Newt Imagines (The Maze Runner)

Waking, Dreaming

TMR Modern AU

Newt wakes from a dream, and he doesn't know that he's ever been so happy to see his familiar ceiling stretching out in front of him. It almost doesn't feel real for a second, that perfect plain white paint, uncracked and unbroken and utterly without care. If he keeps his eyes trained on only this impersonal bit of wall, Newt can pretend that none of this is actually his, that the whole place is just on lend from some other kid lucky enough to be born in a time when he was completely safe.

This makes no sense, of course. This is Newt's room, this is Newt's life, this is Newt's happiness. Perhaps it's the nightmare getting to him. The vision he'd had just before forcing himself awake had been a terrible one. He'd been trapped in a city burning to the ground, and as Newt lay on his back, staring up at the smoke and stars, he knew with unsettling certainty that it would be the last time he'd ever see such a sight again. Or any sight, for that matter.

Newt woke up, of course, so clearly his dream-based paranoia is just that, the stuff of nightmares and nothing more. Newt is here, and everything is alright. He has always been here. He will never be anywhere else.

After all, when would Newt have a chance to see any other scenery? Newt grew up in this town, he's been here for as long as he can remember. His friends are just down the street, probably waking up to a myriad of alarm clocks and shouted warnings about missed school buses. This is their home. No other place would ever make sense as much as this does.

Newt shakes himself and starts getting ready for the day. That's the problem with dreams, after all, they get you thinking about what life would be like if you weren't here, in the same place as always. Maybe somewhere out there another Newt is looking up at the stars and wondering why he tastes copper on his tongue, but this Newt, the one in his body and thinking these very thoughts, is safe. He doesn't know why, but he gets the feeling that safety is pretty rare, and thus something he should treasure instead of find reasons to deny.

Newt heads down to the bus stop, early as always. He likes to get there before anyone else so they can only get the view of him leaning casually against a nearby tree, not the visual of Newt's walk over. Despite all this time spent around the same friends, Newt is still wary to show off the fact that he isn't quite like the others. He can't walk the same way they can, and any difference from the norm makes Newt's teeth stand on edge.

It's all because of an injury, one Newt sustained when he was just a kid. Hypothetically, it happened when he was in preschool or something, but Newt has no recollection of the actual incident itself. You'd think he would remember something like that, a pivotal moment leading to a pivotal injury, but no, it's all been smoothed over in his head.

Sometimes, Newt has different dreams, nightmares in which he's falling and only regrets it halfway through the plunge. He bolts upright to find his leg throbbing like it had been freshly broken, even though everyone tells him the injury is older than anything. Still, the facts don't lie. Newt can't walk properly because of the limp. The actual source of it shouldn't matter, especially not since his friends all seem to avoid bringing it up.

The rest of his merry group arrives soon enough. Alby first, Alby always first. He's the oldest of them, the leader. Newt doesn't remember when they all decided that Alby would take up that role, it just makes sense. Minho is next, then Gally, Thomas, and Teresa. A girl named Brenda who used to go to another school. She started hanging out with them a while ago and long since fit in like another piece to their grand puzzle. Y/N, too, newly moved here from a different city. She changes everything for the better, Newt thinks, like they've all been put on this earth for the sole purpose of being there to see her.

They all have their own roles to play within the friend group. Thomas and Minho are on the school basketball team. It feels like they're out at practice every day, spending hours in that gym just to be able to score a little better and build a better championship team inch by inch. It always surprises Newt that they'd choose basketball of all sports. Not that they'd be athletes, of course, that goes without saying. The guys are full of restless energy, always eyeing the doors to a crowded room like they've already plotted twelve different ways to get out and are just deciding which would be the fastest.