Maze Runner Rose

It was almost funny how fast a good day could turn so sour. There was nothing wrong with the day when you woke up, aside from being held back from running the Maze. Instead, you were tasked with heading to the gardens to help the others.

You wondered what would’ve happened had Alby let you go into the Maze that day.

The morning went fine, although Newt was nowhere to be found. When you first realized it after breakfast, you brushed off the small amount of worry that began to burrow into your chest before saying goodbye to Ben and Minho. After that, you headed to the gardens with Zart to help figure out how to get rid of the insects that were eating through the tomatoes and herbs. Everything had gone so smoothly that you would never have believed that something bad was going to happen.

Just as you were bringing in a fresh bucket of fertilizer from the forest, you heard it. Echoing from inside the walls, tunneling into the Glade, was screaming. At first, you didn’t know what to think, or what was happening. The screams had caught the attention of every Glader, who, just like you, had stopped what they were doing to investigate.

The screams only got closer, and you registered them to be Minho’s voice, calling out for help. Worry sparked in your chest, your heart beating unreasonably fast. Just as you began to wonder what happened, the Runner stumbled into the Glade. Beside him, limply resting all his weight on the boy, legs dragging along the ground, was Newt.

Beside you, the bucket of fertilizer fell to your feet with a dull clang. The world seemed to have stopped as your blood ran cold, a scream tearing through your throat. Even though Gladers were running everywhere, some to reach the pair of boys and some to get the Med-jacks, you were still somehow the first to reach the pair.

Exhausted, Minho lowered Newt to the ground. Coming to their side, you got a better look at Newt. Cuts and scratches littered every visible part of his body, and his clothes were torn up. Bruises were beginning to form on his arms and face, and no doubt underneath the shirt that covered his torso, and you wondered what had happened to him. The last thing that you had taken notice of, which was the most prominent of his injuries, was the angle in which his leg had been bent at. He hadn’t moved since Minho laid him on the grass, but, luckily, his chest was still rising. He was still breathing.

The crowd broke as Clint and Jeff came through with a stretcher, gently lifting the British boy onto it and carrying him away. Without a second of hesitation, you followed behind them, Minho on your tail.

The panic in your chest rose with every second, every possible scenario running through your head. What confused you the most was exactly how Newt had been found in the Maze. You had watched him go to bed the night before, and he even walked you from the kitchen to your private room before bed. How he had ended up in the Maze was beyond you.

As you stepped into the Medhut, Newt was being laid onto one of the cots before the boys began rushing around, gathering medical supplies. Jeff stopped as he passed you, saying, “You can’t be in here.”

“What do you mean I can’t be in here?” You asked. “He’s my best friend, Jeff, I need to-”

Jeff cut you off. “Exactly, he’s your best friend. You’re too close to him to be in here right now.” He looked behind you to talk to Minho. “Get her out of here. I won’t be able to focus if she’s in here.”

Before you could protest, Minho’s arms wrapped around your torso from behind you, trapping your arms down as he left the medjack hut. You squirmed and fought in the Keeper’s arms, desperate to get back in the room. “Minho, put me down! I need to be in there!”

He put you down, firmly grasping your arms and spinning you around to face him. “I get that you want to be with him, Y/n. I do. He’s my best friend, too. But they need to focus so they can fix him. We need them to fix him, right?”

Overwhelmed, you nodded tearfully. You had never experienced any feeling as intense as this. It felt like you were suffocating and having your heart torn out all at once. Quietly, you maintained eye contact with your friend as you muttered, “I can’t lose him.”

The boy’s face softened as he let go of your arms, instead pulling you in for a tight hug. Taking a deep breath, you clung to his shirt to try and keep your grip on reality. You refused to let the tears fall, though. You would never cry in the open, where any of the other Gladers could see you.

When he let go, Minho guided you back to your room, letting you have time to yourself to process and cope, along with some time to rest. From there, he made sure that Clint or Jeff would come get you when Newt had been bandaged fully and was ready to be seen.

Everyone knew that you and Newt had been close - closer than anyone else in the Glade had been. What you were sure no one knew, though, was how you really felt about the boy. Somehow, within the past year and a half, Newt had not only become your best friend, but the boy who stole your heart. It scared you half to death when you first realized it, but you had managed to keep the feelings to yourself - for a little while, at least. Somehow, Minho managed to figure it out a few months back. He was the only other person who knew.

