Thomas Sangster/ Newt Imagines& GIFs

144. Newt'

description - Part 2 of this imagine

A few days had passed since that awkward encounter between you and Newt, but you were nowhere near close to putting it behind you and moving on. You couldn't move on, not when the boy you liked started acting strange around you. He avoided you like the plague, and if he did talk to you, it would always be when there were other Gladers nearby. Rare were the times when the two of you were alone, and it bugged you a lot because he was your best friend, damn it.

At dinner, you sat with Minho outside the Homestead, talking his ear off about how much the situation with Newt frustrated you.

"I don't know what I did wrong," you sighed, throwing your hands up in exasperation, your plate of food untouched. Minho, on the other hand, was scarfing down his stew like he hadn't seen food in years. "Gross," you said, wrinkling your nose. "Can you at least pretend to pay attention?"

Minho swallowed the last bit of stew left and let his spoon clatter on his plate. "Alright, I'm listening," he said with a yawn.

You glared at him but continued venting. "It's been like this ever since Ben made that joke about me being Newt's girl - he's been weird about it ever since then."

"Interesting," Minho commented. He eyed your untouched food. "Are you going to eat that?"

Rolling your eyes, you pushed your portion towards him and got up. "You're shucking useless," you muttered. Minho gave you a grin as you walked away.

Your eyes scanned desperately for Newt amongst the other Gladers. It didn't take long for you to find him; he was the only one still working in the gardens, weeding some plants with a gardening spade. He noticed you coming towards him and stopped what he was doing, standing up straight and brushing a dirty hand on his shirt.

"Aren't you going to eat?" you asked him.

He motioned to a half-eaten plate of food on a tree stump beside him. "Didn't feel like being around other people tonight," he said. It was clearly a dismissive statement; he was egging you to leave him alone, as usual.

"Alright," you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. "This has to stop now. Tell me what I did wrong so we can put it behind us and start being friends again."

Newt gave you his best impression of a puzzled look. Really, you knew there was no confusion. "We are friends, (Y/N)."

"Are we, really?" You started running your mouth faster than you could think. "Because friends don't ignore each other the way you've been ignoring me - what the hell am I supposed to think, Newt? Was it because of what Ben said? He's a no-good klunk-for-brains, you know that. He was just joking, Newt."

For a moment, Newt stayed solemnly silent. He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand and tossed the gardening spade he'd been holding onto the grass. "That's what's bothering me," he admitted. "It was all just a joke."

It was like there were suddenly hundreds of worms wriggling around in your gut and your veins - every part of you tingled with anticipation.

He shook his head. "I'm sick and tired of watching as all these slintheads make a bloody show out of flirting with you, knowing I can't do anything about it. I want to compliment you too - of course I shucking want to - and tell you how pretty you look, and hold your hand, and hug you whenever I bloody well feel like it - but I can't, because I'm supposed to be your best friend, and I'm not allowed to lay it on thick around you - why the shuck are you laughing?"

You tried to suppress your giggles, but a feeling of euphoria washed over you completely. The boy you've been desperately pining for liked you back. It was like something out of a fairy tale.

"Newt, you're the only person in this whole damn place with whom I'd want to hold hands," you told him. "And hug, and hold, and kiss-"

He didn't need to be told twice. In an instant, Newt cupped your cheeks with his hands and pressed his lips onto yours, parting them, yielding every fiber of his being to you. You were sure you'd never known a sweeter feeling than that; your hands were in his hair, pulling him to you, molding your body to his - feverishly, ardently, desperately clinging to the only thing that made sense to you, that was real.

And then you broke away, gazing into his eyes - and he looked back with more affection than you'd ever thought possible.

"I guess Ben was right," you said, a smile gracing your lips. "I am your girl."

"You always were."