[ NEWT ]
❧
Electra refused to leave Minho's side through the next couple of hours. Thankfully, the lightning slowly faded away into a torrential downpour. Through the peddling rain and wind outside, Newt could barely hear Electra muttering to Minho about him trying to find sleep. Minho groaned a protest in reply about him not being tired, yet a few moments later his snoring was a dull static in the background.
The girl looked too worried to even lean against his shoulder. Her eyes focused on Minho's relaxed snoring as if terrified his breathing might suddenly stop at any moment.
The entire time he'd known Electra, she'd held up a specific persona. Electra was cold to the point of emotionless, calculating to the point of obsession, independent to the point of ignorance. In his mind, she'd always been a little bit more similar to the Grievers than the Gladers; less a scared teenager like the rest of them and more a monster. Not that he blamed her. If he'd been stuck out in the Maze, he'd also have developed monster tendencies.
Yet, here she was, looking at Minho as if his lifeline was her own. He remembered her screaming when Minho had been struck, and the way she pulled him further through the storm. Then, when they'd finally reached Minho, she'd hugged and shook his body with such raw desperation.
He knew Electra was closest with Minho, but he never fully considered their dynamic. Even now, he wasn't sure what was between them, but he could sense something. Perhaps it was merely a consequence of relying on each other for three years. Perhaps it was something else. Newt was too tired to tell.
Newt brought his knees up to his chest, resting his head against the wall behind him. The amount of Gladers left was smaller than it had been earlier that day, but he couldn't find the energy to count heads. He'd lost count of how many deaths he'd seen in the storm. He wasn't ready to know how many people had died.
A part of him knew he wouldn't have been safely sitting in the dark, cold, and musty room if it hadn't been for Electra. The wind had pummeled him onto the floor, pushing him deeper into the dusty ground as if trying to bury him alive. His limp had been on fire, taking over any thoughts he had of safety or survival. He'd been ready to give up, to let the storm cover him in a film of brown fog, to let the lightning shatter him to burnt pieces. But Electra had pulled him up. She'd dragged him through the storm.
She'd saved his life, and the act of doing so was familiar to Newt. It was odd, that such a scary and selfish person like Electra was familiar to him in a selfless way. Had she ever saved his life before? Newt's first thought was of course she hadn't. It was Electra, after all. Yet, as he closed his eyes to try to remember, he realized she had saved him before.
Back in the Maze, when the Gladers were fighting the Grievers at the Cliff. He'd been seconds away from a Griever slashing him open when she swooped in and diverted the monster's attention away from him.
"You saved me?" Newt asked, fighting the instinct to back away from Electra. She looked feral.
"You're welcome," Electra said breathlessly, her head whipping back and forth to try to take in everything happening around her. "Be careful. Maybe the Griever isn't dead yet."
Other boys had died that day. Had she let them die? Had Newt simply been in the right place at the right time? Would she have saved other boys if they'd been in the same situation as him? Furthermore, Electra seemed to openly hate him so why would she save his life multiple times? Newt knew he had no way to answer any of his questions.
However, the act of her saving him during the Griever battle wasn't the memory striking familiarity. Deep down, Newt felt as though there had to be something else. Another moment that changed the trajectory of his life that she'd somehow been a part of. He remembered when she'd showed up in the Glade, fighting a Griever that was about to pounce on him and the Gladers around him. She'd saved his and other Gladers' lives. But again, that wasn't it.
What memory could it be? Newt tried to remember the times his life had been in danger. Another moment came to his mind, a moment he'd managed to push into the darkest parts of his mind. A moment where he tried to end everything. The moment responsible for his limp.
Minho had saved his life that day, finding him in the Maze and bringing him back to the Glade. Newt was sure of it. He remembered being dragged through the Maze, inch by inch, going in and out of consciousness. He remembered the orange sky shining onto his face. He remembered the ivy decorating the sandy stone walls. Then, for the first time, he also remembered the person dragging him, and their halo of frizzy curly hair...
"You alright?" Newt was brought out of his thoughts to see Thomas standing in front of him. "Looks like you've seen a ghost or something... sorry, maybe a bad choice of words considering... um, yeah."
Newt mustered a weak smile at Thomas, and the boy settled in beside him. Thomas crossed his legs and leaned against the wall, letting out a deep breath.
"This is all just bloody crazy," Newt said, rolling his shoulders back and wincing at their soreness. "Never seen lightning that strong."
"You're okay though, right? No injuries or anything?"
"Nope. Compared to the rest of these shanks, I'm feelin' brand new. Believe it or not, Electra of all people saved me."
