𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓬𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓫𝓸𝔂 // 𝓷𝓮𝔀𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 ✿

Not Amused

tw//self harm/suicide

Me and Minho ran the maze practically wordlessly. My outburst seemed to have worried everyone, it wasn't like me to cry in front of the other Gladers. During our lunch stop Minho ventured to speak.

"Is he your boyfriend?"

The word gave me butterflies, but I suppressed them.

"Shut up." I respond with a grin.

"Oh come on, he is isn't he?" He pushes in typical Minho fashion.

"Sure, whatever. Just shut up."

"You know that I don't care if you like guys right." He says genuinely.

It was almost surprising coming from Minho. I mean I didn't doubt he'd be anything but supportive, but it was odd for him to just be so forthcoming about it.

"Thank you." I simply respond.

"I mean were locked in a box with only guys besides Teresa so it's bound to happen." He says with a laugh.

I stop him quickly.

"He wasn't just my last resort. I didn't choose to like him. It's not like I ever wanted to even, it was just inevitable." I say flatly.

"Thomas I didn't mean it like that." Minho apologizes.

"No, I know. I was just saying." I explain.

"Good that." He nods and we resume running our course for that day.

Hours later when we are nearing the doors I see quite a commotion around the medjack shack. Someone must've gotten hurt. I'll go check it out later. I wave goodbye to Minho who splits apart to go see what was going on and jog to the showers. It's routine now. I quickly strip down, eager to rinse myself. I let myself stand under the warm water for a couple minutes until the bathroom door bursts open and startles me.

"Tom!"

Teresa?

"Yes?" I ask hesitantly.

"Why are you in the guy's show-"

"Something's up with Newt, you should come see." She then flies out of the room, leaving my mind in oblivion.

I immediately turn off the shower and hastily shove my clothes on. She said it so seriously, something must be really bad. My mind only gnaws at itself, thinking of the worst possibilities. The words play on repeat as I run over to the shack

"Something's up with Newt."

Over and over. How urgent could it be. Don't cry whatever it is. The fact that maybe 20 other boys are there only heightens my fears. I burst through the pack, eager to get into the shack. The stares of the other Gladers follow me. They know how close I am with Newt. I fly open the door and enter the musty room I despise. The crunch of dirt underfoot is enough to resurface memories of Teresa's first couple of days here.

Then the wails reach my ears. My eyes fall upon Newt upon a shabby cot. He lays back, writhing in pain clutching his ankle. Just the sight is enough to make my head spin. He whimpers and grits his teeth. I gasp and steady myself. What has happened? My heart aches for him, I hate seeing him in pain. It's as if the world was just mocking me, taunting me with the boy I love. The tears streaming down his face make me feel sick, until I choke out a cough which somehow is heard by him.

His innocent eyes fall upon me and he inhales through his teeth. I back into the wall, feeling helpless and unsure of what to do.

"Thomas." He says guiltily.

"Get out please." He begs.

Clint nods my way, and I turn meekly and head out of the shack. Barely even allowed enough time to process his injury. Minho pulls me aside almost immediately once I exit the shack. He takes me to the side, where I can still hear Newt's terrible cries. He rights me and takes a deep breath.

"Alby told me that he found Newt at the bottom of the west wall with a broken ankle."

I stand, hurt yet somehow not amused. Until Minho clarifies with a sharp inhale.

"So Thomas, Newt tried to kill himself."