blind | newtmas | -discontinued.

chapter three

[a/n]
just a quick note ~

thanks to everyone who's reading my story! i wasn't quite sure how people would like this story, since I didn't think the idea was interesting but i guess it is, so thanks!

(p.s Thomas is coming soon, yay)

~ lexi

• • •

It had been three years now, since Newt's arrival to his 'home. He's constantly tired now, his spirit being crushed quickly by the Glade. Nowadays, he's more surprised how time could pass by so quickly and slowly at the same time, rather than the mystery of where he was. The thing was, he's learned the hard way.

He's made good friends though, made a family with the boys who were trapped with him. Alby, and Minho were like brothers to him, and they felt the same way. The two boys looked over Newt, watching the blonde boy from a distance, making sure he was safe at all times. And although the blind boy couldn't see their protective glances, he knew, he knew the worry they felt for him. All the other Gladers felt the same way too. They didn't project it, but they all collectively cared for Newt, as if he was a young brother.

But the thing was, he wasn't just the 'younger brother'. He was strong, quick and smarter than the rest of them. Devoid of the fact that he couldn't see, he could do everything that any regular person could. The Gladers also saw this too, and made him second in command, after Alby. He knew just as much as everyone else about the Glade, even if he couldn't see it, he even knew about what was out there in the Maze.

"New greenie today," Gally mutters next to him. The boy wears a permanent frown on his face, he's big and muscular, and most of the other boys are scared of him, except Newt. To Newt, he's friendly, nice and held back.

Newt nods. "That's shucking fantastic," he says sarcastically, "we need more useful shanks around here."

"Unlike you." He retorts, sarcastically, of course.

He whacks Gally with his cane in response. "Shut up you little shank."

Gally smiles secretly to himself, and shakes his head. He opens his mouth to say something, but its interrupted by a screaming bell. It rings loudly across the Glade, making every boy stop what they were doing and turn into the center of the land.

"Speak of the bloody devil," Newt says, "you go ahead, I'll catch up."

The boy next to him nods, and goes running down the fields, along with every Glader. Newt, sighs, and walks slowly towards the box, swinging his cane with his steps, tongue clicking along too. He's learned to get around the Glade. It was hard at first though, since the place was so open, but he counts his steps in his head, and has a solid idea of where everything was.

Newt hears sudden shouts coming from the distance and he frowns. He quickens his pace, cane swinging rapidly, and tongue clicking faster, as if he were listening to an upbeat song.

"We've got a runner!" He hears someone yell.

Before he could fully comprehend what they had said, he feels something crash hard into his side, knocking him hard onto the floor. Newt lands with a hard thud, skin grazing by the sharp pebbles on the ground. He hears something crack beside him. He starts to panic instantly. He's been turned around, he doesn't know what direction he's facing, and his cane has been knocked out of his hand. It was the first time in a while that Newt had felt lost.

The Gladers watching from afar all gasp instantly, hearts stopping. In seconds they're dashing towards Newt.

He doesn't even try to get up. He can hear the quick, uneven breaths of the boy next to him, but he doesn't say anything. He just lets the panic wash over him, as if he was floating carefully on the waves of a sea.