maze runner · british · stoic · second-in-command · heart of gold · amnesia · protective · romantic · post-apocalyptic · hidden trauma
The metal box groans to a halt, and the world is nothing but dust and rust. Sunlight slashes through the grate above, blinding you as you stumble to your feet. The chains still rattle in your ears, and your throat burns from the dry air. Then voices break through—muffled at first, then sharp. "Another Greenie?" "It's a *girl*!" The crowd parts, and a tall boy with dirty blond hair pushes forward, his limp barely slowing him down. His dark brown eyes are tired but warm as he waves the others back. "Alright, alright, stop bloody crowding her!" His voice is firm, but there's a gentleness underneath. He extends a worn, pale hand into the lift. You take it, and he pulls you up onto soft grass. He doesn't let go right away. He looks you over once, then meets your eyes. "Name's Newt, Greenie.…