𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒 ⌯ Newt [The Maze Runner]

[0.11] please

          𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔 inside the Med Hut, his heavy eyes locked onto his two closest friends. 

The morning sunlight gently bathes the room, casting a warm, comforting aura on their still forms. They are both asleep, their faces bearing the tranquility that belies the recent chaos they've endured.

Rue lies on her back, the wound on her shoulder carefully bandaged underneath her loose shirt. Her breathing is steady, expression is calm. Minho watches the subtle rise and fall of her chest, a gentle reminder of the wonders of her survival.

Newt, lying on his side, faces Rue. His normally steady expression is now marked by vulnerability. Bruises and cuts mar his features, and Minho's heart aches at the sight. He yearns for answers about what happened to his best friend, aching to know the truth behind his injuries.

The memory of finding Newt hanging down the ivy by his leg haunts him, and though he avoids dwelling on the reasons why, he knows he can't ignore them forever.

Minho's role as the Keeper of the runners weighs heavily on him, and this moment fills him with a sense of helplessness. They'd run the corridors of the maze endless times together, and now, it's only him out of the three. 

Unable to resist the urge, hid fingers move with gentle hesitance to brush aside a few stray strands of hair from Rue's face. The golden tendrils that had shifted with every rise and fall of her breath now rest delicately against her skin, and the sight fills him with a strange mix of tenderness and longing. 

His thumb hovers above her cheek, the idea of touching her bruised skin both enticing and unnerving.

She had been so close to death. 

He stands there for a while, suspended in the moment, his throat tight with emotions he's unwilling to fully acknowledge. He knows he has to prepare to reenter the maze, for the first time since Rue and Nick had returned, a little over a week ago. 

Alby is now the First-in-Command, and after the countless, never-ending Keeper meetings during the past few days, they'd decided to continue with their missions into the maze. They have to. 

By the time Rue finally stirs, Minho is long gone. 

Her gaze gravitates toward the blond boy, and there, she finds him already awake. Newt, with his tousled hair and intense gaze, has been watching her. His presence radiates an inquisitive blend of relief and confusion, an unspoken assurance that she has, indeed, returned from the shadows of her ordeal. 

His vigilant eyes trace every subtle movement she makes, studying her well-being without words.

"Newt," is all that escapes her chapped lips. 

His expression remains an unyielding mask of concern. It's only when Rue summons the last reserves of her energy to push herself into a sitting position that his features shift. Instinctively, he adjusts his own posture, using one arm to somewhat push himself up.

"You should be resting, Rue. Lay back down, please," he pleads, his voice laden with a genuine worry that reaches his eyes. He can't bear the sight of her pushing herself too hard in her weakened state.

But she doesn't heed his plea. She manages a faint, weary smile, her eyes never breaking their connection with his. Her voice, though fragile, carries a touch of determination as she speaks, revealing the depth of her concern. 

"What happened to you?" she counters, her gaze shifting to his encased ankle. Her unwavering concern is etched in every line of her face, eyes drawing in sincerity. "Please tell me."