The Other Side - A Newt Fanfiction

Chapter Thirty Eight: Tribute to the Lost

{WARNING: The following chapter contains some gore and triggering content due to an underlying suicidal theme. Proceed with caution.}

Silently walking around the stone, far more calm now that some time has passed, I stop in my tracks when I recognize a name on the cold surface of the rock: Winston.
Pursing my lips tightly together, I step up to the stone and gently brush my hand over his name, as if touching it will allow me to feel his spirit.
"I put his name there." A familiar, soft voice mutters, causing me to turn to the source: Frypan. He forces a somber smile as we meet eyes, and he takes a step beside me, looking up at the rock face. "I wish he was here."
Frowning slightly as I inhale deeply through my nose, I avert my attention to Winston's name again, huffing a sigh as I nod. "We all do." I mutter, examining the messy carving of the letters. I would imagine that that's due to Frypan's hand shaking as he worked, struggling to write Winston's name in confirmation of his friend's death. "He must've been very brave, given all that he did from the minute we had escaped from WICKED."
Frypan nods, chuckling softly under his breath. "Shooting Cranks and hiking through a desert with the virus." He mumbles. "He was very brave, but I knew that from the minute he decided he wanted to be a Slicer."
Remembering what that job was from my conversation with Newt in the old hotel, I manage to laugh softly to myself, returning my eyes to Frypan to meet with his.
"All of the bloody work." Fry shudders with a cringe. "I couldn't do that, and that's why I cooked." He pauses before adding, "You may not know this, but I'm fairly queasy."
I lift a brow. "Really? I couldn't tell, even while I was bleeding out in the city."
"Oh, yeah," he laughs, nodding rapidly, "I felt just as dizzy as you did simply by looking at the blood all over you, but I fought it because, if you can handle all of that, then I can definitely suck it up for the sake of your survival."
Giggling softly, I grin as he wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes me tightly in a side hug. I look at the rock again, examining the names one-by-one. I read names that I recognize, such as Ben and Mary, and names that I've never heard of, such as Ana and Zart. However, one name sticks out to me so immensely that I feel a deep hurt within my heart. "Chuck..." I mumble, stepping away from Fry and brushing my fingers along the bumpy engraving of his name.
Frypan, sighing softly, steps closer to the rock to examine the boy's name.
"I'm assuming Thomas carved his?" I murmur, looking over my shoulder at Frypan.
Shifting his gentle eyes to me, Fry shakes his head. "It wasn't Thomas."
I furrow my brows together questioningly.
Frypan, well-aware of my puzzlement, points his thumb over his shoulder. "It was him," he says, looking back at the person who had marked Chuck's name into the stone.
Following Frypan's eyes, I shift mine to someone sitting around the edge of the fire, alone, his arms draped over his knees as he stares into the crackling flames with a stern, yet pained, expression on his face: Gally.
My heart drops at the sight. "Gally carved his name?" I ask, averting my eyes to Fry.
Turning to face me again, he nods.
I look at Gally again, frowning. I can see the guilt weighing him down so much so that it reminds me of myself moments after taking Annie's life. "I'm going to go talk to him." I tell Fry.
He nods, smiling slightly. "Good that, (y/n)."
I pat his shoulder as I pass him, whispering just loud enough for him to hear, "See you around, Siggy."
He lets out a wholehearted laugh in response.
Stuffing my hands into the front pockets of my pants, I slowly stroll through the sand. "Hey, there." I say softly as I approach Gally, breaking him out of his daze.
He, a little taken aback, lifts his light eyes to me. "Oh, uh, hi." He says, rubbing his hands together as he adjusts his position on the log he sits on.
Taking a deep breath, I raise my shoulders slightly. "Do you have room for one more?" I ask.
It takes a moment for Gally to register what I am asking. "Uh- Oh, yeah." He nods, scooting over. "Yes, of course."
Smiling warmly, I take a seat beside Gally, pulling my knees to my chest and rubbing my hands together as I look into the golden embers at the base of the bonfire.
The two of us sit in silence, watching the flames as if they could come to life at any moment.
"You know," I begin, clearing my throat and leaning a little closer to him as I lower my voice just for Gally to hear, "you shouldn't blame yourself for what happened to Chuck."
Taken aback, though doing his best to hide it, Gally sits up a little taller as he looks at me. "I murdered an innocent kid, (y/n)." He mutters, clenching his jaw. Gally flickers his eyes to the sand before looking into the fire again. He sighs heavily, though he maintains his strong stature.
Pursing my lips as I huff a sigh, I look at Gally, watching him as he stares into the fire with somber eyes. "Gally, you were crazed with Griever venom. You couldn't control yourself." I mumble, looking down at my hands as I subtly fidget with them. "That's why we handled girls differently when they were stung in our Maze. They weren't punished for their actions as if they broke a rule because they didn't have control over what they did." I explain, waiting for a response.
Gally merely remains silent, seeming lost in the bright orange flames.
Taking a deep breath, I extend my legs out and lean back with my hands supporting me on the log, turning my head to Gally. "Of what I've heard about Chuck, I can guarantee that he would not want you to be beating yourself up over it." I say confidently, though in a gentle tone. "He would be saying the same thing: The boy that took his life was not the same boy in the Glade that he had known all of the time he was there."
Not saying a word, Gally slowly shifts his eyes to me, pressing his lips tightly together.
Tugging a small smile on the right corner of my lips, I add, "And he isn't the same boy that's sitting beside me."
