[the maze runner]
i've been lost. but as i find him again, it feels like
such a relief. a fresh breath of air. peace, at last.
[newt x male!oc]
cover art by the beautifully talented @obviousoph
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THE WALK BACK TO THE GLADE WAS TENSE. Both Samson and Newt's faces were rosy red from all the crying they'd done and only turned redder as they walked side by side through the Deadheads. Samson wouldn't dare look up at Newt, too worried he'd ruined their friendship for good.
Samson clenched his jaw. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn't sure what had gotten into him back in the woods. The whole occurrence was a blur for him, up until when Newt had arrived and calmed him down. He couldn't even really remember why he had been so scared and so angry with himself. All he could remember was the red, raw rage he'd felt for everyone and everything around him, like he was some kind of wild animal.
He didn't want to walk away from Newt without giving him a proper explanation. It wouldn't be fair, after everything he'd done to help him.
"Newt," he said, his voice still raspy. They both stopped in their tracks in front of the Homestead, finally looking at each other for the first time since they'd left the Deadheads. "I'm sorry about all that. I don't really know what got into me, I was just...really upset. If you hadn't found me, I don't know what I would've done," he sighed. "I hope...I hope this isn't going to make things weird between us. I wouldn't want--"
Newt shook his head, giving him a half-smile. "Course not. We can pretend like it never happened, if you want."
Samson smiled back. "Thank you, Newt."
"What're friends for, Sammy?"
The two of them laughed softly and turned to keep walking. Samson couldn't seem to wipe the smile off of his face. "I missed talking to you," he breathed out, his eyes widening with each word. He hadn't meant to say it out loud.
Newt nodded again, glancing up at Samson. "Yeah, I missed you too. Just been so-"
"Busy," they both groaned in unison, grinning back at each other.
Samson bit his lip, taking a moment to think about what to say to get rid of the tension. They continued on to the Glade in silence. To Samson's surprise, everyone in the Glade was out working. Track-hoes in the fields, Builders out by the little shack they'd been working on. Even the Baggers were out working. They were carrying a big black bag, and Samson shuddered as they went by.
Alby was standing by the Homestead, talking with Zart. His eyes darted over to Newt and Samson as they walked into the field. He waved a hand at Zart before starting off towards them, looking unimpressed.
"Where have you guys been?" Alby asked, hands on his hips. Samson's eyes widened. He hadn't expected him to be back to normal. He hadn't expected anything to be back to normal. He turned to Newt, who was scanning the Glade, seemingly just as confused.
Alby cocked an eyebrow at them, but neither Samson nor Newt seemed to have an answer. Alby dropped the question, rolling his eyes.
"Anyway, we're having our Greenie bonfire tonight. Newt, I'm gonna need your help," Alby said cooly and Newt's mouth fell open.
"We are?" he gasped, his face screwing up in confusion.
Alby nodded. "We cancelled Clark's last month. We all need a night to let loose, too. Especially you and me,"
Newt smiled. "Yeah, okay." he stepped forward so he was beside Alby. "I'll see you later, Sammy. Alright?"
He blinked back at Samson, wearing a concerned expression on his face. Newt seemed to be waiting to get the okay from Samson to leave him. Samson nodded quickly, letting him know with his eyes that'd be alright for the time being, and it was true. If anything, he wanted Newt to go, taking the awkward tension between them with him.
He waved to Newt as he turned to walk off in the other direction behind Alby, sighing to himself. He decided that he needed to apologize to Frypan for not showing up to the Cookhouse. If he had known Alby was going to make everyone work, he wouldn't have run off like he had.
The Cookhouse was almost completely empty and silent, save the sound of clanging pots and pans coming from the Kitchen. A little boy sat by himself in the corner eating timidly and Samson stopped for a moment to take a look at him. It was the Greenie. Samson's heart sunk at the mere sight of him. He looked no more than thirteen years old, with long curly hair and a short, pudgy, youthful semblance. He was young, too young, and it only made Samson angrier, made him hate the Creators even more.
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The bonfire was just as alive as the last one Samson had been to. Alby was right, the Gladers really did need it. All of the boys passed around snacks and drinks the whole night, including the brownies that Samson and Frypan had made for everyone, which were a big hit, and Gally's moonshine.
