. He knew honestly that Newt hadn’t punched him as had as he could have. If Newy really wanted to he could have split Minho’s skull in two. That didn’t stop it from hurting like freakin’ hell though.

“You enjoy your thinking time alright?”

Alby jogged away. Minho groaned and sat back down on the crappy wobbly chair.

When Nick came to unlock him Minho could have kissed his shoes. The slammer sucked big time and cold meals for a week were enough to make anyone feel like a load of clunk.

Mostly though he wanted to see newt, and say a real big sorry.

“Minho,” Nick said. He had this deep drawling accent that made anyone turn their head.

“Yeah?”

“You ever do somethin’ like this again and you’re banished. You and Alby or whoever you drag into your crap.”

“I got it.”

“Look at me,” Nick growled, Minho looked up gritting his teeth.

“You killed that boy.”

Minho felt his stomach swim.

“You’re not running for another week, you’re going to help the new boy in the garden.”

“But-“

“Shut your hole.”

Nick turned to walk away, then paused.

“And shower, you smell like…klunk.”

Minho showered a weeks worth of sweat off of himself and then went straight to Newt’s door. Alby shared a door with Newt and usually came out first. At sunset the Maze could be pretty freakin’ beautiful. The whole Glade turned red, the sun over the huge walls caught and shone in a perfect way. It’d be nicer if there weren’t freakin’ monsters after their butts.

Newt came out first, panting and jogging slowly he sped by Minho and then slowed to a walk, puffing in and out.

“You’re here.” Newt said, straightening up and looking him over.

“In the flesh.”

“Your face looks like a Greiver’s arse,” Newt joked. Minho nodded, swallowing.

“I’ll give your complements to its shucking sculptor you slinthead.”

“You’re supposed to apologise to me.”

“Yeah, I’m really freaking sorry.”

“Are ya now?”

“Newt I don’t mean for him to die you know that.”

Newt nodded, looking out over the glade with this faraway sad look he’d picked up. Minho tilted his head to catch Newt’s eye, “You good man?”

Newt didn’t answer for a moment, but he snapped back.

“Yeah, sorry about your face.”

“It’s alright, you’ve brought me down to about a regular level of handsomeness.”

Newt snorted, slugging his shoulder gently he started off towards Fry’s.

Over dinner Newt was quiet as usual. Nothing Minho did really changed anything. He could make the other runners laugh until they cried but Newt just chuckled dryly and stared back down at his plate.

Newt had his day off soon, Minho hoped they could catch up then, while he was stuck weeding with Zart the Greenie Fart.

But after their little meet-up outside the Maze Newt seemed bent on avoiding him. Or everybody really. Newt was sort of always wandering away, spending a freakish amount of time off in the Deadheads.

“Did the kid in the…box hole really get sliced in half?” Zart asked Minho quietly one day.

“Yeah, he really did,” Minho said, yanking at a little sprout in between the healthy carrots.

“In half which way?” Asked another boy, one who apparently hadn’t been next to the box when it happened.

“In half, no more legs, no more bottom,” Minho said, ripping at a larger weed.

“Someone said he was still screaming was he-“

“Can’t you shucks stick to farming?” Minho sighed, leaning back.

“Nick said he’s buried him with a window into his grave so anyone who needs a reminder knows not to be as stupid.”

Minho’s eyes widened. Newt’s been in the deadheads for days staring at graves.

“Holy shucking klunkballs- seriously?”

“I’m too freaked out to look,” Zart admitted quietly.

Minho found Alby that night.

“Man something’s wrong with Newt.”

“I don’t disagree with you but seeing a boy get sliced in half is enough to make anyone sick.”

“Yeah but you…y’know actually killed a dude a few months ago and you’re fine.”

Alby gave him a look.

“What I did to George was to keep all of us safe.”

“I know, that’s what I’m saying, and you’re all good now right? Newt’s the one bugging out.”

“Just give him space Minho.”

“What if he’s been stung or something? Shouldn’t we go try and-“

Alby grabbed his shoulders,

“People need time, after I…killed George I needed shucking weeks just to feel like I was Alby again, Newt agreed to our little box-hole stunt just as much as we did, you might not feel like a killer, but maybe he does.”

Minho scrunched up his full face and growled,

“This place sucks, all of this sucks donkey klunk, I want my memories, I want you all to have your shucking memories!”