Gally, his eyes flickering back and forth between both of mine as he attempts to read me, expecting to see a hint of a lie, sits a little taller as he realizes that the words I am saying are completely genuine. Clearing his throat, he adjusts his position on the log slightly before looking into the fire again. "Thanks, (y/n)." He mumbles, his broken voice laced with an underlying tone of wholehearted gratefulness.
I nod, patting his back before leaning back on my hands again, and I avert my eyes to the fire. "Besides," I murmur, "taking a life doesn't always make you a bad person."
In my peripherals, I see Gally draw his brows together, and he slowly turns his head to me. "You're not implying...?"
Shifting my eyes to him as I huff a soft laugh under my breath, I nod as I sit upright on my own. Resting my hands in my lap, I return my attention to the fire. "Mmhm."
"You've...killed someone from your Maze?" He whispers in disbelief, his eyes that are locked onto me are flooded with sudden shock.
I meet with his eyes. "More than one..." I mutter.
Gally distorts his face in confusion, opening his mouth but unable to utter words as several questions bombard his mind.
"Like I said, we handled girls getting stung in our Maze differently than you guys did." I begin, inhaling deeply through my nose as I fumble with my hands in my lap. "Once we had learned that there was no hope for someone when they are stung by a Griever, long before Aris came up with the antidote, I'd put them out of their misery before they could hurt anyone," I pause before adding, "or themselves."
"Woah, woah- Wait," Gally says, turning his body to face me more directly, "what do you mean hurt themselves?"
I manage to let out a quiet scoff before whispering, "It was the last girl that was stung before I had realized that a girl with Griever venom in her blood had no way of being saved." I mutter, frowning as I recall the memory. "I had tied her up to our tree designated for the Stung. This was the third case of a Griever encounter." I explain, lifting my eyes to meet with Gally's. "I sat in front of her and talked at her for hours. Susan, our second in charge, had to make sure everything else around the Heart was running smoothly while I talked at the girl, trying to find the real her somewhere in her crazed eyes, but she only got worse, more ravenous.
"Now that I think about it, it was like watching Newt succumb to the Flare, except...different. I don't really know how to explain it." Sighing heavily, I run my fingers through my hair. "The girl I knew was gone within the first three hours. I sat with her for seven more.
"However, she got so maddened with the poison that she began to lash with frightening strength within her restraints. I pleaded for her to stop, for her to give me a sign that she was in her own body, but then, suddenly, she began to slam her head back against the tree with horrific blows." I shudder at the thought. "I had ran to her, tried to grasp her head to stop her, but she screamed in such an immeasurably blood-curdling manner and was trying to bite me, so I ran off to get Harriet and Susan to help.
"But when I came back," I pause, mouth falling open slightly as I struggle to utter the words, eyes locked onto the fire, "there was blood running down the bark of the trunk behind her." I whisper in a low, shaky voice as I see the image in my head as if it's just before my eyes. "She had managed to kill herself by bashing her head against the tree."
Gally, who's eyes sear into me, cannot find the proper words the say. His mouth falls open as he tries to say something, but, when nothing comes, he closes his mouth. He sighs heavily. After a few, long moments, he whispers hesitantly, "What was her name?"
"If I had known, I would've carved it in the stone." I mumble, shifting my weary eyes to Gally's. "She had just came up the day before. She didn't have enough time to remember her name."
Somberly nodding, Gally breaks eye contact with me to look down at his hands.
I stare at him for a few moments. "Listen," I mumble, "the point is that you cannot always blame yourself for the blood on your hands. Just because you did the dirty work does not mean that it is your fault."
Gally meets eyes with me again, staring at me for a couple passing moments. Letting out a long, soft exhale of air, Gally nods, pursing his lips together.
I smile warmly in response, patting his back, once again.
Gally, to my surprise, manages to return a weak smile.
"Excuse me," the thickly accented voice speaks up as Newt steps in front of Gally and I, gaining our attention, "I believe I had promised you that I would come back." He says in a lighthearted tone.
Giggling quietly, I nod. "You did."
Smiling at me widely, Newt shifts his brown eyes to Gally. "Do you mind if I borrow (y/n) for a bit?"
Gally, looking to me and then to the blonde boy, says, "No." He shakes his head. "No, of course I don't mind."
"Thanks," Newt grins, offering me his hand.
I grasp his hand, and he pulls me to my feet.
"This way," he says, nodding in the direction up-shore, towards the forest, before turning on his heels and pulling me behind him as he limps through the sand.
"Where are we going?" I ask curiously.
"Just somewhere a little more private." He replies as he treads through the soft, pale sand.
I feel a soft blush rise in my cheeks, and I follow behind Newt as my heart flutters.
He stops just at the edge of the tree line, turning around to face the celebration down-shore before taking a seat in the sand and patting a spot beside him. "Sit down."
I do as he says, sighing in content as I sit beside Newt with my legs criss-crossed and my hands folded on my lap.
I cannot help but smile as I watch everyone interact with one another, truly blissful to have survived for this long.
"(y/n)?" Newt mumbles softly.
"Hm?" I ask, turning my head towards him.
He stares into my eyes, his pupils dilating subtly as a small, somewhat forced smile tugs on the corner of his lips. "There's something I need to show you." He mumbles, reaching into his pocket and fumbling about for a moment before taking out two folded crinkled sheets of paper.
Furrowing my brows together as I eye the papers, I ask, "What is it?"
"Six months worth of thoughts that I crammed onto two pages." He mumbles, chuckling to himself before offering the papers to me. "I want you to read it."
Lifting my suspicious eyes to meet with his gentle ones, I hesitantly take the papers from Newt's hand. Looking down at the frail, wrinkled papers in my grasp, I unfold the pages carefully, exposing the front side of the first page to see that it is completely filled with lines and lines of beautiful cursive writing. I read the first line on the page: 'Dear (y/n)'.
