❝ never trust a survivor
until you find out
what they did
to stay alive ❞
―Kurt Vonnegut, Bluebeard
[ the maze runner × the hunger games ]
No one was ever happy in District 12. They were the poorest among the distric...
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ROSALIND FOUND NEWT on the roof of their hideout, his legs dangling over the edge as he stared out into space. She climbed up the side of the building, where broken rusted metal steps led up, and sat down next to him.
They sat together in silence for a while, absorbing each other's presence, trying to ignore the awkward tension between them. Everything had been happening so fast between them―what with their argument, the Careers taking Rosalind away, and then getting her back despite the obvious danger.
While recovering from the rescue, they hadn't had any time to patch things up between them, and Rosalind was ready to make amends. Even though she could heal injuries, she couldn't call herself a proper healer just yet until she could successfully save her broken relationships.
"We need to talk," Rosalind said after a while.
Newt sighed, as if he had been expecting her to say that. "Yeah. Yeah, we do."
"I'm sorry about shouting at you when we... you know. I should have told you in a more reasonable manner, not scream at you. I just... panicked. Because like I said, I couldn't bear it if whatever reason we're both the last tributes left alive and we have to fight each other or something to win the games. Or worse... if one of us sacrifices ourself just to let the other win and-just th-the thought itself made me really scared and―"
Newt placed a hand on Rosalind's rapidly wringing hands, cutting her off from her increasingly panicky rambling. A strained sigh escaped her lips as she avoided his gaze, which held a strange mix of worry and amusement.
"Slim it," he said gently. "I get it. And no, Rosalind, I should be the one who's sorry. And I am. Truly. I should have asked if you were okay with me doing anything to you first. And I'm sorry for not understanding what you meant earlier, but now I get it completely. And I really am sorry for that."
Rosalind finally looked up, meeting his gaze. For a moment, they stared at each other, wondering what to do now that they'd both apologized.
Then Newt flinched and hunched over, taking his hand off hers suddenly. He looked away, face scrunched up in pain as he gripped his arm tightly.
"Newt, what's wrong?" Rosalind asked, her eyebrows knitting together in concern.
"Nothing," he gritted his teeth.
"Is it... Is it your infection?"
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his grip on his arm slowly relaxed and he gave her a small, weary smile.
"Yeah. But i-it's fine now. Don't worry about it."
She knew it wasn't something to not worry about. But Newt looked so miserable at that moment that she decided to brush it off for now―she didn't want to start another feud right after apologizing.
