Chapter Text
They say that when you are about to die, your life flashes before your eyes.
But most of Newt’s life was long gone. Lost to far, unreachable corners of his mind. There was nothing of his childhood, of his parents or the family he may have had. Nothing beyond the last 3 and a half years.
And yet, that brief window of time was all he had, and all he was. He did remember. Perhaps not his past, but his life. It had gotten him to this point, and looking back, it was enough for an entire lifetime -one much longer than his.
So as he felt the knife pass cleanly between his ribs and felt Thomas’s arms hold him tighter than they ever had, it was not the city he could see from over his shoulder, nor the inky blackness seeping over his vision.
With his last breath held on the tip of his tongue, and all the strength his mind had left over the disease, he felt the memories wash over him.
☆★☆
The glade’s most cruel punishment was surely it’s beauty. With overflowing greenery within, and the sun consistently peering over the high walls each day, the eden had a way of allowing your mind to slip into thinking of it as home.
Newt didn’t say it out loud -none of them did-, but it was true. The village of makeshift buildings nestled at the edge of the tree line was all home had ever been, and they got by on that unspoken awareness. Some of the newer gladers still held onto hope that they wouldn't be here indefinitely, and lord knows Newt wasn’t the one to squash it, or pretend he didn’t want to share it.
But he’d been suspecting something for a while now, some piece of knowledge shared between Alby, Minho, and the other runners. He could sense it, even if they hadn’t told him, and he could read it in their eyes. He’d never let it on to anyone, but hope was something he tried not to allow himself too much of, only keeping on the air of it for the sake of the others. And with this recent shift in behavior from his friends, Newt couldn't help feeling glad he hadn’t let it get out of hand.
He didn’t really care that they hadn’t told him. Well, admittedly he was a little surprised. He’d known Alby and Minho for as long as he could remember, and he hadn’t realized that they’d gotten to a place of no longer filling him in on important stuff such as this.
The thought crossed his mind that there was a reason that Minho, at least, might not want Newt to hear existentially bad news. That he might think he couldn’t handle it.
Maybe he’d told Alby after all.
Newt tried to ignore this idea. Minho knew he didn’t need protecting, and it would be out of character for him not to keep a secret. It wasn’t like him to divulge anything he didn’t have to, anyway.
More likely, Newt had been left out of the loop quite simply because it was Newt. If he knew something was wrong, and started acting like it, the rest of the Glade would pick up immediately, and that, he knew, was the last thing Alby would want.
Good old cheerful Newt, he thought begrudgingly. He understood, even if it stung a little. He knew his role here, just as well as anyone else.
“Fuck” Newt muttered to himself as the handsaw nicked the edge of his finger. He stuck it into his mouth in annoyance, straightening up and glancing over to what had interrupted his focus. A shrill alarm blared, indicating the arrival of the box. Already? Newt glanced up at the sky. Ah, It was much farther into the day than he had realised.
He dropped the saw and started jogging over to the centre of the glade. There was already a crowd forming around it, though by the sounds of the siren the cage had not yet reached the top. Alby caught his eye from within the group and beckoned him with a nod. Newt finished trudging over, and had begun to push through the rest of the boys when the box made a loud creak and finally stopped.
The very first thing Newt noticed, when he saw him that first time, was his eyes. A protective arm was up, covering most of the boy’s face, and yet the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. Newt saw it in every single kid that arrived up in that box.
Gally didn’t hesitate to jump down into the box with a loud clang, shoving his arms under the new boy and hoisting him to the surface. Newt didn’t help, although others reached out to pull him up. For a moment, he simply stood there, silently, watching. The greenie looked older than most here, younger than some. Around his own age, Newt supposed, whatever that may be.
Those dark, fearful eyes were screwed shut now, blinded by the sudden light, but Newt studied the rest of him instead. Dark hair, broad shoulders, probably tall. He felt the others push past him as they moved to re-surround the boy, breaking him from his second trance of the day.
But before Newt could take in any more of him, the greenie seemed to wake up properly and stumbled back, scrambling to his feet and breaking the circle around him by making a sudden break for it.
Newt raised his eyebrows as the group around him erupted in whistles and laughter. He didn’t crack a smile himself. At the very least, he seemed a decent runner. Besides, they’d all experienced their own arrival here, and their own respective freak out. It wasn’t fair to-
“Oh shit!” Frypan snorted next to him as the greenie abruptly crashed back into the ground.
Well. Never mind.
Maybe he could convince Alby to let him selfishly keep the boy for gardening, although by the looks of that upper body strength he would do better in building. That was, of course, if he managed to stay on his feet. Newt allowed himself one small smile at that and dispersed with the rest of the crowd, letting Alby take over from here.
☆★☆
“Hey greenie!” Newt called. The boy was sitting alone, staring around the campfire with his eyebrows knitted together seriously. At Newt’s words he turned his head around, looking irritated, but when he saw that it was Newt his annoyance dropped somewhat. Newt grinned, stopping by him and peering down with crossed arms. “Not a fan?”
The boy grimaced. “I don’t like the way he says it.” He muttered, nodding towards where Gally sat with the others, eating. Newt laughed.
“I meant the stew; you’ve hardly touched it.”
The boy looked down. “Oh. What even… is it?”