Newt was everything to you. He was the only person in the Glade that made you feel completely safe and secure, like there was nothing outside the Glade that could ever hurt you. He made you laugh without trying, and when you were upset, he was always the first one to make sure you were okay and dry your tears. Without him, you weren’t sure if you would survive. Especially since you couldn’t remember not spending a day without him.

So, for what felt like hours, you sat on your bed or paced around your hut, wringing your hands until your skin was nearly raw, trying to calm yourself down. Well, you were, until a knock sounded on the door.

You rushed over to the door, yanking it open. Being met with Jeff’s face was one of the most relieving yet terrifying things you’d ever felt. “He’s okay, just sleeping. You can go see him-”

Jeff didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before you were pushing past him, rushing across the Glade and over to the Medhut. There, you found Clint taping the last piece of gauze onto Newt’s arm.

“How is he? Will he be okay?” You asked as you stepped up to Newt’s bed.

“He’ll be fine,” Clint assured. “There are some issues, though. He broke his leg in three places. He might not walk right for a while, maybe the rest of his life. It’ll take him a while to wake up, too. I’m guessing a few days, but I’m not sure.”

You nodded, almost breathless as relief flooded your body and settled into your chest. Clint walked around the bed, wanting to give you some space, but you stopped him when you grabbed his arm. This time, you didn’t care if he saw the tears stinging your eyes. “Thank you, Clint.”

He only nodded, forcing a polite smile before making his way out of the hut. It was getting late, and dinner would be served soon, but you weren’t going anywhere. Instead, you dragged one of the chairs in the room over to Newt’s bed, your back to the door. Once again, your eyes raked over Newt’s body, trying to fight the tears that followed.

The bruises that had only begun forming when you last saw them were prominent now, raging blues and purples splashed like paint against his delicate skin. The cuts that littered his skin were either taped shut or left to heal on their own, most of them being small enough to do so. It broke your heart when you noticed small flecks of dried blood in his hair, and the confusion swelled up in your chest again.

All you could do was force it down. You would have plenty of time to find out what happened to him when he woke up. All you had to do now was wait. You sniffled, another wave of relief washing over you. Newt was alive. He would be just fine. A few stray tears slipped past the barrier of your waterline, and you wiped them from your cheek before hesitantly slipping your hand into Newt’s limp one.

He was going to be just fine.

Playing the waiting game was agonizing. Sitting by Newt’s side, waiting for him to wake up, was tearing you apart.

You didn’t want to leave his side. Not until he was awake and talking. Even when Alby came in and tried to get you to work, to get your mind off it for a while, you refused. No one refused Alby, and he wasn’t going to let you sit here, but the broken look you held was enough for him to let it slide this time.

Minho brought you every meal, and sat with you while you both ate. He would ask about his friend’s condition, but as far as Clint and Jeff would tell you, it was always the same. Then he would ask about you. And you never knew what to say.

Your back and legs hurt from sleeping in the chair beside Newt’s bed, but you refused to sleep anywhere else. You only got exercise when you paced the room, wondering if the boy would ever wake up. And if it weren’t for Minho bringing you food, you wouldn’t have been eating. Hell, even Gally brought you fresh changes of clothes so you didn’t stay in dirty, fertilizer stained clothing the whole time.

You didn’t know what to do. It felt like you were going crazy, like seconds turned into minutes and minutes into hours. You didn’t know if it was day or night, or how long you’d be sitting in that uncomfortable chair for.

It must’ve been the third day, sometime after dinner, because Minho left with your empty dishes not too long ago. Again, you couldn’t stay still. You paced and paced around the room, already burning whatever calories came with your dinner. The room was nearly silent, aside from the sound of your feet hitting the floor, almost annoyingly repetitive. You chewed on your nails, one arm crossed over your body, supporting the other as you chewed worriedly. It was a habit, and a bad one at that, that you didn’t know how you picked it up. Like everything else about you, you simply assumed it was a part of your past that the Creators couldn’t wipe away.

Just as you took another turn, facing Newt’s bed to continue your repetitive route, another sound echoed. Sheets rustled, and a quiet groan came right after. The relief that flooded you a couple of days ago came right back, crashing over you and taking your breath away as you watched Newt’s eyes squeeze tightly.

Crossing the small room within seconds, you sat back down in the chair, elbows propped up on your knees as you waited. The boy moved again, mouth parting as he hissed in pain.

“Don’t,” you said, keeping your voice low. “Don’t move, you’re okay.”

