The Other Side - A Newt Fanfiction

Chapter Thirty Five: Unspoken, Breathless Yearning

{Warning: The following chapter contains minor suicidal content. Proceed with caution.}

"That was shucking crazy of you, (y/n)." Minho mumbles as he strides towards me, breaking me out of my daze on the group of kids sitting silently in the chairs along the Berg walls and taking a seat beside me on the floor, leaning back against the right wall of the Berg. Sighing contently as he leans back against the wall, he hands me a steel container of water before opening his own and taking a swig.
I manage to laugh weakly, taking a sip of my water. I sigh in relief as the cold liquid soothes my torn up throat. "Thanks, Minho..."
"Don't mention it." He chuckles softly as turns his head to me, smiling warmly.
I flicker my eyes to the little dimple in his cheek, and I can't help but smile in return. "It's really good to have you back."
"It's good to be back." He says as he looks forward and takes another sip of his water.
I avert my eyes to the door across the room where I can hear Vince, Brenda, and Fry murmuring to one another from within the compartment where they took, both unconscious, Thomas and Teresa. I take a drink from my own water, a satisfactory sigh following shortly after.
"You know, I really should be thanking you." Minho admits.
Furrowing my brows together, I return my attention to the masculine boy. "Why do you say that?"
"Because you saved Newt." He mumbles simply, shifting his brown eyes to me, head resting back against the sleek, steel surface of the Berg. "I know how Newt is, and, with what I was last hearing from him, 'leave me behind, leave me behind'," he pauses, inhaling deeply, "I wouldn't have had to ask if that shank tried to kill himself. I knew he did before you said so."
Frowning slightly as I keep eye contact with Minho, I nod. "He told me about his incident back in your Maze."
Minho lifts a brow, tilting his head slightly to the side. "He did?"
I nod again.
"Man..." He sits up a little taller, a small smile tugging on his lips. "He's gotten so much stronger overtime..." He mumbles proudly.
A weak smile tugs on the right corner of my lips as I stare at Minho. "He definitely has..."
"And you've only seen a fraction of that growth." He mumbles, returning the glance with a soft huff of a laugh. "When he jumped, I honestly did not think he would make it out of the Maze alive." He confesses, shifting his eyes ahead in a daze, seeming to be looking through a window into the past. "I had found him on the cold, cement ground, similarly to how he was when you knocked him unconscious in the city." He begins. "He hadn't blacked out then. He was squirming weakly on the ground, crying out with every move he made, tangled up in the vines that he had managed to tear down with him amidst the fall..." He sighs heavily, looking down at the bottle in his hands as he runs his right thumb around the brim. "He was banged up pretty bad. I remember thinking that the shank landed on his head, at first, because blood was running down from his hairline and to his right brow, but, luckily, that wasn't the case.
"It wasn't until I tried to untangle him from the vines that I had realized that his leg was completely mangled." He takes a drink from his water before taking another deep breath through his nose and sighing softly. "I wish I could say I was surprised to find him like that, but, unfortunately, I knew something had been going on with him for a while.
"One time, I caught him hurting himself, and, although I stopped him, I just pretended like nothing was wrong after that..." A frown tugs the corners of his lips downward. "I told myself that the problem wasn't mine, and it would probably fade if I just left it alone." He scoffs lightly. "Boy, was I shucking wrong..." He mutters, taking another swig from his water. I can hear him swallowing the cool liquid down. As he lowers the steel bottle, he clears his throat. "After I had got him unwrapped, I carried him back to the Glade, and I swore that I would never let Newt out of my sight again." He shifts his soft brown eyes to me, a weak, forced smile tugging on the left corner of his lips. "He was so broken down, to the point where I had to fight him to stay alive, but, now... Now that shuck-face has saved me," he chuckles softly before adding, "and you saved him."
As he returns his attention to the door across the room, I smile warmly, looking down at my water in my hands, but it quickly fades at the thought of Newt, worry beginning to coil around my heart like a snake. "I think I'm going to go check on him." I mumble, slowly rising to my feet with the wall for support.
He nods. "Good that. I'd take some of that Serum with you. Give him a second dose while you're at it." He says as he reaches into his pocket and tosses me a little blue vial.
