When We're Older- The Maze Runner (Newt)

when we're older

   "Hey, it's okay. Deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth." He nodded at my small attempt to try and help, his chest rising with the deep inhale he took, wincing as he blew it out through his mouth.

   Seeing him like this was so painful, I was sure to have nightmares about it. I hated seeing the ones I loved in pain, especially Newt. I always have, the fact that he was deteriorating so quickly opened a hole in my heart that had previously been sealed by all of his thoughtful whispers into my ears, or his comforting hugs that made everything seem so much more bearable. But now that hole was beginning to slowly open again, taking me down with it as I continued to watch him.

   Impulsively, I climbed over his lap so I was now straddling his legs, sitting on his thighs as my hands found the sides of his face. His eyes lifted in confusion, brows furrowing at my sudden action.

   "What are you doing?" He weakly asked, and I shook my head, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hug.

   I closed my eyes and buried my face in his neck to hide the tears that wanted to leap from my eyes, squeezing him with everything I had left in me. I pursed my lips as they shook, pressing a chaste kiss to his jawline as I felt his arms snake around my torso slowly, squeezing just as tightly as I was.

   "You're gonna be alright." I whimpered into his ear so that only he could hear, my fingers finding their way to the back of his head to provide as much security as I possibly could.

   Newt squeezed me tighter, his hand flattened across my spine as he sniffled, pressing his face into my neck just as I did. But he didn't respond, telling me that he either didn't believe me, or that he was just keeping quiet to conserve his energy.

   "Hey, guys..." Thomas interrupted our moment with a shy tap to my shoulder, and only then did I lift my head from Newt's shoulder, looking at the boy who let out a huff as he pointed at him. "C'mon, we gotta get him up. Let's go."

   I nodded, carefully climbing off of the boy as he tugged at the zipper of his uniform, needing to rid some of the heat from his body. Thomas held a hand out that Newt shook his head at, pushing his legs under him in an attempt to stand on his own. He leaned forward as he got to his feet, stumbling so that Thomas caught him.

   As he stood though, I noticed something fall from inside of his jacket. While Newt was conversing with Thomas, trying to gain enough strength to stand, my eyes followed the item that had fallen to the ground.

   I took a step forward, moving towards the worn leather journal that was still dripping wet from their fall from the building. Bending down, I picked the item up, brushing the dust off the cover. I glanced up, my eyes finding Newt as Minho and Thomas threw his arms over their shoulders, Gally getting ready to lead us all to the tunnels.

   I looked back down at Newt's journal in my hands, wondering what exactly he had spent all of his time writing in here. My fingers grazed the spine, feeling as though the world stopped as I admired the wet book in my hands. As far as I knew, Newt could've been writing a story in here, or something that he created in that beautiful mind of his. It could've just been drawings, with descriptions that he spent ages working on, but somewhere in the depths of my mind, I knew it was something he wrote. And I wanted to keep it safe. Even if I never get to read his scribbled thoughts, see what was really going on in his head, I knew it was an outlet for him. It was important to Newt, therefore it was important to me.

   So, I quickly unzipped my jacket and placed the journal in the deep pocket on the inside, where the WICKED guards used to hold any weapon you could imagine. I sealed the pocket, zipping my jacket back up just as the boys started to move.