“Yeah,” Alby breathed, squinting up at the setting sun, “Yeah, that’s about right.”

*Newt*

Newt didn’t own much. He had the clothes on his back and the ones that sat in a pile next to his hammock. He had a journal too, Alby had handed it to him after a bunch of them came up in a supply delivery. He’d never wrote in it though, never had much to say. Other than that he had just a few clear, sparkly lookin’ rocks some of the boys had found in the garden and passed around. Nothin’ worth giving away.

It was his day off tomorrow. He wouldn’t have to go in that bloody maze. He’d started to hate the maze, after his little freak out behind the kitchens he’d spent every day inside hating it more and more. He’d always hated it, the big stone walls and the long vines. There was no way out. Never would be. He hoped whoever built all those walls up was gettin’ their laughs in. He really hoped they were.

The maze was as shucking big as it would ever be. Beetle Blades shot out to watch him as he ran. Nasty, creepy buggers. The first time any of the boys had seen them they knew what them Beetle Blades were for. With one steady red eye they were meant for watchin’, spyin’. Nothin’ could be done without a beetle blade slitherin’ through your ankles. If Newt hadn’t been so worried about Darwin, (worry that meant nothing to the dead boy now) he might have seen the Beetle Blades scurryin’ up close to get a view at the boy sliced clean in half.

The last dead end of his section was marked down. Newt turned on his heels. Nearer to the door he paused for a moment, reaching to one of the walls covered in vines. He grabbed one of them, pulling at it. It made a ripping sound all the way up until it stopped. Newt tugged at it hard. The vine held on tight. He tugged again. The vine stayed strong.

Newt paused for a moment. He closed his eyes and felt the weight of the glade, all the hell around him crash down. He took his hand off the vine and started to run again. He was going to get out of here. He was going to make it out.

When he got back he walked to the Deadheads. The baggers had already dug Darwin up a grave and tossed him inside. Nick had put a big piece of plastic over it so you could see right down where his body lay. Newt watched it sometimes. Maggots crawled from his rotting eyes, bugs gnawed at his skin. Just a week ago he’d been alive, runnin’ around, laughin’.

What if Minho was the next one? An’ then Alby after that? What if Newt was just goin’ to watch his friends die? One by one. Newt walked over to George’s grave. George had been in so much pain. It had been mercy what Alby did wasn’t it? So this would be mercy, Newt would be mercy.

He sat outside the kitchens. It wasn’t breakfast yet, but the runners were already heading out. Newt waved to Alby. Minho would be workin’ away in the gardens, Newt had to remember to say a fast goodbye and avoid him. The Glade felt quiet for once. He showered, a long nice one, running the waxy glade bar soap through his hair. He remembered a time, however long ago when he would clean off in a warm white tub. Newt had stopped searching for his old memories so long ago. All of them had.

Winston, he should say something to that creepy guy. Newt liked him a fair bit to be honest. When all the boys had gathered around the Box hole for their little experiment Winston had left halfway through, disapprovin’ of all their meddling’.

“Winston! Mate!”

“Newt?” Winston asked, turnin’ around and taking his hands off the big dead pig loaded onto a table. Newt looked away from it, focusin’ on Winston.

”You alright, having a decent day?”

”Yeah, ‘bout as decent as it gets, you?”

”Fine,” Newt said, taking a deep breath out, “Well take care mate, I just wanted to drop by, it being my day off and all.”

“Right on,” Winston agreed pleasantly, turning back to his pig.

Newt found Zart next, out all the way into the cornfields, the kid had a talent for farmin’. Newt only thought it right to say somethin’ to Zart, he was the newest newbie- or greenie whatever Minho had come up with now.

“Hey mate,” Newt greeted him, Zart looked up, nearly dropping his basket of freshly picked corn,

”Hey Newt.”

“How’re you likin’ the Glade?”

“Oh, well…” Zart looked down, and then everywhere except Newt’s eyes,

“Its s‘alright if you dont like it much, if you miss something you can’t remember, that’s how all these shanks feel, weather the shanks mention it or not.”

Zart nodded.

“Newt you want to know the worst part of the Glade?” Zart asked, and for a moment Newt felt an empty pit open up within himself ready to gulp down everythin’ he’d ever been, instead he swallowed it a bit, and nodded,

“Yeah?”

“Having a…shucking name like Mozart,” Zart snickered shyly, Newt laughed suddenly at that, almost in relief. He slapped Zart on the back, smiling.

