IT STARTED WITH A MAZE - Newt x Reader (F)

- NOT THE END -

My heart lurches violently in my ribcage. My breath catches, freezing in my throat. My whole body jerks away from the sound, as if if I could physically separate myself from it. Infront of me, Newt twists and his weight is suddenly pressing against mine. I hear his ragged breathing - close, real.

For a split second, I can only see the smoke, the flash, the horror that has come alive in that single, unbearable moment.

Then I see Minho - his face fierce, wild with determination. He moves faster than I can follow. The spear in his hand hurls through the chaos, spinning through the thick air like a blade of hope.

It strikes Gally's chest, the impact thudding with a cruel finality that echoes through the silence that follows the gunshot.

Then, Gally - he's wheezing, the sound raw and ragged, like the last breath of a dying storm. I catch a glimpse of him, eyes wide and filled with something I don't want to understand. Pain? Regret? Defeat?

Gally's legs tremble. He crumbles to his knees, the spear a cruel stake through his chest. His hands claw at the dirt as he falls forward, lifeless.

For a moment, the world feels unbearably still.

I blink, trying to steady my racing heart.

Newt pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes wide with fear. I see the panic simmering behind them. We both nod, silently. "Is everyone alright?" I ask aloud. Feeling over Newt's shirt I can tell that he is. I get nods from Teresa and Thomas both.

But then I look down.

Chuck.

His shirt is soaked in blood, a dark, spreading stain that crawls across the fabric like creeping fire. His breath is shallow, broken. He's faltering. "(Y/n)..." he breathes, barely audible, voice cracked with pain.

I lurch forward. His legs give way under his weight and I barely catch him as he falls. My hands are shaking as I cradle his head, leaning in close. The blood flows freely from a wound somewhere deep in his chest, warm and unstoppable. I press my fingers against it, desperate to stop the flood. But it's brutal - too much for me to control. "Chuck, please," I plead, my voice breaking under the weight of fear and disbelief.

Thomas drops beside us, his face contorted in agony. "Hang on, buddy," he whispers, voice cracking as he takes Chuck's other side.

Teresa stands just behind us, sniffing quietly, tears glinting in her eyes but no words to offer. My hands are soaked. The blood slicks beneath my fingers. My palms press harder, but the wound doesn't relent. It won't. "It's okay," Chuck tells us again, voice fragile like a fading ember. "It's okay."

But I can't believe him. I can't accept it. "Chuck, stay with us," I beg, my hands trembling uncontrollably. Newt's hand finds my shoulder, steady and warm. He doesn't say anything but I feel his strength flow into me. It isn't enough.

Chuck reaches up, fingers weak but purposeful. He grasps my hand. And then the bracelet slips off his wrist, and lays over my skin. "Take it," he says, voice barely a whisper.

"No," I protest. "It's yours." My hands are too full, too busy trying to hold him together. His eyes close for a moment and I think maybe - just maybe - he's resting. But then they flutter open again, haunted and pleading. "Chuck," I cry, "You have to stay with us."

Thomas gently takes the bracelet from Chuck's fingers, holding it safely for me, an unspoken promise between us. "Thank you," Chuck whispers again, voice breaking with the weight of what he can't say.

Then his eyes drift closed.

I press my hands harder. I scream, not even trying to be silent. My body shakes with grief that burns through every inch of me. Newt stifles a sob into his hand. Thomas breaks down beside me, his whole body wracked with silent cries. But I am too shattered, too determined to let go. "Please, Chuck," I cry. "Please. We made it. We're here." But there is only the harsh, cruel silence. The blood seeps faster. My hands slick with warmth. "Chuck..." I whisper, voice cracking.