Earlier in the afternoon, Gally had come into the Kitchen and Frypan had given him total access to the countertop next to him. Samson's curiosity getting the better of him, he stopped what he was doing to go and ask Gally what he was doing. He just smiled. Frypan answered for him, saying he was making his 'special recipe'. Gally worked on his concoction all afternoon, pouring different liquids into a big jug while Samson watched, grimacing. No amount of persuasion from the Gladers would get Samson to drink it.
Nevertheless, it was good to talk to Gally. He updated Samson on the shack that the Builders had been working on and how he'd been dealing with Nick's death.
"He was a good guy. After I went through the Changing, he was the only one who'd sit and listen to me. All of the other guys just told me I wasn't thinking straight and walked away," Gally frowned. "But Nick was different. He understood what I was going through, and didn't make me feel like I was crazy."
Most of the Gladers seemed to have a story about Nick. Alby was the one to light the fire and all of the boys toasted to Nick, cheering and chanting his name around the fire. Samson watched nearby, staying close to the Greenie out of sympathy for him. His name was Chuck, and he didn't seem to understand what was going on, but he laughed and smiled at the atmosphere of the Gladers.
Later on in the night, the Gladers went around and told stories about Nick. Most of them were about how Nick made them feel at home, how he was fair and always valued everyone's opinions. But there were some funny stories, too.
Leo told one about the time Nick fell out of the treehouse and broke his arm. After his fall, he'd stood up and brushed himself off, traipsing around the Glade as if nothing had happened. Leo noticed Nick's twisted arm and asked him about it, and Nick had simply replied with, "Oh, yeah. Fell out of the treehouse."
Samson sat and listened to the stories, wishing there was one he could tell. None of his memories with Nick seemed story-worthy and going over them in his head just made his stomach turn. He couldn't get the image of Nick's corpse out of his mind no matter how hard he tried, and he had a feeling it'd stick with him forever.
Alby was in the middle of telling a really good story when Samson began to feel himself nodding off. He debated getting up and walking himself into the field to sleep, but decided against it. He wanted to hear the end of Alby's story.
Unfortunately for Samson, he never did. Only meaning to rest his eyes for a moment, he fell asleep in front of the warmth of the blazing fire, surrounded by his friends.
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"Sammy?"
Someone was shaking him gently on the shoulder, whispering his name into the night. Samson yawned, sitting up against the log behind him. Of course, it was Newt, knelt down in front of him wearing the same concerned expression he'd been wearing earlier in the day.
"Gally's gonna start his fighting circle, so I figured I'd wake ya' just in case you wanted in?"
Samson rubbed at his eyes. "W-what?" he replied groggily.
Newt shook his head, grinning. "I'm only teasing. But he is gonna start fighting those shanks, so I suggest you get to bed before it gets rowdy out here."
"Oh," Samson muttered, the glow from the fire making his face hot.
"I'll walk you out there so you have a light," Newt said, grabbing the lantern next to them.
Samson stood up and stretched himself out, yawning again while Newt watched in amusement. He took one last look at the Gladers, who had all gathered around Gally in a circle. Samson smiled before turning back to Newt, who seemed to be waiting for him.
The walk was short, and the two of them stayed silent the whole way. Newt held the lantern up above their heads, taking Samson all the way down the row of cots along the field.
"Well, here we are," Samson breathed out. "Thanks, Newt."
"Yeah, yeah," he replied coolly. "You owe me, Sammy." he reached out to pat Samson, on the shoulder, beaming.
Samson shook Newt off, bidding him goodnight with his back turned to him, too afraid he'd do or say something stupid if he let himself look at him for a second longer. And then he was gone, taking the light from the lantern with him. Samson exhaled deeply, shaking his head. After everything that had happened between him and Newt that day alone, he knew there would be no denying what he felt any longer. Still, the whole thing felt completely alien to Samson. He felt like an alien.
He was much too tired to dwell on the subject then, but he knew he would have to confront it sooner rather than later. He would have to confront Newt. That alone scared him enough to shut his brain off for the night. He forced his eyes shut and buried himself in the darkness, zeroing in on the distant hoots and howls of his friends by the fire.
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author's note!
this chapter is short but sweet. slow burns are so fun :) i love my sons