Catching it and examining the glass in my hands, I furrow my brows together. "How did you-"
"I knew you'd check on him, so I took one from the pouch when I got us water."
A grin stretching across my face, I nod in thanks before carefully walking along the wall I was leaning against to the door of the compartment Newt is in. I stand in front of the door, hesitantly resting my hand on the handle.
Feeling a pair of eyes on me, I slowly turn my head to the source: the brunette kid sitting in his seat quietly, hands folded on his lap.
"Are you feeling any better?" He asks quietly.
Smiling reassuringly, I huff a soft laugh under my breath as I nod subtly before shifting my attention to the door again. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply before slowly pushing the door open.
I step into the small, steel room, spotting Newt curled up on his left side atop of the small, steel cot, a lone chair beside it, his hands nestled beneath his bandaged head.
Biting my lip, I silently walk towards the cot, turning the chair to face the bed and quietly taking a seat. I purse my lips tightly together, staring at Newt in silence.
His veins remain visible throughout his face, but they are not as extreme as they were earlier, and the black blood has been cleaned from his chin and neck. His blonde hair that is not beneath bandaging falls in strands in front of his eyes.
Licking my lips nervously, I slowly reach my hand out towards his face, gently brushing his hair out of his eyes.
He makes a small, sudden movement, causing the breath to hitch in my throat, but he merely nestles his head against my hand.
Heart melting, I manage to smile weakly as I brush my thumb along his cheek. "Everything is going to be okay..." I whisper gently, sure of it this time, before softly gliding my hand to his left arm and pulling it out towards me with my left hand, my right cautiously rolling up the sleeve of his WICKED jacket. Once his lower arm is completely exposed, I let his arm rest over the edge of the bed, taking the vial of Serum in both of my hands. I carefully unscrew the lid, exposing a very tiny, almost microscopic, needle at the end of the glass.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, I grasp his wrist with my bandaged left hand, lifting his arm towards me. I slowly bring the needle to his arm with my right hand, nervously flickering my eyes to Newt's sleeping face. Inhaling deeply through my nose, I slowly inject the Bliss into his arm.
He takes in a deep breath through his nose in satisfaction as the blue liquid flows into his bloodstream, but he does not wake.
Removing the empty vial, I screw the small lid back on before sliding it into my pocket. I lock my eyes onto Newt as I slowly rise to my feet.
I can hear his faint, rhythmical breaths while he slumbers, his expression displaying pure relief.
I bite my lip as I feel the tears of joy swelling up in my eyes. I'm so happy that he's alive and breathing. Out of complete natural instinct, I slowly lean forward and press my lips against his forehead, closing my eyes as I plant the tenderhearted kiss on his skin. Pulling away, I gently brush his hair back once more before standing upright and quietly walking out of the room.
• • •
An hour, maybe two, passes of the long, fairly quiet flight.
"There we go." Brenda says, smiling warmly as she finishes wrapping my head with a new roll of clean bandaging.
I grin up at her. "Thanks." I mumble softly, patting the messy bun on top of my head.
"I figured you wouldn't want you hair sticking to you uncomfortably. I mean, that's why I would cut mine so short." She laughs lightly.
I rise to my feet, giggling softly. "Good that." I reply, putting my hands on my hips.
"Hermanos!" Jorge calls over his shoulder from the front of the Berg. "I think you're going to want to look out the window."
Shooting Brenda a puzzled glance as the others quietly rise to their feet, I rush to the front of the Berg in response to the man's comment, standing behind Jorge and resting my hand on the back of his seat. Examining the ground below in the dark of night, I gasp as soon as I spot the vast stretch of ocean glistening in the moonlight. I can see the lights from the Right Arm camp just along the shoreline.
The others squeeze in from behind, excitement swelling up at a rapid pace as our group and all of the rescued teens huddle together in the front end of the Berg, taking in the scene in awe.
I can hear the kids murmuring to one another in excitement.
"Never thought I'd see the ocean." Gally mumbles in disbelief, gaping slightly at the sight.
Chuckling softly, Minho pats his back, smirking at the boy who he had supposedly killed. "Neither did I, shuck-face."
I see Gally return the small smile to Minho in my peripherals.
