a/n: this one is a little sad
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The doors had opened.
After months of running, mapping, surviving—they were finally out. The Maze was behind them, the Glade shrinking in the distance as the group stumbled into the blinding white corridor beyond the exit.
Newt was gripping Y/N's hand tightly, his knuckles pale. "We did it," he whispered, almost afraid to believe it.
Y/N nodded, breathless. "We're free."
Chuck was just ahead, bouncing on his heels, eyes wide with joy. "I told you we'd make it! I told you!"
Then the gunshot rang out.
It was sharp. Final.
Chuck fell.
Y/N screamed. Newt dropped to his knees beside the boy, hands trembling as he pressed them to the wound. "No, no, no—Chuck, stay with me, yeah? You're alright. You're alright."
But Chuck wasn't alright.
His eyes fluttered, searching. "Did we... make it?"
Newt swallowed hard. "Yeah, mate. We made it."
Chuck smiled, just barely. "Cool..."
Then he was still.
Y/N knelt beside Newt, tears streaming. "He was just a kid..."
Newt didn't answer. He couldn't. He just stared at Chuck's face, memorizing every freckle, every strand of hair—because he knew the world outside the Maze had already taken something from them.
Freedom had come with a price.
And as the others gathered, silent and stunned, Newt whispered, "We'll remember him. Every day. Every step forward."
Y/N squeezed his hand. "We'll make it mean something."
And together, they walked into the unknown—carrying Chuck's memory like a flame in the dark.