Those two words send an immediate jolt of panic through my nervous system, and I fold the pages in half so that I do not have to see the rest of the words on the page. "Newt- N-No-" I stutter frantically, rapidly shaking my head. "If this is what I think it is- If this is a death note, I do not want to read it-"
"(y/n), (y/n)," Newt whispers, laughing softly under his breath as he rests a comforting hand on my back, causing me to look directly at him, "I want you to read it."
Pressing my lips tightly together as soon as I feel the bottom one begin to quiver, I ask, "Are there any others?"
Newt, gently rubbing my back with his consoling hand, nods. "When you, Minho, and Gally has separated from Tommy and I, I gave him a necklace of mine that contained four pages: two for him, and two for you."
It clicks. The necklace that Minho had found on Thomas when I had left the medical hut with Brenda.
"But... What about Minho?" I ask.
"I knew that Tommy would feel an overwhelming amount of guilt if I had not left him a note, but I also knew that Minho would feel more guilt if I had left him a letter because, to him, a letter would be an indication that I knew that I was going to die, and that I allowed it to happen. It would have killed him because he would think he had failed after saving me the first time around." He explains in a low voice.
Nodding slowly in understanding, I ask, "And why did you write me a letter?"
Newt, smiling warmly, simply says, "Read it, and you'll know why."
Shifting my eyes back to the folded pages in my now trembling hands, I slowly open the papers again, and I begin to read:
Dear (y/n)
I write this letter to you in my room in Gally's supposed hideout in the city.
I first want to tell you that I am sorry. I am sorry for suddenly acting harsh to you, especially after nearly kissing you moments ago, but, unfortunately, the virus has managed to gnaw at my mind. Although I have known for a little while of my infection, I did not believe it would cause me to change so quickly.
Unfortunately, I believe this mission that we will be embarking on tomorrow in WICKED's facility will be my last. I truly wish I had more time, not due to a fear of death because, as you know, death does not scare me, but due to the fact that the next several hours are not long enough to let you know everything I've been meaning to tell you since the day I had laid eyes on you in that bloody cafeteria.
(y/n), I am unfathomably, undoubtedly, wholeheartedly in love with you, even if I never find the courage to utter those words to you verbally. You are far more magnificent than anyone I have ever met, displaying true strength and courage, even in times when you are vulnerable and broken, and I admire you for that. I love you for that.
I love the way you lift one brow in a mischievous manner when you are about to make a snark remark. I love the way the corner of your lips twitch in an almost invisible smirk when you are ready to take on an obstacle. I love the way you laugh when Minho shares humiliating stories, which I hope you will continue to do when I am gone and he is reunited with you, or when Thomas clumsily trips over his own feet or when Fry tells some long, elaborate joke that only your brilliant mind can understand. I love the fiery glow in your eyes when you get excited, and I love the soft, gentle blush in your cheeks that rises ever-so-slightly when I meet with your (y/e/c) eyes. I love the way you care for each and every individual unconditionally, and how you are willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of others, and I love how quickly and incredibly you conjure up ideas that no common brain can comprehend.
If I could hold your hand or protectively rest my own on your back for the rest of your days, trust me, I would. I feel at ease with your touch or with merely your presence alone. Knowing that I get to wake up and share breakfast with you each day, whether that be in the middle of the Scorch or here in the Last City while in hiding, is the very reason I am able to be joyful in such a broken, Flare-worn world.
I didn't get to tell you this much, but you've made me whole again, (y/n). You somehow did what no one else had proven capable of doing: you mended my shattered parts as if they were never touched in the first place.
I want you to know that I would not change a thing. I'm happy with the way things have gone because, at least, in the end of my life, I will be by the side of the person that made this short, sad life worth living.
Please, do not let the end of my life be the death of your beautiful smile. I know you'll find a way to feel guilty for what happens to me, but I guarantee that the only one to blame is WICKED, and, hopefully, by the time you read this, they'll be in ruins.
I want you to find joy in being alive. When you step onto the free land of the Safe Haven, I want you to soak up the reward for all of the hard work and fighting you have done to get there. I want you to be happy because you, of all people, deserve it.
If you ever miss me, I want you to hold tightly to my bandanna that I plan to give to you in the morning, the one I assume you have with you now, and, as you hold it tightly, I want you to remember what it felt like as I held your hand because, although you may not see me, I promise that I am by your side, and I am never going to let you go.
I love you, (y/n). I always have.
With my heart upon these pages and my love for you as abundant as ever,
Newt
By the end of the letter, I have one hand clasped over my mouth as tears flow from my eyes and down my cheeks, my other hand trembling as I hold tightly to the two pages, my cries muffled into my hand.
Newt gently wraps me in his arms, pulling me against him.
Burying my face in his chest, I fail to steady my whimpers and hold tightly to Newt's letter.
Shushing me gently, he kisses the top of my head and squeezes me tightly before resting his head atop of mine. "Hey, hey..." he whispers, "I don't want you to be upset, now. I'm here. We're here. Together." He begins to brush his fingers through my hair.
Sniffling as I struggle to force myself to stop crying, I eventually ease with Newt's comforting embrace. Head against his chest, I listen to his heartbeat, feeling my own heart steady with each gentle beat of his.
Pulling away to wipe my eyes on my shirtsleeve, I take in a stuttered breath, looking into Newt's soft, brown eyes.
He smiles warmly, brushing my hair behind my ear with his right hand before resting it against my cheek, using his thumb to brush away the remaining tears.