"I don't know about you guys," Fry says, averting his eyes to each of us as a wide grin stretches across his face, "but I am definitely ready to have a nice, warm meal to fill my stomach."
"You can say that again." Brenda mutters with a soft laugh under her breath, resting a hand on her stomach.
Vince smiles even wider as he eyes the massive ship beside the dock. "Looks like they're ready for us." He says.
I can't help but stare at the beach in complete awe, heart fluttering with upmost joy. We're finally back.
However, a strange movement from below catches my eyes, and I draw my brows together, leaning closer to the window and squinting my eyes to get a better look. "Is that...?"
There seems to be a large huddle of people sprinting along the shore far below, resembling a stampede of ants.
"Everybody's running our way!" Fry exclaims, chuckling wholeheartedly.
My face lights up at the thought.
Within a matter of minutes, Jorge lands the Berg just behind the camp grounds- well, the buildings that were already there when we discovered the beach, the rest of the camp and supplies are safely packed on the ship, according to Vince.
I hold the wall for support as the aircraft jolts slightly as it touches the sand, and the whirring sound of the propellers begin to soften until they go quiet.
"And we're back." Jorge says contently.
Vince turns to the rest of us. "Jorge and I will handle your friends that are out." He says. "You kids go enjoy the people who have missed you."
"Well, I don't know about you," Minho begins, taking a deep breath, "but I haven't really met much of any of the shanks here, so I'm fine with staying behind to help."
Gally nods. "I don't know anyone either, so I'll help, too."
I turn to Vince, nodding. "I third that in the matters of helping."
He shakes his head. "Minho and Gally can, but not you." He tells me.
"What?" I frown. "Why not?"
"You're forgetting that you've got friends waiting for specifically you." He says, gesturing towards the door as Jorge hits the hatch button on the control panel.
Shifting my eyes towards the hatch door, I watch it slowly lower to the sand, revealing the large group of people waiting for us at the entrance. Three familiar faces are at the front.
"(y/n)?" Aris stutters, jaw dropping.
Sonya and Harriet's faces fall in shock as they lay their eyes on me.
"Guys..." I whisper breathlessly as my face drops in disbelief.
My friends from when this all started.
With a sudden rush of excitement, I squeeze through the huddle of kids and run out of the Berg, charging down the metal hatch door and to the three of them.
"(y/n)!" Sonya exclaims as my three friends charge at me, all quickly wrapping me up in a warm, tight group hug as if I would vanish before their eyes if they did not get a strong enough hold on me.
"I can't believe you're alive!" Sonya smiles, her head over my right shoulder as she hugs me from my front, right side.
Aris, who holds tightly to me from my front, left side, nods in agreement. "We were unsure if we'd ever see you again."
Harriet smiles, her head on my left shoulder as she squeezes me tightly from behind.
As she lifts her head to pull away from the group hug, I turn to see her eyeing the left crook of my neck in concern. "What happened to you?"
Her worry does not hinder the smile stretched across my face. "It's a long story..." I laugh weakly.
The freed hostages slowly trickle out of the Berg, along with Brenda and Fry, who make their way over to some other friends of ours that we've gotten to know over the past six months.
Sonya cups my face between her hands, overwhelmed with relief. "We're just so glad you're back."
I return the grin. "As am I."
"What were you thinking?" Harriet asks, gaining my attention and putting a hand on her hip. "Sneaking off with three boys from a different Maze to go back to WICKED? That's an awfully risky thing to do."
I smile at Harriet, managing to laugh genuinely. "I know. I've changed a lot, haven't I?" I ask.
She laughs lightly to herself, shaking her head. "I can't tell if this extreme-risk-taking you is a good thing or a bad thing."
"Good thing." I reply. "Definitely a good thing."
• • •
Gliding my hand along the railing, I walk up the wooden boarding dock, following the herd of people as we board the ship. I look up at the starry night sky. The sky is so much more beautiful here than in that shucking city full of light pollution.
I step onto the ship, heart skipping a beat with pure excitement the second my foot plants onto the deck. I turn left and make my way along the boat, walking towards the front end of the deck, gently running my left hand along the railing.
