How I survived in an all boys glade

Chapter Fifty-two

- Can't sleep -

That night, I lie in bed, wide awake, staring at the wooden beams above me. Every time I close my eyes, I see her—a woman dressed in pure white, her pale face illuminated by an ethereal glow. Her voice echoes in my mind, soft but insistent, repeating the same phrase: WICKED is good. The words swirl around like a mantra, refusing to fade no matter how hard I try to shake them off.

Frustrated, I sit up, running a hand through my hair. My breath feels heavy, my chest tight. Maybe some fresh air will help. I grab my combat boots, slipping them on hastily, and head for the door of my hut.

The night outside is still and quiet, the kind of silence that wraps itself around you like a heavy blanket. The moon hangs high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the Glade. As I step out, I hear the faint crunch of footsteps on the grass. Instinctively, I tense, my senses on high alert, but then I see him—Newt.

He's sitting cross-legged in the middle of the Glade, his silhouette framed against the star-studded sky. His head is tilted back, and there's something peaceful about the way he gazes up, as though the universe is whispering its secrets just to him.

"Hey, Lizard," I call softly as I approach, my voice barely more than a whisper. He glances at me briefly, then turns his attention back to the stars. "Hi," he says simply, his tone calm and steady.

"What are you doing up so late?" I ask as I sink down beside him on the cool grass.

Newt gives me a small, almost mischievous smile. "Could ask you the same thing."

I shrug, hugging my knees to my chest. "Same as you, I guess. Couldn't sleep." My gaze drifts upward, following his line of sight to the endless expanse of stars. "But really, why out here? Why not just stay in bed and stare at the ceiling like the rest of us insomniacs?"

He chuckles lightly, the sound low and warm. "Just... thinking," he says. "Looking at the stars, wondering how many might be up there. Trying to make sense of it all, I guess."

I glance at him, confused. "You know it's pointless to count the stars, right?"

Newt finally tears his eyes away from the sky to look at me, his expression soft but tinged with amusement. "It's also pointless to count freckles," he says, "but I know you've got 24 on your right hand."

My eyes widen in surprise, my cheeks instantly warming. "H-how do you know that?" I stammer, my voice a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

"What do you think I've been doing every time I took your hands and traced my finger across them?" His lips curve into a small smirk, and I can't tell if he's teasing or being completely sincere.

"...Drawing?" I venture, though it comes out more like a question.

That makes him laugh—a soft, genuine laugh that sends a flutter through my chest. "Seriously? You thought I was drawing on your hand?" he asks, shaking his head in amusement.

"Well, I didn't think you were counting freckles," I mumble, feeling the heat in my cheeks intensify.

He laughs again, this time more softly, his smile never wavering. "I'm sorry," he says after a moment, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder. "I shouldn't be laughing. It's just... it's cute that you thought that."

His words catch me off guard, and for a moment, I don't know what to say. I feel my cheeks growing even warmer, and I look away, pretending to focus on the stars.

We sit in comfortable silence for a while, the night wrapping around us like a cocoon. The stars seem to shimmer brighter, their light reflected in Newt's eyes. Despite the restless energy that brought me out here, I find myself feeling oddly calm, as if his presence alone has a grounding effect.
Just as Newt starts to shift, looking like he's about to get up and call it a night, I reach out and lightly grab his arm. "Wait," I say, my voice barely audible over the gentle rustling of the trees. 

He stops, looking at me curiously, his brow furrowing slightly. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat threatening to drown out my courage, but I know I need to say it. "I—" I hesitate, the words caught in my throat. His gaze softens, his honey-colored eyes searching mine with quiet patience. 

I take a shaky breath, forcing myself to continue. "I just... I don't want you to leave yet. I... I like this—being here with you." My cheeks burn, and I look down at the grass, afraid to see his reaction. "You make me feel... safe. Like, no matter how crazy things get, you're the one person I can count on. And I—I think I feel more than that for you," I finish, my voice trailing off into the night.

Newt doesn't say anything for a moment, and the silence feels heavier than the night around us. I dare to glance up at him, expecting confusion or awkwardness, maybe even rejection, but instead, I find him smiling—a soft, almost shy smile that makes my heart skip a beat.

"You mean that?" he asks quietly, his voice warm and steady, yet there's something more in his tone—something hopeful.

I nod, my chest tightening. "Yeah," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "I mean it."

He shifts slightly, turning to face me fully. For the first time, his eyes meet mine, and they hold something I can't quite decipher—something deeper, more intense. "You know," he begins softly, his voice low, "you're not the only one who feels that way."

My breath catches, and my eyes widen. "Wait... what?"

Newt chuckles lightly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "I've felt it for a while now," he admits, his voice trembling just slightly. "Every time you laugh, or when you call me 'Lizard' in that cheeky way, or when you sit with me like this... I've wanted to tell you. I just didn't know if you felt the same. Didn't want to ruin what we already have."

His words wash over me like a wave, leaving me stunned but in the best way. My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest, and I realize I'm grinning like an idiot.

"You're ridiculous," I tease softly, my voice shaking slightly. "But maybe I don't mind it so much."

He laughs quietly, his gaze dropping for a moment before finding mine again. Slowly, he reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against mine. I feel my pulse quicken as his hand shifts to cradle my cheek, his thumb tracing an almost imperceptible line along my skin.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. The stars above us blur into the background, and it's just him, his golden-brown eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away.

"Can I...?" he whispers, his voice barely audible.

I know what he's asking. My heart is pounding so hard it's a wonder he can't hear it, but I manage to nod, unable to find the words.

Newt leans in slowly, his movements careful, almost hesitant, as if he's afraid the moment might break. His face is so close now that I can feel his breath against my lips. Then, finally, he closes the distance, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that is soft, tender, and full of unspoken emotions.

The world melts away. For those few precious seconds, nothing else matters—no Glade, no WICKED, no worries. It's just him and me, and it feels like everything I never knew I needed.

When we pull back, his forehead rests lightly against mine, and his smile is so warm, so full of affection, that I can't help but smile back.

"Guess that makes two ridiculous people, then," he murmurs, his voice laced with quiet humor and something far deeper.

"Yeah," I whisper, my cheeks burning as I chuckle softly. "Guess it does."

We stay like that for a moment longer, our hands intertwined, the stars above us casting their quiet light over the Glade. Eventually, Newt sighs softly, the warmth of the moment still lingering in his expression.

"Alright, I really should try to sleep now," he says reluctantly, standing and holding out a hand to help me up.

I take it, and as we walk back toward the sleeping areas, my heart feels lighter than it has in a long time.

"Night, love," he says when we part ways, his usual nickname for me carrying a whole new meaning now.

"Night, Lizard," I reply, my voice soft and full of warmth, knowing that tonight has changed everything between us.