Lifting my left, bandaged hand and resting it over his, I nestle my head against his palm, taking another deep breath as I fully relax, closing my eyes.
"I meant every word I said." Newt whispers, causing me to open my eyes to meet with his. "I love you, (y/n). I love every little thing about you, and I have since we met in WICKED's cafeteria several months ago."
With a small smile tugging on my lips, I choke out, "I love you, too."
Smiling even wider in response, Newt gently leans in and presses his lips against my own.
Cupping his face between my hands and closing my eyes, I return the kiss, feeling him smiling subtly against my lips as he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me closely against him.
All of this could have never happened. I could have lost him in a matter of seconds, and, yet, here he is, alive and healthy.
Slowly pulling away, the print of his lips lingering on my own, I stare into his beautiful, brown eyes.
Chuckling softly under his breath, Newt gently takes my left hand, pulling it away from his face and looking down at it as he holds my hand in both of his own.
Creasing my brows together, I ask, "What are you doing?"
Biting his lip without a word, Newt begins to gently unwrap the bandaging around my hand.
My smile fades. "Newt, I don't think we should-"
"It's been over three days, (y/n)." He responds in his soothing accent, lifting his eyes to mine for a moment as he works with the bandaging. "Three days sounds like enough time to show signs of infection if there are ever going to be from a bite... At least, according to Gally."
Gally? When did they talk about that?
Looking back down at my hand, he continues to unwrap the bandaging, but I force myself to look at Newt's face, unable to look at my hand for myself.
As he finishes unraveling the bandaging, Newt's face falls.
My heart immediately jolts before stopping altogether. "What is it?" I ask shakily, unable to shift my eyes to my palm. "Newt?"
Newt, slowly lifting his head to look me straight in the eyes, stares at me with an unreadable expression.
I need to get Teresa and Thomas for that Cure ASAP.
However, after a few moments, a small smile tugs on the right corner of his lips as he lifts my left hand a little higher to make me look. "I think it's safe to say that WICKED put you in the Maze to watch your brain, Immune."
Eyes widening slightly, I flicker them to the bite wound in my hand, only to see that it's gruesomeness has slightly eased, healing normally. No sign of infection.
Averting my eyes to Newt's again, a massive grin stretches across my face, and, suddenly, I tackle him with a hug, wrapping my arms around his neck and causing him to fall back into the sand.
"Woah, woah!" He exclaims, landing on the sand with a soft thud with me falling atop of him, just as we had when we jumped into Gally's hideout.
After a mere second of shock, the two of us burst into laughter, unable to keep ourself from doing so.
As our laughter dies down, however, after a few moments, Newt grins up at me.
Smiling down at him in return, brushing my hair behind my ear, I simply say, "And, even if we're wrong, Thomas is the Cure."
"Good that." Newt chuckles. "Speaking of Tommy," he says, sitting up with a grunt as I scramble off of him, "I think we've got a celebration to partake in with him and the rest of the shanks." He rises to his feet, dusting the sand off of himself before offering me his hand.
"Good that," I giggle, grasping his hand and standing with his help.
The two of us make our way back to the fire, receiving pats on the back and words of kindness as we pass people.
As we approach the bonfire, I can hear Minho venting very passionately. "Listen, listen, this is what I don't get, alright?" He exclaims as we step through the huddle and spot him standing in front of Frypan, who is sitting on one of the benches, chuckling as he listens intently to Minho.
Newt and I exchange a curious and amused look before rushing towards the two of them.
"What I fail to understand is this: how the shuck does this ugly shank," he pauses amidst his rant, gesturing to Thomas.
The brunette, stopping in the middle of his conversation with Jorge, perks up at the remark, looking over his shoulder at Minho with a confused expression. "I'm sorry, what?"
Ignoring Thomas, Minho finishes the rests of his sentence, "have, not one, but two girls that have the hots for him!"
I immediately clasp my hand over my mouth to keep myself from laughing out loud. He's seriously venting about girls right now?
"And then," Minho says to Fry, striding to Newt and I before gesturing to Newt, "this shank-"
"At least he didn't throw 'ugly' in there." Newt mutters to me, snickering as I giggle.
"-already has a girlfriend!"
Frypan shakes his head, laughing wholeheartedly.
"Why the shuck are the ladies not lining up for me? Look at me, for shuck's sake!" He exclaims to Frypan, gesturing to himself. "Look at me!"
Newt rolls his eyes, shaking his head while I laugh uncontrollably.
Minho quickly takes off his jacket and throws it to the sand, exposing his muscly arms in his t-shirt and gesturing at his body again. "I'm the greatest looking shank on this island!"
Uncovering my mouth, I make a snark remark through the giggles, "Eh, that's debatable." I tease.
Minho, darting his eyes to me with his jaw to floor, stares at me in offense.
"Besides," Newt adds with a smirk, folding his arms and putting his weight on his good leg, "girls also look for guys with a nice personality. Not cocky shanks with a big bloody ego."
Fry and I snicker in response.
Standing taller, Minho inhales deeply and opens his mouth to argue, only to stop himself as Harriet walks past, crossing Minho's path to go get some more to drink.
I watch Minho's eyes follow the girl as she passes, and, once she disappears in the huddle, Minho ponders for a moment. "Hm." He hums simply.
I immediately know what he is thinking. "Minho, no." I shake my head. "Do not even try."
Still staring in the direction that Harriet had went off in, Minho ignore me, muttering, "I'll be right back." He smirks as he strides after the girl.
"Minho, I said don't bother! I'm serious!" I call, but it doesn't stop him.
"Why? What's going to happen?" Newt asks curiously, drawing his brows together as he looks down at me.