As I stride along the side and reach about halfway along the long stretch of boat, I slow to a stop in my tracks, leaning against the steel rails with a sigh of contentment, closing my eyes and taking in a deep breath of the salty air, the cool breeze making the maroon sweater I've borrowed from Brenda flow in waves along my skin like the ocean. The shimmering sea itself seems to wash a sense of peace over me, given that this place was our temporary home for a couple of months.
"Alright, that's the last one!" I hear Vince call, causing me to open my eyes and look towards the boarding spot of the ship to my left, watching he and two other men disconnect the ship from the boarding dock.
"Hey," a familiar voice says just as a strong hand pats my back.
I gasp, quickly turning to my right to see Fry.
"Oops, sorry!" He chuckles. "I didn't mean to startle you."
I giggle softly, shaking my head as I let out an immediate sigh of relief. "You're fine."
He smiles warmly, looking out to the shore as distant shouts indicate that the ship is about to set off. The two of us stand in silence, staring out into the sea and watching the shimmering dance of the moonlight along the waves.
"You know," Fry says, returning his eyes to me, "this boat has a nice dining hall on the second level that the Right Arm definitely finished tidying up nice while we were gone. While most people are heading to their cabins for bed, there's a handful of us heading to the dining hall to eat some delicious greenbeans, potatoes, beans, and bread. All hot and ready to be consumed. You care to join?"
My face lights up over the idea of getting some food into my stomach, and I nod. "Shuck yes."
He grins wider. "Good that." He says, patting my back and turning on his heels, guiding me to the nearest stairs. "The others are already in there, probably getting started on filling their stomachs." Fry explains as we carefully climb the flight, and he leads the way down the long stretch of doors alongside the second level of the ship. "I saw you lingering a bit, so I figured I'd invite you to join us once you were finally on board." He stops at the ninth door that's around the back end of the ship and pushes it open for me. "It's right through here."
Nodding slightly with a grateful smile, I step through the doorway, and my jaw drops as I take in the sight: it is a wide, long room with several large circular tables spread about, each lined with chairs around their circumferences. The flooring is fairly sleek wood, and the walls are covered with, what once was, an elegantly designed wallpaper. Of course, the wallpaper has faded immensely and is torn off in patches along the wall, and the flooring is a bit scuffed here and there, but that's absolutely incredible for something in a post-apocalyptic world such as ours. Little chandeliers dangle from various parts of the ceiling, giving the dining hall a warm, golden glow.
"Hey, look who it is!" Minho calls from the center table, standing on his chair and waving at me as if the room is packed with people when, in reality, the center table is the only occupied one.
"Hey, idiot, we spent months refurbishing this place, don't stand on the furniture." Harriet mutters, grabbing Minho's other arm and yanking him down from his stance on top of his seat.
Minho is definitely back to his usual, snark self.
I laugh lightly to myself, waving back at him as I walk towards the table, Fry following behind.
Around the center table are Minho, Harriet, Sonya, Aris, Gally, and Brenda. My smile hinders slightly as I walk to the group. "The others are not awake yet?" I ask.
"No, but Jorge says we shouldn't worry too much about them." Brenda says as she swallows down the food that was in her mouth. "He and Vince are going to be keeping an eye on each of them. They're all in their cabins for the night."
I nod slowly, huffing a sigh.
"And don't worry, (y/n)," Minho chimes in, "I made sure your cabin is next to Newt's." He smirks, causing Brenda to elbow him in the ribs.
I manage to laugh weakly. "Thanks..."
Frypan slides a chair from another table behind me so that I can sit down.
"Oh, thank you, Fry." I smile gratefully as I take a seat in the chair, scooting up to the table between Aris and Gally.
"No problem." He says kindheartedly. "I'll go get your plate of food." He says, striding across the dining hall to the kitchen door. "Harriet, make sure Minho doesn't touch my food!" He calls back over his shoulder just as he steps out of the room.
"Oh, he won't!" She calls back before giving Minho a death glare as the boy eyes the plate in front of the empty chair between himself and Harriet. I cannot help but laugh given that Minho is doing so whilst scarfing down food from his own plate.
"What?" He asks defensively, his mouth full of food.
"Stop it." Harriet mutters flatly.
"Stop what?"
"Stop staring at his food. You have plenty of your own."
