𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 ᐅ 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙩

𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

I've got you.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

TW: vision

I walk over to Frypan's, a stupid smile on my face, my hand still tingling from Newt's touch. A warm feeling envelops me, making any chance of wiping a smile off my face impossible — what the hell is wrong with me? I shake my head. Snap out of it. No matter how hard I try to forget it, I can't rid myself of the image of his eyelashes fluttering softly against his cheeks, a gentle blush tinting his nose and his lips curled into a small, peaceful smile.

The blades grass lick my feet as I walk towards Frypan's and cool air fills my lungs. I can feel my face redden as I look down at my pinkie, intertwined with Newt's not even a minute ago. When I look back, he's curled on his side, his arm reaching out to the side of him as though he knew I was gone. My smile brightens.

"Someone's in a good mood," Frypan says when he hands me my plate, raising an eyebrow. "Wouldn't happen to be anything to do with a certain blond now, would it?"

"I've got not a clue what you're talking about, Fry," I say defensively.

"Sure, Greenie. Sure."

I glare at him before turning round and making my way over to the table where Chuck, Winston and Minho are sitting. My gaze flicks to Newt's figure across the Glade, who's now awake, standing up and dusting himself off, looking around him. He's confused. I chuckle to myself before sitting down next to Chuck, who sends me a large smile.

"Hey, Chuckie," I say. "How're ya doing?"

"You're startin' to sound like us more and more every day," Chuck says, grinning at me like a loon as he bites into his toast.

"Shut up," I say, nudging him with my elbow. I'm surprised how easily they've made it for me to fit in here. It's been little over two weeks, and already I feel like I'm part of their family. Even though all they're doing is talking to me, I feel grateful for that — I've got no one else. Nobody has. We don't even know ourselves properly, never mind our families before the Glade. There's a part of me that wishes that I could know. But there's another part that tells me that I don't want to know. My gut tells me that I won't like what I find out.

"What did I tell ya?" Winston jokes. "In a week or two—"

"I'll be speaking like the rest of ya, blah, blah, blah," I cut him off, making him scowl at me and Minho giggle.

"I really sound like that, huh?"

"Only to me," I say, a smirk sneaking onto my face. "You're so boring I zone out half the time when you're talking."

"Hey!" he exclaims throwing a piece of his toast at me, which I chuck back to him without hesitation, smacking him right in the eye.

"It's rude to throw food," Minho points out, stifling a laugh when Winston sends him an incredulous look.

"It's also rude to not give Newt your hair gel," he argues. "I think he needs it this morning."

"Sleep in the grass, Newt?" Minho calls as Newt walks into Frypan's. I turn around to see him, his hair tousled and a few leaves in it and I fight the urge to laugh. He shakes his head, making the leaves fall to the ground. A laugh escapes me.