Turning to face Newt, my back in the direction of Minho and Harriet, I raise one brow with an exasperated sigh, lifting my right hand with three fingers raised, my left hand on my hip.
I count down, lowering one finger at a time.
Three.
Two.
One.
Once I lower my pointer finger, I point behind me with my thumb just as Newt lifts his eyes to the scene behind and someone lets out a pained grunt in perfect timing.
Mouth falling open, Newt let's out a loud laugh before clasping both of his hands over his mouth.
Turning to look over my shoulder, I see Minho and Harriet a few yards farther down the shore, Minho doubled over, holding his stomach, while Harriet shakes off her right hand. She says something with clear agitation before she turns on her heels and marches off.
I huff a laugh under my breath, turning to Newt with a smirk and shaking my head. "I told him not to try."
"I can see why." Newt chuckles, nodding as he rests his hand on my back.
Fry, rising to his feet, steps towards Newt and I just as Thomas approaches us, too, the four of us laughing lightly as we watch Minho fail to act as if nothing happened and stride towards us.
"Nice job, Minho." Thomas chuckles.
"Yeah, she seems to really like you." Fry chortles, holding his stomach. "With punching you in the stomach and all."
"Oh, shut up." Minho mutters under his breath.
Newt smirks. "I guess some of us are just better at flirting than others." He teases with a shrug.
Looking to Newt with a lifted brow, I nearly protest against his comment, but then I realize that, by the look on his face, he definitely said that knowing that he and I took forever to confess our feelings to one another in order to trigger Minho.
And he succeeds in doing so.
"Says the shank that I had to drag down a shucking mountain to force to tell (y/n) how he felt!" Minho exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. "And you didn't even do it!"
"At least, when I did, (y/n) didn't punch me." He jokes.
Minho shifts his eyes to me before returning them back to Newt, "Oh, I see what is shucking happening here. You think you're all tough just because you've got a girlfriend now." Minho says, folding his arms sassily. "I can still kick your butt."
"That is also debatable." Newt replies simply, egging his friend on.
Oh, how the tables have turned. Minho would push Newt's buttons about the embarrassing Glade stories, and, now, Newt's pushing his over the level of Minho's manliness.
As Minho goes off into a defensive rant, I manage to catch a soft voice from somewhere behind say, "Ahh, I see what's going on." The voice lets out a quiet laugh, gaining my attention.
As I turn around, I discover the source to be Brenda, who is across the bonfire, taking a seat beside Gally, who, as I shift my eyes to him, is already looking at me.
What could she be talking about?
Smiling warmly, I wave at the boy.
Managing to smile subtly in return, he slowly raises his hand and waves back.
Laughing softly to myself, I grin a little wider at him before turning back around to face Newt and the others.
• • •
As the hours pass, and the celebration begins to die down, people begin to make their way to their hammocks for the night; however, a handful of us decide to sit in a small circle around the fading bonfire to simply talk in remembrance of those who we miss.
Around the circle, starting from directly to my left, is Gally, Brenda, Frypan, Harriet, Aris, Sonya, Teresa, Thomas, Minho, Newt, and myself. Teresa, however, sits a little farther back from the fire, not necessarily directly between Sonya and Thomas, her knees pulled to her chest as she stares into the flames.
"I was the one that put Ben's name up there." Minho mumbles, sighing heavily, his shoulders sinking.
Leaning against Newt, who has his left arm draped over my shoulders, I cannot help but look to Gally, thinking of his connection to the boy that Frypan had shared.
"I remember when that shank was declared a Runner. Just like with any other, declaring him so felt like a death sentence." Minho explains, scanning over each of our faces as we listen intently. "In all honesty, I didn't think he'd last long. He was a klutz, tripping over his own feet. I guess you'd say he was as clumsy as you." Minho says as he looks to Thomas, the two of them huffing a soft laugh under their breaths in response. "But, in a matter of hours, he had proven himself capable." Minho says in awe. "No one had made that drastic of an improvement so quickly."
"He was a fast learner." Gally chimes in with a quiet voice, causing everyone to look to him. All of our eyes falling upon him makes him seem slightly flustered, and he fidgets subtly, tugging down the sleeves of his sweatshirt that already drape over his hands.
Minho, understanding Gally's cloaked pain over Ben, smiles weakly at the boy he had speared, and, as his eyes meet Minho's, Gally inhales deeply as the right side of his lips twitch with a momentary, minuscule smile.
Heavy silence follows, and, sighing quietly, I rest my head against Newt's shoulder, nestled against his side as I stare into the dying fire.
"Alby," Newt whispers faintly, gaining everyone's attention, though maintaining his own stare-down with the flames, "that's who I put up there."
Drawing my brows together, I tilt my head back to look up at Newt, examining the look in his eyes. He seems to be in a trans of some sort, as if peering back into the days of the Maze when Alby was alive.
Shifting his brows eyes down to me, Newt mumbles, "He was the first kid in our Maze."
I feel my stomach leap to my throat at that moment, and I turn my head to look at Harriet and Sonya, only to meet with their eyes. Alby, the first kid of Group A.
"I would imagine that he was indescribably brave, then?" I murmur.
Newt nods. "And wise."
"He was the one that pulled you up from the Box." Minho mumbles. "Man, waking up in a Maze with only one other kid. I remember you telling me how shucking disorienting that was."
Newt manages to laugh softly under his breath. "Yeah, it was." He mutters. "But I can never imagine what it was like for him. Alone."
My heart begins to speed up in pace as I involuntary recall waking up in the Box; no voices had responded to my screams, and the swirl of nausea and confusion and fear returns with the memories.