At the sound of your voice, Newt’s pained expression softened ever so slightly. He turned his head, slowly opening his eyes, meeting the dim light of the room - and your relief filled face. A fleeting look of confusion passed over his face before he relaxed, swallowing to try to alleviate his dry mouth.

“How did I…?”

“Minho. He found you and he brought you here.” You recalled, a smile building on your face, once again along with the tears. “You were nearly dead when he brought you back here, you know that? Clint said that you, uh, you broke your leg. In three places. And that you’re gonna have to rest for a while, no work. But you might not walk properly anymore. Might have a limp. But apparently, you got lucky.”

Newt’s face fell, watching your teary eyes keep flitting between relief and worry. All he could feel was the clenching of his heart as your eyes grew red, trying to force the tears back. Even though shooting pain erupted along his side and ankle, he hated that he was putting you through this. It was his fault.

“What were you even doing out there, Newt?” You asked, wringing your hands together, sniffling.

The boy opened his mouth, praying that he had a response for you that wouldn’t hurt you further. He felt paralyzed, unable to move, unable to think, unable to breathe. The only thing on his mind was not hurting you or causing you any more pain.

“I…” he faltered, “I thought I was running that morning, and I wanted to get out there early, y’know? Get a head start. But I came across a griever, thought I could use the ivy to get away for a little while, hold out until someone found me. I dunno why, but somehow, the griever went off on it’s own… got bored of me, I think. I tried to get down, but I got caught up in the ivy, and that’s how Minho found me.”

You only nodded, simply glad that the boy you loved was still alive. You took your hand in his, a watery smile forming when you squeezed and he finally squeezed back. “I’m just glad you’re alive, Newt.”

“Me too,” he said, voice small.

The two of you stayed like that for a little longer, until you remembered. It came with a gasp, and you let go of the blond’s hand as you shot up from your seat. “The others! I completely forgot! I’ll be back, I have to go tell them you’re up!”

Newt was left with no room to protest as you darted out of the room. He could hear your shouts from the Medhut, calling for the Med-jacks and Alby and Minho. Whoever was needed or important was called out, and the thought of you shouting across the Glade in the dying sunlight brought a smile to Newt’s face.

It didn’t take long for a storm of footsteps to boom, rapidly approaching Newt’s door. Soon, Clint Jeff, Minho, and Alby crowded in the doorframe. Elated, relieved smiles broke on their faces and the Med-jacks were the first ones in, helping Newt adjust to a sitting position before breaking into work mode, checking his vitals and injuries.

As they did, Minho and Alby stepped forward, each expressing their joy and clapping him on the shoulder. But the underlying worry in Minho’s eyes, and the slight anger in Alby’s, told Newt that this wouldn’t last long. He’d have to tell them the truth eventually.

After you told the boys that Newt was okay, you decided to give yourself some time away from the walls you spent the past few days inside of. The sun was almost completely gone, the cold and darkness of night chasing it away as you walked around the Glade, taking in as much of the fresh air as you could.

Things would start to get back to normal soon, though you knew Newt wasn’t going to be able to be a Runner any more. He would work someplace else, maybe as a Track-hoe. Then again, everyone did a little of everyone else’s jobs, so it wouldn’t matter much where he was. He would have to find some other way of getting around for the next little while, though, since Jeff mentioned that it took some weeks for the wound to heal.

You shook the thoughts from your head, deciding to finish your lap around the Glade before stopping by to say goodnight to Newt and the others if they were still in his room before you headed to your hut, finally knowing that you wouldn’t get a restless sleep for the first time in a little while.

Over the next few weeks, things started shifting. Everything felt almost… odd. Newt was up and walking - with crutches that Clint made, of course - within the first week, but you’d gotten used to that fairly quickly. Sometimes he needed help with something, so part of your job was staying nearby Newt and making sure he was as good as he could be. The thing that bothered you was Minho.

Ever since Newt woke up, he’d been acting weird. Before, he acted like he always did - like your best friend. Laughing with you, eating with you, everything. But now he was avoiding you like a sickness, a disease that he could catch simply by being within your vicinity. It bothered you to no end, and it hurt. All of a sudden, your best friend was unreachable, and you didn’t know why.

It’s been almost a month, and Newt was starting to walk on his own, without the crutches for support. His limp was painfully obvious, a reminder of his accident, but Clint and Jeff assured him that, over time, it would fade, and he’d barely even notice it. But he did. And so did everyone else.

