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There were so many questions begging to be answered, so many words that needed to be said, yet the silence was deafening. Newt had been trapped in his thoughts since your initial comment, but his eyes never once left your form. Not while you were spying on Wicked in the vents, not while you were sat at your table for dinner, not once. Part of him assumed it was because of his shock. He was still so shocked to see you alive- that his brain needed time to catch up to the current. Your story was so simple yet it hurt him the most. You didn't know how you got out of the maze; one second you were running alongside Minho, the next you took a newly discovered route and then everything was black. You woke up scared and alone in Wicked's care. He felt so bad for giving up, even though there was nothing he could do. The guilt was eating him up inside, and yet he refused to acknowledge it. The other's had noticed his strange distress. He went from hugging the life out of you upon first glance, to watching you worriedly from across the room.