“Thank Minho’s big klunkin’ brain for that one huh?”

“What’re you shuck-faced slintheads saying about me!” Minho burst from the corn, trampling a good part of it before shuffling up to Zart and Newt.

“Talkin’ to Zart, Bugger off.”

“You love me,” Minho announced, trying to sling an arm around Newt’s shoulder. He wasn’t quite tall enough, settling for another back pat.

”Sure I do, you and your ugly mug,”

“I told you, I’m down to human levels of good looks.”

“I’m assuming all is good with the almighty Minho?”

“Yeah, what’s it to you?”

“Just wanted to know.”

Newt turned away, starting to walk towards the Deadheads. Minho started walking to follow him, he had to jog with how fast Newt was walking.

“Newt!”

“Yeah?”

“Newt can we talk?”

“Sure.”

“Newt I just want a day to talk to you Y’know just catch up.”

“Minho that’s just fine, I gotta take my time out in the forest though.”

“Alright, I’ll wait for you back at the farm,” Minho agreed. Newt felt his heart clench,

“Don’t wait for me, I’ll be awhile,” Newt choked out.

“We’ll you’re-“

Newt started to walk, then run. He was seconds away from bawlin’ his buggin’ eyes out. Minho was gonna wait for him. But he couldn’t make good on that, he had to go now, before anythin’ horrible could happen again.

The Deadheads was the thickest a forest could possibly get, sometimes if entered at the wrong place he had to fight through leaves and branches, watch his feet for roots. And in the center was the graveyard.

Newt collapsed onto a bench right outside of the forest. He couldn’t go in there, not just yet. Minho was watchin’ him, he could feel it. Newt stayed still, staring at the ground until the feelin’ of being watched lessened. Newt closed his eyes and breathed in and out. It would all be done soon, really, actually done.

Newt pressed his hands into his thighs. He tried then to remember somethin’, anythin’ real. The thing that always ached inside of him wouldn’t quiet. There was somethin’ he must miss, must miss like a bloody limb. But it was gone.

Newt got up, trudging into the forest. He’d worn a path down in the past week. Every time he headed through it was easier. The clearing was small, with about five headstones.

Newt knelt down. He felt his face fall. It was like the normal-ness suddenly drained from him and the only thing left was the hollow hole. What if today Minho came back stung, Alby with a chunk taken out of him by a shucking Greiver. What if the next time someone needed to volunteer for some stupid, death-trap plan it’d be Minho, and Newt would be dragging up his body, cut in two shucking pieces. The hollowness that had opened up stretched wider, the ache of longing something he couldn’t remember, the feeling he’d known since he’d woken up in the glade, how alone he felt, it grew bigger an’ bigger until Newt fell forward, his face twisted into pain. He started to sob, wrapping his hands around his head to try and quiet his thinkin’. He just wanted all of this to stop.

Newt pawed at his eyes with the palms of his hands, trying to wring the tears out of em’. Newt got up. He marched out of that awful bloody forest and out into the Glade. He walked out to the Maze door, the closest one, the one he’d ran in and out every buggin’ day. He knew it real well, knew it like it was just another part of him. His tears had stopped, face had set itself. He marched into the huge opening between the walls. He knew this section so well he could have walked it blind. He turned around the corners and walls, his walk turned into a run. He was looking for a wall, one covered in bloody shucking ivy, a big tall wall.

Newt found it.

The wall like all the others reached up almost into the sky. Newt was going to climb to the very top. He grabbed the nearest piece, this time he didn’t check if it could hold his weight, it didn’t matter. Newt dug his feet into the nicks and cracks, hauled his weight up with his arms. His breathing was shaky, he kept glancing down, was this enough? How much more? He was almost halfway up and suddenly it felt like he couldn’t go any further, like someone put a big bloody hand in his brain and squeezed. Newt pulled himself up a few more feet, then a few more. He looked up to the wall reaching up above him. He was sweating hard now, sure he couldn’t even make it up another shucking inch. Newt swallowed. He looked back to the wall clinging to the vines and breathing in and out. He heard it then, the little metallic clicking of a beetle blade. He turned his head to see the beady red eye of the creature starin’ him down. Newt met its eye, feelin’ anger fill him in an overwhelmin’ crash.

