𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔰𝔱 // 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘵 𝘹 𝘺/𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺

chapter one: the 'end'

                                                                                       YOUR POV

The sky is pitch black, with a small burst of moonlight peeking through the thick, grey clouds. Newt is a few steps behind, slowing my speed as our hands intertwine. His wrists are so thin and bony. Ever since he got the Flare he's been deteriorating, getting weak, losing weight. Not to mention the black veins that spread across his body like a horrible paint. I can hear his shaky breaths, and how his body shakes with each cough. "Newt..?" "I-I'm fine, Y/N... really..." he coughs. Before I know it, his knees buckle, and I need to scoop him into my arms before he can hit the harsh concrete floor. "You should've told me you were getting tired." I say, gently stroking the hair out of his eyes. "I'm fine. Seriously, love. I'm fine." He gets to his feet, coughing out a dangerous amount of black liquid, leaning against a wall, but before I can stop it, he's slammed me into the same wall.

"Newt, snap out of it!" I gasp as he has the knife pressed into my chest, my hands pushing his away from my chest, the tip of the knife slowly dipping into my flesh. He makes a bizarre, animalistic growl as I finally push him off, my body shaking with something I can only describe as true terror. Newt has his head pressed into his knees, almost as if he's at war with his own mind. "Newt-" "Leave! Go away! I'll hurt you.." he yells breathlessly. My fingers clasp around the knife clutched in his hand, and I pull it out of his grasp. "Please, Y/N, please..." he pleads, lifting his head, his eyes expressionless voids of pitch black, the dull streetlight reflecting off of them. "I-I can't kill you, Newt..." I murmur. "Put me out of this, I can't hurt you again, love..." his voice wavers, laden with pain and hurt. "Come here..." I whisper, pulling him into my arms, my head resting on his shoulder. "I love you, Y/N.." Newt says softly, his hand reaching to brush my cheek before he goes limp in my arms. I look down. I look down at the knife he plunged into his stomach.

An instant wave of grief crashes into me. His eyes flutter shut, a final dribble of black ooze leaving his mouth, passing his black lips. "Newt..." I whisper as the pain he had is now transferred onto me. Never in a million years would I think I'd loose him. I was too hopeful to see what was coming. I was too convinced there was some shucking cure I didn't see what was right in front of me. And that cost Newt his life. My best friend, my boyfriend, my love, my world. And it's my fault he's gone. I pull him to my chest, crying into his neck. "You didn't deserve that... you don't deserve any of this..." I mutter into him. They say hearing is the last sense you loose before you die, and I want him to feel comforted. Maybe even at ease before he goes.

My hand is still tightly intertwined in his. He used his last trembling grasps of sanity to kill himself. To keep me safe. I can't accept that he's gone. My Newt, lost in the eternity of death. I wonder if he thought about me as he was going, as I held his dying form. I'm still holding him, dreading the moment I'll have to let go.

Brenda finally returns, without the cure we didn't even know whether or not existed. She has a sheet of paper tightly clutched in her sweaty hands. "It's too late..." I whisper, not even looking up from Newt's pale face. The angry black veins on his face contrasting the papery whiteness of his skin. "Y/N.. I'm so sorry.." she croaks, tears beginning to well in her own eyes. Everybody loved Newt. Sometimes I think that WICKED called him 'The Glue' not just because he held us all together, but also because everyone got really attached to him really quickly. Now my glue has dried up...

My fingers gently brush through his thick, fluffy blonde hair, some of it sticking to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. His hands are slowly going cold, his fingertips stiff around mine. Seventeen is too young for the grave, at least in my mind. The world is a cruel, cruel place. A cruel place where I will have to live the rest of my life without my love.

"Y-Y/N.." Brenda begins, kneeling beside me. Her voice is soft, gentle. Afraid I'll break at any moment. I'm trying to hold myself together. "There's something we can do.. well you can do." "Really?" I whisper slowly looking up from Newt. "You're immune, correct?" "Yeah.. I think so.." She glances down at the paper. "I found some sort of recipe for a cure in the WICKED building. You need immune blood and some enzyme, which I got a hold of. All we really need is blood." "Are you sure this will work? There's no way in hell you're qualified." I bite back my tears. I can't let them fall. "He's practically dead already." She says, a little harshly as my finger feels at the minuscule pulse beneath the black veins, as if the virus is fighting to keep the monster it created alive. A lone tears falls. "Fine... anything for him." I whisper, my voice cracking. I hear my heartbeat in my ears, the wound in my chest pulsing in beats of agony. Every time my heart beats, it causes a fresh wave of hurt into me. The grief of loosing Newt can't be helping me either. I already know I'll never get over him. Ever. And that's what hurts.

I feel myself slowly easing out of consciousness as the blood is drawn from my arm. I've already lost a lot of blood from when Newt stabbed me, but is there really a point of living if it won't be with him? Colourful blotches frame my vision, kind of like a migraine. Newt used to get migraines... but Newt isn't here... My breathing slows, images of Newt flashing through my mind. How he'd hold my hand, stroke my hair, always keep his eye on me. How we'd work on the gardens in the Glade together. Maybe I'm dying too. Maybe I'll be just like him. Lost in forever. Or maybe I'll meet him. My hand is still tightly clutching his. I let out one final, shuddering breath, and then everything goes black.