"Hey, I was one of WICKED's hostages for six shucking months. I deserve to feast like a king." He says sassily, picking up his tin cup of water from the table and taking a drink.
Suddenly, the ship jolts to life as we finally set off, causing all of us to nearly fall over in our seats, Minho's water splashing in his face.
He chokes up the water, slamming the cup down on the table as the group bursts into laughter.
"Looks like you got what you deserved, shank." Gally mumbles as he sips from his own cup of water.
Minho wipes his face off with his shirt. "Rude." He mutters, shaking off his shirt and looking across the table at Gally. "How the shuck are you even alive?"
He's still hung up on that.
"A resistance group found me and patched me up." Gally replies simply.
"But how the shuck do they 'patch up' a guy with a spear through his heart?!" Minho exclaims. I can tell that that concept is going to eat at him for the rest of his life.
Gally doesn't say a word. He merely shrugs.
Minho dramatically slams his hand on the table, rising to his feet. "I demand answers!"
"Alright, take it down a notch." Harriet mutters, rolling her eyes.
I clasp my hand over my mouth, beginning to snicker softly.
"Wait, is this a joke?" Aris asks quietly, confused.
"No! It's not! I literally put a spear in this shank's heart!" He exclaims, gesturing towards Gally before exasperatedly plopping back into his chair.
"And yet he's alive?" Sonya distorts her face in confusion as she averts her attention to Gally. "How does that even work?"
Gally, sitting tall, shrugs again. "I guess some questions are meant to be left unanswered." He mumbles, taking another swig of his water.
Minho slams his hand on the table again. "Not this one!" He shouts before repeating those three words in an intense whisper. "Not. This. One."
Clearly enjoying Minho's overwhelming confusion, Gally smirks to himself as he returns to eating his food.
Fry returns to the dining hall from the kitchen. "Dinner is served!" He exclaims, striding past the various tables and setting a full plate of food in front of me.
My mouth immediately begins to water as I examine my neatly arranged plate of food. Picking up a fork, I immediately dive into the potatoes. "Mmmmm," I close my eyes, taking in the delicious taste. Covering my mouth, I mumble with my mouth full of food, "Thanks, Fry."
"No problem at all, (y/n)." He says happily, taking a seat between Minho and Harriet.
Just as Frypan scoots his chair forward, Minho, with one swift movement of his arm, scoops up one of Fry's bread rolls and shoves it into his mouth.
"Hey!" Fry exclaims.
Minho bursts into a fit of childish giggles that are muffled by the bread in his mouth, but his laughing stops when Harriet, with just as much of a swift, single movement, reaches around Fry and swats Minho on the back of the head.
• • •
Leaning against the railing along the edge of the bottom outer level of the ship, I close my eyes, inhaling deeply through my nose, taking in the scent of the salty ocean air, feeling the ocean carrying the ship over its rhythmical waves.
The cold breeze sends a shiver down my spine, and I pull the sleeves of my maroon sweater over my hands, the yarn material slipping off of my bandaged shoulder.
My nose feels the gentle kiss of the breeze as it had felt the night I had caught Frypan and Newt plotting to sneak out of the camp with Thomas, and the wind brushes through my hair that's bundled up atop of my head.
Opening my eyes, I stare off into the horizon, watching the glowing pale reflection of the moon shimmer along the dark ocean waves.
Sitting out here, alone with my thoughts, now that the others have gone to their cabins for the night, I can't help but feel confused, unsure of how I should be emotionally. Should I be happy now that it's all over? Should I be broken over the lives that were lost in order for us to get here? Should I be angry at WICKED and everyone involved? Should I feel nothing at all?
My teeth chatter a little, and, as I shiver again, I wrap my arms around myself, rubbing my upper arms to create a fragment of warmth.
"Isn't it too cold to be out here without a coat?" A familiar, thickly accented voice asks.
Breath hitching in my throat, I slowly turn around, laying my eyes on a lean, tall, blonde boy dressed in a dark grey shirt, maroon jacket with the collar up, and some brown pants, his head wrapped in clean bandaging. Standing in the doorway of one of the cabins behind, he stares at me with his clear, big, brown eyes, a small smile tugging on the right corner of his lips for a moment before disappearing as his expression shifts to that of awe-filled yearning, his facial expression the personification of desperation.
