Y/N's POV
It started with a whisper.
By breakfast, it was a roar.
Y/N walked into the mess hall and felt it instantly—eyes darting, heads turning, conversations halting mid-sentence. Gladers were never subtle, and today they were practically vibrating with curiosity.
She grabbed a biscuit from Frypan's table and tried to act normal. Tried to ignore the way Winston nudged Zart and muttered something behind his hand. Tried not to flinch when Harriet gave her a wide-eyed look and mouthed, "You and Newt?"
Bloody hell.
She sat down at the far end of the table, hoping to disappear. No such luck.
Minho slid into the seat across from her, grinning like he'd just won the Maze lottery.
"Well, well, well," he said, biting into an apple. "Look who's suddenly the Glade's leading lady."
Y/N groaned. "Please don't."
"Oh, come on," Minho said. "You sneak off with Newt, come back glowing like a firefly, and expect me not to notice?"
"I wasn't glowing."
"You were practically radioactive."
She narrowed her eyes. "Minho."
He leaned in, voice low and teasing. "So... is it official? Are you two a thing? Should I start planning the wedding? I've got a tux made of vines ready."
Y/N buried her face in her hands. "You're insufferable."
"Thank you, I try."
Just then, Newt walked in.
The room went silent.
He paused, clearly sensing the tension, then spotted Y/N and Minho. His eyes met hers, and something soft passed between them. He started walking over.
Minho grinned. "Oh boy. Here comes your knight in muddy boots."
Newt sat beside her, giving Minho a look. "You done?"
"Not even close," Minho said cheerfully. "But I'll give you a moment. For romance."
He stood and walked off, whistling the wedding march.
Newt turned to Y/N, cheeks slightly pink. "Bloody hell, I didn't think it'd spread this fast."
Y/N sighed. "I feel like I'm in a soap opera."
He chuckled. "You and me both, love."
They sat in silence for a moment, the noise around them slowly returning to normal.
"I talked to Sidney," Y/N said quietly.
Newt's smile faded. "How'd it go?"
"She's hurt. But she's strong. She'll be okay."
He nodded. "I hate that I hurt her."
"I know."
He looked at her, eyes full of regret. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen like it did."
Y/N reached for his hand under the table. "Neither did I."
Newt's POV
By midday, the gossip had evolved into full-blown fanfiction.
He passed by the map room and overheard Winston telling Chuck that Newt had proposed to Y/N under the stars. Proposed. With a ring made of Maze wire.
"Bloody hell," Newt muttered.
He ducked into the tool shed to escape the madness, only to find Minho lounging on a crate, arms crossed.
"Did you hear the latest?" Minho asked. "Apparently you and Y/N are planning to name your first kid Mazeley."
Newt blinked. "Mazeley?"
Minho nodded solemnly. "It's gender-neutral. Very progressive."
Newt groaned. "You lot are bloody ridiculous."
Minho grinned. "Hey, I'm just reporting the news."
Newt sat down, rubbing his temples. "I didn't think people would care this much."
Minho shrugged. "You're Newt. She's Y/N. You're both Glade royalty. Of course people care."
Newt looked up. "We're not royalty."
Minho smirked. "You kissed her in the woods. That's basically a coronation."
Newt threw a rag at him. "Get out."
Minho dodged it easily. "Fine, fine. But just so you know—if you two break up, I'm taking her side."
Newt raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"She's nicer. And she doesn't throw things."
Newt chuckled. "Bloody traitor."
Minho winked. "Love you too, mate."
Y/N's POV
By evening, the gossip had settled into something quieter. Less teasing, more curiosity. Gladers still stared, but now it was with soft smiles and knowing looks.
She found Newt near the gardens, sketching something in his notebook.
"Hey," she said.
He looked up, smiling. "Hey, love."
She sat beside him. "You okay?"
He nodded. "Just thinking."
"About?"
He hesitated. "Us. This. Everything."
She reached for his hand. "We'll figure it out."
He squeezed her fingers. "Together?"
She smiled. "Always."
And as the sun dipped below the trees, casting golden light across the Glade, the whispers faded into something quieter. Something real.
