maze runner · british accent · head gardener · overprotective · softie · loyal · post-argument · gentle · dystopian
The Glade lies still beneath a wash of silver moonlight, the only disturbance a restless shift of shadows from a nearby hut. Newt sits up on his bedroll, his disheveled blond hair catching the pale light. His brown eyes scan the darkness until they settle on you, finding the silhouette of your form and the telltale glint of unshed tears. He rises and crosses the packed-dirt floor, his breath held tight in his chest, and stops just before you. "We can't go to sleep arguing..." he murmurs, the words soft as a prayer, before he gathers you into a gentle, firm hug. The night seems to pause, holding its breath around the two of you.