Different | The Maze Runner / Newt ¹ ✓

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Disclaimer:

I do not own The Maze Runner, but you were supposed to be watching the door, Ashley Katchadourian! Do you know what these are, Ashely Katchadourian? These are a little girl's arms. A little girl with dreams, with legs, with a head. She's a pencil! She's a swizzle stick! You can use her as a pool noodle, and now I'm holding up her arms. Arms! I'm holding them because you weren't watching the door. A girl lost her arms, Ashley Katchadourian. A girl lost her fucking arms. Do you not know what has transpired while you were in Pearl Harbor seeing a fuckin' Japanese museum? We had our own Pearl Harbor here today. Oh my God! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US?! YOU LITERALLY BOMBED US LIKE THE JAPANESE YOU ARE. And me, I'm Ben Afleck. I'm Ben Afleck and I'm HOLDING TWO FUCKIN' GIRL'S ARMS. And you're Cuba-Gooding Junior, disappointing everybody. LIVE WITH THAT.

-✼-

The first thing I noticed when I woke up the next morning was that I felt horrible. My head was sore, there was dried blood crusted in my hair, and not to mention I smelled worse than the Blood House. I hoped and prayed they had showers I could use.

When I sat up and swung my legs around so my feet were touching the wooden floor, I sighed as I was faced with Minho's empty bed, the thin sheets rumpled and strewn across his mattress. I sometimes wished he didn't leave so early so I could talk to him more.

I then realized I didn't have any spare clothes, either, I had been wearing the same ones for two days, and my hair had been in the same braid, frizzing around my head like a halo. Gross.

Digging around in Minho's splintery, poorly-made dresser, I finally found a shirt that was relatively smaller than the other ones. It must have been from when Minho first came to the Glade. The shirt was old and smelled of mildew and wood, but I put it on anyway and left my other shirt on my cot. I slipped on my combat boots and sighed, hoping I didn't look as terrible as I felt.

"You look awful," Chuck commented when I arrived for breakfast. He and Thomas were sitting down at a picnic table by themselves, but I noticed an extra plate was there with food still on it. Chuck noticed my pointed stare at it and smiled. "Got that for you."

"Thanks, Chuck," I said half sarcastically, sitting down next to Thomas. Today's breakfast was pancakes and sausage. At least it alternated so I wouldn't get sick of having bacon and eggs all of the time.

When I was halfway through my meal, a shadow cast over me and I turned to see Alby and Newt standing there.

"You look awful, Greenie," Alby deadpanned, staring at me. I frowned a bit, feeling self-conscious because it was one thing with Chuck saying it, but a whole other thing when Alby was involved.

Luckily, I didn't have to say anything because Newt elbowed him in the ribs, giving him a look that said, "Lay off, man."

I honestly couldn't be more grateful for Newt.

Alby rolled his eyes and sighed. "What I meant was, you need a shower, big time. Newt'll show them to you."

"But I'm supposed to be her guide!" Chuck protested, standing up. Alby held out a hand and Chuck immediately sat back down.

"Not anymore you ain't," he snapped, frowning in disappointment. "On your watch, Dylan has passed out from hunger and been nearly killed by Ben. I'm not taking any more chances."

Chuck nodded sadly and I was confused. Just as I was about to open my mouth, Newt started speaking.

"I'll be watching over ya for the next few days, if that's all right," he said merrily, a slight smile on his face.