Smoke and Mirrors | Newt x Male OC

Chapter 11

Wire stomped through the forest, his face hot with a mixture of tears and anger. He kicked at loose roots, grunting as his foot connected with a solid stump, causing him to stumble forward. The teen just managed to catch his weight, righting himself. Where he was going, or what he was doing, he had no clue, but he needed space. The cloud of gloom that had settled over the Glade in the last few weeks was suffocating.

No discoveries in the Maze, plus Newt still being bed-bound led to a lot of hot tempers and rowdy teenage boys. The amount of spot-fires Wire had had to put out, was insufferable.

Wire still hadn't gone back to talk to Newt since the hurt boy had pushed him away. At first, he was too mad, every time the boy was brought up, Wire could feel the anger growing closer to bubbling over, but eventually, it morphed into guilt. Guilt for not sticking it out with Newt, guilt for not seeing what was going on, guilt for everything. And just a general state of confusion.

He groaned and leaned his forehead on a mossy tree, his head a tumultuous sea of mixed feelings. He missed Newt, so much, but it had been weeks. What if he didn't want to see Wire? Or if what Newt had said was true... if he really didn't need or want Wire around... The boy wiped his eyes angrily. No. He refused to believe that. After all, they had been through...

Wire clenched his fists, pacing in a circle for a moment, a lump forming in his throat. But maybe Newt hated him this whole time. Maybe Wire had just been an annoying little tick following him around? What if he hated him? Crap.

Wire's fist shot out and connected with a nearby tree, hard. The teen let out a yelp of pain, shaking out his hand and wincing. But he had to admit the solid thunk was kinda satisfying. Wire groaned, holding his sore fist carefully. At least the pain had helped stop his downward spiral, clearing the boy's mind for the moment.

He swallowed, starting to pick his way back to the Glade, wiping his red eyes and swallowing. Wire cleared his throat as he stepped out of the forest, pausing for a moment to study the clearing. It had come so far since Wire had woken up in that box. Almost two years now... It was so hard to believe. The Homestead was constantly growing and evolving, it had almost tripled in size since they started.

Wire's eyes followed the Maze walls, eventually landing on the open doors. Almost nothing was visible past those massive stone slabs, obscuring whatever was out there.

The teen sighed, and strode out of the woods, heading towards the kitchen. He gave a few nods of acknowledgement to the Gladers on his way, and ducked into the building.

A quick glance around the room proved it to be empty, Frypan must be out in the garden or chatting with someone. Dinner was still a few hours away, so the chef was probably taking a break, and for that Wire was thankful. He quickly rummaged through the chest of drawers against the wall, knowing that was where Fry tended to keep a spare set of bandages incase of emergency. Wire smiled when he found the fabric, deftly wrapping a roll around his hand and knuckles, hoping it wasn't infected.

'Wire?' A voice sounded from the entrance. It was Frypan. Wire quickly hid his bandaged hand behind his back, and plastered on a smile.

'Hey Fry-' He cleared his throat, shifting his weight back and forth slowly.

'...What's up?' Frypan asked, hesitantly, his eyes following the boy's hand. Wire slipped the wounded hand into his pocket.

'The sky.' Was Wires reply, his tone dry and sarcastic.

'Haha. Very funny.' Frypan was not impressed. The chef paused for a moment, then shrugged, deciding it wasn't worth pursuing. 'Want some jerky?' He held a stick of beef jerky toward Wire, which the boy gratefully accepted. The pair chewed on their snacks for a minute, and Wire leant against the kitchen bench.

'Hey Fry?' Wire asked, and the chef gave a grunt in response. 'Can I ask you a question?'

'You just did.' Frypan grumbled around his jerky, but nodded in affirmation.

'I, uh, with everything happening with Newt, and all that-' He cleared his throat. 'Do you think he's gonna be okay? Y'know, mentally?'

These concerns had been on Wires mind for the last few weeks, was he going to try again? What if he never left his cramped, dark, room in the Homestead? Now he had finally managed to voice his fears out loud, he realised how stupid they sounded. This was Newt they were talking about. The strongest, bravest, most resourceful of the Gladers. Though not as loud about it as some, he wasn't going to give up that easily. The look on Frypans face said it all.

'You're kidding, right?' Wire huffed a laugh at Fry's response. 'Newt's gonna be fine Wire. 'course it's gonna take some mendin', but he'll pull through. I know that for sure.' The chef nodded, taking another bite of his jerky. 'That boy's as bright as the sun, gotta be one of the smartest klunks in this wretched place.'

Wire nodded, staring out the window as he mulled over Frypans words. He understood what he was saying, of course he did, but it was still confusing. Wire could barley keep his own mind in check, let alone worry about Newts.

'You've gotta make up with him, you know that, right? Whatever argument you two had, i'm sure it really ain't that deep. Plus it's makin' the rest of the Galders loose their shits.' Frypan continued, as he began reaching for various ingredients in his kitchen.

Wire huffed a laugh, glancing down at his entangled hands. 'I dunno Fry-'

The chef rolled his eyes 'Oh come off it- you know what you gotta do. Now get out, unless you wanna help make dinner?' Frypan raised an eyebrow, already chopping up onions at inhuman speeds. Wire shook his head immediately, beginning to back out of the door.

'You and I both know that that ain't a good idea, after what happened last time.'

An image of pots bubbling over, and flames appearing from pans crossed Wire's mind and he grimaced at the memory.

Frypans eyes widened and he nodded. 'You're right, get outta here shank.' He waved the knife in Wire's direction and shoed him out the door. Wire laughed and ducked though the doorframe, waving goodbye.

Wire sighed, pausing as he exited the building. A sense of clarity washed over him, partly from the conversation, partly from the fresh air. Frypan was right, he needed to talk to Newt. It was just getting sad at this point. Wire's own insecurities were getting in the way and that was the last thing he wanted.

He stretched for a moment, glancing around the Glade. The Runners were beginning to return from their days, and the sounds of Gladers working were beginning to shift into shouts of laughter and boys nocking off for the evening. Winter was fast approaching, and the sun was travelling lower and lower in sky.

Wire winced as his wounded knuckles brushed against his pockets, reminding him of the task at hand. Newt. From what he had heard, the boy had been struggling to get out of bed. Clint had placed his leg in a splint and it was healing, but slowly.

Wire started slowly toward the Homestead, his heart beginning to beat faster the closer he neared Newt's room. The window two stories up was lit, so it was safe to assume that Newt was awake. Wire began to head up the stairs, hoping to god Alby or Clint weren't in Newt's room with him. The boy wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, pausing at Newt's door. He sucked in a breath and reached a fist up, preparing himself for the conversation to come.

a/n - what? i actually updated this? holy shit :0