Thomas tilted his head, a thoughtful smile playing across his lips. "This surprises you?"
"It doesn't surprise you?"
"No." Thomas looked over to Electra, who was now staring at the floor ahead of her, trapped in thought. "I'd trust her with my life."
Newt snorted. "Those are some fatal last words."
Thomas turned back to Newt. "Just 'cause she seems scary doesn't mean she is scary."
"Yeah, well, me being scared of her ain't the problem here."
Thomas inspected Newt's features, trying to find something within them. Newt simply looked back at Thomas, noticing the freckles dotting his face and the flush sunburn on his cheeks from days in the Scorch.
After a few moments, Thomas turned away, fidgeting with his fingers. "All I'm trying to say is that having a little trust can go a long way."
"I'll keep that in mind," Newt said, shrugging. "Besides, I owe her now. If a Crank tries to bite her head off I think I'm morally required to step in and help her."
"Do you think there will be a lot of Cranks out here?"
"Probably, they gotta live somewhere, don't they? But we've fought Grievers, so I keep telling myself that it should be fine."
"Hopefully," Thomas said and Newt couldn't ignore the melancholic tone in his voice.
Newt turned to him. "What about you? You okay?"
Thomas shook his head but didn't speak.
"Wanna talk about it?"
Thomas fought with his own words, blinking through his indecision before finally settling on a question. "Have you been having weird dreams lately?"
Newt couldn't remember the last time he'd dreamed. "Uh, no. You have?"
"Yeah, sometimes. They're mostly about my life before the Maze. They... I don't know... they make it seem like I'm important somehow... to WICKED I mean."
"You are important to them. You and Teresa are their bloody star pupils."
"Yeah, I know but," Thomas trailed off again, trying to find the words. "I can't help but think that I'm the reason we're being forced through another Trial. Like maybe if I'd died in the Maze they wouldn't be going forward with more tests. I'm the reason we're stuck out here."
Newt scrunched his face in confusion. "No, you're the reason these Gladers believe they can survive. Minho might be the leader, but you... you give them hope," Newt said, hoping his words were consoling. "Besides, ain't it a bit presumptuous of you to assume this is all happening because of your dumbass?"
Thomas let out a laugh, and Newt felt his spirit brighten a little.
"I guess you're right," Thomas said, before placing a hand on Newt's shoulder. "You should try to get some sleep."
Newt looked at Thomas' hand, before gazing into his eyes. "So should you."
✰✰✰
[ ELECTRA ]
❧
Electra hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep until she woke up. The first thing she noticed was the pain behind her eyes, and she rubbed them with the back of her hand. The second thing she noticed was Minho's lack of snoring. Electra's heart skipped a beat, and she looked to her side to see Minho's eyes open, studying a scab on his elbow.
She let out a sigh of relief. "You should be sleeping."
"I'm fine," he said, his voice devoid of its usual character.
He mentally seemed so far away. At first, she'd chalked it up to the trauma of almost dying in a terrifying lightning storm. But then she remembered her last conversation with him before he'd gotten struck. Was he still holding a grudge against her, even after almost losing his own life? Minho was definitely stubborn enough.
An unsettling feeling of guilt poured onto her, and she squirmed under its weight. She remembered what Thomas had told her a couple of days before, now seeming years away in the events of the last day.
I've seen how you are around Minho. Around him, you're able to let your guard down.
So then why had she put her walls back up? If Minho had died in that storm, if their last real conversation had been in anger, had been her shutting him out... Electra couldn't bear the grief that tore through her like claws, scratching through her flesh until she was bare, without walls.
"I'm sorry, Minho," Electra said, gently reaching out and grabbing his hand. "I was scared. I shut you out again. That wasn't fair to you."
"It wasn't," he agreed, then firmly squeezed her hand. He didn't say it out loud, but the squeeze was confirmation enough that he forgave her. Electra let out a breath.
"So really," Electra said, after a moment's pause. "How are you feeling?"
"Honestly? Like absolute klunk." Minho ran the hand that wasn't holding hers through his hair. "No night in the Maze has ever knocked me off my feet as bad as that little strike of lightning did."
"Little strike of lightning? I saw the whole thing and... Minho I thought you were dead. We all did." her voice shook, but she hoped the rain would help to muffle it.
However, he sensed the worry. Minho turned to stare at her, furrowing his eyebrows. He jiggled her hand a little in support. "Well, no need to worry about it anymore because I'm up and breathing."
"You weren't breathing for a while."
