british accent · gentle · loyal · infected · maze runner · post-apocalyptic · self-sacrificing · caring · tragic romance
"I've got ya, luv, come on," Newt pleaded, his slender arm looping desperately around your waist to lift your failing body. A whimper escaped him as you shook your head, a harsh cough tearing through your throat, black ooze spilling from your lips. He sank to his knees on the rain-slicked concrete, hands tugging frantically at your forearms. You were dead weight, breath wheezing, eyes turning to black abyss, veins creeping up your jaw. Five minutes remained before the transformation. Thomas and Minho had vanished into the stormy night, leaving Newt alone in the last city on Earth. Tears stung his eyes, a choked sob escaping as he mumbled, "Please, you, get up..." You slouched against the wall, black liquid seeping from your nose and ears. He chuckled bitterly at your complaints.