My jaw dropping slightly, I stutter in disbelief, so softly that it's nearly impossible to hear, "N-Newt?"
"(y/n)..." He whispers breathlessly.
When I had pictured this moment, I thought that I would run to Newt, cling to him tightly, and kiss him as if we were the only two beings in existence, but this, what I'm feeling, is far more complex, far more beautiful, than mere excitement. This desperate longing is one that leaves you speechless and takes your breath away, making it feel impossible to move, let alone breathe, when all you want to do is charge toward your beloved and spend every waking moment telling them how much you love them.
This is far more magnificent, far more tense, staring into one another's eyes while standing out of arms' reach.
Newt is the first to make a single movement, and he steadily limps towards me.
I can feel the restlessness radiating off of him, yet he maintains a slow pace, stopping in his tracks once his body is merely inches from my own.
Staring up at him, I feel entrapped in upmost anticipation, pleading to know what is going to happen.
His doe eyes display a gentle flicker of coveting, as if the only thing he has ever desired in life is in my eyes. With his tender hands, Newt leans down towards me and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into a warm embrace. He buries his face in the right crook of my neck, squeezing me tightly, as if holding on for dear life.
Tears of relief beginning to swell in my eyes, I slowly wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing my eyes shut as I hold him intimately, never wanting to let go of him.
And to think that I could have been holding his cold, lifeless body if I had moved a mere second later.
The mosaic is completely flawless, as if there had never been a scratch. In fact, the colors are far more vibrant than they have ever been, and golden rays of sunlight illuminate its beautiful glass parts.
Newt turns his head just enough to plant a tenderhearted kiss on my cheek, and I can feel a couple droplets of warm tears fall onto my shoulder as he buries his face in the crook of my neck, once again.
Sniffling as the tears begin to flow from my own eyes, I squeeze Newt even tighter, muffling my cries in his shoulder as he lifts me off of the ground, clinging to me desperately.
Minutes pass, and Newt eventually allows my feet to return to the wooden deck of the ship.
Pulling away just enough to look Newt in the eyes, I cup his face in my hands, brushing his tears from his cheeks with my thumbs. His skin, although it is pale, has much more color than it had a matter of hours ago. The only trace of veins that remain are faint little branches on his jaw. The Serum's working, but how long until he needs another dosage?
"I thought I'd never see you again..." I whisper softly, staring into his warm, glossy eyes.
He manages to laugh weakly, sniffling as he holds my waist even tighter. "Same goes for you..." The small smile that I thought would never return tugs on the right corner of his lips as he stares into my eyes, peering into my soul.
I don't need to speak. I'm content just by brushing his skin with my thumbs and examining every minuscule detail of his face.
Trailing his watery eyes to my lips, Newt slowly and steadily leans in.
I feel my heart begin to pound against my chest, and, closing my eyes, I pull myself closer to Newt.
Feeling his warm, tingly breaths from his parted lips upon my own as he inches closer, I am overwhelmed with impatient yearning, and, suddenly, I pull myself to Newt, pressing my lips against his without any further waiting.
I can feel him smile slightly against my lips, and, as he returns the kiss, a sensation of wholehearted contentment in its purest form swells up inside of me.
He deepens the kiss, pulling me as closely as possible against him.
His lips are soft and sweet and warm, and they feel as if they were made for my own, as if destined to be together from the start.
Slowly pulling away, our foreheads, however, remaining pressed together, I can feel his tingling kiss lingering upon my lips, and I open my eyes to meet with his, smiling weakly.
He returns the warm grin, not saying a single word.
Moments pass while we merely stare into each other's eyes, examining every faint line and pattern in the other's irises.
"How are you feeling?" I ask, pulling my face back enough to examine the bandaging on his head.
He chuckles softly, lifting a brow as he inhales deeply, attempting to find the correct words to say. "Well, my head probably feels the same as yours." He begins, grinning. "You might have given me a bit of a concussion, but, I mean, if I experience any memory loss, it won't be the first."
I huff a soft laugh under my breath, cupping his face again. "I'm sorry about that."
He shrugs slightly. "I'll forgive you eventually." He jokes, causing me to giggle softly, but, as his eyes trail to the left crook of my neck, his face falls, and he lifts his head completely upright. "What's that?" He asks, staring at the bandaging, small red blotches of blood having seeped through.