She tried not to remember but she couldn't help it. Her pleading with Minho's rigid body, surrounded by Gladers peering worriedly down at them. Her arms around his frame, her head pressed up against his chest, begging for any sliver of a heartbeat.
"I'm breathing now," he said, taking her from her memory. "Besides, I'm trying to look at the bright side of things."
"Bright side? I thought you were dead and now we're in a city filled with monsters. Where's the bright side?"
Minho thought for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe the lightning strike gave me superpowers. Wouldn't that be cool?"
Electra chuckled, releasing her grip on Minho's hand to cover her smile. "You're so stupid."
He grinned, raising his hands at his sides to feign defensiveness. "Hey, we can't fully rule that out yet. Besides, it would be nice for Thomas to not be the only superpowered shank on the team. Telepathy is cool and all, but not really useful."
"Okay, okay. I get it."
"Lightning, though? Just imagine. I could zap Cranks down with the point of a finger. The Scorch Trials would be a piece of cake, well, besides the whole battling the elements thing."
Electra couldn't contain her smile behind her hand anymore. She beamed at him, very quickly feeling insecure about the vulnerability of it all. So, she rested her head against his shoulder, very lightly so as to not hurt him, to avoid his glance.
She remembered his limp body. She remembered the fear and dread filling her veins, replacing the blood. She felt as if she, herself, in a way, was dying along with him. As if the emotions coursing through her veins were slowly making their way to her heart to explode the organ from the inside. She didn't want to feel that way ever again.
"Are you okay?" Minho asked in the silence.
He was giving her an opening to come clean. To be honest about how she was feeling, to open up about the things she kept from him.
"You know, I told Thomas my remembered name," she said softly, Minho craning his neck down to be able to hear her.
"You did? I've honestly forgotten what it was. It's been years since I've used it. Started with an R? Maybe a B?"
"An R," Electra confirmed but didn't say the name. "He said he wouldn't tell anyone, but I don't know why I even told him in the first place."
"Do you regret it?"
"I don't think so... but it just feels weird, I guess. Having someone other than you know something so personal about me. It's uncomfortable."
"But you don't regret it?"
"No, because revealing that about myself made me feel closer to him. Made me feel like I could trust him." Electra still couldn't look at Minho, so her gaze trailed to the other side of the room. "And that feeling of trust? I think it's worth a bit of uncomfortability."
"Is this Electra speaking right now?" Minho teased, and Electra playfully nudged him.
"I'm serious. Besides, my conversation with him made me realize I should've trusted him all along. He's always been one hundred percent on my side, I was just too blinded by fear to see it."
"But then you pushed me away the next day?" Minho asked, and his question made Electra's stomach feel hollow. She knew he'd already forgiven her, but he still deserved an explanation.
"I don't know why I did that, besides just fear. It was easier to ignore Thomas' words from the night before. To stay guarded. But then the storm hit, and I felt myself crumbling into pieces when you almost died. I care about you, and I don't want our last moments together to be me pushing you away."
"You're done pushing me away?"
Electra thought, for a moment, on his question. Was she capable of completely opening up to him? She wasn't sure if the next time they found themselves in danger she would stay open or retreat into her walls.
She didn't want to make a promise she couldn't keep, so she said, "I'll really try not to."
"That's a start," Minho sighed. Not a disappointed one, but a content one. A relieved sigh, as if her weak promise was the strongest one she could make.
"You wanna know what else Thomas said?" Electra now raised her head to look at Minho, curiosity glittering in his eyes. "He said something along the lines of there being equal good and bad in the world. That WICKED's utter evilness has to be counteracted by utter goodness."
"Yeah? And what do you think of that?"
"I think it's bullshit."
Minho chuckled, "Good. I do too."
He grinned at her, and Electra mustered a smile back at him. She rested her back against the wall and let out a deep breath. Somehow, even though mere hours ago Minho had almost died, now, in this deserted and crumbling building, she felt safe. He made her feel safe. It was as if he constantly radiated warmth, and she craved it like flowers craved the sun.
Turning away from Minho, she felt the warmth drain from her body. Electra noticed Newt on the opposing side of the room, absentmindedly picking at his nails. She shivered at how cold the other side of the room felt before she remembered what she'd done to him in the storm.
Electra spoke, quietly under her breath, to Minho before she could catch herself, "I saved Newt in the storm," she said. "I pulled him forward even faster when the lightning hit you. If it wasn't for his limp slowing us down we would've gotten struck. I saw one of the dead boys. His entire body was mutilated. He was a charred, unrecognizable corpse. Not even his eyes were left; they'd melted into his skull. That was almost you. That was almost us."
