When We're Older- The Maze Runner (Newt)

you

Newt

I stared at my well-made bed, not finding the courage to mess up what Mae had so perfectly made. So, I sat in the chair in the corner of my room, holding my head in one hand and rubbing my left leg with the other.

I don't know why I put both her and Thomas in the pit. All they were trying to do was help Alby. I knew Mae wasn't going to get any sleep down there, maybe I should bring her back up and then just wake her up early. Who am I kidding...that would be a shank move.

   Everything seemed like it was crashing down. The flashbacks of what I did last night made their way into my mind, making me clench my jaw and rub my eyes in humiliation. I couldn't be a leader if I acted out like that just because a few people went into the Maze. There was still plenty of things to do back in the Glade, and all I could think about was the screams of the Grievers behind the walls, and the fact that I couldn't do anything. When I destroyed my room last night, I was acting a way I had never acted before. I was always telling myself to stay calm, and that everything would be okay...but last night I didn't know whether that was true or not. It was like a flip was switched and I became a...a monster.

   And I hated myself for it.

   Even though Mae and Tommy were back and they were safe, the memories kept playing in my mind over and over like they would never stop. Every time I closed my eyes I would see myself in the mirror of the outhouse, sweating...crying... It wasn't who I was.

   That's what she does to me. She makes me crazy. Crazy in the best way possible. All my life I've just been living each day like it was any other. Doing the same boring thing. Pulling weeds and chopping down trees. Ever since I hurt my leg I've just felt like I was...empty. Well, I felt that way before, but it always just so consistent. Like I had nothing to live for.

But then this bloody beautiful badass girl comes up and completely changes the way I lived. Now I'm wanting to spend all of my days with her, fighting for her. I push down all of those feelings of emptiness when I'm around Mae because when I am with her I don't feel that way. It's only when I'm alone. And I know that I should probably calm down...because her room is right next to mine. But she's just so perfect, and I can't help but wonder what's going through her mind. To know what she's thinking when she looks at the ground or clenches her fists together. If she thinks about me as much as I think about her...

Because I think about her all the bloody time.

I stood up and paced around my room, not being able to stay put any longer.

She was the moon. A very beautiful woman. She lit up the dark times whenever I was having them...whenever anyone was having them. But she has a dark side. I saw that in the Gathering when she was clenching her fists together. But she holds it back for everyone else's sake. Basically for the same reason I do. There's no way that we'll let people see our dark sides because we have to be strong even if we are both falling apart on the inside. But every night, the moon rises and it sheds a light to the darkness of the earth. And that's what Mae does. That's what she has been doing ever since she got here. She's been like a mother to all of us. She was the moon and we were all the stars. Even when she looks like she's falling apart, she's staying strong. Mae looked like literal hell when she showed up in the Council Hall this morning, but she was just as strong as she always is. And I admired her for it.

With a groan, I turned around and grabbed the small candle from my dresser. I opened my door and quietly made my way down the steps of the Homestead.

I don't know why I didn't realize it earlier. I think I've just been running around blind for a month straight. I should've known when I had that bloody dream about her. There was just so much stress...so many things to do. It seemed as though no time was the right time to tell her. But when she ran into that Maze I thought I lost her forever. And I realized that if I was constantly waiting for the right time, I was never going to tell her. I was just prolonging everything. Delaying the inevitable. Of course, I was going to bloody tell her at some point before I died, but the longer I waited, the more I felt her slipping through my fingers.