Newt, sensing my body tense up, worriedly looks down at me. "Are you alright?" He whispers low enough for just myself to hear.
Looking up at him, his comforting, warm eyes bringing me back to the reality of being safe and far from alone, I nod, slowly easing up as I take a deep breath.
Smiling slightly, which washes me with a wave of reassurance, Newt gently brushes his hand up and down my left arm, squeezing me tightly against his side.
"Well, since we're talking about names," Fry begins, sitting upright, "I carved in Winston's and Zart's."
Furrowing my brows together as I recall seeing the name in the stone, I ask, "Who was he?"
"Zart was one of the track-hoes, the people that would work in the gardens. He was the Keeper, in fact." Newt explains, holding me closely against him. "He was the kind of guy that liked to sit back and watch anything amusing that would take place in the Glade, but he was also willing to do just about anything."
"Yeah," Minho speaks up with a soft chuckle, "he even went into the Maze with myself, Fry, Thomas, and Winston when the other Runners quit."
"That was shucking scary." Frypan adds with a quiet laugh.
"You can say that again." Thomas nods in agreement, chuckling to himself.
"And it was shucking disgusting for me." Minho says, gathering everyone's attention. "Long story short, when Thomas and I were out in the Maze for a night, this ugly shank," he reaches over to pat Thomas on the back, "managed to lure a Griever between two walls that were closing together while the Maze was changing. The walls crushed it like a bug, with the guts seeping out between them and a couple legs hanging out."
"Ewgh, gross." Newt cringes at the thought, causing me to giggle.
"Yeah, if you think the Griever part that I had handed you was gross, you would've barfed if you had seen what it came out of." Minho explains. I can see a small smirk stretch on the side of his mouth, his eyes flickering with excitement as he realizes that he has everyone's full attention. "So Zart, Winston, Fry, Thomas, and I went back into the Maze the next day to take a look and check out the dead Griever. We turned one corner after the other, only to return to the crushed carcass of the beast." He stands up to begin acting out the scene. "So Thomas starts creeping up on this dead thing, trying to see the smooshed remains in between the walls, and the rest of us slowly follow after him," Minho begins to tiptoe around the circle, "and then he slowly, but surly, reaches out towards the beast," he whispers as he holds out his hand hesitantly, "and he reaches...and reaches...and BOOM!" Minho suddenly shouts with a roaring voice, causing everyone, except Gally, to jolt with fright, Aris letting out a shriek as Sonya grasps onto him with a start and Newt protectively tightening his hold on me.
This reaction sets Minho off into a fit of laughter, and, doubling over with his hand on his stomach, Minho exclaims, "I shucking got you!" He laughs uncontrollably, proud of himself for scaring everyone.
"You're a cruel shank, Minho." Gally mutters.
Minho, standing upright now, manages to say amidst his laughter, "You should've seen all of your faces!" He tilts his head back, unable to stop, and he stumbles back slightly.
However, Minho gets in too close of range to Harriet, and, suddenly, with a single, swift swipe of her arm, Harriet hits the back of Minho's legs with such force that Minho completely loses balance, letting out a "Woah, woah-!" before falling back into the sand with a loud thud.
I can see Harriet smirking to herself in satisfaction.
Groaning in pain, Minho, partially disoriented, slowly sits up, propping himself up on one elbow and gaping at Harriet in offense. "What the shuck was that for?!" He basically shrieks.
Without looking back at him, Harriet mumbles simply, "People are trying to sleep."
While Minho gets up and returns to his seat, muttering under his breath the whole way, Thomas continues the story for him. "We really did have a start like that, though." He explains. "One of the legs suddenly jerked."
Fry begins chuckling as he remembers. "I remember Zart trying to reassure us that the leg moved on reflex."
Laughing softly, Thomas nods. "I remember that, too."
Silence temporarily returns to the group, but Harriet breaks it as she begins to giggle softly to herself.
Furrowing my brows, I look to my friend questioningly.
"Speaking of Grievers," she begins, "do you remember that time when we were deciding what job Charlotte was going to have in the Heart?"
Recalling the memory, Sonya and I begin to laugh to ourselves.
Confused, Aris asks, "What did she do? I haven't heard this story."
"She supposedly really, really, really wanted to be a Mapper," Harriet pauses before adding in explanation, "or Runner, in Group A's case. She had stopped (y/n) from declaring her position to give this long, drawn out speech about how she would make an amazing Mapper because, if a Griever came her way, she had several different ideas on how to fight it."
Shaking my head as I chuckle, I face-palm. "At first, I thought she was serious, but then I heard her tactic ideas, and then I remembered that it was her talking, so, obviously, it was going to be a joke."
Newt, looking at me with intrigued eyes, asks, "How did she say that she'd fight off a Griever?"
"Let's see," I ponder on it for a few moments, "there was making a lasso with vines and capturing it like a cowboy; learning karate because," I begin to quote her, "'a Griever cannot do martial arts'; giving a Griever some of our food, pretending that it is a peace treaty, but then it turns out that we intentionally give it food poisoning-"
"I liked the one about singing the Griever to sleep with a lullaby." Sonya adds, giggling.
I nod in agreement, grinning widely.
"She went on and on and on," Harriet says, "and (y/n) was so unenthused that, once Charlotte had finished her speech, (y/n) was just like, 'You're a Builder.'" She quotes me, imitating my flat, bored voice and resting her head in her hand with an unenthused expression.
"Oh, remember how frustrated Cleo was on Charlotte's first day as a Builder!" Sonya exclaims, laughing. "Cleo was so temperamental, so placing someone as silly as Charlotte with her was an interesting pair."