Drawing my brows together, I glance down at my shoulder. Either I did give him a concussion, or the Flare had completely taken him over internally in phases when the virus consumed his mind. Looking back up at him and brushing his blonde hair out of his eyes, I whisper, "It's nothing."
Clenching his jaw as pain can clearly be seen through the look in his eyes, he mumbles, "Did I do that to you...?"
Frowning, I let out a heavy sigh. I hesitantly nod. "But you had no control, Newt, so it wasn't really you..."
Eyes locked on the bandaging, he nods slightly, but he clearly does not accept that excuse.
"Hey," I whisper, making him shift his eyes to mine, "it wasn't really you." I repeat a little more sternly.
Huffing a soft sigh, he nods again, now taking my comment into consideration.
Smiling reassuringly, I peck a gentle kiss on his lips once more before wrapping my arms beneath his and around to his back, hugging him tightly and resting my head on his chest, closing my eyes as I inhale and exhale in ease.
He squeezes his hold around my waist, sighing in contentment as he rests his chin on top of my head.
I listen closely to Newt's steady, calming breaths, and I soak up every gentle beat of his heart. "I didn't think I would hear this ever again..."
"Hm?" Newt hums.
"You're heartbeat." I whisper, looking up at him with my chin resting on his chest. "I didn't think I would hear your heartbeat ever again..."
He manages to chuckle softly to himself, taking in a deep breath. "I didn't think my heart would have been beating much longer..." He admits.
My smile slowly fades as the image of Newt lying dead on the concrete with the handle of the blade sticking out of his chest flashes through my mind.
His brows draw together in concern as I pull away from him, gliding my hands down his arms to his hands. "What is it?" He asks. "What's wrong?"
Licking my lips as tears swell up in my eyes, I look up at Newt before choking out, "You have no idea how unbearable that would have been..."
Frowning, he brings his right hand to my cheek, brushing his thumb along my skin softly. "What do you mean?"
Sniffling, I begin to blink more frequently in attempt to fight off my tears. "The virus made you attack me, Newt...and you beat me against the concrete until I blacked out..."
His left hand suddenly grips tighter on mine as his eyes widen slightly. "That's when I bit you..." He whispers, remembering the incident now.
I nod slightly, attempting to swallow the lump in my throat. "While I was unconscious, I had a nightmare... A truly horrific and unfathomably realistic nightmare..."
Pressing his lips tightly together, Newt leans closer to me, listening intently, eyes shifting back and forth between each of mine.
"I saw what would have happened if I didn't stop you... I saw you kill yourself, Newt..." I choke out, forcefully sucking in a deep gasp of air in attempt to remain calm. "I couldn't bear it... I couldn't fight the utter despair swallowing me up, and I didn't feel any reason to keep breathing..." Looking down shamefully as the tears finally begin to fall, I confess, "I wanted to plunge the dagger into my heart... It was too much to take, being in a world without you in it..." I finally break down into sobs. Even merely thinking about that nightmare completely terrifies me.
"Hey, hey..." Newt whispers, gently lifting my head by my chin to look him in the eyes. "I'm here with you, alive and well." He says reassuringly. "I'm here, breathing, my heart beating, all because of you...because you saved my life, (y/n)."
As I whimper weakly, staring up at him with the tears rolling down my cheeks, Newt tenderly pulls me into another tight hug, burying his face in the crook of my neck again. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere... Alright? I'm right here..." He whispers softly, planting a gentle kiss on my shoulder as he nestles into the crook of my neck, holding me as close and tightly as possible.
Taking in stuttered breaths, I wrap my arms around his neck again, squeezing my eyes shut as I hold onto him for dear life. I can feel his heartbeat and his warm, gentle breaths, and that is all I need to be okay.
Newt allows me to cling to him for as long as I need, and his hold does not hinder, even as several minutes pass as we stand outside in the cold night.
Sniffling, I force myself to pull away, wiping my eyes.
Gently brushing his hands along my upper arms, Newt smiles warmly. "Besides, you weren't the only one afraid of losing the person they care about." He whispers.
I draw my brows together in puzzlement.
