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

- NEAR MISS -

I wait. Just a second. Then I nod and turn.

But something in my chest lingers - like a whisper I can't quite hear yet. Something's wrong. Still, we move. One by one, into the dark. Gally first. Then Thomas. Then me. And just above, I can feel the quiet weight of Newt, following.

The hatch closes behind us.

At the bottom of the ladder is... water.

My boots hit with a splash that soaks halfway up my calves. I hiss through my teeth. It's freezing, and worse - it smells.

Old, stagnant, sour. Like rust and rot and something long dead. The water ripples as I shift my weight, and I nearly gag.

Newt lands beside me with a grunt, splashing even more of the murky stuff. "Ugh," he mutters, lifting his foot with clear disgust. "This is bloody gross," he says, and the second time he steps there's a loud splurk as he goes into a deeper puddle. Dirty water sprays up and hits him in the knee. "Oh, for- Jeez."

"Careful," I say, but I'm already chuckling. Thomas grumbles. "We've done worse," I remind them both, adjusting the strap on my bag. My voice echoes faintly down the damp brick tunnel, swallowed by its age and width. "Remember, I dunno, the Maze?"

"Don't remind me," Thomas says, but there's a lightness tucked at the edge of it.

The tunnel stretches ahead - narrow and rounded, built in that old bricked-over style that screams pre-apocalypse infrastructure. It's the city's guts, forgotten and repurposed. The walls drip with moss and condensation, and above our heads, old pipes run alongside the curve like vines.

The air's heavy. Wet. Tastes like mold.

Gally doesn't seem to notice - or care. He's already leading the way, one flashlight in hand, the beam cutting through the dark ahead. His light swings toward the tunnel's left wall and lands on a strange box half-embedded in the brickwork. He walks above the water - which thankfully starts to dry up further ahead- as if not even seeing it was ever there. Gally makes a quick stop near the wall where he pulls down a lever with a clank. And then - one by one - lightbulbs lining the left side of the tunnel flicker to life.

A warm amber glow coils through the space, each bulb connected by rusted wires strung between metal hooks along the wall. They illuminate the path ahead. "Cool," I murmur, and I mean it. For the first time since climbing down here, the claustrophobia lifts a little.

I glance over my shoulder.

Thomas is still behind me, shaking some water off his sleeves. Newt stands just past him, studying the lights like he's trying to memorize the pattern - or distract himself. His hands twitch again, only briefly. He rubs his palms together after, as if cold. Or maybe to hide it.

Something's wrong. I know it. But he keeps going like it's nothing. "Stay with me," Gally calls over his shoulder. "We've got a way to go."

The remaining liquid squeaks as he trudges onwards. I see that the tunnel narrows, then widens again, the light following us like ghost fire.

Thomas is then at my side. He nudges me gently, then tips his head forward. I hesitate only a moment before continuing ahead of him and Newt. I give them a quiet nod - a silent thank-you for whatever instinct is guiding them.

Now I walk in the middle of the boys.

And just like that, we disappear into the bowels of the city, chasing a sliver of hope through moisture and wire, with danger waiting ahead.

~~~

The walk is mostly silent.

Each time I try to speak - a quiet word to Thomas, a glance toward Newt - Gally cuts me off with one of his sharp looks. The kind that says don't push it. His eyes narrow every time I open my mouth, like he thinks words might attract attention or cause the whole tunnel to collapse in on itself. So, I stop trying.