He reached to the beetle and grabbed it, he’d never been able to touch one before, much less grab it, the metal cut into his hand, but the beetle stayed still watchin‘ intently.

“I don’t know who you people are, but I hope you’re happy. I hope you get a real buggin’ kick out of watching us suffer. And then you can die and go to hell. This is on you.”

Blood ran hot down his wrist and to his elbow. The beetle wriggled then, cutting deeper into his palm, he let go, kicked off the wall and let go.

Newt felt air rush through his ears, go up in a gust all around him. All he could think was Minho, Alby, Winston, George, Frypan, Darwin, Nick, even shucking Gally in a blur in his mind.

And then he hit the ground.

An explosion of pain ripped through his whole body. Newt cried out, he couldn’t move. One of his legs was bent the wrong way, it felt like hell, his whole body felt like hell. Newt inched up, Hissing and groaning. He shouted again, pure pain swaying his vision. He pulled his wrecked leg to his chest. He hadn’t bloody died, why didn’t he die? The bloody creators must have stopped it. Newt felt tears runnin’ down his neck, he groaned, shakin’. Everythin’ hurt so damn much. If he lay here he might die eventually. Newt drew his head back, starin’ up at the fake sky, he started to cry again, his broken body was wracked with horrible lurchin’ sobs that made his insides ache. Newt cried molten hate and molten pain. He should have died. He should have died. He grit his teeth hard together, screamin’,

“I hate you! I HATE YOU!” Newt nearly passed out. He heaved in big breaths, gasping for air. Newt didn’t know who he hated more, the shucking creators of the Maze or himself. His stupid shuckin’ self he couldn’t even die properly.

Newt fell backwards, his head hitting the stone of the ground. The pain was too loud, thumpin’ an aching heartbeat through his ears. Newt went out then, eyes rolling over to the hurt and exhaustion.

He woke up suddenly to hands grabbin’ him, draggin’ him forward. Newt groaned, reachin’ up to find the arm with a hold on him, he looked up and it was Alby. Alby glanced down at him.

“What shucking happened you idiot?”

“I jumped,” Newt admitted shakily. Alby stopped, starin’ at him. Newt didn’t even know what to say, his leg hurt so bloody much. Alby leaned down and lifted Newt up a bit, draping him over Alby’s shoulder. Alby grunted, stumblin’ forward. Newt had his cheek pressed to the damp shoulder of Alby’s shirt, breathin’ in shaky little gasps.

“Why?”

Newt didn’t say anything. He just let himself be dragged back. Right before they got to the door Newt gripped his shoulder tightly,

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“Wasn’t going to dude.”

Alby dropped him off by the door and sprinted over to Clint. Clint was the only bloody decent Med-Jack they had. Clint and Alby came back with a stretcher. They helped Newt up on it and started running back to the homestead. Newt kept his eyes open, everyone seemed to be at dinner. He hoped Minho was at dinner, if he had to see Minho right now he might start shuckin’ crying again.

Clint had to set the bones in his leg. They didn't have anything except for a mild painkiller. Clint gave him about three pills, said that was all he was comfortable with.

“Newt, buddy I’m not gonna lie to you this is going to hurt like a shucking Greiver bite.”

“I broke the damn leg I can stand to see it sorted out Clint!” Newt bit back, hissing in pain.

“Alright,” Clint grabbed his leg, Newt shouted out, grabbin’ the sheets of the bed and nearly rippin’ a hole right through them.

“Bloody- Clint just get the damn thing over with!” He cried, Clint twisted his leg slightly, shovin’ it together. Newt screamed, his brain was so white hot with pain he could barely breathe.

“It’s done now!” Clint announced, steppin’ back and quickly gatherin’ bandages. Alby helped him arrange a splint to secure both sides of his leg. The whole thing hurt like torture. Clint gave him something to put him to sleep a bit faster. Newt took it greatfuly.

The next time waking up, after waking up on the floor of the Maze a different boy was watching over him.

Minho had a chair pulled up next to his bed, staring at him.

Newt grimaced, closing his eyes.

“Clint says you need to take some pills.”

“Clint could have told me that himself,” Newt mumbled. Minho frowned, handing Newt the glass and his medicine. Newt took it, swallowing the pills and smacking his lips. He looked up to see Minho still standing there.

“What shucking happened Newt?”

Newt shook his head, picking at one of his fingernails.

“Newt what happened!”

Newt lay back down in bed, closing his eyes.

