The Angel ~ Newt X Reader

Home Isn't A Place

"PROPERTY OF WICKED; Group A; Subject A5; The Glue."

We made camp by an overturned ship which I thought looked pretty cool but I'm too pissed to care. Pissed at myself. Pissed at Wicked. Pissed at my so-called mom. 

Aris started a fire and Frypan cooked a little bit of food. Bare scraps just so we didn't starve. 

I sat on a crate, half-way buried in sand and I twirled the sharp edge of Minho's knife against the tip of my finger. Minho had just given it back to me since Wicked apparently gave it to him when they said I'd died. 

"Thought we were supposed to be immune," I said, looking into the fire kind of hoping it would spread quickly and burn us all alive. 

"Not all of us, I guess," Teresa said. I didn't really want to hear from her. She still gave me awful vibes. 

Then Newt spoke up and I turned to face him.

"If Winston can get infected... then we should assume so can the rest of us." The thought hurts my brain imagining our little group becoming filthy deranged lunatics with black goo dripping out of their mouths and pumping through our veins. 

The silence amongst us was deafening until Fry spoke up. Across the fire, you could see a single tear sliding down his cheek. 

"Never thought I'd say it... I miss the glade."

Minho continued to sharpen the knife in his hand. "Me too," I said. "It was more of a home than I thought it was. Except maybe 'home' is a place. It's the people."

------

The next day we walked across that god-forsaken desert again, inching towards the mountains. What if there aren't really any mountain people like Aris said. Come to think of it, I don't trust Aris. Maybe I do. Shit, I don't know, dude. 

"Y/N..." I hear Newt ask behind me. I turn around to face him and shot him a questioning look. "What's that on your neck?"

"What do you mean?" I asked placing a hand on my neck and rubbing it to try and feel something. But no, nothing. "Newt, stop. You're scaring me." The rest of the group had stopped to look. 

"Wait, Newt. There's something on your neck too." Minho said, stepping closer to look at it. "Yeah, look. PROPERTY OF WICKED; Group A; Subject A5; The Glue." I walked over and looked at the black ink etched into his skin. It indeed did say that. 

Then Newt read off mine. "PROPERTY OF WICKED; Group A; The Angel. Wait, why don't you have a subject name?" He asked, putting my hair where it was before he brushed it out of the way. I shrugged before going to read everyone else's. 

Without fail, everyone had one. 

PROPERTY OF WICKED; Group A; Subject A2; To be killed by group B, was Thomas' which was a little unsettling and I think he was having a hard time with it. 

Minho- PROPERTY OF WICKED; Group A; Subject A7; The Leader
Aris- PROPERTY OF WICKED; Group B; Subject B1; The Partner
Teresa- PROPERTY OF WICKED; Group A; Subject A1; The Betrayer

Oh shit. Called it. I called it! Everyone seemed to think it meant she was betraying Wicked but I still had my doubts. As for Thomas, he seems to be keeping his distance from Aris as we decide to rest here for the night. 

Of course, Minho is the leader. He's the strongest out of all of us and quite honestly he deserves this. 

For Newt's I think it's sweet. 'The Glue' used to say that he's holding everyone together no matter how much it hurts himself in the process. I don't really know why mine means, 'The Angel'. Everyone thinks it's because I'm sweet but I think there's a deeper meaning I just don't know what. 

After hours of talking about it, the sun has set casting the typical blue hue across the desert, lulling us to sleep. So, here I fall into a dreamless, boring sleep.