Newt

Alive

The pain faded from him slowly. Each day was a year. With every year he felt his strength returning. He was able to stay conscious for more than an hour one day. That day was the worst. So many questions. So many voices. Sleep was better. Sleep was quiet. No pain in sleep, not at first. Not until the nightmares.

He dreamt of fire. A scorching fire fell from the sky, burning the world to the ground. He saw people with melted faces, children crying in the streets, monuments of stone crumbling under the flame. He saw an endless wasteland. Angels fell from the sky, their metal wings alight in fire. Pain.

He dreamt of water. Icy cold water surrounded him, covering him in darkness. He tried to swim, but he was trapped. The walls closed in on him. This wasn't the ocean. It was a coffin, slowly filling with water. An icy tomb. He opened his mouth to breathe and liquid filled his lungs. Pain.

He dreamt of a meadow, a flash of peace amongst all the pain. The sky was crystalline blue and the grass never seemed to end, flowers speckling the green surface. He breathed in slowly, but the field soon melted into dust as the dream changed once more.

Fire.

Water.

Darkness.

Repeat.

The same dreams, each time feeling more and more real. Newt lost track of time. He began to doubt that he would ever wake up, until one day he did.

When his eyes opened for the first time, he sat up so quickly he nearly fell off the bed. First came the shock. He was alive. He was still alive.

Next came the pain. A white hot fire flared in his leg. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as he struggled to make a sound. Nothing came out but a desperate whine, almost primal.

Someone was touching him. Hands on his shoulders. Hands brushing back the hair on his head. He heard whispers, and though he couldn't make them out, they comforted him.

He let himself cry. The realization that he was truly alive was finally sinking in. The Gladers had saved his life. Newt wasn't sure if he was angry or relieved. Too many emotions. He picked one. Relief. He was alive. He was thankful.

Newt blindly reached out and gripped the first thing he felt. An arm. He held onto it, holding it like the anchor it was. The hands on him tightened in his hair and around his back, holding him in place as he struggled to find himself in the sea of emotion. Newt knew that whoever this was holding him saved his life. He knew that he owed this person his existence and could never pay that debt back.

The tide calmed. The waves ceased. Newt found himself, forced whatever remained of his soul back into his body. He clung to the person beside him until most of the darkness leaked out of his damaged heart. Until he could breathe again.

He pulled back slowly, wiping his eyes before looking the person in the eyes. When he did, he was shocked. It wasn't who he expected to see.

"You stupid klunkhead. You stupid shucking shuck. I can't believe you just..." The boy's voice trailed off as he forced a sob back down his throat. Minho. Minho the Runner was sitting in front of him, tears staining his cheeks. Newt was dumbfounded. Completely and utterly stunned into silence. All he could do was stare at the boy with wide eyes.

"I..." Newt started, his voice raw, but Minho stopped him.

"Don't. Don't explain yourself. I don't want you whining and moaning about why you did it, how hard your life is. You stupid, selfish shank. It might not have occurred to you, but there are people here who care about you!" he shouted the last part, another tear falling from his eyes.

"When I saw you lying there, lookin' like a broken doll, I didn't... I couldn't..." he stopped, squeezing his eyes shut. "Luckily I managed to drag your sorry butt back here in time. I patched you up myself. None of these worthless shanks knew how. Still, I thought..."

Newt's lips formed words, but none of them came out. He wanted to cry. He wanted to tell Minho how grateful he was, how wrong he had been, thinking that death was the better option. He was a bloody idiot.

In the end, all he could manage was a small thank you. The words were so pathetic in light of everything Minho had done, but the boy nodded all the same.

"I only saved your life so I could kill you myself, shuckface," he joked, but the humour was tainted with sadness. Newt forced a smile, however small. It was all Minho needed. It was enough.