The Maze Runner Oneshots & Imagines

Newt - Street Crawlers [AU]

A/N: This is quite dark in comparison to my other imagines. You’ve been warned ;).

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Newt is pine needles and sweat and grime. You’ll admit, it’s not the best of combinations, but something about Newt makes him irresistible. Maybe it’s the rush you feel every time you’re around him. He has this carefree attitude, though there’s a need for control underneath it all. At least when he’s creating chaos, it’s his mess; his rules. And late at night, when you’re alone, you’ll admit it to yourself: you’re probably just another character in his self-destructive story. Of course, you’d never broach the subject with him directly. No, you don’t work like that. Besides, what does it matter, if you’re getting your fix?

*

“Oh, Christ,” he muttered at one point, but when you threw him a look, he shrugged it off.

You’re running from the police. You two broke into a store on a dare; you hadn’t even taken anything but the authorities didn’t know that, which led to this particular chase. You ran down shadowed lanes in an attempt to escape, laughing the whole way. Your adrenaline was racing and you knew, in the back of your mind, it would be serious if you were caught.

You could hear the distant wailing sirens over your maniacal laughter, but you didn’t care—and all you can think was why won’t you care?

And then you hit a padlocked fence. Newt dropped to the ground, one knee up, already trying to hoist you up and over. Perhaps, if there were more time, you might have thought about the choice he made—allowing you to go first. But you don’t, so you climbed, and you heard him wince. You didn’t ignore it that time. You made it over the fence; he had scaled it too. You see it—the red blossoming against his white tee. He’s bleeding.

“Newt?” You struggled to get out his name.

“Not now,” he muttered, urging you to keep going. You stumbled a few steps, your hand still caught in his shirt. He decided to lead the way, keeping a firm grip on your arm as you half-jogged through the silent street. There is no laughing now: you’re terrified.

You two had made it halfway to your hideout when he fell to his knees, panting. You dropped immediately, your worried hands already going to work.

“Newt,” you tried again.

“Yeah?” he choked out, hauling himself towards the nearest wall. His hand was pressed to his side.

You wasted no time in getting to the point. Your voice was urgent, “You need help.”

“Probably,” Newt laughed, but it was a harsh, bitter sound. Realising he wasn’t going to do anything, you fumbled through your pockets in search of your phone. Your hands were trembling pretty violently when you managed to bring the receiver to your ear. With an unsteady voice, you spoke to the woman on the line, informing her that you needed an ambulance straightaway. Once she had the details, you didn’t bother staying on the line. You left your phone to clatter to the ground and scrambled closer to Newt.

His eyelids were drooping. You latched on his arms, shaking him. He shrugged you off with a groan, but his eyes opened, at least.

“D-Don’t scare me like that,” you stammered. You wiped at your eyes angrily. He glanced at you, his mouth lifting.

“Don’t cry, ducky,” he murmured, and his jittery hand found yours. He gave it a squeeze, sighing as he leaned back against the wall. Although he held your hand, you could feel him ebbing away.

“Newt—Newt, please don’t die,” you pleaded, giving him another push. “Stay awake, please.”

“It doesn’t hurt like I thought it would,” he croaked, his eyes falling shut again. Your voice cracked as you choked out his name. You could hear him, heaving a breath every so often—he was still there. His lips moved, but no words were formed, and then he managed to utter the one thing you’d always wanted to hear. “I love you, y’know.”

“Then don’t you shucking die!” you spluttered sternly, smacking at your cheeks as tears burned trails against your skin. His eyes fluttered open then, although it didn’t seem like he saw you, not really. He coughed; one, twice, and you saw more blood, red against his chapped lips.

Maybe it was some kind of epiphany he had while dying, or maybe some unearthly voice had told him of his future, but he was suddenly crying, and he sounded so vulnerable when he said it: “I don’t wanna die.”

And just like that, the world played favourites again: you did not dare release him as the prompt sirens neared.