To Love *The Maze Runner/Newt Fanfic*

Chapter 48

"I can't believe you're seriously thinking about leaving! What about me! What about the children! Bloody hell, can you please think about us for once?" Anna shouted, as I chugged the remainder of my drink.

"If I were to leave, then there would be no way you could stop me," I breathed, preparing myself for another fight.

"For the love of- is there ever a day when you won't just live in reality. This is our world. Diseased and dying. Stop trying to fix it-"

"Like I always say, we should have just stayed in London," I groaned, thinking about how different things could have been if we'd stayed there. But no, Anna wanted to 'see the world' and 'try something new' in the 'land of opportunity.'

"The disease would have eventually traveled to England."

"I'd rather die later than now."

"You're the most negative person in the whole world," Anna huffed, as she made herself tea in the kitchen.

"England was so much better. Why do you think I moved there in the first place?" I asked, feeling a bit off.

"I don't care. We're here and that's all that matters! I'm done having this argument," She paused.

"Leaving is my only choice," I muttered.

"If you love me, you'll stay."

"Love has nothing to do with it," I had to leave.

"It never has," Anna shouted, now fully in the living room with me, "When was the last time you even said that you loved me?"

"Love is a void emotion that the mind makes up, in order to compensate the aching loneliness that resonates in the soul of every human being alive," I sighed, twisting my wedding band around my finger, "Love isn't real."

"Then why am I here?" Anna asked, tears in her eyes.

I looked up to the ceiling, "Why are any of us here?"

"Don't turn this argument into a declaration of your own existential crisis, I need you here, in this house."

"Do you really?"

"And you know who else needs you? Our son. You can't just leave him," She let a sob out, "If you don't love me, you must at least care for him."

"I don't care for anyone," I sighed, my heart beating quickly.

"Oh, that's right, you, the drunk, can't grow up enough to love someone other than yourself!"

"Dad," My now three year old son's voice whimpered from the stairs that led up to the second floor of our house.

Anna and I both turned towards him, our argument ceasing. He held a stuffed bear in one of his hands and a blanket in the other.

"Where are you going?" He asked, his mouth barely moving.

I flicked my eyes over to Anna, who gave me an expectant look, her hands resting on her bulging stomach.

"Y-you can't leave," He stuttered, his accented voice, clearly prominent.

I threw the newspaper onto the couch, beside where I'd been sitting and walked over to my son, "We'll talk upstairs. Go to your room, I'll be up in a minute."

"I don't know what you think you're going to say to him, but tell him the truth. He's too young to know the heartbreak of your lies."

"Bitterness isn't very attractive."

"Neither are slurred words," Anna said, equally as frustrated as I was, "Forget my tea, I'm going to bed. I expect to see you in the morning."

"Expectations only lead to disappointment," I mumbled, but I'm pretty sure she was already too far away to hear me.