“He awake?” Clint asked, arriving and walking over to Newt’s bedside.

“Not anymore apparently,” Minho said. Minho could be a piece of work sometimes.

The next day Minho was back.

“Ably won’t shucking tell me what happened!”

“Good! He shouldn’t.”

“Newt you got hurt, how did that happen?”

“None of your bloody shucking business that’s how!”

Minho stood there for a while, just standing with a slowly rising and falling chest and watching Newt.

“Newt…what happened?”

“You know what happened.”

“I don’t.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Dunno, Greiver finally got your ass?”

Newt laughed out loud, his whole body ached at the movement. He winced, clenchin’ his teeth together.

“Nah,” He choked out.

Minho pulled up a chair beside him and sat down.

They stayed in silence for a while. Newt couldn’t help but think how much of an idiot he was. To think Minho would have been standin’ over his grave just a week later, to think Minho would elect each new runner thinkin’ how they couldn’t make up for his being gone. Newt was such a shucking slinthead.

“Your face is getting better.”

“Yeah, all you shuck-faced klunkslingers are gonna have to start shielding your eyes, wouldn’t want you tripping over yourselves when you see my glorious mug.”

“I’ll screw your mug right back up,” Newt argued, smoothing out the sheets on the bed.

“You could’ve split my skull in two couldn’t you?” Minho laughed, leaning back in his chair.

“Maybe,” Newt shrugged.

“Oh polite little humble Newtie!” Minho whistled. Newt smiled to himself.

There was another minute of silence.

“Minho I tried to climb up one of the walls, ya said it couldn’t be done but I wasn’t convinced, I climbed about halfway up. Turns out those buggin’ greivers can climb because before I knew it a big nasty one shuckin’ jumped out of nowhere. I fell about the whole way down then Alby grabbed me and dragged me out like a brave little shuck warrior.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, we were real close to the door, lucky shanks we are.”

Minho looked down, biting his lip.

“Newt I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, nothin’ can be done about it now though, I’m just glad it wasn’t you or Alby.”

“Yeah sure, but it’s still you in a full shucking leg brace, I’d take that a hundred times before I let you take a fall like that.”

Newt felt his heart ache. He was so buggin’ selfish, how could he have left them like this?

“Aww, you’re a real sweetie aren’t ya?”

Minho stayed with him until Newt got drowsy and took his sleepin’ pills. Minho was real sweet, too good to him. Minho could never know about what really happened. Newt had to keep that until he died.

Thank goodness Minho was gone the next day, back to his Runner job. Newt spent most of the day staring at the ceiling and having boring buggin’ conversations with Clint.

Alby hadn’t visited him. He knew Minho had been banned from running for a while but Alby had his mornin’s and nights to drop by. What if Alby hated his shuck guts? What if Alby couldn’t bare to even see his face? On one hand he was terrified to hear what Alby had to say, on the other he was was achin ’ to find out.

That night Newt called Clint over,

“Clint, mate!”

“Yeah?” Clint got up, walking to the foot of his bed,

“My hammock is down by the bard, would you mind fetchin’ a journal I got down there? I’d like to write a bit.”

Clint through about it for a second,

“Sure I can, but you gotta promise not to do anything stupid while I’m gone, alright?”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly fit to be klunking around am I?” Newt said dryly. Clint nodded,

“Good that.”

Once Newt had his journal, and Clint had given him one of the pencils he used to mark down sick boy’s names Newt got to writing.

My name is Newt.

Newt wrote on the first page, and then stared at the sentence. He frowned, rubbing it out with the palm of his hand.

I woke up with the name Newt, It must not be mine because what bloody parent names their kid after a slimy lizard?

Newt chewed on the end of the pencil, thinking.

I live in a big stupid place called the Glade. My two best friends are Minho and Alby, they’re alright I guess if you like ugly-mugged shanks.

Newt laughed to himself,

I’m just joking, they’re not too hideous or that big of slintheads, but sometimes Minho makes me want to tear all my hair out.

Newt breathed out shakily, relaxing. He put the book off to the side of his bed.

Alby came that night. Newt woke up to the sound of the bed next to his creaking. Alby had sat down, looking over at him. Newt groaned, sitting up.

”Hey there mate,” Newt winced, trying to shift his healing leg,

”Hey,” Alby mumbled.

they sat there for a longer silence than could have ever happened between Newt and Minho. Alby eventually looked down, and then back up,

“I’ve been thinking a lot, about what happened.”

