TBS AND ALL HIS CHARACTERS One-Shots

I'm not going to make it (Newt)

A/N: I SUCK I NEVER UPDATE AHHHHH

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Y/N's P.O.V.

Ratman stood there, an evil smile on his face. His features were disgusting, long and grotesque. I wanted to gag, to rip his long, thin nose right off his face. To make him suffer, to rip out his thinning hair, to kick the yellowed teeth right out of his mouth.

His arms were crossed nicely behind his back as he watched our faces fall, tears coat our cheeks. He and his posy couldn't give a shit about our well being, about how we all wanted for this to be over, to die peacefully, to be done with their little trails. 

The icy glares masking the guards faces taunted me, I spit in their direction, called them names after they had given us the devastating information, screamed like a lot of the other kids from groups A and B, I was furious. 

Devastated. 

Disgusted. 

Heartbroken. 

I now knew who was immune. 

And who was not. 

My heart was broken. I stood in the cool, disinfected room we were all in, staring at the shining, white tile that covered the cement floor. A blank expression took over my tired, dirty features as what I had just heard took a grasp on my heart. I couldn't believe what they had just told us. 

No.

That was the problem. 

I did believe it. 

The room was chilled, but the mass amount of bodies around me did nothing to warm me, to comfort me, to make me feel 'alright'.

I stood up straight, not bothering to wipe my tears, to get the snot dripping from my nostrils off of my skin. I couldn't care less about my appearance, at that moment. 

I couldn't care less about anything. About Ratman, about trying to find a cure for the devastating disease that poisoned our world. About the way my head-ached, throbbed, when I moved. Nothing. 

Except him. 

My body turned around to face the beautiful boy with the funny accent, to see what I would be losing soon, to a cancer we couldn't stop. 

Newt stood there, a blank expression on his face, mouth turned down in a frown, chest pumping up and down. His body was covered in dirt, in blood, it looked as if it had finally lost the battle with gravity, not caring to hold up his weight. 

His back was arched, legs shaking, hands clenching until no blood could get to them.

His eyes were pooling in tears, but not out of sadness. 

Out of anger. 

They were beautiful, large, but they held a certain something in them I had never seen before. They didn't look like they belonged to a sweet, melancholy, tired, little kid. 

They were terrifying. 

I walked up to the tired boy, not knowing what to say. Not knowing if I should dry my eyes, not knowing if I should touch him, or if I should run away. Run far, far away. 

As soon as I came within a few inches of the boy I loved, I stopped and looked up and around, at all the terrified eyes trained on the blonde. At all of his loved ones staring at him, keeping their distances, all alone, just as heart broken as they would ever get.

My hand reached out for his, touching it lightly. 

He flinched, quickly looking into my eyes, his face twisted in anger.