In my Blood

CHAPTER 9 - The Plan

I wait in the cell, arms wrapped around my trembling knees. I close my eyes and lean against the cold wall behind me, trying to stifle my tears. Everything's been happening so quickly, and I just want it to be over.

"(y/n)?" Thomas calls from the cell next to mine. I don't reply. I know that if I try to speak I'll end up breaking down in tears. "(y/n)... it's gonna be okay," Thomas says, though his voice is quieter now. I open my eyes and take a deep, shaky breath.

"B-But what if it isn't?" I eventually reply, my voice cracking. "There's a reason why we're here, what if... things are worse out there?"

"Nothing could be worse than that Maze."

We sit in silence in our separate cells, anxiety swarming our minds with dark thoughts. Thoughts of loss and tragedy and heartbreak, all in the space of a few lonely days here.

Chuck's plan is going well. We're in the Slammer cells to buy us some time... to give Gally and his cronies a chance to get angry enough to banish us into the Maze. They don't know Thomas has woken up yet. And hopefully, after we fight past them, we can make our escape in time before they let the Grievers out for the night.

I hear someone walking towards my cell, and tense up, backing further against the wall. However, I let out a sigh of relief as I see a tall blonde boy limping up to the caged door, his brown eyes falling upon my own (y/e/c) eyes in understanding sympathy. He kneels down by the door, nodding over to Thomas before putting his hand on one of the wooden bars.

My heart rate quickens as he comes closer to me. Why do I have to have feelings for him? It's not as if anything could ever happen... I mean, he's Newt, he's now the leader of this place... as if the other boys didn't already look down on me enough, now they're going to make a huge fuss over this if anything happens between us. They'd claim he's favouring me, giving me privileges, prioritising my safety over theirs. That's not fair to them, and it's not fair to Newt. 

No, no one has to find out. Especially not Newt. 

Besides, I bet he doesn't even feel the same way. 

"Hey," he smiles. I weakly smile back, and shuffle closer to sit beside the door. I open my mouth to speak, but Newt shakes his head. "Shh. I know what you're going to say, but you don't need to apologise for anything, you hear me?"

I sigh, running my hand through my hair. I feel a few tears trickle out from my eyes, and quickly wipe them away, hiding behind my curtain of (y/h/c) hair, hoping Newt didn't see. But he did. He frowns, and reaches through the bar to hold my hand in his. He rubs his thumb in circular motions along the palm of my hand as I try to keep the tears in.

"It's okay to cry, you know," he whispers, so Thomas can't hear our discussion. "It's better to let it out than bottle your emotions away for your whole life. That's what turns people bitter and miserable." He talks with a heavy, truthful tone. It's as if he's speaking from experience.

I take a breath in. "W-What do you m-mean?" I stammer, letting a few tears fall. His frown deepens.

"Let's just say, this place, it's all I've ever known for... well, for my whole life. I had no idea where I came from, who I was – as I'm sure you can relate to," Newt mutters. "Life got pretty hard. Life is hard, still. Although..." he pauses, "since you and Tommy have been around, well, it seems a bit easier to get through all the long days here in the Glade."

I look at his hand, at our  hands. "What are you trying to tell me, Newt?"

He takes a small breath in. "I guess, what I'm trying to say, is... I'm glad you're here. I'm really glad."

I feel myself smiling, and I feel myself succumbing even deeper into my feelings for him. Whenever I hear Newt's soft, accented voice - or look into his chocolate eyes, or feel his fingers brush gently against mine - I feel that wave flood through my body; that warm feeling, deep in the pit of my stomach and within my chest. I look up to him to see him gazing back at me. And I might be mistaken, but there's something in his gaze that is mirroring my own...

With his other hand, he puts it through the bars and wipes away the tears on my cheeks. Without thinking about it, I find myself closing my eyes and nestling my face against his warm hand, sighing contently. I can't see his face, but I know he's smiling.

"Well, isn't this pretty?"

My eyes bolt open to see Minho standing behind Newt, smirking mischievously as he holds a spear in his hand. Me and Newt rapidly break apart, though we're both still smiling, slightly.

"Sorry, you shanks. It's happening," Minho sighs, the smirk vanished. Newt faces me again, his face painted with horror.

"Right..." he mumbles. "Okay. This is going to work. Okay?"

"Yeah," I try to say as positively as possible. I hear Thomas stir in his cell next to mine. Then, I see three boys walking determinedly towards me, though I don't know who they are. Newt nods to me, as if to say good luck, before turning to face the boys, who scowl back at him.

"Must suck not being in charge, huh, Newt?" one boy taunts. "Having to take orders from us lowly builders?" Newt shakes his head, waving them away nonchalantly. My blood boils for him.

Two boys go to Thomas' cell, one at mine. He unlocks it, and painfully grabs me by the arm. I struggle, trying to play the part, before reluctantly allowing him to transport me to the Maze door, where Gally waits. I see Chuck in the distance, not so subtly carrying all of our packs. The other boys don't notice Chuck, though - they never seem to. The two boys carelessly carry Thomas – who is pretending to be unconscious – alongside me. I attempt to elbow the boy, missing deliberately every time and grunting in frustration. I elbow him harshly, hitting his stomach as he groans. I need to make it seem like it's legitimate. Thomas is dumped onto the ground as Gally rolls his sleeves back.

"What a waste," he grumbles.

"Gally," Winston, calls out. He pauses uncertainly. "It doesn't feel right, man."

Jeff takes a step forward. "Yeah, what if Thomas is right? Maybe he can lead us home?"

A few other boys murmur in agreement, much to Gally's disapproval. 

"We are home," he assures them angrily. I scoff. "The Glade is our home."

"You really think banishing us is going to solve anything, you dumb shank?" I say. A few more boys look to me uncomfortably. I suppose, since I used their slang, they feel guiltier about banishing me, almost as if they're more connected with me. Just what I was hoping for. However, Gally doesn't think so.

"No," he smirks, in a menacing way which makes my skin crawl. "This isn't a banishing... it's an offering."