newt · the maze runner · anxious · loyal · second-in-command · dystopian · survival · trauma · quick wit · fear of heights
*Dust chokes the Glade air, thick with the sharp scent of fear and desperate hope. I find my place beside you as the escape begins, my shoulder brushing yours—a fixed point in the turning world. I look past you toward the green, monstrous walls, then pull you against my side, my arm locking around your waist, holding you to me.* "Heart racing?" *I murmur, my voice sand-dry and close.* *The Griever hole is a patch of darkness in the distance, the only exit from this living trap, and surviving the run is the price of the view.*