Summary: Newt and Minho had to endure a night in the Maze. The reader wakes up to an all-too-pleasant surprise. Fluff though, so... yeah.
“It’s getting dark,” you commented, storing the last of the monthly supplies. “Can I go meet up with Min and Newt before they get to the Map Room?” you turned to Clint, who was listing things down.
“Sure,” he shrugged. “The Hut’s practically empty. Be quick, though, no more than ten minutes.”
You thanked your Keeper before shutting the door behind you. The doors were already closed. Newt and Minho were probably already in the Map Room. You were about to return to the Hut when you saw Alby walking towards you, catching your attention, so you met him halfway.
“Hey, Alby, what’s up?” you smiled politely at your leader.
He had a grave look on his usually dominant face. Your smile vanished.
“Y/N…” he trailed off, inhaling deeply. “They didn’t make it.”
It took a little longer for the words to sink in. It could mean something else… but no, the words clearly held one meaning.
Newt was inside the Maze.
All came crashing down, and you muttered an inaudible “excuse me” before rushing toward the Deadheads.
You were torn between preparing for getting familiar with the feeling of pestering emptiness in you and hoping he’d be there, alive and well, when the sun comes up. The rational part of you wanted to settle for the former choice: Minho and Thomas got lucky the first time around, it seems unlikely that Minho will get lucky the second time.
All of a sudden, the walls seemed quite tempting. But you continued to run, focusing your eyes on the obliviously mourning Gladers as you went. Gally – the person who made sure you had enough to eat, Thomas – the boy who never let you anywhere near the Maze doors, Chuck – the little brother who always lifted your spirits with his innocent yet wise insights… they all loved you, needed you.
You reached the crowd of trees, finally, and leant against the nearest tree you could find. You began to process everything, - well, you tried – but the tears came flowing down uninvited.
You promised. You thought, the idea ripping your heart to pieces. He did promise. He always does.
Every now and then, when time calls for it (or when Alby says so), you watched Newt prepare for a day in the Maze, pushing away the obvious uncertainty of whether he’d return or not.
One night you told Newt about your concerns, and ever since, he always promised that he’d return to you, that he’d be careful, that he’d watch the time. He always kept his promise… until now.
He promised.
Your thoughts lingered to the boy, the boy you entrusted your life to.
The boy whose arms you slept in every night, who vowed to make you both a new life outside the Maze, who always put you first before anyone including him, whose voice you wake up to every morning – husky, thick and loving.
It was fully dark now, and you remained still, uncertain of what to do. A flickering light began to ease its way towards you.
“Y/N?” Thomas.
Gally held the torch in his hands. Both boys looked at you sympathetically, eyes fresh of tears.
“Let’s get you to your room,” Thomas whispered, voice cracking.
When you didn’t respond, he lifted you up in his arms and began walking to yours and Newt’s room, Gally leading the way with the light.
The bed was uncannily cold. The room was too quiet and still, and it formed an ache in your stomach, a certain emptiness you knew would never leave.
Sleep never came. Instead, tears you willed to stop never did. You only felt your eyes get heavier when the sun’s rays began peeking through the door, and sleep finally found you.
The boys probably didn’t bother waking you, because you woke to the boys’ voices, Alby’s the loudest, commanding the Track-Hoes to lift the craters elsewhere.
The tears threatened to arrive along with the thought of his absence. Consciousness fully took over, and you shut your eyes then rolled to your side and let yourself grieve.
Well, you tried to roll to your side.
You opened them slowly to see a hint of pale skin and tousled light brown hair. Your fingers ran across the bare back that faced you. A hint of familiarity hit you, and you let your fingers dance to his hair.
Newt.
“I’m sorry…” he whispered, his back remained facing you.
You didn’t respond, and you withdrew your fingers. He took the opportunity to turn around and look at you.
His gaze was intense and apologetic, but he was also determined to get a response out of you. He reached for your hand and placed it on his bare chest.
“Talk to me, love.” His expression was worried, and he pressed his hand on yours.
You kept your gaze on your hands on his chest. You missed him, truly. But you were angry at him for worrying you so much. For breaking his promise, technically.
“I was ready to jump off the wall.” It was all you can say. You didn’t want to say it, but the second bitterness overtook your thoughts, the words rolled off your tongue. And for the first time in two years, you saw Newt cry.
It was a gentle sob, two tears rolled off his cheeks and his shoulders didn’t shake. He didn’t move at all.
You were both silent for a long while and you were contemplating leaving when Newt took you in his arms, tightly. It was a wonderful feeling. Home.
You began sobbing again, curled up in his arms, your own arms embracing yourself under his. He pressed his forehead on your head, rubbing your back. When you finally calmed down, he spoke.
“I’m not doing that again, love. Ever.”
“That’s very convincing, Newt.” You spat bitterly, and you felt him cringe. The guilt came as soon as the words left. You whispered a soft apology.
“I love you, Y/N, in case you’ve forgotten already.” He breathed deeply. “If that is the case, I’ll remind you every day.”
“I love you, too.” It was barely audible. You felt an unexplainable peace, knowing that the boy you loved so dearly, your safety and the responsible captor of your heart, was here in your bed, willingly yours in return.
“I think of you, y’know.” He commented. “Every time I run in there, all I could bloody think of is what I can give you out there.”
You remained silent, giving him nothing but a sniff.
“I wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t here. I do all this for you. Just say the word, love, whatever you want, I’ll dedicate my life to finding it.”
You raised your chin up, your nose just under his jaw. You breathed in his all-too-familiar scent and relished in the feeling of his bare skin against yours, emerging butterflies in your stomach.
“You.” It came as a whisper, but the weight of the word remained the same. “I want you.”