Today, the Box would come up, and the bonfire would happen, and you couldn’t wait. It was your favorite time of the month just because you got to have a good time, unwind and have some of Gally’s moonshine. Plus, the next morning was always slow, and everyone could afford to sleep in a little bit. The only thing that bothered you was Minho, but you’d have plenty of time to forget about it at the bonfire.

And that’s almost exactly what you did. Between drinking Gally’s disgusting moonshine and hanging around Newt, you were almost completely able to wipe the memory of Minho’s behavior from your mind.

At least, until you went to get something to eat.

Minho was standing by the roasting spit, talking with Frypan as he sipped on his own glass of moonshine. His gaze caught on yours as you greeted Frypan with a smile, taking the kebab he offered. You bit into it, giving a taut greeting to Minho before starting to walk back to Newt.

When you were halfway there, a hand on your arm stopped you, tugging you back to face Minho. Before you got the chance to pull away and ask him to leave you alone, he started speaking, words coming out fast as if he knew you were going to tell him off. “Y/n, don’t, I really need to talk to you. It’s about Newt.”

The blond’s name snagged you, and before you knew it, you were being led away from the party, abandoning your kebab and drink to go to the Homestead nearby, Minho’s hand wrapped around your bicep. He stopped when you could barely hear the loud laughter, looking around as if someone could pop out of the shadows at any moment.

“What’s going on, Minho?” You asked, impatient. “First, you stop being anywhere near me, now, out of nowhere, you want to talk? And what about Newt’s so important you had to drag me 50 bloody feet from the party to even get a word out?”

He sighed, hands on his hips as he hung his head, contemplating. When he looked back up at you, you could tell he was torn. But what was he so torn about?

“Look, Newt made me promise not to say anything about this, but I knew you’d kill me if you found out I was keeping this from you.” Minho started.

“What? What did he say?”

“He wasn’t trying to escape a griever when he fell.” The guilt pooling in your friend’s eyes felt like an extra kick to the teeth as he spoke. “He… he only told me about what really happened. I’m the only one who knows. But I can’t keep it from you, you’re his best friend. Y/n, he jumped. He did it on purpose.” A pause lingered between you as you tried your best to suck in a breath, your chest collapsing in on itself. “He… he tried to kill himself.”

There was no stopping the pool of tears that flooded your waterline as you tried to take a breath. You wondered how you didn’t see something, see a change in his attitude, anything that would’ve told you he was hurting. Anything at all. But there was nothing. He seemed completely fine before and after the accident - though now, you weren’t sure you could call it an accident.

Minho placed a hand on your shoulder and pulled you into his body, hugging you until you were ready to let go. He let you wonder aloud, almost muttering incoherently before you managed to compose yourself and head back to the party.

He stopped you, though, to say, “Y/n, I know you want to talk to him about it, but don’t. I’ve tried. All you can do is be there for him. Pretend nothing happened, like you don’t know.”

“How?” You turned back to the boy, tears clouding your vision yet again. “How can I pretend like I don’t know my best friend wants to shucking kill himself - like I don’t know he hasn’t already tried? That’s why you were avoiding us, isn’t it? So you didn’t have to bloody deal with it?”

“Yeah.” He admitted. “Yeah. But I was only doing it so you wouldn’t find out. Because if I stayed near you two, I would’ve blurted it out and he would’ve killed me.”

You huffed, mind running wild. Tears were beginning to sting the back of your eyes once again, but you forced them down. With a gulp, you nodded. “Fine. I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises.”

Minho exhaled with relief, nodding and telling you he’d see you later. You took a deep breath, preparing a lie to tell Newt when he asks what happened, and preparing to look at the boy who held your heart in his hands and pretend like you didn’t know how much he was hurting.

As much as you hated it, you were right. It was so hard to wake up every morning and be faced with the reality of the situation Newt was in. It hurt, and you knew he was feeling ten times worse, but knowing that there was nothing you could do to help was killing you.

So, you ended up doing the same thing Minho did. Your chest felt heavy as you ate breakfast alone, not bothering to look for Newt. As much as it hurt, though, you were angry. Angry that he didn’t come to you before deciding to jump off the bloody wall. Angry that he decided that was the only way out, that he would rather leave and let his friends find his body, mangled and lifeless, on the Maze floor, than try to find someone who could help him. Someone who could talk to him.

The anger hurt so much you could barely look at him. So, you did the best you could to ignore him, though not without making sure someone would be there if he needed help with someone. Gally was nice enough to step up after Minho asked, as he would’ve been there himself, if it weren’t for the fact that he would be in the Maze all day.

