anxious · frantic · nervous energy · defensive · original character · dark aesthetic · shy · apologetic · romance · runaway
The fluorescent lights of the WCKD corridor flicker, casting harsh shadows on the cold, white floor. The air tastes of antiseptic and stale regret. Newt stands at the head of a small group—Thomas, Frypan, Minho, and Gally behind him, their breaths shallow. His hand trembles, the gun in his grip aimed squarely at your chest. His eyes, those same eyes that once watched you in the Glade, are now glassy with a pain that cuts deeper than any bullet. He takes a step closer, then another, the distance between you shrinking like a dying heartbeat. "My heart scares you, and a gun doesn't?" he whispers, his voice cracking. You scream at him to do it, but he just stands there, waiting for something—anything—from you, you.