Newt imagines 2

13 reasons why

Idk if you guys have seen this photo but look at his wrist on his right hand. The photo quality isn't great, sorry, but is that the flare? My heart is literally break!!

The three boys stood like a mighty wall blocking the exit to freedom. In their trap sat the leader; he was overlooking a book full of papers all with thousands of items and numbers scribbled on. Alby ignored the whimpering keeper behind him, poor Winston was petrified of the ivy three on their mission to solve the beloved y/n's suicide.

Newt stood in the middle, his sleeves rolled to his elbows and his fists clenched - prepared for the worst.
Minho to the left, his bulging biceps tensed but his eyes sunken and dark, after the burial he could hardly remember what sleep felt like.
Finally Thomas, the greenie who didn't want to become enemies with General Alby. At the same time he wanted to be there, standing up for y/n was part of it, but more for his best mates. The two who felt her parting the worst, he knew Minho didn't sleep, he knew Newt spent hours sat at her grave, sometimes balling his eyes out other times just sat there looking more lifeless than the dead.

Newt grit his teeth, the muscles in his jaw so tense that every cord and tendon was defined to the point you could see the cells in their rows. He stared at Alby, his once best friend. How could he sit there?! Knowing that he had let y/n kill herself like that!
He coughed to get attention.

Alby glimpsed upwards, rolling his eyes disappointed by the sight of the three before him. He set down the papers, clasped his hands together and leant forwards on the desk, his eyes scanning over them. The room felt bitter cold, even Winston stopped making baby noises behind Alby's chair. Frozen silence. Newt knew he would have to get used to this feeling, but it made him feel even more empty - there could be no true happiness without y/n. "What?" Alby's ruff voice gruffed.

Newt's bottom lip trembled. "You knew...."

Alby sighed leaning back and rubbing his brow. He opened a draw in the desk and pulled out two envelopes, both opened. Newt recognised them instantly, he heard Minho gasp and steady himself on the wall. They had been expecting to leave with one today. Winston's. Who was the seconds?
Alby set them on the table, his stubs of finger fiddling with the edges like a disease. "Newt...."

Newt stepped forwards, a hand wrapping round his right wrist making sure he didn't go too far too soon. Spit flew from his mouth. "You didn't tell me!" He stabbed his chest with his own fingers, leaving small ditches his shirt. "You bloody knew and you didn't tell me!"

Alby wiped his face, eyes shut and eyebrows raised, clearly not impressed. "Can I explain now or are you slintheads going to assume everything?"

Thomas pulled Newt back shutting him before he could do more harm. "Go ahead." Thomas spoke up, his throat dry from not talking in ages.

Alby gave a small nod of thanks to the dark haired greenie. Alby picked up the top letter, unfolding it and setting aside the envelope. "This is Winston's." His eyes scoured over the letter, getting the gist of it, like he hadn't read it in years. "She's accusing him of being a stalker pervert thing."
All eyes turned to acne boy, a threat of murder in Minho's eyes made the boy cower and shriek. Alby's large fist latched around the boy's shirt pulling him out from hiding and forcing him to look into the eyes of Newt. Winston gulped, his knees knocking together as he stood up, his back hunched over. Tears began to stream down his face.

-flashback-
I stretch and walk to the chest of draws, my skimpy pj shorts and vest slightly wonky. I couldn't be asked to fix them, who was going to know, it's six in the morning, all the gladers will be whining about being woken so early and racing to get a shower first.
I pick out a checked shirt and some jeans. Then I pull off my vest standing in my pj shorts and bra in my room by myself.... 
There was a gasp, a thud outside the window. My body raced into panic mode; throwing my shirt on, fingers stumbling over the buttons as I ran to the window. I pulled it up, the cold air hitting me like realisation as I watch a figure running away. A stack of boxes outside my window had obviously been there longer than this morning.