Maze Runner Imagines and Preferences

First fight part I -- Newt

*your perspective*

I rest my chin on my hands, staring at the old wooden table. I can't believe that we just spent the last eight or so months trying to escape from WICKED, now we want a way back in.

"No," Thomas says, standing up and walking away, "there has to be another way."

"Like what?" Gally sounds frustrated, "you've seen the building, she's our only way in."

"You really think she's gonna help us?" Thomas is pacing around, hands on hips.

"I don't plan on asking her permission."

"Am I missing something here?" Brenda leans forward, glancing between the two boys, "This is the same girl who betrayed us, correct? Same dick?"

"I like her," Gally says.

"What's going on?" Brenda ignores him, looking at Thomas.

"What," Newt says from beside me, "you afraid your little girlfriend's gonna get hurt?" My boyfriend looks sideways at Thomas, frowning. "Hm?" he prompts, then continues. "This has obviously never been just about rescuing Minho, has it?"

"Newt..." I put a hand on his arm, but he shakes it off. I wonder what's gotten into him, he's usually the one who shuts us up if we're fighting.

"Stay out of it, (Y/N), it's not like you care either."

"What?" I'm hurt, Newt's never attacked me like that before.

"Oh come on," he says, "you don't care whether we get Minho out, you just want to take down WICKED. Get your own bloody revenge."

"That's not true," I say calmly.

"Even now you don't care about anything. Do you even have any emotions?"

"How can you say that?" I stand up, and he copies me.

"You have one goal, and you don't care about who gets hurt. If we get Minho out, great! But that's not why you're in on this, is it?"

"Stop it, Newt," I try to keep the tremor out of my voice.

"No," he says, stepping closer to me, "you stop it. Just stop being so cold. For once in your goddamn life can you just care about something!"

"I do care!" I'm yelling now, and I can feel tears behind my eyes. How the hell could he say those things to me?

"Remember what happened the last time I showed any emotion? Yeah," I take a breath, "you all said I was a bad leader, that I was too fragile. So forgive me," I step backwards, spreading my hands sarcastically, "if I'm not lying in a puddle of my own tears."

For a minute, we just stare at each other.

"Sorry," Newt mutters at last, "sorry."

We all stand in silence, Newt's uneven footsteps echoing in the room as he makes for the door.

"I'll go and talk to him," Thomas says after a minute.

I'm fuming. How can he question if I care? He knows Minho is my best friend, almost a brother to me, and he knows that I care. Maybe he has a point. I can be cold, I know that. After being the leader for so long, I've sort of let it become a habit not to show emotion, not to let emotions get in the way. I guess that I can look like I don't care.

"(Y/N)," I look up at Thomas's voice. He'd been gone for around an hour, talking to Newt presumably.

"He's ok?" I ask, pushing my hair out of my face.

"Yeah," Thomas nods, "I think you should go and talk to him."

I get up, giving Thomas's shoulder a quick squeeze as I brush past him.

Newt's sitting on the roof, his legs dangling over a high drop to the street below.

"Sorry about that," he says as I sit down next to him.

"It hurts," I swallow, "when someone you love questions whether you care."

"I know," he keeps looking up at the walls, "I shouldn't have said that."

"But you're kind of right," I concede, "I know I can be cold, I know that sometimes it looks like I don't care about anything, but I really do."

"I know you do, and I'm sorry I didn't see that. I'm sorry you have to cover up like that, (Y/N)."

"I'm sorry you felt like I don't care."

We sit in silence for a minute, both watching the wall.

"I should tell you something," Newt says eventually, and I turn to look at him. He pulls up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing black veins spreading across his pale forearm.

"No," I whisper. It feels like my heart shatters inside my chest, the sharp little pieces cutting at my insides.

"Can't hide it much longer," he shrugs, surveying the infection.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It doesn't affect anything," he pulls his sleeve down, frowning.

"Yes it does," I take his hand, squeezing it gently, "we have to get that serum."

"No," he looks me in the eyes, "Minho comes first."

"Newt..."

"(Y/N), we have to get him out. If there is even the slightest chance," his voice cracks, "that we can save him, we're taking it."

"But..."

"No matter the cost." His deep brown eyes are serious, and I nod.