To Love *The Maze Runner/Newt Fanfic*

Chapter 28

I closed the door behind me, ignoring the energy resonating in my fingertips. I'm not scared. The maze isn't that scary.

"I'm so bloody angry, right now," Newt said, pacing around the room.

After talking to Minho, I'd met up with Newt, who'd simply huffed that 'We needed to talk.' I didn't argue, as he angrily strode to the homestead, but I couldn't help the knot that had found its way into my throat and stomach. What had him so upset? I assume it's about the whole Nick sending me into the maze thing.

"We knew this was coming. Nick wasn't going to let my punishment drop that quickly." I reasoned, hoping to stabilize the situation. Good thing is; we're alone right now, actually in the Medjack's room. So I can talk one-on-one with Newt without either of us being influenced by anybody else.

"But, they're sending you on a death mission." Newt ran his fingers through his hair, his voice wavering in its strength.

"It's okay. I'm gonna be okay." I slowly stepped further into the room.

"What if you aren't?" Newt glanced at me. I had been hoping he wouldn't say that. Because he was right. If I'm the bait for their griever search, then that means, I'm the first to go if things happen to take a turn for the worst.

But I answered positively. I mean, one of us had to be the 'glass is half full' type of person, "Then so be it." With this answer I hoped to, also, calm the uneasiness I felt rolling throughout my whole body.

You escape death, just to be faced with it again.

This seemed to be life.

"Nick's a liar," Newt seethed, shaking slightly. His breathing was ragged and his voice was hoarse. He reminded me of a young child who'd lost his parents in a grocery store, on verge of panic.

"Everyone knows that. Alby and the Keepers are taking everything into consideration." My hand reached out to touch Newt's arm.

He moved away from me, and with a gasp said, "I don't know what to do? My life is awful."

"It's okay." I mumbled, not understanding where Newt was going with this conversation. If his life is awful, goodness gracious, what the heck is mine?

"No, it isn't." He bent over, hands on his knees. I heard him taking quick, short breaths.

"You're not the one dying, its okay." I tried to touch him again, only to be pushed away, again.

"It feels like I am." He stood to his full height, still not breathing properly.

"Quit swallowing air, Newt. It doesn't help anything. Sit down." I said sympathetically, as I walked over to the window. I propped it open. A rush of cooler air flooding into the room.

"No, it's okay." He leaned against the wall using his arm for support.

"Newt." I stared at him. He struggled to control his breathing, coughing in between breaths. He gagged a couple of times. Tears rolled down his cheeks, he was having a panic attack, "Newt, can you breath?"

He nodded, coughing again.

"Come here, cool air opens the lungs."

He shook his head, before barely getting the words "I'm fine" out.

"You obviously aren't fine." I stepped closer to Newt. He bent down again, unable to breathe, "Newt." He moved away from me, "Hey, don't keep pushing me away." I whispered, "I'm trying to help you."

Newt shook his head again, "It's okay." A sharp intake of breath, "I'm fine."

"Take a deep breath, Newt." I grabbed onto his arms and pulled him up from being so close to the ground. His hands were shaking, "Look at me."