"Sounds like the days Minho had to help Gally with building before we had assigned jobs." Fry laughs.
Gally, shaking his head as Minho smiles cheekily at him, mutters, "Let's not talk about that."
"Oh, yes, let's." Minho purrs.
Curious as she laughs softly, Brenda says, "Oh, boy, I can only imagine what that was like."
"He was so irresponsible." Gally explains, rolling his eyes as Minho flutters his own at him. "He would complain about how bored he was, sit on the furniture whilst I would work on it, so on and so on." He explains.
"Awe, you know me so well." Minho says sassily.
Gally scoffs slightly. "Yeah, I shucking do..." he mutters, but I can see the small smile that he is fighting.
"Remember that time Minho knocked you out cold?" Frypan asks.
"Wait, what?!" I ask.
Gally, looking to me, rubs the back of his head as he explains, "I had asked Minho to go get a plank of wood that I needed for one of the shelters we were working on. He hoisted it over his shoulder and strode towards me, but, then, our friend Nick called for him from across the Glade, and, without shucking thinking, Minho whirled around, and the back half of the board slammed against my head just as I rose to my feet to take it from him."
I can hear Minho snickering childishly at the memory.
"Ouch," Harriet says in response.
"Yeah, it hurt." Gally mumbles, though smiling faintly as he stares into the small fire.
"Claire would've had a heart attack if something like that happened in the Heart." Sonya says.
Aris nods in response, smiling warmly.
"If you're implying that she was basically the caretaker, then you have the Newt equivalent of your Maze." Minho chimes in.
Giggling softly as I look up at Newt, I watch him shake his head, though laughing to himself. "Yeah, okay, Minho." He says sarcastically.
"It's true." Gally mutters genuinely, causing the group to grow quiet. He stares at Newt, his eyes not wavering as he says, "You took care of everyone in there, shank."
I see Fry, Minho, and even Thomas nod in response.
Looking to Newt again, I witness a soft blush rise in his cheeks, and he looks down, shrugging slightly. "It's not like you guys didn't return the support when it was needed..."
Knowing full well how much aid Newt needed, whether or not he had shown it during his days in the Maze, I grasp onto Newt's right hand with my own, gaining his attention. I smile reassuringly at him, and he does the same.
Taking a deep breath, Gally says, "Welp," as he rises to his feet, "I'm going to get some rest." He dusts off his pants. "I'll see the rest of you in the morning." He turns on his heels to leave.
"Gally, wait." Thomas finally speaks up, standing.
Puzzled, Gally looks back at the brunette. "Yeah?"
Pursing his lips together, Thomas stands still for a moment before striding to the boy and wrapping him in a hug, patting Gally's back as he whispers something in his ear.
Whatever it was that Thomas had said clearly impacted Gally deeply because his eyes immediately shimmer in the reflection of the fire, and he gives Thomas a squeeze as he nods before pulling away.
I get up and stop Gally just as Thomas makes his way back to his spot and Gally turns to leave again, causing him to avert his attention to me. "Goodnight, Gally."
Clearing his throat, he nods. "Goodnight, (y/n)."
I suddenly pull him into a tight hug. "Thank you for getting the Serum," I whisper in his ear, "and thank you for protecting me, even while I was stubborn."
Gally, nodding, holds me tighter, and I feel him exhale so immensely that the tension seems to leave his body with the air from his lungs. He eventually pulls away after a few moments, staring down at me before shifting his eyes to the others. "Goodnight, everyone." With that, Gally finally treads off up-shore towards the hammocks.
Looking to Newt, only to meet with his warm, brown, doe eyes, I grin at him as I return to my seat beside him, nestling against his side, once again, as he kisses the top of my head.
The group sits in peaceful silence for a long stretch of time, this time watching the fire as it finally fades to smoke.
"My mother's name was Ana..." Teresa finally speaks up for the first time since she and I had spoken an hour or two ago.
Ana. The name on the stone.
Everyone averts their eyes to her, falling completely silent so that only the waves of the ocean are heard as they rhythmically rise and fall along the shoreline.
She fidgets with her hands, her arms wrapped around her legs as she darts her eyes around the group, unable to maintain eye contact with anyone. "Sorry..."
Minho, clenching his jaw slightly, draws his brows together before shaking his head. "We're all sharing tributes to the lost, Teresa. Just because of what you've done doesn't mean you don't have the right to mourn with us."
Taken aback, she lifts her blue eyes to meet with Minho's.
Although Minho can be snark, even a pain at times, he can also be far more mature than I could ever be, being able to look into the eyes of the very person who had tortured him for six long months and display compassion to her.
Pursing her lips together, Teresa nods slightly before looking into the dead fire, the full moon now illuminating the shore with a blue glow. "She was kind and beautiful and smart... The Flare took her from me when I was little..." she chokes out in a trembling voice, her eyes getting glossy.
That's why she had told me that she understood how hard it is to lose a loved one to the Flare when I was crying over Winston.
"I know it doesn't justify hurting all of you, but I was determined to find a cure because...because of what had happened to her..." Those few sentences disable her, making her unable to say another word without the probability of breaking down into tears, so she buries her face in her knees, tightening her hold around her legs.
Newt and I immediately exchange a worried glance with each other before looking to the girl again.
Minho, frowning, immediately rises to his feet, stepping around Thomas to crouch down in front of Teresa. He locks his eyes on the girl, watching her closely, although her face is hidden. Without a single word, Minho wraps her in a consoling hug.
Thomas follows after.
Frypan then rises to his feet to hug the girl, too.
