𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒 ⌯ Newt [The Maze Runner]

[0.13] hey, sprinter

          𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒔 are deliberate as she navigates the uneven terrain of the Glade.

The two sturdy wooden sticks sway with each careful stride she takes. She keeps them tightly in her hold. Gally had spent the previous day crafting the makeshift crutches, and it's Rue's want to deliver them.

The sun has just begun its ascent, casting warm, golden hues over the Glade. Its soft morning rays paint the familiar surroundings with a sense of serenity that's both comforting and deceptive.

The Glade is already humming with activity. The clinking of metal tools, the calls and laughter, and the rustling of leaves underfoot form a harmonious cacophony. It's a reminder that they are not alone, a family forged by necessity in the confines of their isolated world.

Daryl's words now lie buried in the recesses of her mind, having no impact on her current good mood.

She approaches the Med Hut. The doors, worn by countless hands pushing and pulling, stand slightly ajar. Rue can hear the familiar creak as she nudges the entrance wider and steps inside.

The inside is bathed in the soft, ambient light of the morning sun filtering through the cracks in the walls. Her gaze immediately finds Newt, who's lying on his cot. He's absorbed in a book, his good leg slightly bent.

The instant he notices Rue, the book is closed. However, with his pointer finger between the pages to not lose track of his progress.

"Hello?" he greets, his voice tinged with curiosity as he studies the objects she carries with her. His leg, still imprisoned in a makeshift cast, is propped up in front of him.

Rue approaches him with a lighthearted grin, her heart swelling with warmth. "Hey, Sprinter," she replies in a voice that's both soft and sincere. She keeps one crutch in each hand, spreading them apart upon gesturing to her gift. "Check these out."

She offers them to Newt, who gingerly accepts them. 

His eyebrows raise as he glances from her to the crutches now resting against his bedside. "You got these made for me?"

She shrugs casually. "What makes you think I didn't craft these badboys myself?"

The blond offers her a deadpan, the smile still tugging at his lips. "'Cause a single splinter in your finger makes you whine," he reminds her.

Rue rolls her eyes. He's not wrong. "Okay, okay. Well, I just... figured you'd want something to help you get around." The playfulness in her expression has simmered down to a warm, faint smile. She tucks her hair as a reaction to his following silence.

"Gotta try them out then," he then smiles smugly, shaking his head. She'd gotten these made for him. The thought itself warms his heart. The guys wouldn't have given that thought a second of their time if he hadn't asked himself. Not because they don't care, they just don't think of stuff like that.

Rue's excitement ripples through her, eager to witness his progress.

Newt, with a determined look in his eyes, tries to sit up, but as a sharp pang of pain courses through him, his expression contorts with agony. With a heavy sigh, he relinquishes his effort, reclining on the cot once more. It's not only his leg that's healing — his entire body is.

Rue has already rushed to his side, recognizing the plain discomfort like it's her own. "Easy, easy," she speaks softly, offering a supportive arm for him to grasp. She knows how much he despises being bedridden, and his need to regain his mobility is all too evident. "Take it slow, alright?"

He purses his lips, nodding shortly. Then begins the laborious process of pushing him into a sitting position, Rue's hand on his back for support. He clutches the top of each cruth, inhaling deeply to embrace for the act to come.