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"Minho said you were in here," Alby says, knocking lightly on the wall as he entered the Map Room. "Said you'd holed yourself up in here and refused to let anyone in."
"Min's right," Newt responds, from his place on the floor. "I refuse to let you in, too, Alby, so... if you don't mind."
Alby doesn't leave. He shuts the door behind him, allowing it to click into place as he kneels down beside Newt on the ground, running a hand through his hair, brow furrowed in concern.
"I do mind, actually," he says.
Newt frowns pointedly, looking up at him. "Can't I just wallow in self pity for one afternoon, without someone on my ass?"
"Aw, and you usually love it when I'm on your ass."
"Alby."
Alby's expression softens. He sits down properly on the floor, realizing he's going to be in here for a while. Newt shifts just enough to rest his head in the older boy's lap.
He's been crying, but he turns to the side so Alby won't notice. He does anyway. It's impossible to hide anything from Alby. Especially after the incident. He got a lot more watchful after that.
"You okay?" Alby asks, stroking his cheek with a gentleness no one would ever guess he possessed. Newt sighs. He's not getting out of this. He's definitely not getting out of this. Alby's not gonna let this go.
"I'm just... tired."
"Tired?" Alby presses.
Newt continues to stare up at him. "I can't do this anymore, Alby. Two years, and we’re still stuck here. Going about our day-to-day lives because it’s all we bloody know how to do. Envying the people that died because at least they’re not trapped, as horrible as it is. Everyone looks to me for support, and I just can’t shucking do it anymore. I’m done."
"Newt..."
Newt sighs. He doesn't want to have this conversation with anyone. With Alby least of all. "Yunno how I felt? When I jumped? Hasn’t gotten better since then. I’ve just gotten better at hiding it. I’m supposed to be calm and collected. Too many people depending on me.” He exhales, swallowing a broken sob.
“We love you,” Alby finally says. “And because of that, we can’t lose you. Which is why you need to promise me that you’ll never try something like that again. Okay?”
Newt frowns pointedly, lips pressed into a thin line, clenching his jaw hard enough to try and hide how hard he's sobbing. Maybe if Alby realizes how irreparably broken he is, he'll stop loving him.
Alby pulls the blond properly into his lap, taking his hands in his own. Newt didn't notice the ploy until it was too late.
Alby pushes his sleeves up, examining the fresh cuts marring the undersides of his wrists.
"...Newt."
Newt swallows thickly. "I'm sorry," he says.
"Sorry you did it?" Alby asks. "Or sorry you got caught?"
"...The second one."
"You told me you stopped."
"I lied."
Alby sighs. Exasperated, maybe even disappointed. He doesn't say anything after that, not for a while. He just holds Newt against his chest, hand rubbing along his hip absent-mindedly.
"I want to die," Newt says finally, his voice muffled as his buries his face in the crook of the older boy's neck.
Alby doesn't seem all that surprised. Not even shocked. Just... maybe wistful. Malcontent. He holds the blond tighter, kissing him hard on the mouth.
"I know," Alby says quietly, pulling away. "I know you do."
"Maybe it'd be easier if I did," Newt whispers. "Then you wouldn't have to worry about me."
Alby shakes his head adamantly. "We both know that's not true," he says firmly. "This whole Glade would fall apart without you."
"But-"
"But nothing," Alby interjects. "Who breaks up all the fights? You. Who comforts all the Greenies? You. Who maintains the order? You. There's no one that's more important than you, Blondie."
Newt shakes his head aggressively. "Don't lie to me," he manages. "Alby, please don't lie to me."
"I'm not lying," Alby insists. "Seriously. If you don't care what the others think, then know that I need you. I need you more than anythin’. I wouldn't be able to do any of this without you."
Newt stares up at him helplessly. "If you're not gonna help, then get out," he says quietly. "Lemme wallow."
Alby sighs, disappointed. "Fine," he says. "But you'd better not do anything stupid."
Newt doesn't say anything. He just watches the older boy leave. Watches Alby shut the door behind him. And then the blond collapses back onto the ground, allowing himself to sit in his own misery for a while longer. That fall should have killed him. Seriously, it should have. Everyone would be better off if that was the case.
