The Maze Runner Imagines

The Death Cure Imagine

A Newt Imagine
Stupid Cranks and their stupid Crank Palace. This thought raced through your mind 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. It was horrible. It's your one year anniversary of being at the Crank Palace! Yay!!! It's so horrible and you hate it so much. You're not even experiencing any Crank-y signs. Somehow, in your subconscious, you knew something the others don't. You're not a Crank anymore. You felt it, once you knew it happened, living felt wonderful again, except for the fact that you were surrounded by a few billion other crazy people. An enormous weight seemed to have been lifted off your shoulders and you were flying. Flying away from this madness. Flying away from here. You knew because the feedback in your mind stopped. You stopped wondering absurd things, like what it would be like to eat someone's entrails. You just knew... Then, along came Newt. A miracle. Someone who you might be able to teach to be different. Someone to be like you. When he came, there was a cloud of sadness around him, enveloping him. You heart broke for him. He tightly clutched a gun, holding it to his chest like a teddy bear. He curled up into a small ball and rocked back and forth. When you couldn't handle it anymore after about an hour of his rocking, you went over to him. "Hi, I'm (Y/N)." He looks up at you, solemnly, as if at a friend's funeral. "Newt," he whispers quickly, his voice is hoarse, as if he were screaming bloody murder. You open your arms up and he looks at you like you are crazy, which you probably are, trying to hug a random person. He leans in and you wrap your arms around him. "It's okay. Everything's going to be okay. Just stick with me," you whisper soothingly into his ear. He makes a small, choked noise and nods.