^^^Newt's Song "Flares" by The Script^^^

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After a few moments, he took a deep breath and finally looked up to meet your eyes.

"I watched myself try to do it again, Y/N," he lowered his voice. "In the dream, I felt the same rush of emotions from that day—it was horrible. But I thought it'd be better that way."

You were immediately saddened by his confession. "Why do you think you felt that way?" However, that didn't come out like you wanted so you immediately tried to explain. "I'm not saying you didn't have a reason—I just think maybe taking time to evaluate all you thoughts since then is a good start for healing."

Newt frowned and actually took some silent minutes to ponder over your question. "The creators took everything from me. My past, the memories, every buggin' thing about my life. It was only fair to cause them a loss so that they couldn't use me anymore." He had a blank look on his face, and you didn't know how to respond. His argument was fair, but it was still just so wrong.

"We don't know much about them, Newt," you began, "but their level of control is pretty obvious—we don't know if us dying could be contributing to their research, and I'm glad it didn't happen with you to find out."

"I guess," he said simply.

"What else happened in the dream?"

Newt took really long pauses, and it helped you prepare for the storm you knew was coming. "The jump was high enough to kill—I was ready. I thought about the first shank that lost his life—the look of absolute terror on his face seconds before. Then the first to get stung and go through the changing. Those shanks aren't suffering anymore, but I witnessed all their deaths, Y/N. I had to deal with that, on top of lying to everyone, telling them things would be okay. A beetle blade looked at me, and I remember screaming at it, cursing every bloody thing I could think of. It was suffocating. And I hate when people see me cry, but I didn't care then—I wanted them to see what they did to me... if by any chance, there was the slightest bit of remorse on their faces even if I couldn't see them."

You were wordless, eyes stinging as they brimmed with tears. Newt's story was shockingly heartbreaking. You couldn't help but fuel your rage at the creators on his behalf. He went through hell, literally.

There was so much you didn't know about him, but he seemed so innocent, so pure, and strong—despite everything he witnessed. It was paradoxical; like fire and water.

Newt had paused while you dwelled on your thoughts, but your attention was drawn back at the sound of his husky accented voice.

"What came after was worse. It even kept my mind off the physical pain. I survived," he emphasized. You tilted your head to the side, not sure how survival was worse, but your heart sank when he said it either way. "I was helpless, knowing my life was a waste but that I wasn't even allowed to end it."

You desperately started wiping away the tears that kept falling unabashedly. The more he talked, the more you ached for him.

"You stopped it," he blurted out. When you didn't give him any indications of understanding what he meant, he added, "The dream—you stopped me from seeing that all over again."

"How?" Your voice was grossly croaky from the crying.

"I would've woken up to that dream and ran straight back into the Maze to make sure I'd get the job done—throw myself to the buggin' Grievers if necessary, but I would've wanted it to end instead of reliving the nightmare anytime I closed my eyes." He actually closed his eyes momentarily, before asking with a brittle voice and pain-stricken eyes, "Does that make me selfish?"

It was like he casted a spell on you. For a whole minute, the two of you remained silent. In the midst of the silence, you watched as a single tear rolled down his cheek. A single tear that contained the most bitter, bottled-up emotions; something sobs weren't capable of portraying.

That was the last straw.

You burst into tears, immediately throwing your arms around him, embracing him so tightly as to reassure him that he was going to be alright. That the world was obviously not okay, but that it could start to heal. You felt him tightly wrap his arms around you, returning the hug as you finally spoke up.

"You wouldn't have tried again—I wouldn't let you," you rambled between sobs, "Listen, you beat death. If you can fall off a wall that high and walk out alive, willing to start over somehow and even look for a different job to switch gears, you can face up to anything. Tell me that's not showing you how strong you are."

Your words stirred an inexplicable feeling within him, and you pinpointed the exact moment when he ultimately broke down into tears.

From the moment you first laid your eyes on him, you knew there was something distinctive, yet extraordinary about him.

The way he let the walls he'd built around himself collapse right before your eyes made you feel so fortunate. It was as if he somehow knew he could trust you, confide his entire life on you, even.

Newt blossomed like a flower bud, each petal carefully prying open to reveal intricate details about him until you reached the essence of the masterpiece that he truly was. He exposed everything he'd concealed for years. Everything. And you loved all of it.

