Count On Me ➵ Newt [1]

TWELVE | bonfire performance

By this time, the other Gladers had taken notice of my singing and came round to watch me. They shuffled closer, some of them sitting down and observing my accidental performance. I wasn't comfortable with so many eyes on me, and I almost stopped singing at one point, until my gaze trailed over to Newt's and he gave me a reassuring nod.

"You'll always have my shoulder when you cry.
I'll never let go
Never say goodbye
You know you can

Count on me like one two three
I'll be there.
And I know when I need it I can count on you like four three two
And you'll be there.
'Cause that's what friends are supposed to do, oh yeah

You can count on me 'cause I can count on you."

As soon as I strummed the last chord, applause broke out among the audience. I bit my lips and looked down, trying not to feel too embarrassed as the sound of their claps filled my ears.

I glanced at Newt, who was smiling at me widely, an elated twinkle in his eyes I hadn't seen before in all the months I had been with him.

"Was that good?" I asked him.

"No. It was brilliant."

And before I could even blink, he leaned in and planted a swift kiss on my cheek - the other Gladers went wild then, screaming and hollering as sudden excitement flooded through everyone. A laugh escaped Newt as I grinned, our faces completely red with embarrassment. I spotted Minho, Jeff and Clint high-fiving each other at the edge of the crowd; Alby was shaking his head at them and facepalming, though he too, was smiling.

-

A few months passed by like a blur. Newt and I were still a little shy around each other, and it didn't help that our friends kept teasing us about it. If our hands so much as graze each other's, someone was bound to notice and yell at us enthusiastically like some crazed kid.

Clint, Jeff and I were in one of the medic rooms in the Homestead, tending to Newt's injured leg. It had been around seven or eight weeks now, and he was getting more and more impatient by the day; he hated feeling so useless and crappy while using the crutch and wanted to start walking normally again.

"How's the leg?" He asked anxiously, twisting his fingers together in what looked like a nervous habit.

"Slim it, blondie," Jeff said, rolling his eyes. "We're checking."

After several minutes of Newt fidgeting and us discussing with each other in low voices, we finally came to a conclusion.

"So, good news," Clint announced, "you don't necessarily need the crutch anymore."

"Really?" Newt sat up, staring at us with wide eyes full of excitement.

"But," I said, raising an eyebrow at him, "you can't put any weight at all on your injured foot and you'll need someone to supervise you at all times just in case."

"Aw, come on," Newt whined. "I'll be fine, damnit!"

Jeff shook his head. "Nuh-uh. We're not risking it. Your foot still hasn't healed fully, you know that right? The most you can do is rest and walk for a few moments. That's it."

"This is not an improvement at all," Newt groaned, burying his face into his hands.

"Come on, stop being so darn pessimistic," I grinned, trying to pull his hands away from his face. "You wanted to get rid of the crutch, didn't you?"

"Whatever." He glanced up us expectantly. "Can I try walkin' now?"

Very slowly and gently, we helped Newt stand up, careful not to put any sort of pressure on his injured leg. He winced a few times but seemed fine otherwise. I slung an arm around his back and steadied him as we limped forward to the door, Newt leaning against me for support.

"You know what, I think Rose would be a perfect supervisor for Newt," I heard Clint mutter behind me.

"I heard that!" I called out angrily, and he and Jeff burst out into laughters.

"It's been nearly a whole buggin' year and you two are still teasing us?" Newt glanced back at them in disbelief. "C'mon, you two. Shuck off."

Though Jeff and Clint managed to stifle their laughters, a sneaky smirk still tugged at their lips. Newt and I rolled our eyes at them and continued limping out the Homestead and into the Glade, where the sun beat down on us heavily. Alby was chatting with Nick near the farms and when he spotted us, he excused himself and jogged over, sweat glistening off his head and skin.

"Hey, what's going on?" He asked. "Where's your crutch, Newt?"

"I don't need 'em anymore," he said simply.

Alby frowned. "You sure?"

"Doctor's orders," Newt said, and gave me a playful grin.

"So does that mean you can walk normally again?"

"I bloody hope so. I can't stand one more moment using that crutch."

Alby managed a smile. "Well, come on, then. Just because you haven't fully recovered yet doesn't mean I'm lettin' you off that easy. You're still my second-in-command."

I shifted Newt's weight onto Alby, who supported him like he weighed no more than a sack of feathers, and they hobbled off together like conjoined twins, smiling and laughing about.

[ END OF CHAPTER TWELVE ]

(y'all my tuition teacher recognized thomas brodie sangster as my wallpaper im cryinggg)