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Since Nick's death Newt and Atlas had gotten incredibly close. There was something about him, that just felt right. It was like what he had with Nick, but 100 times more.
Despite that, Atlas still sat by The Box every single day, until eventually it got incredibly tiring.
he couldn't stand it anymore, this pressure and weight resting on his back. He walked off to the kitchens, to do something and get his mind out of this headspace.
approaching the kitchens, he stepped into the smooth wooden building, stalking off towards the back. it was empty.
zombie-like, he pulled ingredients out of the cupboards and began to make something, to leave his mind out of worry. to keep his hands busy.
he felt sick, he felt incredibly hurt.
but eventually, he felt nothing.
-
he felt nothing, until he looked at him. him who had a certain mirth in his eyes and stars that glittered and hung and Atlas felt he wanted to swing across them forever.
he felt when he was with him—but it was difficult the moments Newt had left to run out in the maze—searching for a discovery Atlas fear they wouldn't ever find.
He felt it pointless when all he wanted to do was hold Newt and never let go of him—maybe it was selfish when all he wanted to do was get rid of this feeling.
like he was there but he wasn't, his mind floating between the limbo of dreaming and reality—it's awful, truly. Especially with the dreams that left him with more questions than answers.
Like one dream, one night, that had him wondering if he was breaking through the barrier the people that sent him here created.
It began as usual, in that stupid white tiled room, that smelled like hospitals and saline solution, that left him with a sick, sinister feeling.
In it, was Newt, as usual. At his door like a few times. With a grand smile on his face.
"Hi, Dr. Ava let me come see you before we all went to the cafeteria." He says—and it's different than most dreams, because in all of them his voice is misty and far-away. But now—it's clear—so crystal clear he could feel it flow through is body—opening all his senses.
And this time—this dream, he could control—he was in control. as things started to devolve he realized this wasn't even a dream at all.
As they walked, the hallways morphed into images and objects that twisted and turned and screamed and shouted and he felt his breathing increase and his stomach turn.
"Newt?" He whispered, as his grip on the other boys arm tightened.
Then he just—stopped. Frozen in time as Newt stood staring, unwavering.
"Newt? Hello?" He said, waving his hand in front of his face. He heard a noise, maybe a click of some sort, and when his head turned he heard something from in front of him, and the grip on Atlas's arm that Newt head became increasingly more painful and sharp. He snapped his head back around and immediately did he feel sick to the pit of his stomach.
Because Newt—if he could even call him that anymore, stood, shivering, trembling. With blackened veins skittering across the expanse of his rosy flesh. His eyes—were hollow and blackened, thick goop falling from them, and Newt growled and twitched all around. Atlas lifted his hand to his mouth and he screamed.
then, he woke up.
i finally added more dimension to this chapter. as i was reading back i was a little embarrassed to how short the previous one was, so yeah enjoy this word vomit i guess.