Him suffering as much as he did also meant that he had the biggest heart; plenty of space to let all the good things replace the resentment.

"Don't ever think badly about yourself again," you told him as you both regained your composure. "Remember, you're the bigger person here—you won; not them."

Newt took a moment to study your features, specifically focusing on your eyes. He couldn't fathom how someone who knew nothing about him at the same time knew so much.

He'd felt alone; he'd felt like no one understood him, not even himself. Yet here he was, being comforted by a girl—a stranger who dared to look at what lay beyond him, beyond the boy who seemed fine on the outside but was broken inside.

"How do you do that?" he curiously asked.

"Do what?"

"What are you, some kind of secret bloody psychiatrist?" he joked.

"Maybe," you chuckled, "I don't know—I should consult myself and see if it actually works." With eyebrows raised, you kept a straight face.

Then you watched as he snorted a laugh. It was so genuine. You were able to tell by how his smile reached his eyes, making them sparkle even as the tears hadn't dried off his cheeks yet. For the first time, you heard him laugh. Not his signature little giggle. It was actual laughter, the most beautiful sound you'd heard in a while. A sound that could make you delve into a peaceful sleep, unlike the horrendous Griever screeches at night.

How was it possible that before this day, he didn't mean anything to you, but now he meant every good thing existing on earth?

You were about to do something risky. Every inch of your body was screaming at you to go for it.  Give it to your rational mind to be the only thing trying to hold you back.

After a brief inner battle with yourself, the reckless side of you declared itself as the winner. It got a hold of you like some kind of trap where the more you tried to untangle yourself from it, the tighter it held on to you.

Shuck this. Shuck everything...

You grabbed his face with your hands, gently sliding your fingers through his hair before connecting your now desperate lips to his tempting ones.

Despite his evident shock, it didn't take long for your move to be reciprocated.

He held you by the waist and pulled you even closer to himself. He responded to the kiss, capturing your lips with his own with so much affection that you thought you would pass out at any moment.

When you heard some of the girls talking about how it felt when they kissed a guy, they would all give similar descriptions. The typical 'fireworks' exploding around the two and the whole feeling of it being magical... a—bunch—of—klunk.

Their descriptions were over-the-top and fake compared to what it was really like. Only clichés came out of their mouths.

That wasn't the case with you and Newt.

What the both of you experienced was something so particular and perfect that it didn't need to be saturated with exaggeration. Your emotions spoke for themselves; you couldn't even explain them.

He gently kissed the tip of your nose and buried his face in the crook of your neck as you embraced him. Your nostrils were immediately blessed with his warm earthy scent. He was covered in dirt and sweat, but his natural scent was so pleasant that the mixture reminded you of the aftermath of rainfall. 

"I think it's time I told you something," he said when you both pulled away.

That threw you off since he'd just confessed the darkest secret of his life moments earlier. "Tell me what?"

"I was right about you, but almost too late," he began, and you raised an eyebrow in confusion. "And it was still you who brought me right back. Thank you, Y/N."

"What do you mean?"

He smiled and bowed his head sheepishly. "I've liked you for a while now, I just got too scared to ever get near you—big mistake. And I'm so sorry."

He felt he wasn't prepared for you to listen to him at first, yet you did. He wasn't ready to risk being misunderstood but you sympathized with him like none other. He wasn't expecting you to love him like he'd learned to love you, but you were sure that would change very soon.

Maybe it was too early to be considered love, but this day was a phenomenal eye-opener.

You smiled at him. "I could definitely get used to this. You're amazing, Newt."

***

Two words resonated repeatedly in your head as you and Newt held on to one another, watching the dusking sky.

If only.

If only you would've had a chance to meet Newt earlier. If only you would've formed a close friendship with him at least—like you did with Gally or Alby. If only you would've been there for him before he let despair consume him. Maybe you would've been the one to talk him out of it, to maybe save him. To love him, even when he couldn't even love himself.

You would've made sure he'd learn to appreciate the wonderful human being he was. You and Newt would've already begun, a long time ago, the first chapters of your story together.

If only...

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~A/N: Should I make a Part 4 or end it here?