The Tributes of Twelve | Newt x Reader

8 | The Picnic

 "Y/n," I hear a voice whisper in my ear. I sit up suddenly, almost banging my head on a figure who leans over me. I must have dozed off for a little while, because everyone is looking at me, and the footage of the opening ceremony has ended.

"Sorry," I mutter to Newt, so only he can hear me, as I rub my eyes. "How long was I asleep for?"

"About one bloody minute, love," Newt replies with a smirk. I roll my eyes playfully at him. "Anyway, Minho literally just finished saying that we should go to bed and let the adults talk."

"We should go to bed? Together?" I repeat, and smirk back at him. His face turns red.

"You know I didn't mean it like that, love," Newt replies, and it's my turn to blush scarlet.

"Go to bed and let the adults talk," Minho interjects.

"The adults?" I say scornfully. "You're about a year older than us, Minho." Minho rolls his eyes.

"Get your girl to bed, Newt," Minho says, scowling at me. Newt's girl? A strange rush of pleasure runs through me in a way that I can only describe as love. Love for Newt, who helped me with the coal. For Newt, the god-like boy who helped me in the opening ceremony today.

"Sure thing," Newt replies to Minho, and stands up.

"Hey, what are you-" I splutter as Newt's arms scoop under my knees, whisking me off the chair. His other arm wraps around my neck and I latch onto his shoulders. My heart beats so hard against his chest that I'm surprised that he can't hear it.

"Don't have too much fun, you two," Minho says, laughing at himself. My cheeks burst into flame. Newt looks down at my face and smirks, but he remains quiet, too, like he's almost as embarrassed as I am.

Neither of us speaks as he carries me down to the other end of the corridor. It's almost eerily quiet as he sets me down right outside my bedroom door. I immediately miss the feeling of his body carrying mine steadily, his heartbeat directly in my ear.

"Night, Newt," I say awkwardly to him, shrugging my shoulders.

"Night, love," he responds, just as awkwardly. I don't want him to turn away from me and go back to his bedroom; I want to stay with him all night, just knowing he's beside me. But I know, realistically, that he probably won't want to spend time with me the same way that I want to spend time with him. So, with a heavy heart, I turn around, facing the door to my bedroom. I sigh, and take a step towards my bedroom, but not before a warm hand encloses around my wrist.

"Y/n/n," Newt says, "I'm not gonna complain if you stay with me tonight, just like on the train."

"You sure?" I ask, turning back to face him, his hand still holding my wrist.

"I'm sure," he replies, smiling at me. I smile back at him as he swings me into his room by the hand. He collapses on his massive double bed and drags me down too so that I'm lying down beside him. I look around the room and see that it is almost an exact replica of my own bedroom here. It's only when we're both collapsed on his bed that I realise the problem.

"Newt?" I ask.

"Yeah?" he murmurs back, as if he's tired.

"I don't have any pyjamas here. I'll go back to my own room and get some-"

"No, love, don't," he replies, his grip tightening on my wrist. "I don't want you to go." I laugh at his tone. He sounds vaguely like a whining three year old.

"But then-"

"I'm sure there's something that you can wear in here, love," he interjects, cutting me off. "What do you want to wear?"