Most of the day was as normal as it could be, with you going about and working on whatever needed to have work done on it. Fixing the doors to the Medhut, picking tomatoes for tomorrow’s dinner, things like that.

You’d gotten a lot done by the time you decided to break for lunch. As you made your way across, excited to find out what Frypan was cooking up today, slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back to meet the person who dared to stop you.

To no surprise, it was Newt.

He didn’t waste a second. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong, Newt.” You said, forcing down the hurt and anger that tried to claw its way into your chest.

“Don’t lie to me. I know when something’s wrong with you, so tell me what’s going on, now.”

You twisted your wrist, pulling it free from your grip. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine, Newt.”

He watched you push past him, headed in the opposite direction of where you were originally heading. Despite the shock he felt at how dismissive you were, Newt followed after you. You haven’t been right since the bonfire, and he was determined to find out what happened.

You stepped into the Deadheads, hoping Newt wouldn’t follow after you. Your hopes were proved useless when you heard the crunch of leaves behind you, slowly speeding up. He called out to you, but you ignored him, the pain of being near him beginning to be too much.

Soon, though, he caught up. He pulled at your wrist again, nearly breathless as you pulled back and forced him to let go. When you took a step back, Newt’s eyebrows furrowed. Your unusual behavior was starting to scare him.

“What the hell’s going on with you?” Newt asked, watching your chest heave. “Why are you ignoring me, Y/n? What’s wrong?”

The pain mixed with the anger, creating a nearly dangerous explosive in your chest. Fed up, you began to shout. “You don’t get to ask me what’s wrong, Newt!”

“What the shuck are you talking about-”

“You don’t get to ask me what’s wrong!” You said, voice loud, but finally becoming steady. “You don’t get to ask me what’s wrong, Newt! Not when you buried your feelings for months, only to go and jump from the walls of the shucking Maze because you couldn’t handle it here! You don’t get to bottle everything up instead of coming to me, or Minho, or Alby, or someone! Instead, you jumped from the Maze and I spent three days by your side, begging you to wake up. I almost lost you - hell, I was going to lose you, Newt, and I could barely deal with it because I love you! So don’t ask me what’s wrong if you can’t answer that question yourself.”

Your words started out loud and declined into a steady, shaking tone, but the emotion was there all the same. Just like he feared from the moment he woke up, Newt hurt you. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, the only thing either of you could hear was your labored breaths as your body recovered from the exertion.

Newt was speechless. He should’ve expected you to find out at some point, and he should’ve expected a reaction like this one to come along with it, but now that it had happened, he didn’t know what to do.

So, once your words finally registered in his mind, he did the only thing he could think of.

He rushed forward, cupping your face in his hands, and he kissed you.

At first, the shock alone was enough to freeze you in your spot. Your mind ran wild, trying to process what was happening. Alarms went off, and all you could do was close your eyes. Before you knew it, the kiss was over, and you realized that you didn’t move. You didn’t kiss him back.

Why didn’t you shucking kiss him back?

Newt’s hands fell from your cheeks and your eyes fluttered open, watching the sorrow fill his as he attempted to stutter out an apology. He tried to step away, but you stepped forward, reaching up to rest your palm on his cheek. Newt’s words faltered, trailing off as you smiled at him.

You pulled him down to meet you, nudging your face upward. Your eyes fluttered closed again as his nose bumped yours, lips brushing. You pushed forward, pressing your lips to his. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he rested his hands on your hips while your other hand moved to his jaw.

Again, Newt pulled away first. You chased his lips, like a drug you’d never get enough of. He laughed, resting his forehead on yours. Neither of you opened your eyes, simply resting like that for a few moments.

“If you ever need someone to talk to, Newt, please, come to me.” You said. “I can’t feel helpless like that again.”

“I will, love. I’ll never make you feel like that ever again. I promise.”

Permanent taglist: @simonsbluee @sapphicwriting @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @queen-asteria04

Newt taglist: @superduperswitchbitch @jessimay89 @newtsmyhusbend @hehehehannahthings @fr-ogii

You stared up at the twinkles of light of the night sky, seated against the Map Room’s walls, your lips pressed together in a soft smile, and your arms wrapped around your legs that were tucked underneath you. And although you could hear the clanks of Griever arms tapping against the maze walls, the Glade was surrounded with nothing but masculine laughter. The night was still and cold, and the cotton against your skin barely kept you warm. But still, you stayed seated on the grass, your mind engulfed in random thoughts.