"You were going to shoot yourself, and, bloody Glade, that was shucking terrifying..." He lets out a nervous laugh.
Biting my lip as I wipe the remainder of my tears away, I mumble, "About that..."
He distorts his face slightly in confusion, giving me a questioning look.
"The gun wasn't exactly loaded..."
He raises his brows in surprise. "What?"
A small smile tugs on the right corner of my lips as I take in a few stuttered breaths. "I unloaded it before you even attacked me. Threw the magazine as far as I could."
He tilts his head to the side slightly. "Then why would you hold the gun to your head?"
"Because I knew that would get the real you to immediately break through." I explain.
Newt, a smile stretching across his face, inhales deeply through his nose before suddenly scooping me up by my waist and lifting me in the air, spinning me around, unable to tame the pride swelling up inside of him. "You're brilliant, (y/n)!" He exclaims, twirling me around before gently setting me back onto my own feet.
"Shh, Newt!" I giggle softly, now feeling completely calm again. "You're going to wake everyone up!" I whisper.
"Speaking of which," he replies, "have you slept at all?"
Pondering on it for a few moments with my brows furrowing together, I mumble, "Aside from when I blacked out, I haven't slept since," I pause, trying to recall when I last rested, "since I woke up from that horrible night terror at the abandoned shelter in the city."
Newt's jaw drops slightly. "It's been nearly a full twenty four hours, and all you've done today was fight and fight and fight some more." He says, gliding his right hand down to my left and grasping it tightly. "Come on." He says, turning on his heels and guiding me into his cabin.
As he opens the door, he reveals a wooden closet standing in the back right corner of the small room, a desk and single chair beside it, and a small, single bed sits in the left corner of the cabin.
"I have my own cabin, Newt." I mumble.
"I'm well aware of that, but I'm not going back to sleep, so what's the big deal of using my cot?"
"Newt," I frown, pulling my hand away to fold my arms, "you need to sleep."
"I have. Besides, according to my digital watch," he pauses, limping to the desk to pick up the little contraption, "it's four thirty in the morning. I'll be an early bird today."
Although I do my best to hold my ground, I cannot help but yawn as exhaustion begins to get the best of me.
"Exactly." Newt simply says, pulling out the chair from the desk. "Now, take a seat."
Sighing heavily, I do as he says, sitting on the little wooden chair.
"Luckily, I've got a head injury, too, thanks to you," Newt chuckles softly, gently grasping the bandaging on my head and beginning to unwrap it, "because whoever set up my cabin put all kinds of medical supplies in my desk." He explains.
"That would be Gally, Minho, Vince, and Jorge." I whisper.
"Well, good that, then." He says.
Once he's finished unwrapping my head, he carefully undoes the bun on the top of my head, gently unraveling my hair and letting it fall down to my shoulders. He carefully finger-brushes my hair, cautious of the wound on the back of my head. He reaches for the top drawer of the desk, sliding it out carefully and taking out a roll of bandaging. As he begins to wrap my head with clean bandaging, I hear him begin to softly hum under his breath.
Now that's something he's never done before, but I will gladly soak up his soft tune.
"Alright," Newt says as he finishes up the wrapping, "now up and into bed." He orders, putting a hand on his hip as the other points to the cot.
I laugh tiredly, shaking my head. "Okay, okay..." I mutter, rising to my feet and quietly climbing into the bed.
He limps to the side of the cot, gently pulling the grey wool blanket over me as I lie down. "Now, get some rest." He whispers, brushing my hair behind my ear before grasping the chair from the desk and sliding it beside the cot, taking a seat.
Yawning tiredly, I curl up on my side beneath the warm blanket. "Newt?" I whisper.
"Hm?" He lifts his doe eyes to mine.
I slide my left hand out from underneath the blanket, lying it palm-up on my pillow.
Getting the hint, Newt smiles warmly as he gently grasps my hand, squeezing it tightly.
Yawning once more, I let my heavy eyes close, exhaling peacefully.
I feel Newt's gentle lips press against my forehead, planting a soft kiss. "I love you, (y/n)." He whispers gently.
"I love you, too..." I mumble tiredly in response, too tired to open my eyes.
But I don't have to in order to know that Newt is smiling.