Newt's POV
The Glade was quieter than usual. The sun hung low, casting long shadows across the clearing, and the air had that golden hush that only came at the end of a long day. Newt stood near the edge of the woods, hands stuffed in his pockets, boot tapping nervously against a rock.
He was waiting.
Y/N had said she'd meet him after dinner. No one knew—not Minho, not Alby, not even bloody Gally, who seemed to have radar for anything remotely suspicious. This was just for them.
He heard footsteps behind him and turned. There she was.
Y/N walked toward him, her hair catching the last light like fire. "You sure we won't get in trouble for this?"
Newt smirked. "Love, I'm already in trouble. Might as well make it worth it."
She rolled her eyes but smiled, and together they slipped past the boundary, into the woods.
The trees swallowed them quickly, the sounds of the Glade fading behind. It was peaceful here—just the crunch of leaves underfoot, the occasional chirp of a bird, and the soft rustle of wind through branches.
They walked in silence for a while. Not awkward—just comfortable. Like they didn't need words to fill the space between them.
Newt glanced sideways at her. "You always walk like you've got a secret."
Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I do."
He chuckled. "Bloody hell, you're impossible."
She grinned. "You love it."
He didn't respond. Not out loud. But his heart did a little flip, and that was answer enough.
Eventually, they reached a small clearing. The grass was soft, the trees arched overhead like a cathedral. Y/N sat down, pulling her knees to her chest. Newt sat beside her, close but not too close.
"So," she said, voice quiet. "What happens now?"
Newt stared at the ground. "You mean with us?"
She nodded.
He sighed. "I dunno. I'm bloody terrified, if I'm honest."
She looked at him, surprised. "Of what?"
He met her eyes. "Of messing this up. Of hurting you. Of not being enough."
Y/N leaned in slightly. "You're already enough, Newt. You always have been."
His breath caught. "Bloody hell, you say things like that and I forget how to breathe."
She laughed softly. "Then stop talking and kiss me."
He didn't need telling twice.
Their lips met in the quiet of the woods, soft and slow. It wasn't rushed or dramatic—it was real. Honest. Like everything they hadn't said was finally being spoken.
When they pulled apart, Newt rested his forehead against hers. "I've wanted to do that since the day you stole my bloody map."
She grinned. "Told you I was good trouble."
He chuckled. "The worst kind."
They lay back in the grass, side by side, watching the sky turn from gold to indigo. Newt reached out, fingers brushing hers.
"I kissed Sidney," he said suddenly. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
Y/N was quiet for a moment. "I know."
"I thought maybe if I tried hard enough, I'd feel something real. But it wasn't her. It was never her."
She turned to him. "Then why did you do it?"
He swallowed. "Because I was scared. Of this. Of you. You make me feel things I don't know how to handle."
She smiled sadly. "You don't have to handle everything, Newt. Sometimes you just have to feel it."
He looked at her, heart thudding. "I feel everything when I'm with you."
They sat in silence again, the kind that felt like a promise.
Eventually, Y/N stood. "We should head back before Minho sends a search party."
Newt groaned. "Bloody Minho. He's got the subtlety of a sledgehammer."
They walked back slowly, hand in hand, the world feeling just a little less broken.
As they reached the edge of the Glade, Newt stopped. "Y/N?"
She turned. "Yeah?"
He hesitated. "I don't know what this is yet. But I want to figure it out. With you."
She smiled. "Then let's figure it out."
And with that, they stepped back into the Glade—together.
