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

- PARTY COMPOUND -

"Yeah, I came," I mutter, crouching next to him. "We're getting you out."

He smiles lazily, then lifts a hand to my face. "You're real, right?"

I gently take his hand away. "You drank something, didn't you?"

He shrugs, tipsy. "The dude outside said we had to. I don't feel anything. Is that better than feeling it all?" Behind me, Brenda makes a soft sound, barely conscious. I check her pulse - strong, but she's definitely not moving on her own.

"We have to move," I whisper, eyes scanning the crowd for Minho's assistance. "Thomas, can you stand?"

He wobbles as I aid him, his weight heavy on me. "Wait..." he says, frowning. "I wanted to tell you something."

"Later," I say.

"No- now." His voice drops, trembling. "I was scared... we were separated. And I kept thinking about you. About a time before the Glade..." His breath warms my skin. "Do you remember?" And then, his hand finds my cheek again.

He leans in.

For a split second, I freeze. Not because I'm afraid. But because this isn't him. Not right now. I lean away, carefully, my hand braced against his chest. My eyes flick up... and land on Newt. He's at the edge of the dancefloor, scanning for threats. But his gaze finds mine. I hold his stare for a breath too long.

Then Thomas slumps. His knees buckle.

He collapses into my arms. "Shit," I hiss, trying to prop him up. "Tommy?" My fingers are tapping his cheeks, pressed against his neck for that pulse.

"(Y/n)?" Minho is suddenly beside me. "Is he-?"

"Alive," I say before clarifying; "Drugged."

Newt appears with Frypan. Teresa stares at where I'm holding Thomas. Aris grabs Brenda, lifting her carefully. "Lets go!" Minho yells.

"Where's Jorge?" I ask, eyes flicking the crowd.

"Said he had to get something," Minho comments, his gaze equally searching. That's when we hear the shouts. And when I see Jorge, carrying an unconscious man around the corners of the room. "Uh oh," Minho murmurs. "Lets go," he reiterates.

We're running now. Pushing through the crowd. Someone tries to grab Brenda, but Aris stuns him with a jab of the rod. I keep Thomas steady, dodging flailing limbs and laughing maniacs. Newt kicks someone who tries to block our path.

We follows Jorge's lead toward a rear door, shouting over the music. We reach it. Burst out into the night. Thankfully, no guards seem to follow.

The music fades. The night swallows us again. Panting, we regroup behind the alley. Thomas is still out cold. Brenda groans faintly.

Newt comes to stand at my side as I kneel next to Thomas. I feel his gaze on me before I hear him. "You okay?" He asks quietly.

I nod. "Yeah."

He doesn't say anything more. Just say there as I brush the hair from Thomas's damp forehead. But I feel it - what Newt's really asking about. What he saw.

Maybe we'll bring it up later. Maybe not.

But we're all here again.

And right now that's good enough.

~~~

We're gathered in what used to be a grand living room - vaulted ceiling, cracked chandelier dangling by one chain, windows long boarded up. Moonlight slinks in through broken planks, casting jagged shadows across the faded wallpaper. There's a fireplace, cold and long dead, and a scattering of cushions, blankets, and old furniture dragged in from elsewhere. Our group fills the space in tense pockets of silence.