Begin Again | Newt x Reader

Prologue

The lights were blinding.

The room was clean.

And your body was incapable of moving.

Your gaze unwillingly remained on the ceiling, your ears were ringing from the silence and your mind was slowly going insane from trying to remember how you got yourself in this situation.

Newt.

That was all you could remember. He was all you could remember; his solemn face ingrained in your memory when he put the gun to his head. But before anything else could resurface, you heard mumbling, then your vision became foggy as you easily slipped back into a deep sleep.

You sat in the corner of the box, breathing jaggedly as you hugged your knees closer to your chest and writhing in the discomfort

There was a boy in front of you. Blonde, tall, very thin, undoubtedly confused by your presence.

He looked like he just rolled around the dirt. He had an accent too, one you couldn't quite remember the name of-- but to be fair, you couldn't even remember your own name.

"I'm Newt, how about you? Can you remember your name?" the boy asked, getting down on his knees as he held out his hand. "Don't be scared, you're not in danger. There's only Alby, Minho, and me here; They're nice, just a little late," he chuckled.

You found it sweet that he was trying to make conversation-- you guessed it was to make you more comfortable. And it was working.

Taking his hand apprehensively, you let him help you stand up.

When Alby finally got there, he helped pull you up as Newt supported your waist. The rough travel of the box, while it was going up, shook you a little bit, so your legs wobbled enough that you couldn't climb up properly.

"I... I don't remember anything," you stated once you were out of the box. The two boys smiled, happy to know that they had earned a little bit of your trust that you managed to talk to them.

"Us too after we came out of the box," Newt said. "But hopefully, like us, you'll remember your name soon, love."

You looked at him strangely when you heard what he'd called you, and when Newt noticed, he scrambled for an excuse. He stuttered, his voice breaking while Alby watched, understandably entertained.

"H-hey--" You caught his hands that were flailing around in a panic, holding them gently. "It's okay," you smiled. "I don't mind."

You woke up with a small gasp, your body being too weak to move.

It was a good dream-- a good memory. But it brought about nothing but dread when you woke up to the memory of his death.

Tar-like blood spilt from his mouth, veins covering his pale body as his eyes turned black. He coughed slightly, his gaze emptier and emptier every second.

Tears sprung from your eyes, falling down the side of your face. "Newt," you whispered, the mere sound of his name scratched at your throat. "Newt," you said, though airy, it was louder.

A sob escaped your throat, your breathing getting heavier as you willed your arms to move. "NEWT," you cried, the intensity and volume hurting your throat to the point where it felt like your vocal cords were ripping.

You continued to weep, and with enough effort, your leg kicked unexpectedly. It was like the small movement paved the way for partial body control, because shortly after, you were able to move your arms until your whole body was thrashing around what felt like a metal table that you laid on.