AS SOON AS HE HEARD THE DOOR fully closing behind him, Newt waited a couple of more seconds just incase Dion—or someone else would come back in.
He sighed, he felt absolutely terrible. Seems like it was all he felt the past few days.
He never meant to do this to any of his friends, he never meant to keep hurting them like this. Not anyone, especially not them, never them.
His heart aches every second he doesn't talk to them, every second he lets his friend suffer at the thought of him like this. Every second he doesn't respond to their tends to help him recover, he felt awful. They were trying their best, he knew that.
Newt knew in his heart that no one in the world, in this life, would ever fully understand him. He knew that in a world like this—or any kind, he knew that no one would fully understand another person.
And that was okay.
It didn't matter that they don't, to him what was most important was that they tried.
The other day he had tried to make it seem like he understood Dion and that what they felt was no different. But now that his thoughts weren't clouded with emotions anymore, he realized how wrong he was to have done that. He regretted what he did, but that didn't make what he felt any less important.
She was right, they weren't the same.
But that didn't mean it don't hurt as much.
Everyone was different in their own way, they cope in different ways and react in different ways. But something he knew for sure was that some things have the same amount of hurt to go through.
He finally managed to turn his head to look at the food Dion had left for him.
For the past few days since he finally regain consciousness, a lot of Gladers—a lot of his friends—had come in and left him his food each time of day and each time he couldn't bring himself to swallow all of it. He didn't want to be wasteful, he knew how hard they all worked for this, he knew how much love Fry had probably put into all those meals so all he could do was just grab a small bite before he could get sick.
Newt never really stopped feeling like he was falling. Not even when he felt like he had finally hit the surface, there was always the lingering feeling of being let go.
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[🏹] this is so short idk what this is I think I was just venting sorry
