"I promise."

This one-shot is written in regards to chapter 22 of the Death Cure when Newt punches a wall and leaves a conversation and Minho follows after him. It's not connected to anything else I've written.. :)

And fair warning, there are some trigger warnings, so .. proceed with caution...

Disclaimer: I don't own the Maze Runner

His eyes widened as he realized what he'd just done. Splinters in his knuckles and a hole in the wall.

Silence. Utter silence, before he turned and walked out of the room. Eyes filling with tears, dispair and cold fear the only emotions he could feel.

What was he becoming? He knew the answer to that all to well, the Scorch still haunting his nightmares. Still, when did he suddenly possess the strength to punch a bloody hole in a shucking wall?!

He barely registered slumping to the ground in the corner between the wall and the metal bunk bed in the room they'd slept in last night, furthest away from the gentle light filtering in through the door.

He was becoming a monster. A tear slipped past his barrier. God, he was going to die a monster.

'No, no, no.'

Anger fueled him to slam his head back against the wall. To stop the thoughts with distraction of pain, or try to knock the flare out of his head he wasn't sure. It was all WICKED's fault.

His breaths were coming in shaky gasps as he suppressed a sob, holding his breath until he could only release it in a silent shudder as his heart tore and ripped at him. Thoughts and voices taunting him. He would die. He would die. He would die.

And his friends would be fine. They would be fine because they were special, some of the few that could withstand a mindeating virus. A virus that he had, that would make him turn on them. Hurt them. He already had. He could clearly see the hurt and concern and..fear in their eyes before he left. He was disgusting. Worse than an animal. Something to be thrown away, locked up, away from any sane person who might contract the same illness..or be killed by him themself..

There were tears streaming down his face as he held his breath to keep his sobs quiet. He didn't want to be some insane monster. He didn't want to watch his friends faces as he went slowly crazier and crazier, became more dangerous by the day.

He hoped Tommy read the note soon. With a pang he hated himself. He didn't want to die. For a long time, trapped and terrified, without any safety or reassurance, he had. He'd wanted to so badly he'd pulled himself up a fifty foot wall to accomplish that desire. Now, there was no other way out, he'd been given a death sentence, written out a pleading pathetic note, and yet he was sitting here, shaking and pathetically terrified, tears running down his face. If he was going to become a- a Crank, shouldn't he want death? Or at least rather it, instead of sitting here wishing desperately that somehow he'll be okay? Crying because he knows he won't? He feels disgusted with himself and that can only make him sob harder.

There are footsteps sounding outside the room. He lets out a shuddering gasp. He'd wanted to be left alone in his misery. His friends were better off keeping their distance from him now. Make it easier when the time came for them to carry out Tommy's note. Hopefully before he was a complete raging maniac. He didn't want them to see him that way. He didn't want them to see him now. Not like this.

So he gulped and wiped at his face, hoping they wouldn't come in here. The door creaked open slightly and he squeezed his eyes shut, holding tight to his legs that were pulled against his chest and hiding his face in them.

Careful steps followed and he took deep breaths to try to subside the sobs that were still shaking his thin form. Someone was standing in front of him, he kept still in hopes to not be seen a minute longer.

They sighed, before settling down in front of him. He remained silent, as if willing them away would erase the impending conversation that would inevitably follow. He felt guilt plague him. He had messed up their berg at best.

"Newt-" they started, and he shuddered out another half sob. "Look at me."

He didn't have to look at him to know who it was. He met Minho's sad dark eyes with his own watery amber ones. His lip was trembling and his voice shook as he spoke.

"I'm so scared, Min." He took another shaky breath and Minho's brows furrowed before reaching out a hand and gently taking his hands and tugging them away from their death grip around his legs.

"I know, we're gonna get through this together." He spoke calmly, something Newt hadn't heard in awhile, nothing was calm anymore. His eyes refilled with tears at that and Minho pulled him into a hug so tight it almost hurt, almost.

"I'm gonna bloody die." He said as a broken sob escaped him, head resting against Minho's chest giving an oddly calming scent.

"Don't say that, we'll figure something out, they can't just shucking-"

"They already have." He says quietly. "They've given it to me, and now it's like a bloody clock, nothing anyone can bloody do about it."

Minho's reluctance to accept it somehow made him be able to. To be able to be the one comforting again instead of having to be comforted. He was the one dying, Minho was the one who was going to have to live with it.

"I don't want to lose you." Minho whispered and his resolve to spare Minho his emotional turmoil shook. He didn't want to lose himself either.

"I-I know, but I'-ll be okay, alright?" His voice shook and broke horribly and he knew Minho could tell he was lying. They both were, no one was okay anymore. Minho laughed with tears in his voice.

"Selfless shuck face, trying to be brave for me are ya?" He says and Newt nods as he swallows against the pain, the lump in his throat making the effort difficult. "Me and Thomas are gonna figure something out, don't you worry about it, alright? We're gonna come up with some magical cure for you. Can't let our glue dry can we?"

Newt could hear the tears in his voice and the dampness wasn't just from Newt anymore. He took a deep breath before releasing it in a long sigh. Curled up in his friends lap he probably looked like a child. He was of course. That's all any of them were. Children who'd had to grow up to fast.

"I don't want to die anymore." He says and it's just above a whisper but Minho hears. Of course he does.

"Course not, and you're not going to. Me, you and Tommyboy are going to go somewhere far away from WICKED and the Cranks, you'll see. We'll start our lives somewhere where we can do whatever we shucking want. And you better promise me now, you'll let me take you there. Cause' I ain't going without you, shuck face."

Newt knew it was a lie. It was all a fairytale lie that he desperately wanted to believe, and he knew Minho wanted to believe it too. So he took a deep breath pushed himself up so he was looking him in the eye and spoke steadily without his voice shaking one bit.

"I promise."

Thanks to all who read this, :).. sorry for the angst... Hope u enjoyed, I always appreciate feedback :)...