101 Thomas Brodie Sangster Imagines

Newt: He Gets Hurt

Newt: He Gets Hurt

“(Y/N)! Hurry! Newt’s hurt!” I hear Minho yell from the entrance of the maze. Oh no. I sprint towards the voice.

“Minho!” I scream as I see him. He’s holding up a lump of a person. As I get closer I notice it’s Newt. I rush over to his assistance.

“Newt. Newt, can you hear me?” I say, lifting his chin. His eyes are shut and his lips are parted just a tad. “Minho! What happened?!” I scream, lifting Newt’s right arm and placing it on him shoulder, trying to help Minho carry him.

“A griever attacked us…” Minho said, trailing off. We stumble into the Homestead with Newt  in our arms. I know what he means, so I don’t ask anymore questions. We climb up the stairs to an open room. I kick open the door, not letting go of Newt.

“Alright, help me lay him down on the bed,” I tell Minho. Minho did what he was told. I stood next to the cot. I turn to Minho and nod towards the door. He nods back, then he leaves the room. I stroke Newt’s arm, not knowing where to start. I notice the blood on his chest and arms. I need to check his body for wounds.

“Newt, I need to check you for wounds,” I tell Newt. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even move. I feel a knot grow in my stomach. Oh no. I lay my head on his chest, to check his heartbeat. My ear touches his blood covered shirt. I feel a slow heartbeat. Slower than it should be. His breathing is slowing dramatically. I need to give him CPR. I pick my head up, off his chest and open his mouth slightly with my fingers. I put my lips to his and puff air into his body. Then I pull away and push down on Newt’s chest twice.

“Newt, come back to me,” I say whilst leaning down to his lips once again. I never thought my first kiss would be like this. With an unconscious guy, who I’m trying to save from dying. I pull my mouth away from his. Then I lay my hands on his chest and push down. I lay my lips back onto his, releasing air into his mouth. I quickly place my ear on his chest, checking his breathing and heart rate. They have both increased. I must be doing something right. Then as I lean down to breathe more air into Newt, I feel a hand touch mine. I look down at Newt’s chest, where my hand sits and see Newt’s fingers intertwined with my own.

“Newt?” I say, glancing at his face, which is still motionless. His fingers squeeze mine. “Newt, are you awake?” I ask. He still doesn’t respond, but his heartbeat and breathing have regulated. Now I need to check out his wounds. Newt’s in no condition to actually take off his shirt. He’s only wearing his orangish bronze tank top, so I decide to just rip it off. I tear it down the center on collar and all the way to the bottom. A shiver comes over me as I see the large cuts in his flesh. Most of them are just minor scratches, but there’s one that goes really deep. I wince at the blood that has drained from the unconscious boy.

“This might sting a little,” I whisper into his ear before grabbing my cloth to clean his wounds. I dip the cloth in disinfectant and slowly move it closer to his bleeding cuts. As soon as the cloth makes contact with Newt’s skin, I hear him whimper. I feel his hand, which is still holding mine, squeeze. His nails start to dig into my palm, but I try to ignore the pain.

“Just relax,” I tell him, trying to calm him down. His eyes are still shut, but his hand squeezes tight. As I finish cleaning his skin, I ring out the cloth. I notice the water I washed the rag in has turned bright red. I try not to think about why. As I turn back towards Newt, his eyes begin to flutter open. His eyelashes bat, like a butterfly’s wings. Newt’s lips look dry and cracked. He licks them whilst just staring at me. I take a seat on a barrel next to Newt’s bed.

“Newt, how are you feeling?” I ask him. Newt shrugs his shoulders ever so slightly. He props himself up on his elbow. I see him wince at the pain in his abdomen. I can almost feel his pain as he does so.

“(Y/N), I had the weirdest dream,” Newt says. I tilt my head, wondering what it could have been about. “I had a dream that you were kissing me,” Newt finishes. I feel my cheeks blush uncontrollably.

“Umm… Newt, that wasn’t a dream. I gave you CPR,” I explain to him. I look away, too embarrassed to keep looking at Newt, but before I do, I see a smile form on his scratched up face.

“(Y/N) it’s okay,” Newt begins, lifting my chin. “It was good,” he says. I blush even harder. I glance back down at his scraped chest and torn, bloody shirt.

“Sorry about your shirt. I didn’t know how else to get it off,” I say, trying to change the subject. Newt looks down, then back up at me.

“No, don’t be sorry. You saved my life,” Newt says, smiling. Then I feel his hand unwind with my fingers. Instead his fingers walk up my arm, that is laying across his chest. I glance down at it. “Is this okay?” Newt asks. I just nod. Newt trails his fingers up and down my arm. A shiver runs down my spine as he reaches my shoulder and stays there. He wraps my hair around his finger and twirls it. I feel myself on the urge of giggling.

“So, does it still hurt?” I stutter. Newt looks at me, with his perfect chocolate eyes and smiles.

“Nope. Not anymore,” Newt says. His grin spread across his face like butter on toast.