Maze Runner Imagines

Miscommunication P.t 2

"Oh, Minho! Thank God!"

You'd never been gladder to see his face. The party had thinned to about twenty people (all with hangovers), and Newt was still unconscious. You'd dragged him to the side and sat on a couch, pulling his head onto your lap.

"What happened to that shank?" he asks.

"He drank some drink the guy at the door offered us," you sigh.

Just as you say this, Newt begins to stir.

"Y/N?" he groans, and for a moment he looks so innocent that you can't stop the butterflies from filling your stomach.

But just as quickly as it came, the look is covered by the look he always gave you, and he sat up abruptly.

"How'd you find us?" you ask, trying to hide your hurt.

"We, ah, didn't mean to," Minho responds sheepishly. "Frypan spotted some Crank pull a gun on Thomas and Brenda and reported it back to us. We had no idea the two of you were here,"

"Good to know," you say sarcastically.

"Ah, Y/N. You might want to wake Newt up a bit there," Frypan interrupts.

You look behind you to see Newt stumbling about.

You look over at the bar and spot a jug of water. You quickly grab it and throw it over Newt's head. He spins around, glaring at you.

"Awake now?" you ask.

"We think Thomas and Brenda may be down in the basement," Jorge says, interrupting yours and Newt's staring contest.

"Well, how are we going to get down there?"

That question was the starting point to the plan. It was how you ended up holding a knife to the head of one of the drunken Cranks while Minho went to retrieve Thomas and Brenda.

It took him a while, but they finally emerged. A fair few comments were thrown in his direction from the Gladers, including Newt. Seeing him interact with Thomas made you think that maybe he was as nice as everybody said.

You made your way back into the alley, and you could hear the others making plans to run for it. None of those plans mattered in the end, because they were interrupted by a loud screeching voice.

"Hey!" you turned back around, barely registering the sight of a crazy-looking guy baring a gun, before a shot was fired, piercing Thomas in the shoulder.

-

You only looked up when Newt walked out. Or stormed out, to be more accurate.

It was sudden – you'd all been quiet for ages. He had no reason to be angry.

"What's with him?" Minho asks the question burning everybody's mind.

"I'll go find out," you say, standing up and stepping away.

It was twilight now – the sun had just set and you were left with a tiny amount of light left.

Newt stood a few yards away.

"Hi," is all you can manage to say when you reach him.

"What do you want?" he growls.

"To see if you're okay. But if you're acting like that, I know you are, so I'm just going to go,"

"Yeah, I always act like this – but did it ever cross your mind that I might not actually be fine?"

"Of course it did – at first. But then you acted like this all the time! I figured it was just some kind of...reaction to me!" you exclaim, turning around.

"Of course it's a reaction to you – because when I'm around you, I'm never okay!"

"Of course you're not okay – you obviously hate me!"

"No. I don't hate you," he groans.

"Really, because you act like you do. All the shucking time. And you know what –"

You don't get the chance to finish, however, because Newt's lips cover yours, stifling the words that were tumbling out of your mouth.

You don't think about it, you simply reach your hands up and run them through his hair, bringing your waist to his. He keeps one hand on the side of your face as the over moves to your waist, and he somehow makes the kiss deeper – a feat you didn't know what manageable. You didn't want to think about the consequences of the kiss.

You didn't want to think about all of the violence, about the fate of this world, of all that had been done to you. You didn't want to think about where Teresa might be or what was happening to Thomas or the virus that was slowly eating your brain.

All you wanted to think about was being with Newt – something you had wanted for so long. But of course, human bodies require air after a certain period of time, so you eventually had to break the kiss, pulling back ever so slightly so your hands were still in his hair and his hand was still on your waist.

The aftermath leaves you slightly dizzy, and you figure it's from a lack of oxygen. But oxygen comes with a flood of thoughts and questions burning in your mind, and you know they have to be answered.

"What was that?" you ask quietly.

Wrong question. Newt pulls away quickly, turning around and scratching the back of his neck. You immediately miss his sense of warmth – the first sign of kindness he'd actually shown you.

"But...you don't like me," is all you can muster.

"Of course I don't like you," Newt says, and your heart droops. He turns around, looking you in the eye. "Y/N, I love you,"

"That's absolute klunk. Is this some kind of joke? You're never anything but rude to me,"

"I know, I'm an idiot,"

"I don't understand!" you say, a whiplash of emotions beginning to effect you.

"Y/N," Newt says, a pained expression crossing his face. "The only reason I...act that way is to hide the way I feel about you,"

"Why would you do that?"

"Fear of rejection," Newt smiles sadly. "And I was right to, love. You rejected me today,"

"When?" you ask, frowning.

"At that party,"

"That was...different. There was so much happening and no time..."

Newt's eyes are downcast and his feet kick at the ground. He seems...sad.

"Hey," you say softly, taking a step towards him. You grab his wrist and tilt his chin so you can look into his face, but his eyes avoid yours. "There's time now,"

His eyes flicker upwards, and you close the space between you again. The kiss is sweeter this time, less urgent. You hook your arms around his neck and he puts both hands on your waist. You pull apart.

"You know what?" you say quietly, your arms still around his neck. You pull closer again, leaning to his ear. "I love you, too,"

You don't kiss this time, instead holding him in a tight embrace.

"What are we going to do?" Newt asks after a long silence.

You bite you lip.

"I don't know,"