I feel a deep ache, looking back up at Newt as I recall Teresa telling me how Newt expressed that ourselves before the Maze no longer exist. He of all people must know that memories would only be burdensome to us at this point, and, unfortunately, Teresa is the one who bears that curse.
In sync, Newt and I rise to our feet and join the group hug as the others add to the huddle.
And here we are, returning to where we had began: our broken, yet strongly bound, family, brought together by the loss of those we love.
• • •
"No. No way on this good earth am I going to let you sleep in the hammock beside (y/n)'s. That's mine, and you know it." Newt mutters with folded arms as Minho smirks up at his friend, swinging from side to side in the hammock directly beside mine.
Giggling softly to myself, I finger brush my hair as I watch the two of them interact.
"Sleep in another vacant hammock." Minho shrugs.
"You know very well that the only other empty hammock is this one!" Newt hisses, pointing at the hammock on the other side of the one Minho is in. "Get out of this bloody hammock."
Snickering to himself, Minho says sassily, "Go get me a cup of fresh water from the kitchen."
Newt scoffs, shaking his head. "I'm not your servant. Get up and go get it yourself."
Minho, his conniving smirk stretching even wider, replies in a snark tone, "Go get me a cup of water, or I will sleep in the hammock beside whichever one (y/n) sleeps in every night for the rest of our lives."
Scrunching up his face in frustration, Newt groans, rolling his eyes. "Fine," he limps around the spot their arguing over, "but you better be out of the buggin' thing when I get back." He snaps in a whisper before turning to face me, his expression immediately shifting to a smile as he meets my eyes. "I'll be right back." He says, leaning down and quickly pecking a kiss on my lips.
Giggling softly under my breath, I feel my heart flutter. I nod in response. "Alright."
Grinning, Newt quickly rushes off and around the other side of the large, cream tarp that acts as a wall around the sleeping area, out of sight.
Smiling, I take my jacket and begin to slide my arms back into my sleeves so that I am bundled up for the night.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I just-" Newt says quickly with his thick accent as he walks back around the tarp, causing me to look back at him over my shoulder with a lifted brow. "I just wanted to- just once more-" Without fully clarifying, Newt leans down to me and pecks another quick kiss on my lips, making me laugh in response, taken aback. "Sorry, I just couldn't contain myself." He says with a wide grin.
Laughing softly, I nod. "Alright, then."
"Okay, now I'll be right back." And, with that, Newt swiftly limps back out of the sleeping area.
Watching him disappear behind the cloth "wall" over my shoulder, I stare at the spot he had disappeared from, already knowing what is going to happen.
Just as I expect, after a few moments of silence, Newt makes his way back around the corner. "You know, they say that the third time is a charm, so I was thinking that it would only make sense to go for a third, given that we've already gotten two of the three out of the way."
Giggling at Newt, I nod. "Okay, if you insist."
He quickly rushes to me, leaning down and pressing his lips against mine, once again; however, he holds the kiss for a few moments, and I rest my hand against his cheek just as he hesitantly pulls away. With the widest grin on his face, Newt concludes, "See? The expression isn't wrong."
"Okay, shank, if you want this hammock, you need to hurry the shuck up." Minho mutters from his hammock.
Immediately brought back to reality, Newt swiftly stands upright and rushes off.
Giggling to myself, I shake my head as I kick my feet into my hammock and pull my wool blanket over myself as I lie back with a sigh of contentment.
"Man," Minho mumbles, sitting upright and kicking his legs over the side of the hammock, "I have never seen Newt this happy in all of the years I have known him."
Turning my head to look at the masculine boy, I distort my face with slight puzzlement.
Shifting his eyes to me, Minho huffs a soft chuckle under his breath, smiling warmly. "You did what I've been trying to do all of this time."
"And what is that?" I whisper.
Taking a deep breath, Minho mumbles simply, "You made him see the good in living."
That single sentence cuts me deep, and it takes me a moment to collect myself enough to respond. "Minho, you made him-"
"'See the good in living, too'?" He finishes for me, laughing as he rises to his feet. "While that is true, no one has done so like you have." With that, Minho quietly walks to the other hammock, climbing into it and lying down, pulling his blanket to his chin. "That water that Newt is getting is for you two." He says kindly. "Goodnight, (y/n)." With that, he quietly rolls over onto his side, back to me.
"Minho?" I mumble softly.
"Hm?" He looks back at me over his shoulder.
"Thank you..." I whisper.
Grinning, he nods before turning back around to sleep.
"Alright, here's the bloody water you wanted, you shucking..." Newt's voice trails off as he steps into sight, and, tilting his head to the side in confusion, he asks me, "Did he already fall asleep?"
Looking at him, I nod. "He said the water is for you and I."
Newt, gaping slightly, shifts his eyes to an already sleeping Minho, and he mumbles, "That shank."
Laughing quietly to myself, I sit up.
Sighing as a smile tugs on his lips, Newt limps to my side, handing me the tin cup.
Nodding in thanks, I take a sip of the water before handing it back to him.
Newt takes a drink before limping to a small table placed nearby and setting the cup down. Yawning and stretching his arms, Newt tiredly makes his way to the hammock beside mine, crawling into it.
Smiling, I lie back down and roll onto my side, facing Newt.
He, too, curls up on his side to face me. He grins at me as he pulls his blanket up to his chin.
Rubbing my tired eyes, I cannot help but yawn. As I look at Newt again, I extend my left hand out to him.
He gently takes my hand with his right, squeezing it comfortingly. "I love you so much..." he whispers.
"I love you, too..." I whisper I reply.
"Goodnight, (y/n)..."
"Goodnight, Newt..."