Newt looked away quickly, thumbing at the sheets.

”I told Minho it was a Griever. He believed me, we can just pretend nothin’-“

”Are you going to lose it again?” Alby cut him off. Newt looked up, terrified of the judgment that might be in Alby’s eyes, but instead he just looked worried. Newt sank into the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“I never felt worse than wakin’ up the next mornin’ and realizin’ you an’ Minho would be standin’ over my grave if I did the job right.”

Alby nodded. Newt closed his eyes and breathed in, he could feel his throat staring to ache and his eyes burning with tears. He breathed until it faded away. When he opened his eyes Alby was still there.

“We only got each other in here, and if- if there’s something you need to see, y’know get it off your chest you should say it.”

Newt shook his head,

”Nah, Mate I need…I need some time I think.”

Alby nodded again and scratched the back of his head.

“Minho worries his shuck ass off about you.”

”I wish he wouldn’t,” Newt laughed dryly.

”I worry my own butt too,” Alby added, Newt’s smile faded. “Don’t get bummed man, what I’m tryna say is, you mean a whole big deal to us, and if you were gone we’d be crying our eyes out. So don’t go anywhere any time soon okay?”

Newt nodded. Alby reached forward and sunk a hand into his hair, ruffling it.

Then Alby got up and left. Newt sighed to himself and reached over for his journal. He flipped it open and started writing again.

I don’t think I spend too much time thinking about how much they want me around. Might do me some good to think on that. Might do me a lot of good actually.

Epilogue.

Newt breathed a big sigh out. He was getting used to the crutches. His leg was all wrapped up and protected. He’d gotten used to swinging around the Glade, visiting all the keepers and their boys. Jeff the new Med-Jack had cushioned over the splintery beam that sat under his armpit, because Newt got awful sore there. No thanks to the builders for makin’ him sutch crap crutches.

Today had been long, he’d stood about watching the boys farm. Then he’d hobbled back to get lunch and headed over to the builders to watch them tack more wood onto the homestead. Spendin’ all his time with the keepers and their boys made him real familiar with all of ‘em. He knew the oldest boys and the greenest of greenies. He was a bit of a popular fellow himself, gettin’ waves and welcomes ever time he showed up anywhere. Newt wrapped up with the builders and headed out. Restin’ every once in a while he made the long trek over to Minho’s door.

Newt waited, leaned against the Maze wall. Minho was trainin’ a new runner, former builder, Ben. He and Minho came out at the same time, both red in the face and pantin’ like dogs.

Newt tossed them both peaches from the new grove. They took the fruit gratefully, tearing into the fruit. Minho sent Ben along to dinner, and stayed back with Newt.

“How was your day?”

“Bloody boring, but ya know, better than layin’ around in bed, how about you?”

“Fine, Ben’s pretty sloppy, but getting better.”

Minho kicked a rock along as he walked,

“What do Clint an Jeff say?” Minho asked,

Newt paused for a moment, breathing hard. Minho, even exhausted from runnin’ all day quickly took Newt’s arm over his shoulder. Newt frowned, leanin’ on him,

“You don’t need to do that,” Newt said.

“Don’t you worry your little butt about it,” Minho grunted, shufflin’ along.

After a while Newt got back on his crutches,

“They say I’ll never be a runner again, busted it up that much, but I’ll be walkin’ fine eventually.”

“Screw Clint and Jeff, you’ll run however much you want.”

“Yeah maybe,” Newt sighed, lazily joinin’ in on Minho’s delusion.

That night back up in his clean white bedsheets Newt said his goodnight to Clint and picked his journal back up.

Well the dog that came up with supplies last month is fitting in nicely. Minho thinks he’s a real funny guy naming it Bark. The sweet thing is real quiet.

I spent the day with Keepers. Zart is doing real well for himself in the gardens, Nick says he’s probably the top pick for keeper of the Track-Hoes (Stupid name I know, but Minho named it) Either way I hope Zart gets it, the kid certainly deserves it.

My leg is getting better, good as it can I guess. Haven’t had any feelings like going off cliffs anytime soon. Thank god I didn’t think of the real cliff when I was set on jumping a few months ago.

That’s all for tonight you nosy shank.

-Newt

#the maze runner #maze runner #tmr #tmr newt #tmr minho #tmr alby

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