“You get used to it.” Newt shrugged, although admittedly he himself still was. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the taste. Rough on the tongue, and a bitter taste in the mouth that lasted all day long.
A few raucous laughs came from the other side of the campfire, and Newt was suddenly overcome with an odd, second surge of selfishness. “C’mon,” he told the greenie, backing away from the fire and watching as the boy paused but inevitably got up to follow him.
Newt led him over to a log and sat down at it, resting his back on the wood. It was a bit quieter now, away from the others, and he figured the newbie would appreciate that. Newt looked up as the boy in question stood at the log and hesitated. But he wasn't looking at Newt. His eyes were straight ahead, still fixed on the maze.
He eventually did join Newt, slowly sitting beside him with less than a glance. Despite the shadows and the flicker of the distant fire, his features were much closer to make out now, and Newt took the distracted opportunity to drink them in. Not only was his body seemingly perfectly proportioned -unlike Newts own gangly, awkward build-, but his face appeared almost crafted too. The eyes, though, were different. Deep, dark eyes that betrayed too much emotion for the thin, straight line of his mouth.
Eventually, he began to speak. Questions upon tiresome questions, it was. As was to be expected, Newt supposed, from most greenies. But still, there was something a little different about the way this one asked them. It made him a bit nervous, and the way the boy kept glancing hard at the maze gave him the urge to tie him to a tree, just to be safe.
Newt offered him a drink. The boy took it and baulked at the taste, coughing harshly. Newt laughed again, feeling a touch of guilt at the quick amusement he was having towards this guy’s misfortunes.
“It's Gally’s recipe.” He drawled, pointing over the log back towards the bonfire. The greenie made a face, either the drink or the mention of Gally - and likely both.
Newt had a feeling about this boy. He suspected that he would struggle to stay under the radar, but hopefully he would last at least a little while, with time to settle in before making any trouble.
☆★☆
Newt couldn't watch. Sure, he hadn't exactly stopped the fight from happening, but he still wasn't enjoying the sight of the greenie getting inevitably squashed into the ground. And, judging by the way those dark eyes flashed determinedly once being challenged, Newt doubted he could have done much to stop the boy anyway.
He continued to watch apprehensively as the poor kid ate dirt once again. He found himself standing still again, unamused amongst his cheering friends. Gally landed a particularly harsh blow and Newt felt his chest leap with adrenaline, as if his body for whatever reason wanted him to step in and stop this.
Alby caught his gaze from across the circle and seemed to notice the sudden concern that had Newt's shackles raised. Alby already matched his disapproval, he knew. The oldest boy had never much liked this fun that they had, and though he reluctantly allowed it, he barely ever watched and certainly never engaged the way the other gladers did, opting to watch warily from afar instead. Alby glanced back to the fight -lips pursed into an even tighter line than they had been before- and Newt wondered if he might actually step in and break up the fight. He never had before, content to just let them get their energy out, but surely even he was tired of seeing greenies get thrown around on their first day.
But before either of them could do anything, a chorus of shifted tone came from the crowd and Newt saw Gally stumbling back a little. He raised his eyebrows and dropped his arms from where they were crossed quite tightly. He was beginning to get a sense of this new boy, and wasn't sure if he was impressed or worried.
Someone moved in front of him, blocking his view, and Newt had to shuffle forward and raise his heels off the ground to try and see the circle again. He winced as he caught the last few seconds of the greenie slamming back into the dirt -this time looking like he wasn't getting back up so quick. The crowd shifted again and Newt lost his viewpoint. Suddenly it went a little silent as the boy began to speak.
Newt only just caught it before the cacophony picked up again, but it was enough to jar his mind like a static shock.
Thomas.
It was as if his body already knew it. As if some deep corner of his mind somehow felt what it would grow to mean.
But Newt could never have known what would happen, never predict all that came next. And, even if he had, he wondered if it would even change a thing.
He let the others charge forward past him in excitement, surrounding the greenie instantly. Newt smiled faintly at them, but didn't join the crowd. These bonfires were some of the few nights for them all to forget, to have fun like kids instead of the adults they were forced to be. But tonight Newt opted to back away from the group and decided to join Alby in watching from afar, over by a nearby building.
As he leaned against the wall by him, Alby looked over but he didn't say anything.
If anything, no matter whatever was going on, Newt could trust Alby to understand. Even if he didn't know what was wrong, he simply had that presence that made you feel understood, and looked out for, no matter what.
Newt had tried to shake this feeling early on, way back when he'd felt it forming during the first few months, when the gladers were still few in number. He didn't like to depend on Alby -or anyone else- like that, as it reminded too much of feelings he tried to ignore.
A desire for someone older, more mature, capable. Some kind of authority figure that they all lacked. Even if Newt had never remembered his parents, he still felt their absence sometimes, and he hated it.
The greenie- Thomas, was lifted above the crowd by several enthusiastic arms in celebration. He downed a few gulps of alcohol and grinned, peering about at the boys surrounding him.
Newt was thinking about the fact that this was the first real smile he was seeing featured on the boy’s face, until he realised with a jolt of surprise that Thomas's eyes had ended their search of the group and landed on him.
Not knowing what else to do, Newt simply smiled and inclined his head in a way he hoped came off as appreciative and congratulatory, rather than awkward. Alby glanced at him again but still said nothing.