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

- MOMENT WORTH WAITING FOR -

He holds his right arm protectively, as if shielding something no one else can see, and walks out the door without another word. "Newt!" I call after him, my voice cracking under the strain of everything unsaid. But he only shakes his head, silent, determined to leave. "I-" The words falter, collapse. I don't know what to say. How do you speak to someone when everything inside is breaking?

"Something's not right," Thomas says quietly, breaking the thick silence that's settled like dust on my heart.

"No," I agree, the pit in my stomach deep and cold. No, it's not right at all. I draw in a shaky breath. "I'm going to talk to him," I say. My feet move before my brain can even comprehend what I should do. "You can update us in the morning," I add over my shoulder.

Newt's footsteps fade down the hall, heavy and uncertain. My chest tightens, an ache that won't ease as I push out the door and step into the night. It's still dark outside - deep shadows pooling between street lamps, one flickering weakly overhead, throwing restless light and dark across the cracked pavement.

I follow him silently, my breath visible in the cool air. The sky above is scattered with stars, distant and cold, but somehow steady in this moment. My legs are still buzzing from the earlier sprints; my lungs remember the train even if my ears have stopped ringing. Newt paces like a restless ghost, the weight of everything pressing him down with each step. Then he stops as soon as he notices me, the sharpness in his eyes softened by guilt.

"(Y/n)," he says, voice low and rough. I hate the way he looks - so burdened, like he's carrying the weight of every wrong decision on his shoulders. His hands tremble slightly at his sides. "I'm sorry," he adds.

I shake my head, stepping closer, closing the space between us until the night feels smaller, more contained. "Please don't apologise," I utter. The tension in his shoulders eases just a fraction with my presence. But I can still see the shock clinging to the edges of his expression. The ghost of the train. The second that almost erased him. The aftermath of screaming at his friend.

He stops pacing and turns to face me fully, his eyes searching mine for something - maybe forgiveness, maybe understanding. Maybe just confirmation that we're both still here. I don't know where to start. The silence stretches, thick and heavy with everything unsaid, with everything we both feel but can't voice. Something fragile and raw presses against my ribs.

I don't plan to kiss him.

But then, the moment breaks like a wave. It just happens.

His face is angled toward me, jaw dusted with grime, the old scar beneath his eye catching the faint flicker of the broken streetlamp. His lips are chapped, and there's a thin scrape across his cheekbone from the fall. I see the quick pulse in his neck, the slight catch in his breath as he leans in closer, really looking at me. There's something raw and unguarded in his gaze - like he's looking at me for the first time since the tunnel, really seeing me, alive and intact and shaking just like he is.

So I lean forward, and our lips meet. Soft, hesitant at first, then sure. It's quick, a gentle press that feels like a lifeline tossed between us in the dark. My hands tremble, betraying the flood of everything I've just decided to risk. He still smells faintly like ash and sweat and cold metal.

But it's real.

For a suspended second, the chaos and fear and doubt all still, like the whole damn world is holding its breath just for us. My heart races. My lungs feel like they might give out again. But I'm still kissing him.

I pull back - barely - but he doesn't move away. He doesn't say anything. His eyes stay wide and fixed on mine, stunned, maybe a little scared. He stays close, so close that our foreheads almost touch. Close enough that I can feel the heat of his breath mingling with mine.

And then, the smallest, crookedest smile tugs at the corner of his lips - that soft, broken smile that never fails to undo me. It's the first smile I've seen from him all night. And it's shaky, like it's fighting past everything he's holding inside. Like it knows how close we came to losing this moment forever.

The night wraps around us like a fragile secret, every shadow breathing silence. The stars flicker high above, distant and indifferent, but here, under this fractured streetlamp, everything narrows down to just us. I swallow hard, words trembling on the edge of my lips like a fragile promise. "I love you," I whisper, but that doesn't make the words any less true. They're also shakier than I meant, fragile as glass. Like I'm confessing not just to him, but to the night, to myself, to whatever force let us survive today.

Newt's head lifts sharply, eyes locking with mine in a way that feels like gravity pulling me in deeper. The world tilts slightly, and then time stretches, one beat. Then another. His face doesn't shift in any dramatic way, but something subtle stirs there. His eyes soften, dark and warm like embers in the cold. The breath he exhales feels like disbelief, like he's trying to decide if what he heard was real or just some cruel trick of the night.

"I had to say it," I continue, voice dropping lower, steadier now despite the chaos still swirling inside me. "I can tell something's been off. But above that- we almost died in those tunnels," I utter. It's the main reason I can give to this sudden confession. "The world feels like it's falling apart - all around us - but I love you through all of it," I say, nearly choking with the emotion. "And I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to us and I hadn't told you..." He holds my eyes, and it takes every ounce of my strength to keep my knees from crumbling. "That I love you, Newtie."

And this time, I don't whisper it like a wish - I mean it like a vow.

He just stares. That long, unreadable stare of his - the one that's always made my heart beat wild and reckless. But now, instead of doubt or distance, it's filled with something softer, more vulnerable. His eyes shimmer with quiet warmth even in the darkness, the way moonlight catches the curve of his cheekbone. That familiar tilt of his mouth begins to form - not quite a grin, but the very beginning of one. That damn crooked, wry smile I've known since the first time I saw him.

"You don't have to say anything," I rush out, afraid I overwhelmed him. "I'm not expecting anything, I just-"

But he cuts me off, voice low and certain, like moonlight through smoke: "I love you."

Simple. Clear. The kind of truth that shatters everything else into sharp pieces and leaves only this moment standing. I'm stunned, breath caught somewhere between hope and disbelief. "I- uh- what?" I stammer, voice cracking. "I was just saying, you don't have to-?"

"I know," Newt interrupts, his tone softening, the raw edge fading into something tender. "But we said we'd always be honest, didn't we? And I've been holding back," Newt admits. "I was thinking maybe I'd ruin something good if I said too much. But I never stopped to think it might become something greater." His words echo in my chest, filling every hollow space I didn't know was empty. I blink, feeling like I'm standing still while the whole world tilts and shifts around me, colors brightening, shadows fading. "I love you, Darling," Newt adds, quieter now, the smile spreading wider, more genuine. It's a smile that breaks through all the darkness, a promise and a sanctuary in one.

My breath hitches, my stomach twisting into knots, then unfurling like a storm at sea, wild and restless. It's a feeling so fierce and sudden I almost laugh, relief and joy crashing through me like waves. "Since you're smiling, I suppose I'll believe you," I utter.

"Smiling?" He echoes, a chuckling bubbling up his throat. "I'm grinning like a bloody fool."

For a long moment, neither of us says anything. We just exist in this fragile space between uncertainty and hope, between fear and the quiet promise of something real. Then he reaches out, slow and sure, pulling me close until there's no space left between us. I meet him halfway, the kiss deep and steady, like we've both been dreaming about this moment longer than we want to admit.

Newt hand cups the side of my face, thumb brushing lightly just beneath my eye - a tender touch that speaks louder than words. The world shrinks until nothing else matters but the press of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the steady beat of his heart against mine.

And for a few perfect seconds, I almost forget the pit in my stomach - the shadow lurking beneath everything we're holding on to. The fear, the danger, the uncertainty that waits for dawn. The weight of the world that could tear us apart at any moment.

Almost.

~