Minho turned to look at Newt, only for a second, before his gaze flickered back to her. "Do you want to talk to him about it?"
"Him? No. We hate each other."
"If you hate him then why did you save him?"
Electra frowned. She couldn't come up with an answer. "Well, maybe I don't hate him, but he certainly hates me. He's said so many awful things to me."
"You also haven't been the kindest to him." Minho pointed out.
"He called me a Variable. He thinks I'm a monster just like another Griever."
Minho paused, his eyebrows knitting together. "I think you should try talking to him. You know, without the rude remarks. Worst case scenario he calls you a Griever."
"What do I say?"
"Start with how you're feeling, then work from there."
Electra glanced back over at Newt. The room was freezing over there. The cold settled into her bones and made her shiver, but she forced herself to stew in its uncomfortableness for a while. She really didn't want to approach him, but she also wanted to follow Minho's advice. So, Electra pulled herself off the floor and made her way across the room. The temperature dropped with each step.
She plopped down beside Newt, and the boy didn't even acknowledge her. Electra looked over to Minho for some guidance, and he motioned toward Newt, nodding encouragingly. She needed to start with how she was feeling. How was she feeling? Electra probably should've figured that out before awkwardly sitting beside the boy.
If she didn't hate him, how did she feel about him? The word like seemed too strong. Perhaps she wanted to be able to tolerate him. After all, he was stuck in the same terrible situation she was. He wanted to survive, just like she did. They had the same goal, so logically it would be better to work together.
But that wasn't fully how she felt. Electra knew, deep down, that her feelings for Newt extended past logic. It hadn't been logical to save his life in the storm. It would've been easier for her to have ignored him, yet she hadn't. Still, she couldn't pinpoint exactly how she felt.
What she did know, however, was that she was tired of being angry. Tired of holding petty feuds. She'd almost lost Minho while an argument she'd created lingered over their heads. And hadn't she just promised him she wouldn't do that anymore? So, maybe the first step toward fulfilling her promise to Minho was to apologize to Newt. To get rid of the anger that settled over them, so she could worry about surviving rather than her adamance on pushing him away.
"Hey..." Electra said, her voice barely audible above the torrential downpour. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."
The words were unnatural in her mouth. They spewed out awkwardly and floated uncomfortably in the brisk air. At first, Electra wasn't sure if he'd heard her, but when she noticed him looking at her as if she'd gone full Crank, she fought the urge to slink back over to Minho.
"Sorry? For what?" he asked.
"For everything I've said?" Electra's face became hot and she looked to the floor to avoid his stares. "I don't know... just for how rude I've been to you."
Newt didn't reply for a few moments, again making Electra question if he had heard her. Was he preparing to taunt her? To bring up her Variable tattoo, or the times she'd been rude to him in the past? Electra felt vulnerable and Newt was holding the knife. If he hated her like she assumed he did, this was his opportunity to sink the knife into her heart. He had the power now; she'd given up all her power the moment she'd apologized.
"Well, thank you, Electra," Newt finally said. "I'm sorry too. I guess we haven't really been the best– um... what are we?"
It's okay to accept help, especially from those who care about you. The words repeated in her head, reminiscent of the voice she'd heard in the Maze not so long ago. What did she want Newt to be to her? Ally? Acquaintance? Friend? The third option somehow felt the best to her. Someone who cared about you couldn't simply be an acquaintance, and the type of care she searched for couldn't be found within an ally. It was within a friend.
"How about friends?"
Newt smiled before nodding. "Friends."
"Guess we haven't really been the best of friends to each other, hm?" Electra said, finishing Newt's thoughts from earlier.
"We've had a rocky start but when it counts we're there for each other, yeah?"
"Yeah," Electra said. When she thought the conversation was over Newt asked another question.
"What's with the sudden change of heart? Not that I'm complaining."
Electra was about to explain her exhaustion over fostering anger for so long, but she stopped herself. Was that really the reason? What was behind her anger? Electra had been singled out and thrown into the Maze while everyone else had been brought up in the Glade. She'd been branded as different, forced to survive all by herself. Beyond the fear, she'd been lonely. All those wasted years, believing a lie and hiding herself from any chance of friendship. The loneliness she felt fueled the bonfire of her anger, but the rain pouring outside was beginning to put the fire out.
"I guess– I don't know... I was isolated for three years in the Maze. Then we escaped, but WICKED just threw us into another life-risking task," Electra said, finding the courage to finally meet Newt's eye. "This time, if I'm gonna die, I guess I just don't want to feel alone at the very end."
