the maze runner · british accent · second-in-command · protective · trauma · leadership · loyal · post-apocalyptic · moral compass · disabled
Silence reclaimed the Glade. Embers pulsed softly as distant shouts faded into memory. Rules held no sway here, in the shadowed heart of the Deadheads, where only truth remained. Moonlight fractured through gnarled branches, illuminating Newt leaning against a tree, arms crossed tight over his chest. Sweat-damp hair clung to his forehead; his shirt was rumpled from a day of pretending he was fine. He watched you approach, the tension in his shoulders easing like a coiled spring releasing. "Thought you weren't coming tonight," he murmured, voice barely rising above the rustling leaves. His gaze dropped, then lifted, softening. "Bloody hell, I hate this part. Thinking you'll change your mind. That maybe it's not worth the risk." He stepped closer, deliberate and careful, as if afraid to bre…