Newt Imagines (The Maze Runner)

The Jacket

It is common knowledge that the Track-Hoes are all incredibly close. You have to be, at any rate, spend enough time slaving over the same pitiful plants and wilting tomatoes day in and day out and you'd bond with just about anyone.

It makes sense, that's all you're saying. You'd trust any of them without hesitation, and that's even without the stress of being trapped in a massive stone maze that connects you to all of the other Gladers. The Track-Hoes are your favorite people, and that's that.

There is one amongst your gardening numbers that you like more than all the others, however. He grew on you slowly, day by day until you realized you weren't looking at him as a good friend but as something else, someone that you love more than anything.

There are many reasons why you could have fallen for Newt. He's kind, obviously, far more than any of the others. He makes you feel not just wanted but needed, a crucial part of any inner circle. Any good characteristic that could be named aloud is attributed to Newt on a daily basis.

Then again, you never needed a reason to love Newt, you just do. He smiles at you and you're smitten, laughs with you over your favorite inside jokes and you're lovesick. There is simply nothing you can do about it, nothing but sit there, pine, and wish he felt even half as strongly about you.

That's the problem, after all. The Track-Hoes are family, and that means Newt never seems to see you as anything other than a best friend, a sister, someone he can count on and never love in that way. Even if you spent the rest of your life in the Glade, Newt would never change his mind on that front.

In the end, that's that. You've had your time to mourn this news, to grieve over the fact that the boy you love will never love you back. It's certainly kept you up at nights, as visions as what could have been played over and over in your head. Newt could have been everything you ever needed, and he never will be.

Not in that way, at least. What you have now is good, and it's worthwhile to appreciate it. Doesn't mean you don't wish there was more, but at least you have his friendship. It's not worth ruining the easy bond to tell Newt how you feel, especially because he'd just turn you down politely and that would be the end of everything.

That isn't the only opinion on the matter, however. You thought you were being perfectly discreet with your feelings, keeping them only to yourself so no one could suspect, but it turns out the excellent camaraderie between the Track-Hoes means that some of them are a little better at guessing your thoughts than you'd like.

Basically, you don't know how Zart found out that you like Newt, but there's absolutely nothing you can do about it now. It feels like not a day goes by that the Keeper isn't teasing you about your crush, begging you to tell Newt so both of you can be put out of your misery, and otherwise being a nuisance. Zart is convinced that Newt likes you back, which is so wrong you can hardly even bear to think about it.

He's grinning at you now, blond irritation, because he keeps putting you and Newt together in garden plots in the hopes that one of you will cave due to proximity and just spill your guts. That's what Zart told you, at least, when he imbibed a little too much of Gally's special brew and felt his tongue was loose enough to let you into his grand schemes.

Despite Zart's planning, it's a lost cause. You and Newt have been working steadily all morning, transplanting tomatoes from a shadowy spot in the gardens to somewhere they should get a little more sun. Frypan's been complaining that his sauces aren't nearly as flavorful as they could be due to wilting supplies. You're desperate for the cook's good mood so his food doesn't reflect his attitude, and so you're indulging him on this point.

When the day's work is over, you peel off your work gloves with a grimace. Being a Track-Hoe isn't easy, anyone can see that, but you feel it especially once your hours are through. Your bones ache, your muscles are cramped, and every plague known to mankind is tormenting your spine and shoulders.