The way Newt analyzed her eyes, trying to find more truths within them, made Electra shrink backward insecurely. She wanted to say more, to overexplain herself, but there wasn't anything else to say. Electra was tired of being alone. That was it.
Newt broke eye contact with her, shaking his head. "Well, I think out of all of us, you're the least likely to die out here. The Maze prepared you for this."
"No. It's all too unpredictable. If I'd pulled us forward just a little bit faster back there in the storm we would've both gotten electrocuted. Even Minho, our leader, almost died. If we survive, it'll be from pure luck."
"Luck. Yeah..." Newt trailed off, and Electra furrowed her brows at him.
When the boy didn't attempt to speak again, neither did she. The two sat in a warm silence, listening to the rain slowly ease up through the next few hours. When the downpour turned to soft dripping, Thomas slowly stretched before rising in his spot on the floor. Newt got up to join him, and Electra followed Newt. She cast a glance over at Minho, who was slowly stirring back awake.
"Never seen a storm like that before," Thomas said.
"Must have to do with the sun flares Claudia told us about. It made this entire landscape hell on Earth, so it probably messed with the storms too," Electra said.
"It was completely mental, that's what it was," Newt said, shaking his head. "But we're alive... and I guess that's all that bloody matters anymore."
Minho had pulled himself to a stand and slowly brought himself over to the group. Electra could tell his muscles burned with soreness, but Minho was good at pretending he was fine.
"How many?" Minho asked. Nobody needed clarification on his question. Electra could tell they all dreaded knowing the answer.
But Newt began counting heads, frowning when he quickly finished. "There's only eleven of us."
Eleven. Hadn't there been forty to fifty kids in the Glade? Now just eleven, and one of them was Aris. Electra had never known the Gladers like Minho had, yet still, a part of her felt hollow due to their loss. She remembered the boy she'd seen get electrocuted. She'd never known him, not even his name, but she wondered what he'd been afraid of. She wondered what his favourite colour was, what his job had been in the Glade, what he'd thought of WICKED and of the Trials. Although he'd probably hated her, or been afraid of her, he was still an innocent life that'd been taken.
"So, what, six died in the storm? Seven?" Minho asked, and his voice was hollow, lacking empathy.
"Seven," Newt corrected in a rough tone, before continuing in a softer one. "Seven, unless people ran to a different building."
Minho sighed, "How are we gonna fight our way through this city with only eleven people? There could be hundreds of Cranks in this place for all we know. Thousands. And we don't have a clue what to expect from them."
"And that's all you can think about?" Newt asked, letting out a big breath. "What about the people who died, Minho? Jack's missing. So is Winston—he never had a chance. And." he looked around. "I don't see Stan or Tim, either. What about them?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Minho said, raising his hands defensively. "I didn't ask to be the leader. You wanna cry all day about what's happened, fine. But that's not what a leader does. A leader figures out where to go and what to do after that's done."
"Well, guess that's why you got the job then," Newt said bitterly, before catching Electra's eye. He seemed to remember something and a look of apology crossed his face. "Whatever, Seriously, sorry. I just..."
"Yeah, I'm sorry too," Minho said, although his tone indicated he had nothing to feel sorry about.
Thomas cut in before Minho could continue, "It'd be smart to figure things out before we have a bunch of those crazies show up. But I'm telling you, we gotta eat first. We gotta find food."
Electra's stomach ached at the mention of food. Although, she was quickly distracted by a voice she couldn't recognize.
"Food?"
The voice was deep; it definitely couldn't belong to any of the Gladers. It came from above them, and Electra looked up to see a man peering through the shredded remains of the ceiling. His eyes scanned the Gladers below, twitching with a hint of craziness. Electra reached for her knife.
"Who're you?" Minho shouted.
Electra took a step back, drawing her knife as the man dove down from the floor above, falling into a roll as he hit the ground before swiftly pulling himself up with a bounce as he landed squarely on his feet.
"My name is Jorge," the man said, and his voice was tinged with an accent. He raised his arms at his sides as if expecting applause for his impressive fall. "And I'm the Crank who rules this place."
—
A/N: alrighty another long time no see. school started again and it's been so crazy!! but i still love this story and wanna come back to it :)) hopefully this chapter being long and dual pov makes up for it lol and lmk what u think of the story so far!
also!
this is me lol. i do be plotting the third book hehe 👀 and....... it is very painful so uhhh good luck!!
that's it for now! hopefully i will update again soon but no promises :)