What did he matter, in a Glade full of people that worked way harder than he did? And all because Alby played favorites and didn't trust him out of his sight. He didn't deserve to be here, to be alive.
Everything would be so much easier for everyone if he just tried again. There were more boys now. Alby wouldn't find him in time. And he'd go out farther. Be smarter about it.
Learn from his past mistakes, since he'd ended up making so many. He would certainly be saving a lot of people a lot of trouble, if he just... went away.
Newt pulls himself to his feet, searching the room for something, anything, sharp enough to cut. He manages to find a knife. It was dull, in obvious need of sharpening, but it was still jagged enough to get the job done.
This had been scary the first couple of times. Scary enough to have him waver, to have him falter, anyway. But after a while, it was just something you got used to. A means to an end.
As usual, the first few cuts were tough. It's hard, to drag a blade that dull through several layers of skin, deep enough to scar. Deep enough to hurt. But after the first few, enough blood bubbles up that it makes it slicker, allowing the blade to glide across the skin with relative ease.
He's a mess. He's a mess and the usual dose of pain that comes with slicing your wrists open isn't helping. So he cuts more. What else can he do, really? It's all he knows. His whole arm is covered in thick red blood now.
Blood seeps over the curve of his wrist, dripping down onto the floor. Newt watches each drop splatter as it hits solid ground, watches each drop fall in slow motion.
He did this. He did this to himself. And he likes it. He needs it. And he can't see himself stopping any time soon. If he ever stops at all. If he even survives long enough to consider it.
"Hey, Alby said I should... hey. Hey. Woah."
Newt looks up, trying to make out the figure through blurry vision. The sight of his blood still stains the backs of his eyes, making it more difficult to actually see the world around him.
He's dizzy. Maybe he cut a little too deep, lost a little too much blood. It's fine either way. He cut only as much as he deserved.
"Newt..."
It's Minho. It must be. Newt could recognize his voice anywhere. He's good at recognizing voices. Which is for the better, since he can't make out any faces at the moment.
He's dizzy. He's so, so dizzy. He might just... pass out. Is that the right word for it? Wait, what was he just thinking about? He can't remember.
"Hey- Alby? Alby!" Pause. Someone's cupping his face. Probably Minho. It must be. "Hey, Newt? Don't pass out. Do you hear me? Newt? Newt!"
Everything goes black.
"You're a shuckin' idiot, you know that?"
Newt opens his eyes, blinking back unshed tears, squinting as he adjusts to the new light. His head was killing him. He still felt... tired. Almost to the point that he's been rendered immobile.
"...What?"
"You passed out," Alby answers, squeezing his hand tightly. "Blood loss. Y'know, since you sliced your shuck wrists up so bad."
Newt shuts his eyes for a moment, exhaling shakily. "You're takin' this a lot better than I thought you would."
"You've been passed out two days," Alby says. "I've had a lotta time to reflect, I guess."
"Two days?"
"You lost a lotta blood."
Newt stays silent after that. He keeps his eyes shut tightly, since he can't bring himself to look Alby in the eye. Not after what happened. He's never felt ashamed about this before, but...
"Can you promise not to do it again?" Alby asks finally.
Newt opens his eyes, but he stares at his hands instead of at the older boy beside him. "...No," he says honestly.
Because he can't. He really can't. It's the only thing... the only thing that brings him some sort of clarity. The only thing that can get that angry little voice inside his head to shut up.
"We'll work on that," Alby says quietly. "...Together, this time."
Newt frowns pointedly, finally finding it in himself to turn and look at the other. "Together?" He repeats.
"Yeah," Alby agrees. "I'm not leaving your side this time. I'm here to stay. Here to help."
Newt feels his eyes begin to sting, tears welling in the sockets and threatening to spill. "You don't understand," he whispers.
Alby sighs. "Then help me understand," he prompts. "Help me help you, because we both know you won't do it yourself."
Newt grimaces, staring at his shaking hands like his life depends on it. With a sudden burst of courage, he tears his gaze away from them and looks back at Alby, making uncertain eye contact. "...Together?"
"Together," Alby confirms, reaching over and squeezing his hand tightly.
Together, Newt thinks. That might not be so bad.